#my first time painting Gale too...I hope I did alright!

[bunabi]

Thanks again to @gardenarcana for commissioning me! 🌜

[genshingarbage]

Hiii, Good Morning/Good afternoon/Good evening Mod Kaeya,Mod Diluc^^, It's my first time requesting, Can I request? Angst with any Genshin Impact characters?,Soo The genshin characters are much more spending time with Lumine? Then the reader asks why they aren't spending much time with them and the genshin characters snaps and said the readers are weak ( reader is already insecured because they can't fight) and they have work to do then the reader leaves to fight hilichurl camps and unfortunately there's 2 Mitachurls ,luckly the genshin characters were on time to save the reader? Then they apologized to them? (It's Gn reader^^) sorry if it's alot and sorry if my grammar is wrong you both can disregard this ask stay safe ^^

Good afternoon dear Traveler!! Well done for making your first request! And such a lengthy one too oh my~ Your grammar is fine don’t even worry about it. Sorry for the long wait, Mod Diluc and I have been busy on the Kuzuha banner haha but I hope you enjoy this tear jerking tale (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧- Mod Kaeya

Recommending this song for this oneshot!

Go checkout Anna_drw01 for more art like this!! Here’s her artstation!

The distant scientist, renowned for being hard to get close to was someone you used to consider one of you closest friends. The two of you spent day and night together, hellbent of cracking open every single challenge you possibly could together. Many considered you two to be able to solve any mystery put in front of you together.

The keyword was together.

There was a mystery you yourself couldn’t solve; Why was Albedo’s time with you slowly becoming a rarity?

You’d been wondering why he’d been spending so much less time in the lab he’d meticulously built over years of his life or on site where his precious research was being buried little by little by crystalline flakes, tending to his experiments and recording time sensitive data that would be valuable for months to come for the research team. Albedo had been gone so long both you and Sucrose had designed a plan in order to cover the work he’s left unattended whilst managing your own on top of the store. It was beginning to get concerning. If the leader of the investigation squad was absent constantly then what did that mean for the rest of you? Surely he was only gone for the sake of something important he’d found, something he placed above everything else he was researching. That’s what you lent yourself into believing.

That is, until you saw him with her.

You couldn’t blame him honestly, Lumine was gorgeous. Her golden hair and fiery eyes are what a lot of men probably look for in a partner, even more so was the mystery behind her origins and the raw power she held in her fingertips at any given moment.

You didn’t have to have a vision to be able to tell that.

Maybe that was another thing he sought in her.

A traveling partner that could wield the powers of the elements, a traveling partner that could hold their own against the world. Maybe that wasn’t all he was looking for but also a romantic partner.

He finally came back to the investigation camp briefly one night, it was during a particularly rough blizzard ravaging across Dragonspine and the areas surrounding it a little like a turbulent child tossing snowflakes across already painted, buried monochrome peaks. He trudged into the camp with her rambunctious adventuring party, shouted something over the whipping wind about how they should get warm inside one of the communal tents dotted around the sparse camp halfway up the summit you inhabited and then ducked into the burgundy tent you were working away in with nothing but the clinking of vials harmonizing with the bubbling of flames. It was nothing but candle light right then in the morbid lonely night, only the sounds of the howling gales outside of the ones in your lab. If you’d felt like you were being watched during the night before now, Albedo’s piercing analytical gaze did nothing but soothe the loneliness you’d held inside yourself all night.

“I need a strong multi use Geoculus locator, if we have any.” The blonde said

He must’ve seen your shoulders perk up because he waited patiently as you searched through the shelves upon shelves of prototypes you’ve developed. After somehow finding one, you patted over to him. He seemed pleased with your work, if a bit distant as usual. He was in a good mood so you guessed would be the best time if any to ask. “Sir… with all due respect why have you been away so long?”

Albedo’s pale face was blank as usual though he blinked as if surprised you spoke, “Lumine needed someone with a sufficient Geo vision, I happened to be the one she knew the best to get the job done.”

“So you’ll be returning?”

“I never said that.”

You tried not to take it harshly, this was just how he spoke after all. “��could I come along then?” It was a long shot yes but you still missed his company, if it meant having to deal with him getting buddy buddy with that Outrider then you would suffer. 

It was quiet for a moment between you two as you stared him down and he observed the locator thoroughly. After he was pleased enough with the golden glowing device it was packed away into his back pocket without so much as a second thought, the man was obviously stalling while he thought carefully over the question but the result wouldn’t be to your liking evidently. You were about to make  a point you hoped would be convincing before he spoke, his voice sharp and words cold like the very ice being tossed around the blackened sky.

“No, you’re not a skilled enough fighter so you’d only slow us down more than we can handle to be right now. You’d be useless to us.” He put a hand to his chin for a moment in thought, “If you’d had been able to development a synthetic elemental burst like Sucrose’s swirl mark II…I would have considered but you can’t even do that.”

Watching him leave with them the morning after was torturous, they rushed off into the snowy landscape with barely a goodbye and never a second glance from Albedo beyond that. It stung.

Maybe that’s why when hilichurl camps, specifically ones becoming a nuisance to caravans as well as supply lines along Dragonspine almost avidly to the near point where there would be commissions called in, were brought up in conversation you elected to take a weapon and simply clear them out yourself. You could barely fight one off but usually they were smaller towards the base of the mountain so you figured it would be alright. You would just patch yourself up if you got a bit injured. Surely the pain of the injures would busy your silly little heart long enough to forget about Albedo and his cruel words to you, surely you would barricade your feelings of pining behind walls of broken bones and struggling through the snow. Maybe that was the remedy, the answer you needed to your mystery. Your pleas would probably be hidden by the snowstorms anyways.

Mitachurls unfortunately inhabited bigger camps. Thankfully, Frost Lawlichurls tended to live alone. The former happened to find it’s way to you, charging with the might of a bull on ozmanthys wine. As you were bowled over you heard an abrupt shout, maybe saw a brief flash of familiar golden light as the battle grounds around you erupted further into chaos but it didn’t matter that pale arms were abruptly gripping you to a panicked sword user. Your vision was to blurry, the shouts of attacks and spells too muffled and faint, your body felt too limp to comprehend even the though of moving. You could barely breathe.

Someone was muttering, crouched around you and holding you close, muttering something over and over again. Something important. The feeling of their lips pressed against your forehead, his quiet gut heaving sobs as he rocked you back and forth. Albedo’s pleas for you to just hang on a moment longer—

Where were you again?

There was sunlight and it was warm, a pleasant warmth that almost lulled you back to the sleep you’d fallen into. The only thing that kept you awake was that this was indeed not your bed.

Where were you?

Sitting up hurt, your whole body ached and you were certain something must have been rearranged or was missing because the pain shot through you like an arrow. Your sharp exhale alerted the two others in the room, one who immediately sprinted to get a nurse in an emerald and navy flurry of skirts and capes.

You were dizzy, only steadied by a gentle hand on your limp shoulder. Ah, when did you turn to face him?

The blonde man infront of you asked if you remembered what happened, his voice was soft but didn’t hold any emotion. The smoky circles around his beautiful striking cerulean eyes did nothing but worry you slightly as they implied a long period of time without sleep. You’d imagine him to be the sciency type who didn’t really know what to think of other people so he stayed nose deep in books to pass the time, though there was a deep sadness in the way he held himself you couldn’t understand.

“I don’t…who are you?” You thought you saw him flinch but figured it was a trick of the light.

“No one important, nevermind me.” The man sat up with an unreadable expression even for how blank it had been for this whole brief conversation after you had awoken, getting up from his chair to begin walking to the door when he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“…for what?” You didn’t understand.

“Nothing that would natter now, please. Rest.”

You didn’t remember.

[katnissmellarkkk]

AN: Hiiiii, alright I’ve been working on this story since I posted my first chapter and, as it turns out, no surprise, this is gonna be longer than I originally expected. Probably like five-ish chapters? I’m not re-writing every chapter or part of Mockingjay if Peeta wasn’t hijacked, just snippets of the essential plotline and events if Peeta hadn’t been hijacked.... did that make sense? 

Alright, anyways, I wanna also take this time to say I definitely did not expect the amount of love I received on the first part of this and omg I’m so honored and touched. I really wasn't expecting you guys to be so supportive in this fandom. Thank you all so much, for liking, commenting and reblogging. It really made me so happy <3.

Also if you didn’t read part one and you want to, here’s the link. 

I hope everything’s going well for all you reading this! 

Also I need a title for this so any suggestions are more than welcome alright buh-bye.

Shattered Pearl

| Part One |

/

I know I've been shot. I felt it hit me, right underneath my chest. If I didn't vaguely remember standing in the tunnels, appealing to and pleading with the District Two men, trapped inside the Nut, the gunshot of a man standing behind us in the crowd, too cowardly to come closer and confront me to my face, if I didn't retain the image of seeing myself shot on television, I'd swear I'd been hit by one of the Capitol trains that once took me and Peeta district to district.

The thought of the train brought back memories I'd long held close to my heart. I had never spoken of nights shared between me and Peeta on the Victory Tour and prior to the Quarter Quell. Not to anyone. Not even Prim. It felt too personal and too vulnerable a memory to let anyone else claim it. For so long it was all I had to cling to, with him presumed dead and then only seen on Caesar's talkshow, tormented and a shell of the boy with the bread.

I miss him now, as I lay despondently, wherever I am. I feel a jabbing pain right where I predict I was shot, the injury feeling closer to a brutal beating than a penetration.

My mind whirls and flies and wracks itself up and down, backwards and forwards and side to side and somehow I can't remember even a split second where I felt the bullet enter into my body.

I feel my consciousness, my awareness, growing stronger now, slowly crawling in an upwards motion, like I was lying on the bottom of a lake and I'm only now floating to the top.

When my head breaks the surface, there's a bright, ugly, glaring light stinging my eyes and my first thought is one of comparison. Does Peeta experience this too, when he wakes up in his recovery room? Do they actually think that'll help anyone recover here, blasting unsettling yellow colors into their eyes as soon as they crack open? Is it their idea of a luxury, since everything and everyone else is so void of color here in Thirteen, like one of Peeta's drawings that have yet to be painted.

"Disorienting, huh?" I hear a familiar—so familar—voice laugh quietly. "I think Thirteen believes the more the lights hurt your eyes, the less we'll use them and the more energy they'll save in the end."

"Peeta?" I mean to murmur but instead my voice comes out in a whimper.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice all gentleness and sweetness now. The teasing, conversational edge is gone. He runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my sweat covered forehead, hoping the ministration will soothe me.

It takes me longer than it should to place, but it strikes me after a moment that his voice now reminds me of a different foreign place and a different wound and an altogether different time.

The confusion. The comforting, appeasing voice. The soft, tender gesture. It eerily reminds me of waking up in the cave, after having bled out from my head, only to find my body weak and Peeta's shockingly strong and the tables turning and him taking care of me.

My hands act to their own accord and cannot be stilled, no matter how comforting Peeta's fingers feel, sifting through my hair.

I fumble roughly with the bandages covering my left side, where the bullet must have hit, and I force my eyes wide open now, in spite of the still disturbing light overhead.

"What am I still doing here?" I ask before I can really register what I'm saying. At his confused and—now I can see his features better, with my eyes adjusting to the brightness—exhausted face, I clarify. "The bullet didn't kill me?" I look to him for confirmation.

"No," he promises smoothly, understanding my puzzlement now. "No, I promise you, the bullet didn't kill you."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice and body both still far weaker than I'm in any way comfortable with. "I think I blacked out after I was shot."

Peeta forces himself to give me a faint ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I imagine that happens when a bullet hits you in the side." He takes my hand in his and begins to softly kiss it, repeatedly. Finally he replies, "you were shot on live TV and everyone in the country saw you go down. Coin and Plutarch decided immediately to spin this and fake your death. But Cinna made your Mockingjay outfit bulletproof. The bullet never touched you," he assures before adverting his eyes as they grew watery with his words.

"Peeta," I start, my voice raspy as it's ever been.

"I don't think I was that scared in the Capitol," he blurts out as if I didn't speak. "Snow knew, he always knew, that you getting hurt would have been worse torture than anything else he could have ever done to me."

"How do you think I felt when Snow and his guards had you prisoner?" I shoot back before I can stop myself. His torture was harrowing enough without me making it all about myself. He flinches slightly at my words but tries to mask it, for my sake, no doubt. I reach out and squeeze his hand, my body's grip embarrassingly lame and in no way soothing. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"No," he automatically refutes. "Don't apologize to me. You have enough people putting their burdens on your shoulders without adding me to that list."

I swallow hard now, my memory starting to piece everything together and I remember suddenly that this is the first time I've seen Peeta since Coin's men had essentially interrogated him into hysteria.

I hadn't told him I was even going to Two. I didn't even tell him how long I'd be gone.

And then I got shot on camera. And—as I should have predicted—the rebels used this opportunity to their advantage.

I can imagine what that felt like for him. I remember on the hovercraft to and for the first few weeks in Thirteen. Refusing to eat. Refusing to speak. Hiding in closets and sleeping only sporadically. Picturing every single time I closed my eyes Peeta being beaten to death, Peeta being abused, Peeta crying out helplessly.

I wait for him to blink back his tears again before final speaking. "Can I apologize for not telling you I was going to Two in the first place?"

Something new crosses his features and in place of the fear, the agony, the pain, comes an almost sarcastic, satirical expression. "Please do, Sweetheart."

I roll my eyes instinctively when he calls me sweetheart. He'd only ever called me that in the past to get on my nerves or irritate me. "You sound like Haymitch," I can't help but point out.

"This isn't sounding like an apology for lying."

"I'm getting there."

"I've been waiting for days."

I raise my eyebrow mockingly. "So that's why you're here by my bedside?"

"Only reason. I'm out as soon as I get my reparation."

"Well in that case," I trail off, shrugging—and inwardly cringing at the movement before bringing his hand to my lips now and planting a kiss there. "I'm not apologizing then."

He laughs and I pretend to be put out, which works until I try to cross my arms in false indignation and involuntarily eject a loud gasp of pain from the way the motion upsets whatever is broken inside of me.

Peeta drops the ruse then too and stand from his chair, sitting on the side of my bed to get closer to me. "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, cupping my cheek and turning my distressed face towards him now. "Breathe," he commands genially, leaning his forehesd against mine. "The pain will go away, Katniss, just breathe."

I let out a large breath but it only makes the pain worse and eventually I just grip the hand cupping my face and squeeze with all my might. The lame grip I felt ashamed of minutes before is now replaced with an adrenaline rush of strength and I nearly break Peeta's hand in my much smaller one.

He doesn't complain and begins to rub my back to calm me down. When the searing, paralyzing discomfort subsides, the first thing I utter is, "so if I never got actually shot, what is going on with my body?"

He strokes my face affectionately. "You have a bruised lung. Bruised ribs. And your spleen was ruptured so they removed that."

"So I'm without a spleen?" I realize, my voice raising involuntarily. For some reason, I'm petrified that a whole organ was taken out of my body and I had no say in it whatsoever.

"You don't need it, Katniss," Peeta quickly reassures.

I deflate then, not sure if I feel any better or not. Peeta's words suddenly come back to me.

"Katniss, these people aren't too different from the ones in the Capitol."

Would I trust Snow or his guards to remove my spleen? No. So should I be okay with Thirteen operating on me?

I shake my head, knowing this is redundant and ridiculous. My spleen was ruptured. They'd saved my life. I was being paranoid for nothing and I couldn't afford falsely accusing the very people I needed to survive. Especially not when they likely are what saved my life.

Peeta sees my face contort and the disheartenment etch itself across my features. Still remaining tender and cautious, he leans his own wounded, beaten face down and places kisses against my cheek.

I try to hold off but his lips bring a smile to mine, and even with all the confusion bubbling around my head, all the disbelief and uncertainty, in regards to my feelings towards him, Gale, Coin, this war and the Revolution itself, I still can't help the feeling of hope spreading across my chest, filling my heart up in a way I never let myself consider it could again.

"Peeta?" I whisper then and he pulls back from planting kisses on my face to look at me.

"Hmm?"

"If my lung is bruised, why did you tell me to breathe deeply to stop the pain?"

He freezes for a second, contemplating and considering before a slightly bashful smile crosses his mouth. "You're the healer here, not me," he finally teases. When I smile back at him, he leans in simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the word, and kisses me full on the mouth.

The kiss catches me off-guard but only after the fact. In the moment it feels right and tingly and reassuring and I'm lightheadedly happy and I don't even know what to make of how I feel on the inside.

"I'm not a healer," I remind with very little passion for the correction in my voice.

He laughs again lightly but then bites his lip and brushed my hair back. "You did say that to me in our first games, right? Real or not real?"

I hesitate for a full ten seconds before I respond, my face scrunching up. His words almost seem like an already formed game that no one had explained the rules of. "Real," I finally answer.

He's already elaborating before I can ask. "Finnick came up with it. He said it works for Annie and I should try it. If I'm ever unsure about anything that happened or what the Capitol tried to make me believe, I should ask." He shrugs then, slightly abashed. "It's repetitive-"

"It's actually a really good idea," I encourage, grabbing his hand in mine again and giving him a reassuring squeeze. And he looks at me then and gives me a grateful smile and his eyes are lighter now than they were when I woke up and I don't know where this is even going between us or if it's even going anywhere and I don't know where Gale stands and I really can't focus on my feelings right now because I'm a symbol of an entire revolution, whether I asked to be or not, and it may be selfish or immature, but I push away all my other conflicting thoughts and pull the boy with the pretty blue eyes down towards me.

He goes willingly, wrapping his body to me, only placing pressure on my right side, and I feel his face burrow in my neck. When his lips press to the sensitive skin there, like he's done dozens of times before, I shiver instinctively and close my eyes against him.

For the first time in forever I feel, for a fleeting moment, safe.

//

Prim and my mom interrupt not too long after that, but for some reason—other than Prim's cheerful smile—they don't comment on the compromising position they found us in.

Peeta promptly moves back to his previous chair and remains there for the duration of the day.

Haymitch joins us not even five minutes after my mom and sister, and he brings boiled cabbage stew from the cafeteria in tow.

"Here you go, Sweetheart," he says with a large smile, looking at the disgusting concoction with excitement now.

I look at the bowl, wishing I had more of an appetite so I could actually feel some desire to eat it. In spite of Haymitch's jokes, the cabbage stew would have been a luxury to me once upon a time, when all I could find to fill my screaming stomach was mint leaves and, if I were lucky, the roots I was named after. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" I inquire, turning the spoon around in the bowl.

"Oh I didn't," my old mentor quickly replies, plopping down in a chair against the wall. "It was for the boy." He gestured towards Peeta, who's running his fingers softly along my spine, inconspicuous enough that not even Prim catches on. "But I figure you deserve it more, since you're the one in the hospital. Speaking of that, why did you two switch places?" He asks, brash and wry.

My mom glares at Haymitch, disapproving of his callous comment, which catches me completely off guard.

My mother usually ignores all chatter between me and Haymitch and Peeta, only chiming in if Haymitch is speaking of something from Twelve that I'd be too young to understand.

I remember then watching Haymitch's tape on the train with Peeta, realizing he and my mom shared a permanent tie labeled Maysilee Donner. I look between them for a hint of familiarity I didn't see before and quickly realize Peeta's doing the exact same thing.

My mom quickly turns back to me, and gingerly but vigoriously, coaxes the stew into my stomach, even when I try to refuse because my ribs ache and using any of my muscles leaves me feeling irritable and shaky and hot inside.

"Just a little bit more, sweet girl," my mom murmurs, forcing me to finish the entire bowl, and it's only when Prim looks at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, that I realize my mom had used a long forgotten term of endearment. One that I'd rejected since her bout of deep, delbilitating depression.

I didn't comment on it and I don't think my mother even realized, but I avoid Peeta's eyes because evidently, by the looks of his smirk, even he knew the exchange was rare and hard to come by.

Just as I all but lick the soup bowl clean and my mom's whispering mournfully she has to go back to work and was only allowed to come see me for lunch. I am caught off guard once again though, when she kisses my forehead and whispers, with audible tears, that she loves me so much.

I feel like a monster all of a sudden, for the absolute hell I must have put her through.

I squeeze Prim's hand as tight as I can as she takes our mom's seat and scoots it even closer to my bed. "Hey, little duck," I greet in my most comforting voice. "How're things while I was gone."

Prim, as usual, puts up a-albeit, very weak-pretense in order to make me feel better. "They were okay for the most part." She pauses and bites her lip, contemplating to herself before adding. "It was just hard because we didn't even know you were leaving and then we watched you be shot on live TV."

"I know," I murmur apologetically, because it's all I can do. "I'm so sorry, Prim."

But my sister's shaking her head before I can finish and I swear Peeta and Haymitch roll their eyes at the same moment and if Prim wasn't here, I'd be telling them both off.

"No one's mad at you, Katniss," she promises, like that's my concern. People I love being angry, not people I love going through absolute turmoil. "Just... next time could you let us know?"

I nod automatically, because I want my sister to feel better, even though I'm unsure if I can even fulfill this promise. "Yeah, of course."

Prim just stares at me for a moment. "You're such a bad liar," she finally calls out.

Haymitch noisily laughs from across the room, but Peeta remains completely stoic now, and I want three sets of eyes so I could focus on multiple people at once.

I choose to keep my focus on my little sister. "Prim," I start, my voice still unconvincing. "I just... I never know what's going to happen next, so it's hard to know ahead of time what I'll do. The last thing I want, that I've ever wanted, was to worry you and mom."

"Yeah, but, Katniss," She refutes even and diplomatically. "You not telling us only makes it worse. Finding out from strangers you and Gale disappeared off to District Two on a secret mission with the rebels? Only to watch them fake your death? It was as bad as watching you in the games."

I feel my chest constrict and the breath fly out of my aching lungs as I swallow down the lump formed in my throat. "Prim, I never meant-"

"She knows, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, his hand sifting through my hair once again.

Prim looks at Peeta—with more familiarity than I've ever seen between them before—and then back at me. "He's right. I know you never meant for that to happen but... if you could just let us into the loop a little more, it'd make things a lot more bearable."

I nod, meaning my promise to keep her and our mom more informed now. I squeeze Prim's hand again and ask quietly, "how bad was mom when I was shot?"

Prim's eyes shoot to Peeta almost intractably. But I catch it and I press it before they can pretend it didn't happen.

"What's going on with you two?"

They both look at me in utter shock. Or is that the look of getting caught keeping a secret?

"Nothing," Prim immediately covers. Peeta, on the other hand, doesn't react so quick, and instead chooses to just shut his eyes to avoid looking at me.

There's something more going on that they want to avoid telling me. And instinctively, I don't think it's about my mother. Even without him meeting my glance, I can tell Peeta's embarrassed about something.

"Prim," I say evenly. "You're a worse liar than I am."

"You actually are, kid," Haymitch adds. "Didn't think that was possible."

"What happened when I was shot?" I ask again, my voice closer to a threat than a comfort now.

"Let it go, Katniss. It's not important," Peeta urges, his own voice more worn and irritated than I'd heard it since the last games.

"When has she ever let something go?" Haymitch ponders, unfazed by our whole exchange.

"Katniss," Prim starts but I cut her off. I can tell she was going to placate me, like getting shot turned me into our mother.

"As your older sister, you're not allowed to lie to me."

"C'mon now, Sweetheart. That's not being fair."

"Then you tell me, Haymitch. What happened when I was shot that they don't want me to know?"

Our old mentor sighs deeply but I can tell he's relenting. If I couldn't see the resignation on Haymitch's face, Peeta's whole body tensing up in anticipation would be a dead giveaway.

"The boy had a meltdown when you were shot," Haymitch finally states. He gives Peeta a long, measuring look before continuing. "He basically went ballistic and lost his grip on reality." He moves his eyes to train them on the floor of my hospital room. I know he's trying now to avoid Peeta's furious eyes, full of betrayal.

"What?" I turn and look at the boy beside me, remorse overtaking my entire being. I reach out and touch his face but he won't look at me, even when I try to force him.

"He was frantic for days. Couldn't tell the difference in reality and the lies the Calitol fed him. He was only released probably an hour before you woke up. So I guess you guys have good timing," Haymitch adds, trying too hard to lighten the mood.

"Peeta," I whisper after a beat, pleading with him to just look at me, talk to me, but to no avail.

"Peeta, talk to her," Prim begs on my behalf.

"It wasn't that severe," he finally states, his voice extremely muted now as he speaks in a hushed tone, only to me. "I didn't want to tell you because you don't need anything else on your plate. Especially not about me. And it was barely worth mentioning."

"I think it was worth mentioning," Prim chimes and Haymitch points at her and nods.

"She's got better sense than both of you."

Peeta ignores Haymitch. "Prim," he groans with an air of affinity that still boggled me. "Stop. It was fine."

"You were so upset though. And she should know, since she's the one the Capitol wanted to hurt when they tortured you," she advocates, impressing even me with her reason. "And I think we should all stop lying," my pure-of-heart little sister tacts onto the end.

Haymitch nods affirmatively towards Prim again, and I see something akin to wonder now in his eyes as he looks at her, and it takes no more than common sense to realize he's imagining life with Prim as his victor and how much easier that would have been.

"I just don't think now is the time to be talking about this, Prim," Peeta tersely states.

I can't help but interject now, after having witnessed their exchange this whole time, "I'm sorry, but do you two know each other?"

A look is exchanged between all three of them and I'm so tempted to ask if they'd like me to leave so they can freely converse in private. Finally Prim informs quietly, "me and mom were there with Peeta when he got upset. He actually helped mom because she had somewhere to focus all her own emotions. You know how she is, Katniss. When things get rough, she puts all of herself into her healing."

"Glad of be of service," Peeta mumbles despondently and I can see in his troubled eyes, he's blatantly ashamed of himself.

"Peeta," I murmur softly, taking his hand against his will—he tries to fight me from even picking it up—and bringing it to my lips.

He sighs deeply and offers me a half smile. "My being a lunatic doesn't disturb you?"

"Of course not," I quickly dispute. My mind is still processing all of this though. "So you and my family... bonded after I was shot?"

Peeta outwardly groans, dropping my hand. "Let it go, Katniss."

"I just never considered it a huge connecting technique. You know, I could have gotten shot a long time ago-"

"That's not even funny," Peeta chides and there's nothing humorous in his voice now.

I shut up instantly, feeling the mood of the room drop. Even Haymitch falls silent and adverts his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper and I don't know who I'm apologizing to, Peeta or Prim. I'm know I'm not saying sorry to Haymitch, who is still lolled in his chair across the room. Although maybe I should, since he was undoubtedly as scared as the rest of my family. Not that he'd ever admit that to me.

Peeta shakes his head and his expression softens. Leaning in closer, he gently brushes his lips to my cheek, very lightly and very chaste, considering Prim's proximity.

"Just don't lie to us again," Prim pleads, taking my other hand firmly. "No matter how much you want to protect us."

I nod obligingly, maybe more to relieve my guilt than anything else but I do actually mean my promise. "Okay," I swear.

Peeta pushes back my hair soothingly before running the back of his hand over my cheek. "Okay," he finally repeats, only loud enough for me to hear.

And I know then that he's forgiven me.

///

Within an hour, my mom, Gale, Boggs, Plutarch and my doctor all join the party inside my hospital room.

"Isn't there a limited amount of people allowed in one room?" Haymitch retorts gruffly, unhappy about being squished into the corner and unable to spread out the way he was before.

"Oh there usually is," Plutarch confirms, his tone more joyful than I find appropriate, given my situation. And the state of the rebels now. "But I asked Coin to make an exception for Katniss."

"Can Coin make an exception and give Katniss a bigger room?" Gale mumbles under his breath.

I laugh at his sarcasm and his disgruntled expression. We'd made amends on the way to District Two, not wanting to be in potentially dangerous territories and still on the outs with each other. I expected the issues that made us clash—and whatever feelings that still lied between us—would all come to a head once we returned to Thirteen, but we unexpectedly took longer than anticipated in Two and now I was wounded. And even Gale can't deny he was scared out of his mind when I went down. Even he isn't in the mindset to wrangle with me.

I squeeze Peeta's hand in my own and pretend I don't see Gale's envious eyes staring at our interconnected limbs. I don't feel the same guilt I usually do when it was apparent Gale was upset by me and Peeta, and I wonder, idly, in the back of my mind, if this isn't because of the morphling I'm pumped full of.

My doctor is one of the same people who checked Peeta out after he was rescued and I realize I don't even know his name. It doesn't seem like I'll learn it now either, as he barely speaks. I'm half inclined—though I know it's impossible—to think my own mother is the one who operated on me, from the lack of insight the man provides.

In any case, the doctor doesn't seem concerned in the slightest about me and slips out of the room as soon as Plutarch shifts the conversation in a new direction.

"So, I was wondering," he starts, his face still much too happy to completely sit right with me. "Maybe if you'd be up—once you're out of bed and recovered, of course—to film a propo?"

I just stare at him blankly, wondering how on Earth he expected me to have any desire to film anything right now, while I'm still currently getting pain relievers pumped into my veins.

He misreads my expression and quickly adds, "Of course Peeta would be in it! The Star-Cross Lovers need to be shown reunited. I feel that could help with the cause immensely—"

He keeps talking but I automatically tune out his chirping voice as he prattles on. I can see his vision now. The Mockingjay Lives splayed across the screen, me and Peeta wrapped in an embrace, my voice loud and strong, announcing that we're going to keep fighting to the end.

I'm not the only one looking at Platurch like he's grown a second head. The only person who's not looking at the man with distain or disbelief is Haymitch, who's expression is either mildly entertained or filled with such incredulity that he looks like he's grinning.

Peeta's reaction is much stronger than I expect and it's only after he looks like he's grown nauseous from disgust or is planning on throwing something at Plutarch's joyous face, that I realize Peeta has no real experience with the Gamemaker.

He was in the Capitol the entire time I've really gotten to know Plutarch and the man's antics must seem completely foreign to Peeta.

I squeeze his hand before he can say anything and shake my head in Plutarch's general direction. He isn't harmful and I don't want Peeta to waste the energy he needs to recover.

But he has trouble swallowing down his obvious repulsion and his hands begin to shake and his eyes are far angrier than I would have expected in these circumstances a few months ago.

It's my mom who is murmuring about Peeta needing to check in with his doctors and how she'll walk him down there and she waits expectantly for him to get up and part of me faintly envies him for some reason. And I realize quickly that it's the way she talks to him—it's the way she speaks to all patients of her's, really. It's a firm tone, that's still kind but is very direct. Maybe a little authoritative and unyielding. And I realize at once it's a tone I almost never heard again after my dad's death and I took over caring for the family.

And I miss it. Despite everything. Despite my lack of trust in her and my fear she'll retreat back into her shell one day and leave me and Prim behind all over again. Despite my instincts to never put my faith in my mother again, a big part of me still misses the days when she parented me.

Peeta sighs, seeing through the ruse, and kisses my nose before heading out the door behind my mother.

Plutarch follows too, blatantly unaware of what he set into motion, and saying he was needs to review the film of the other Victors for their propos. I'm still appalled he wanted to parade me out while I'm lying in a hospital bed, but I do feel a bit more at ease knowing it's not just me and Peeta he wants to exploit for the sake of the rebellion.

I wished to myself I could actually go to where the fight was. That I could actually have a shot of getting close enough to really be involved in taking down Snow and his supporters, rather than being filmed as a icon to motivate other people to fight in this war.

I kept this to myself, as my even being in this bed was proof of what happened when I was a more central part of the fighting. And even then, I somehow managed to get shot while they were essentially using me as a talking piece for the other soldiers.

But there was something else on my mind and I turned to focus onto Gale now. Only he, Prim and Haymitch remained in my room and Prim was telling my old mentor about the medical uses of alcohol. I don't know what she planned on accomplishing with that, but it worked as a diversion for me at the moment.

"Okay, so what happened?" I press Gale in a hushed voice when I know Prim isn't listening. He gives me a quizzical look and I quickly clarify. "With Peeta and my mom and Prim?"

Comprehension fills his eyes and he sighs before continuing. "I wasn't there for the beginning. Obviously. I was with you in District Two. But I know that he was watching TV when you were shot, and he completely lost it. Apparently it triggered some kind of flashback to something they used to do to him in the Capitol. He was still yelling when we arrived back. I heard it when I passed his room while you were in surgery. Whatever Snow did to him-"

He's promptly cut off by a new but familiar voice joining the room now. "Ah, yes," Johanna Mason shoves back the curtain separating my cubicle from the one next door. Her's, I guess. "Fond memories you mention, Handsome." She winks at Gale. "One of Snow's favorite methods of torture. The old 'make Peeta watch a thousand fabricated video simulations of Katniss being brutally murdered, on repeat. Don't let him sleep. Beat him. Water him down and beat him some more. Make him watch the Katniss Dying Simmulations again', until he can't even tell you what's real and what's not."

I just stare at her, my heart sinking in my chest rapidly. "What?" Is all I can manage to say, my mouth drying up fast.

"I mean, there were worse forms of torture Snow and his men liked to use on me and your fiancé, but I was told you needed to be kept in the dark about those," she state cheekily, obviously trying to goad me.

"Who told you to keep me in the dark?" I snap, my eyes shooting between Prim, who's now looking right at me, and Gale.

Johanna, much to my surprise, points to Haymitch. The older man is still laid out in a chair in the corner of the room, having made himself comfortable again, but at least now has the decency to look sheepish.

"Listen, Sweetheart," he immediately defends. "You and the boy have your own separate issues, alright? You both don't need to take on the other's all the dang time."

"Haymitch-" I start to growl but am caught off guard by a completely unexpected noise. Johanna's hysterical, dark, morbid laughter.

"I can't believe you were rescued and I was tortured, and I'm expected to protect you from the truth."

I don't blame her. No one could honestly. She was tortured because of me and the rebels. She could say and do whatever she wanted at this point, and no one had the right to tell her differently.

"Johanna," I start but let her cut me off once again, becoming accustomed to the feeling.

"And don't worry about Peeta," she says but the resentful shake of her head doesn't fill me with hope. "Your mom made him her project once they informed her your suit was bulletproof. Her and your sister basically walked him off the ledge."

And because I know she's the only person who will be completely uncensored—something I can't even say about Haymitch these days—I blurt out my next question. "What was Peeta saying? When he lost it?"

Her response is immediate and I get the impression she enjoys telling me, for some sick reason.

"Give me back to the Capitol. They'll find a way to revive her if you give me back. I want to go back. I'll trade my life for her's. Please, let me go back."

As soon as the words sunk into my brain, I wanted to puke.

So I did.

////

Johanna wasn't happy about my vomiting a literal foot away from her and she was downright livid when no one else appeared to be irritated with me but she reached a breaking point when both Peeta—who returned upon hearing my loud gagging—and Gale comforted me.

It was an odd sensation to be in not just conversation with both Peeta and Gale but to have them both be so sweet to me, at the same exact time. Without even so much as looking crossly towards the other one.

Gale held my hand and told me to calm down in a gentle voice he only ordinarily used for one of our sisters or his mom. Peeta was sitting opposite him, on the edge of my bed and telling me softly to just relax as he stroked my hair tenderly. Even Haymitch had gotten out of his seat to call an attendant to clean up my vomit and Prim and my mom were standing at the end of my bed, looking worriedly onto the scene.

Johanna's voice was biting as she took us all in. "How much hand holding does she need? Considering she was apparently strong enough to be the face of our entire cause."

"I shouldn't be," I instantly agree with her. "You should be. No one has to push you or tell you what to say."

"No one likes me, brainless," she says snidely, a leering smile spreading across her face.

"That's because everyone's afraid of you," Prim chimes in timidly, and I drop Gale's hand to reach for my little sister's, almost on instinct upon hearing her scared voice.

But Johanna has the decency to not swipe at Prim and instead gives her a sympathetic look. As if to say you don't have to be scared of me.

Her compassion evidently only extends to the thirteen-year-old, as when Finnick and Annie join the room right on the heels of Prim's words, Johanna barks out a cruel laugh. "Really? More people? Are we having a party to celebrate Katniss?" She gives everyone a mocking look around the room. "Well, I wish someone would have told me. I forgot to bring my streamers."

For some reason her tone suddenly forces back a memory of the last night in the arena. Her cutting my arm open and my red, hot, sticky blood gushing everywhere. My understanding at the time being that this was an attempt to kill me. I know now that this was the rebels' plan and she was really cutting out my tracker but the sense memory can't be so easily rationalized away.

I flinch outwardly and both Gale and Prim's faces silently ask if I'm alright. But I'm quickly distracted elsewhere.

I'm, once again, wholly surprised by Peeta's reaction.

"Don't you have anything else to do, Johanna, besides bug Katniss?" There's a strong irritability in his voice, one I'd only heard from an outsider prospective in the past. On the off occasion I'd witnessed he and his brothers in any sort of conversation. Their relationship was tense at times but they were still siblings and extremely close in age. That made for a lot of squabbling and a lot of fighting and a lot of sparring with each other. And a lot of aggravating each other, causing Peeta to behave in a way I'd never seen him otherwise.

"I don't know?" She shoots back, not even missing a beat. "Didn't I have better things to do than cuddle you after Snow's guards were done for the day? And yet, who's shoulder did you cry on? Who held your hand through our adjoining cells?" She smirks and it's obvious she's speaking for the rest of us to hear.

Annie makes an animalistic squeak and covers her ears. Finnick quickly wraps an arm around her and shoots a glare at Johanna.

"What?" She snaps. "Annie was there in the Capitol, Finnick. She know what went down."

"Doesn't mean you have to remind her of it," I state, my voice grave as I watch the mad girl Finnick loves more than life itself retreat into her own psyche.

And for some odd reason, I relate. To both Finnick, who's doing everything he can now to bring her back from the dark depths of her own mind, and Annie herself, who is buried beneath the ruins of a trauma she'll never be able to escape and is visibly struggling to dig her way back out.

I look to Peeta then, almost imperceptibly, and he just gives me a knowing, almost satirical glance. He was undoubtably thinking the same thing.

Johanna is ready to spit in my face, and she probably would, no doubt, if it were just the two of us. "You have no idea what went down after we were captured," she seethes, growing closer to me, and Peeta places an arm in front of her, blocking me from her reach, but I note the gesture isn't rough or hostile.

Gale and my mom both look like they're going to intervene. Finnick is busy with Annie now. Prim looks shell shocked and Haymitch seems to have lost interest in watching us.

For some reason, maybe it's the morphling, maybe I just feel safe surrounded by so many people who would stop her if she lunged for my throat, but I decide to reply. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

Her violent demeanor dissipates but she still has a spiteful glint in her gaze. "That's part of it. And partially because everyone is so obsessed with you. I've never seen anything about you that's so good or special."

"I agree with you about that," I say quietly, knowing it'll do nothing to mend fences with her.

Haymitch, who out of everyone I thought would agree as well, is the one who speaks up. "There's plenty good in that girl," he retorts sharply, his grey eyes hard as he stares at Johanna.

That caught me—and Peeta, by the look on his face—more off guard than anything Johanna had said thus far.

But it's Johanna's words, which aren't even directed at me, that send a chill to my spine. "Careful, Haymitch. Remember, I'm the one who's always there for the victor you constantly forget about. Or was that you who held his hand while the doctors and Mrs. Everdeen had him strapped down for two days?"

Gale is the one who responds, much to my surprise. "Okay, stop. I know you've been through—"

"Handsome," she cuts off, her voice clipped and snarky but she still bats her lashes in his direction. "You don't know anything."

"Johanna, please," Peeta murmurs now, his tone softer and a lot more understanding. "Please go back to your cubicle. I'll tell the doctors you're complaining of massive pain and need more morphling."

She stares at Peeta, her eyes softening the same way they did for Prim only minutes before. Finally she says, "it's the least you can do. Considering you wouldn't share your fiancé's with me."

And, as soon as she appeared, she had evaporated behind the curtain.

And I feel like somehow, I'm the only person who is left reeling in her absence.

/////

My mom was called back to work once again—and this time, she was made to stay there, my condition apparently too stabilized for them to be letting one of their better healers cut back on her hours—and she took Prim with her. I don't know if it was because Prim would be of use or if she just thought I needed alone time without worrying about my sister overhearing too much.

It occurs to me how much my mom is trying now to wordlessly look out for my needs. I decide to make a point in finding a way to say thank you to her. Even if our relationship will never be what it could have been, had there never been corruption or games or mine explosions. Had there been proper help to those suffering and in need.

Finnick chats with me and Peeta for a moment—and entirely ignores Gale but I suspect that's less about being intentionally rude and more about never knowing what to do with my best friend slash fake cousin—before escorting Annie away. She still looks shaken up and I wonder what happened to her in the Capitol. Or if she was already this unstable. I scarcely remember anything about her or her games, prior to what Peeta reminded me of in the Quell.

"You look tired," Peeta notes, brushing my hair back from my forehead. I smile lightly, about to kiss the palm of his hand before noticing Gale's eyes. They are quite apparently envious of Peeta's affection towards me and my acceptance of it, of how naturally Peeta can touch me, of the innate intimacy between the two of us that I never shared with him. But he tries his best to mask it and for that, I feel even worse.

I look to Haymitch without realizing it and somehow the older man understands without me even consciously thinking of asking.

"Boy," Haymitch grunts, putting on a good show as he stands up. "Let's go get some real food from the cafeteria. I hear if we say we'll participate in Plutarch's Propos, we can get better grub than the rest of Thirteen."

Peeta nods, his eyes gently running over my face, as if memorizing it in his mind. "Will you be okay-"

"Okay, Johanna was right," Haymitch barks now, grabbing Peeta by the back of the shirt, his grip much too docile to pass as normal though. "She'll be fine. Let's all stop hovering. She'll be up and tormenting us in a day."

I roll my eyes at his antics but smile meagerly at him as he guides Peeta out the door.

"Well," Gale breathes out as they leave. "That was subtle."

I laugh loud enough that I hear Johanna hiss from the cubicle next door. "I wanted to talk to you privately."

Gale chuckles. "Gathered that."

I know I have a limited time before Peeta returns and honestly I'm not too mad about that fact either, as I somehow, chessily, long for him now whenever he's gone. I inwardly cringe at myself before shaking it off to hurry this conversation along. "I wanted to apologize for me and Peeta. For how we can act. For..." I trail off, realizing too late I didn't pre-plan my words.

Peeta was right when he'd spat at Haymitch on the Victory Tour, "we all know I'm better on camera than Katniss. No one has to coach me on what to say."

I wished for his ease and talent with words now as I fumble around, trying to convey my message to the person who's been my best friend for years now.

He understands though—thankfully—and needs no more explanation. His tone has become solemn when he speaks. "You're really not faking it anymore, are you? Being in love with him?" His eyes are full of pain and he quickly downcasts them. "You fell in love with him in the Quarter Quell," he says as a fact, not a question.

"I don't know, Gale!" I exclaim, quick to defend myself here, like I'm being accused of something horrific. In truth, I feel like I am. I feel like I am, when I see how much it hurts him when me and Peeta are together. "I don't know how I feel. I just know I feel a lot for both of you."

"That's not good enough, Catnip," Gale whispers, shaking his head. But he uses my old nickname and that gives me hope. Hope that he won't hate me for not being able to give him what he wishes. Hope that I won't lose him entirely by the end of this war. "You really do need him."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and rectify this. But I can't because it's true. Those are my words he's repeating back to me and they completely true. I do need Peeta. Maybe in a way I'll never need Gale. I don't know. I can't know. Not with all that rests on my shoulders already.

"What if I made you choose?" Gale presses now, leaning in closer. "What if I begged and pled and promised I'd find a way to make you happy? Would you pick me then?"

My mouth still hangs open, unsure what to say that get me out of this. I look towards the door, wishing Haymitch would reappear, that Peeta would burst through with his loud footfalls, that Johanna would pop back in and rub some salt in everyone's wounds.

All that would be preferable to this right now and I wonder why I ever wanted Haymitch to take Peeta away.

Gale shakes his head now though, having recieved his answer. "I thought so."

"Gale-" I start, not knowing where I was planning on taking the exchange but before I can even make a redundant attempt to mend whatever broke between me and him a long time ago, he's leaning in and his lips are pressing to mine and after half a second of shock, I'm giving in.

After everything I'd denied him, after all that he'd done for me and for my family, after how much he'd been there for me while Peeta was in the Capitol, I let myself give in and kiss him back.

His lips are different from Peeta's and I can't figure out how I feel about them. He's always been more grown, appearance wise, than Peeta and me, who both still could pass for years younger in the right clothing. But even his kissing is reeks of more experience, more practice, and somehow I find myself learning as his mouth shift under mine, as both his lips suck on my bottom lip expertly.

But it's lacking something and it's only then I realize, what I'm searching for inside Gale's mouth, is the spark that only Peeta's ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn't manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn't be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale's demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I'm not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I'm hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale's face isn't even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Halloween Coutdown - A Bump in the Night

Summary: Victoria Van Gale is a serious scientist even after her laboratory and workplace is destroyed, she remains the sort of person to look for the reasons behind everything. She likes being in control, she makes stern analyses and important experiments, and she… goes trick or treating with a bunch of kids?

Notes: 3 days until Halloween, you guys!!! This is the irst time i actually try to make something I write feel like an episode, I hope you enjoy it! I thought it would be hard to write something with no sketchbook (and no librarian either!!) but it was actually so fun! Love this little unhinged scientist

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: HYPNOTIZED by AViVA

Victoria Van Gale did not like things she could not control.

She took her coffee black, she liked to read biographies, she was an early riser and she didn’t like things she couldn’t control. It was just one more part of her personality like any other, and she’d never really seen a reason to fight it. Granted, she supposed that it had been partially to blame for the fact that her observatory was now destructed, and she had to work a dull nine to five job to pay for the apartment she’d managed to rent. But she hadn’t been the only one involved in that mess. The responsibility could hardly be given to her, she’d been perfectly fine  before those kids and their talking bird arrived. Or at least she told herself.

But the fact was that, out of her distaste for things she couldn’t understand and command, was born a revulsion against that one night of the year.

Halloween. What a bunch of nonsense.

She did her best to forget the night every year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in ghosts, witches and monsters. She’d seen enough to know there was much in this world that she couldn’t understand. It just made her uncomfortable to have to face a whole celebration dedicated to the incomprehensible. Why should they revel in it when they could analyze it? If humans had superior intellect, only their silly superstitions stopped them from being the absolute rulers of the world.

It seemed that, in her efforts, Victoria did manage to forget about Halloween, because she gasped as soon as she stepped outside and was faced with a crowd of children dressed in colourful costumes, running around and knocking on people's doors. A group of kids nearby noticed her leaving the building in which her apartment was, and ran towards her.

“Trick or treat!” They exclaimed, raising their pumpkin shaped buckets at her. Victoria tried not to feel too guilty as she gently told them he had nothing to give them and watched them walk away crestfallen.

Her plan had been to go to the nearest convenience store, pick something to snack on since she felt like it, and return home just as quickly. With all the tumult the celebrations caused, however, she was just considering giving up on her task to head back home when she felt something bump against her leg. Looking down, she saw a white figure, much smaller than a child. As it realized it had bumped on her in its haste, it looked at her and Victoria could see the glimmer of the lamp post light on its dark eyes. It ran away, and she took off after it.

By the way the creature ran, with white linen trailing behind it, Victoria could only come to one conclusion: she’d found a ghost. And if she managed to catch it, the amount of information she could get was unimaginable! How did ghosts come back to the earth? Was it true that there were more ghosts around on Halloween? What was the afterlife like? How did a ghost even work? The excitement at the prospect of asking those questions, combined with the running which she didn’t do often left her breathless.

As she dodged them, her chase attracted the odd stares of many children, and even their complaints when she accidently hit one in the shoulder, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was getting to the ghost and taking it to somewhere where she could study it. Nevermind that this would probably be her apartment.

She came to a halt, however, when a large group of children who were crossing the street together blocked her path. She tried to squeeze her way past it, but when she had finally crossed the crowd, the ghost was nowhere in sight. 

“Oh, no” She whispered, looking around frantically. She jogged forward, coming to the end of the street, and looked into the two other streets that the one she was in led into, seeing nothing but more children. There was a fifty per cent chance she’d pick the right road, and she was about to try her luck on the path to her right when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Victoria… what are you doing?”

Startled, Victoria looked behind her shoulder to see the same blue haired girl who had set her weather spirit free. Her face had been painted green with black drawings that mimicked stitches, and the hair bow she was wearing had screws in its ends to make it look like they were coming out of her skull. She was accompanied by the boy Victoria also remembered, who wore dark clothes and fake fangs, and a girl Victoria hadn’t met yet, a witch hat on top of her head and wearing a black dress.

She didn’t exactly still have hard feelings towards Hilda, though she wasn’t over the fact that her interference in private matters had left her homeless and jobless. For her part, however, Hilda looked like she didn’t trust Victoria in the least.

“Oh! Hilda! You won’t believe this, I just saw a <em>ghost</em>. I’m, uh, happy to see you’re fine, by the way. With the nasty fall you took from the bureau and all.”

“Are you really?” David muttered, making Hilda elbow him softly so as to tell him not to pick on her.

Hilda asked her what the ghost she saw was like, while Frida whispered to her friends questioning who this woman was. Though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, Victoria noticed David answering in her ear.

“It was very small.” She informed, placing her hands apart from each other in order to show her esteemed measurement of it. The girl that was dressed as a witch looked at her with suspicion as her friend talked to her, but she tried to ignore the two of them and focus on Hilda. “And it really did wear a white cloth like the tales say. Pretty quick, too.”

Frida was about to refute something she said when Hilda lifted her hand, asking her not to.

“A ghost!” Hilda exclaimed, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s interesting. But why were you running after it?”

Victoria fidgeted, rubbing her thumb and index finger in circles. “Well, I… I’d never seen a ghost before, is all. I just wanted to try and take a look! See what they’re made of!”

Looking disappointed with the answer, Hilda sighed and shook her head negatively. “Still trying to control everything, Victoria? Haven’t you learned already?”

“That’s… that’s not it…” Victoria tried to defend herself, looking down at her feet.

“You know what?” Hilda said suddenly, her tone changing abruptly to a more joyful one. “You are not going to find anything in this crowd by yourself. Not only that, but all three of us have actual experiences with ghosts. We’ll help you with it.”

“Really?” Both Victoria and the two other children gasped.

“Really, under one condition.” She put a finger up, looking serious. “This is my first Halloween in Trolberg, and I don’t want to miss out on it. You’ll come with us and after we’re done trick or treating, we’ll help.”

“Huh?” Victoria frowned, thinking that perhaps the girl had hit her head hard after that explosion in the bureau. If she ran, she still might catch up with her ghost, but if she spent the night trick or treating, she was certain to never see it again.

“Hilda, I don’t have time-” She tried to argue, but the girl cut her off.

“Don’t you know the lore of Halloween? These ghosts will be walking around town the whole night. In fact, if you come with us, there is an even greater chance of you finding a ghost, even if not the one you just saw. But it’s all the same to science, right?”

“Yes…” Victoria rubbed her chin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But Hilda.” David whispered to his friend, probably thinking he was being a lot more discreet than he was in reality. “She’s an adult. Adults can’t go trick or treating.”

The look Hilda gave her scared Victoria more than any child should be able to.

“They can if they’re part of our costume.”

_#_#_#_

Victoria all but dragged herself behind them, attempting not to feel like a fool.

“Is this really necessary?” she groaned, being met with Hilda’s fierce affirmation that yes, it was necessary. After they’d struck their agreement, the trio had made her take them to her apartment, where they found her lab gloves and coat and made her wear it. They hadn’t even stopped there, finding her black rain boots and asking her to put them on too.

When they began going to the first houses, she’d felt awkward standing near the children as they asked for candy. Most people ignored her, until one woman, with bright red curly hair and a sweet face chuckled at her.

“Who would you be?” She asked, not mockingly but with curiosity after dropping a large amount of sweets into the children's pumpkins.

Hilda was fast to answer. “She’s Victor Frankenstein!”

“Oh, what a lovely pair you two make!” The woman said, her eyes going back and forth between Hilda and Victoria. “You must be such a dedicated auntie. Here, have some candie as well, you deserve it.”

After putting candies in Victoria’s shelled hands, she wished them a good Halloween and closed her door. The children climbed down from her porch, but Victoria remained where she was, looking awestruck as she stared at her hands.

“Are you okay?” Frida asked, the first to realize Victoria hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just been a lot of time since I received candy from anyone.”

David tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t eaten candy in a long time?”

“What? No!” Victoria assured him. “I eat more candy than I should, honestly. But it’s different when you get it from someone. Everything is more special when it’s a gift, I suppose.”

“Hey, why don’t we stop and eat some of what we got tonight?” Hilda suggested, and the rest of them agreed eagerly. There was a bench nearby, and they all sat on it. As the kids dug into their pumpkin buckets, making their choice of which sweet to eat first, Victoria unwrapped a sour candy.

“Did you know that sour candies are sour because of the citric acid?” She asked, drawing the kids’ attention. “Like all acids, it has hydrogen ions which activate our tongue’s sour taste receptors! Isn’t this interesting? Of course, this is the same acid we have in some fruits, but to use it in candy you need to make it by fermenting sugar with microorganisms! Not as simple as it seems at first, I’m certain.”

“I thought you were a meteorologist.” David said after a beat.

“I am! But that doesn’t stop me from liking the other sciences as well.”

“That’s so cool, miss Van Gale!” Frida gasped, and Hilda nodded in agreement. “I hope this is not rude to ask… but there are so many things about the science books I read that I don’t understand, and our teacher can never really answer all of them. I was wondering if one day you’d be willing to help me with that?”

“Of course!” Excited at the prospect of having someone to discuss science with, Victoria nodded, happy when the girl looked joyful with her acceptance. “It's always good to revisit topics one hasn’t studied for long. Keeps the brain sharp.”

There was a pen in her labcoat’s pocket, and the woman used it to write her landline’s number on the candy wrap and give it to Frida, so she could call her for them to arrange a day.

“I think we should go.” Hilda sighed, tired because of the late hour but very happy about how her first Halloween in the city was going. “We still have many houses to visit, and I have an idea that might get us even more candy.”

_#_#_#_

“It’s moving…” Victoria uttered in the moment when Hilda, lying down in front of the house’s door, began lifting her hand. The couple that lived in the house watched them with curiosity and wonderment at their makeshift theatre. “It’s alive! It’s moving, it’s alive! In the name of God, now I know what it is like to be God! IT’S ALIVE!”

Abruptly, Hilda lifted her whole torso up, groaning as monstrously as she could. Her two friends giggled, already having received their candy, and the couple clapped at them.

“How frightening!” the woman said, dropping candy into Hilda’s pumpkin. “Happy Halloween and keep up the good work!”

The group left, laughing about how good their acting had been. They’d done it for all the past houses, and everyone who had seen it had loved it, even fellow trick or treaters. Now knowing that they were her favourite, Hilda always gave the sour candies she received to Victoria, and as she separated them from the others David complimented how genuine Victoria had sounded.

“Thank you, David. I have a talent for the dramatic arts, don’t you think?” She boasted mockingly, swiping her hand across her shoulder to push her wild hair back. The boy giggled, the apprehension he’d had of her in the beginning of the night all but gone. Without them even noticing, the resentment each of them had towards the other seemed to have melted away with the time they spent together.

“I just think ‘mad scientist’ comes to you naturally, Victoria.” He retorted, and she brought her hand to her heart in fake outrage, making them all laugh.

“It’s getting really late.” Frida said unwillingly. “I think I’ve got to go home.”

They all looked at the wrist clock Frida was wearing, and Victoria was surprised to find herself sad that her time with the children had come to an end. It made her even more surprised, when she remembered the ghost, that her first thought had been about the children and not about what they’d promised her.

After that, David also sighed and mumbled that he had to go, otherwise his parents might get worried. Hilda didn’t say anything, nor did she look at Victoria.

“I still…” Victoria began. She didn’t want to force kids to stay out past the time they should just to help her, but it seemed like they had forgotten. “I still need to look for the ghost.”

Hilda sighed, the same sigh from hours ago, when they’d found her running around like mad, and she finally looked at Victoria. The woman didn’t like the resignation in her eyes.

Unlike Hilda, when the two other kids looked at her, she could see that the ghost really had slipped from their minds, and that they even felt guilty about it.

“You two go home. I’ll help Victoria find her ‘ghost’.”

They nodded and said good night to both Hilda and Victoria, beginning their walk on the direction they had come from. Something about the way Hilda had said the word “ghost” didn’t sit right with her. If she was being honest, the fact that she’d apparently taken the girl from her happy mood to this silent one didn’t either. She told herself it didn’t matter, they had struck a deal and it wasn’t like she was the girl’s “auntie” like some of the people they saw seemed to think. But even though it didn’t matter, it still made her feel a pang in her chest when the most energetic, positive person she’d seen in years sat down on the concrete edge of the sidewalk.

“I thought you’d let this go.” She muttered, looking at a point in the distance. “I thought that maybe you’d have fun and realize that there’s so much beauty around, especially in te things you can’t control. But I suppose it would be asking for too much, to change a person in a night.”

She whistled suddenly, and Victoria heard the tip-tap of something small coming their way.

“Come here boy!” Hilda exclaimed, and when Victoria looked at the spot Hilda was watching, she saw the same creature she’d seen hours before running her way, and gasped when it happily came into Hilda’s arms.

After picking it up, Hilda turned to her, her face serious. “Is this your ghost?”“It is!” Victoria nodded, her mouth wide in surprise. The biggest surprise, however, came when Hilda lifted the veil from the creature, revealing a white, fluffy looking deerfox.

“Frida wanted to tell you in the beginning of the night. What I said was true, we have had experiences with ghosts, and we know that ghosts don’t wear veils like in the tales. I had dressed Twig up to come with me tonight, but I gave him the command to follow us from afar when I saw you. He must have bumped into you when he was bringing back the stick I threw him. Though he didn’t give me anything, so he mustn’t have been able to find it.” “What?” She gasped, watching Hilda shake her head and get up. “I don’t understand.”

“I know I’m young, Victoria, and I’m still getting used to the whole living in society thing. But there’s one thing I do know that you need to understand. If you keep believing life is a battle, you’ll never stop seeing enemies all around.”

After saying that, she walked away down the same road Frida and David had too. Disappointed, confused and guilty all at the same time, Victoria let herself fall down to the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

Though it was the most dangerous night of the year, she was beginning to think she was the only monster around.

[captain-emmajones]

Prompt: Emma teaching Hook how to drive a car or him trying to teach her how to sail

I Stood in Line for Love 

I went with Killian teaching Emma how to sail, hope you will like this anon <3 

Summary:  Post 3x16. Neal has just died, and Emma is mourning. Killian offers to take her sailing, doesn't except her to say yes. On the ship, he tries to teach her how to sail, and their mutual pining almost kills them.

Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff - 2000 words of mutual pining - Ao3 

Lyrics and titles are from Gale Song by The Lumineers <3 

“What am I, if not yours? What do I do with my hands when they are just hands?” Olivia Gatwood.

The words tickled his mouth. He had been stealing her glances for the last twenty minutes – more or less since she had been sitting in front of him, in one of Granny’s booth. She hadn’t said a word, had just landed in front of him with her cup of hot cocoa and a quick “’Morning, Hook.”

The elephant in the room was quite obvious. They had buried Neal just a week ago. There was a lump in his throat because he could only guess the extent of her pain and he couldn’t help her.

She was stubbornly not looking at him, hands wrapped around her mug of hot cocoa, so near and so far away at the time. Unreachable. Her undereye area was dangerously purple and her skin pale as snow. She looked exhausted.

And still she wouldn’t reach for him. She liked better to isolate herself in her grief, and how could he blame her? She had just lost her first love.

There was a time when I stood in line For love, for love, for love But I let you go, I let you go…

He remembered clearly what it had felt like to lose Milah. Agony was still a heartbeat away, but three hundred years of practice had muffled the destructive thoughts.

To make her look up, he tried a small cough, but she was stubborn. She simply wouldn’t.

It had felt like the end of the world, losing his Milah.

Until he met her.

(It bloody wrecked him to know he was not the second chance she was hoping for. Even more to know that if he might have been, it didn’t matter. She would never jump into love again.)

“You know, Swan,” he began, suddenly feeling bolder, and her eyes might have blinked to gaze at him, but she wasn’t really there, “the boy really enjoyed sailing.” A pause, he didn’t want to scare her off. Then again, she was already avoiding him so there wasn’t much for him to lose, “Perhaps, it would be relaxing for you too.”

There, he had dropped the bomb.

His heart stopped beating at his own words. He held his breath, petrified, considered her face with a lot of caution. Watched as a myriad of emotions seemed to wash over her, although she did try her best to conceal them.

Seconds flew away and his heart seemed to shatter along with them.

Clearly, this had been a mistake. Bloody hell, couldn’t you hold your tongue for a just a little longer, Killian—

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

It took him a good three seconds to realize she had been talking to him, and he even glanced behind him just to make sure.

It was then a challenge for him to hold back the very frank smile that tickled his lips. In truth, he failed miserably. “Oh! Well, I am your most devoted servant whenever you feel like it, Swan.”

His heart beamed when a very timid, very small smile curved her lips. It was a brief flicker of light, but the mask of sadness was quick to reconquer her face.

She suddenly stood up. She seemed upset, and he blamed himself. He desperately wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension on her face.

He clenched his jaw, hand fisted on the table. “See you around, Hook,” she mumbled, and ran away.

He stared at the mug of hot coca in front him. She had barely touched it.

He shook his shoulders, as if to regain some composure, as if she hadn’t just stepped on his heart. He silenced his own pain with a sip of rum.

He simply couldn’t reach her. And it was killing him.

.

Knock, knock,… Who the bloody hell was knocking on his door on a Sunday at 9am? Couldn’t a pirate sleep in for just one bloody day of the week?

He surely did not expect to open his door to face a visibly embarrassed Emma Swan. She was wrapped in a big, blue coat and she looked endearing – not that he’d tell her.

“Oh, I woke you up,” she sounded almost sorry, and she took a step back, a very red hue painted over her cheeks, “I thought we could go sailing this morning but clearly you’re not—”

Instinctively, he quickly grabbed her shoulder and her eyes burned his skin. “No no, Swan!” She looked concern, mouth slightly open, and he lowered his tone to reassure her: “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

When he closed the door behind him after a simple nod, he had to pinch himself. She came. To see him. His heart smiled. She came.

.

She was unable to understand what had gone through her mind. She had seriously thought it a very good idea to come knocking at Captain Hook’s door on a Sunday morning at 9am and somehow expect him to know full well she would come, and to be prepared, and not to stare at her with utter shock when he opened his door, and—

“Breath, Emma, breath” she mumbled to herself, alone in the corridor.

She was going back and forth between his room and the one she shared with Henry, her thoughts racing, this was definitely an enormous mistake, the bag of fresh pastries in her hand seeming suddenly absolutely ridiculous.

What was wrong with her? If anything, this looked like a goddamn date! She blinked in terror. He would never let her live this down.

She swallowed, inhaled deeply and pinched the tender skin of the palm of her hand.

Come on, Emma. You’re not sixteen anymore and you can spend the day with your f-friend,…

She was cut short in her anxious thoughts by Hook. He had just stepped out of his room, wearing his big, black coat.

(Nothing like the black boxers he was wearing when he had opened the door. How dare he.)

“Ready, Swan?” he attacked right away with a bright smile, and she buried her feet in the carpeted floor not to run.

She forced herself to faintly smile back.

“What took you forever?”

She cursed herself. Why did she always sound so angry when she was talking to him?

.

They made their way to the docks almost in complete silence, eating their pastries. He had probably looked completely baffled when she had handed him the buttery pastry, but then she had shoved it into his palm and he hadn’t dared to say anything besides this is most lovely, thank you Swan.

This winter morning was a real blessing for Hook. He loved the cold, salty sea air that filled his lungs with a very childish kind of joy.

He had tried to get her to talk, but his Swan was clearly reconsidering her decision to spend her morning with him and he was quite desperate to prove her wrong.

It really warmed his heart to think she would like to spend time with him. To be fair, it was your offer,…

She hadn’t glanced at him in the eye once. Instead, she was walking very steadily, hands in her pockets.

“Our vessel for the day,” he exclaimed in a smile once they had reached the ship. It was the one he had ‘borrowed’ earlier this week with the lad.  

If she was surprised to not see the Jolly Roger, she did not let it appear on her face. Instead, she nodded and offered him a small smile.

She looked adorable, with her red beanie and the same hue over her cheeks. He wasn’t bold enough to compliment her. She might have stabbed him.

Instinctively, his hand reached for her shoulder as she climbed aboard the ship. Before he could touch her, he felt her tense her muscles. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he backed away.

It hurt, in his chest.

.

Hook was a good teacher. He had a way with words. She noticed for the first time, as she was standing next to him on decks of the ship, that he had a very gentle, soothing voice.

He was guiding her hand on the ship’s wheel but did not linger there. He was holding back, she could tell, was trying to make her as comfortable as he possibly could aboard this ship.

She wondered where the Jolly Roger was, but did not dare to ask.

She understood quite quickly how to navigate the ocean, with a lot of his help of course.

The sea was indeed very calming. It distracted her from the torments of her heart, and the images of Neal’s death that were just under her eyelids. Those were exhausting her.

You could have done more. You could have saved him.

Lost in her thoughts, she made a mistake, and he had to reach for her hand to correct the course of the boat. It absolutely did not please something deep within her.

And when she made that same mistake thirty seconds later, it really had nothing to do with the sweet heat that warmed up her chest when he was near her. It was a freezing winter morning, and she was only trying to stay warm.

She had already noticed how long and thick were his eyelashes, but there was something strangely intimate when he bended towards her to show her the direction on a map, and all she could do was stare at the serious expression on his face.

She swallowed, felt her cheeks get warmer.

“See, Swan, if we follow West we’ll be able to go back to port in no time—”

He was clearly passionate about sailing. Damn, did passion look good on him.

She made another mistake that changed their path. He had a small chuckle as she watched him from the corner of her eye, biting the interior of her mouth not to smile.

“Nope, we’re going the other way, Swan,” and his hand was over hers again.

It couldn’t be wrong if it felt this right, could it?

It wasn’t on purpose either that, after feeling him right behind her, a breath away, she caved in and tentatively rested her head against his shoulder, just a little bit, just for a few seconds… She allowed herself to close her eyes, savoring this moment of rest, and intimacy.

If he noticed, he said nothing. Instead, his hand came to squeeze her elbow.

She could hear the unsaid words. It’s going to be okay. You will be alright. Henry will forgive you for lying to him.

And suddenly, it was far too much. Her eyes snapped open. She felt like drowning, and tears came to burn her eyes.

She abruptly took a step back. “I’m done with this,” she stammered, and she saw the utmost confusion in his eyes. He felt responsible, and she wanted to tell him it had nothing to do with him. She was the one who was broken beyond any repair. “You’re the captain after all, you can take the wheel,” she added, and her tone was gentler.

She spent the rest of their little trip as far as she possibly could.

It was horrendous to hear both of their hearts shatter on the ground and to be the reason of it.  

.

It was barely midday when they reached port.

She was quick to get out of the ship, was ready to run to her room, but something hold her back.

He didn’t deserve this. He deserved better.

She resolutely buried her feet in the wooden planks and waited for him to get down at his turn.

Counted backwards in her mind to silent her anxiety.

She saw relief flash in his eyes when he discovered she was still there.

“Thank you, Hook”, she whispered once he had reached her level.

She was ready to flee and never look back.

But then he was gazing at her with a lot of caution and care, and it was hard to ignore the panicked heartbeats in her chest.

“You are most welcome, Swan.” Who gave him the right to sound this gentle?

She nodded, smiled, hand fisted in her pockets. She hoped he couldn’t tell how much she was shaking.

“I’ll see you around, then,” she quickly muttered, licked her lips to hide her unease.

He gave her a nod, smiled. “Always, Swan.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He was dangerous. She had to run, to protect herself.

She risked a last look at him. “I hope so.” The words came out of her mouth without her consent, and she saw his expression change in an instant.

The frown of his eyebrows disappeared into a gentle wave of affection. His lips moved then, but no sound came out.

She took a step back, her eyes still in his. She was terrified.

When she gathered enough strength to walk away from him, she found her legs quite rigid and heavy.

.

He watched her walk away with a small smile.

She wanted him around, and the thought warmed his heart. She wanted him around even if she couldn’t bear to.

Perhaps the time would come. It didn’t matter how long it took her. He was in this for the long haul, after all.

[babes-and-baddies]

Please please PLEASE write a vamp!shiggy scenario!! I’m getting on my knees for you to give us something filthy and sexy, pleeaasseee LOV writing goddess pretty please!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

i was going to focus on my requests, i really was. and THEN i was going to stay to a similar train of thought to my mini-drabble, but,,, as per usual, my horney uwus got away from me and ran free. sorry about that. also, as per usual, tomura is lowkey yandere. again, i’m sorry

so yea i know i have other requests sent before this, but,,,,, vamp!shiggy is my KINK ok. as a writer its MY (w)RIGHT to do what makes my dicc hard!

(yandere?vampire!tomura) (f!reader) (NSFW) (2.9k) (AO3)

You were hopelessly lost, but going inside was still not your brightest idea. After all, horror movies tended to show such grand, majestic halls crumble under the weight of storms, like the one drowning you now for a reason. And as a rule of thumb, that reason could be summarized by ‘Do Not Enter: Danger Inside.’ But you were cold, your phone was dead, horror movies weren’t real, and there was a light on in the entryway. Taking your chances and questioning your luck, you went up to ring the doorbell.

All that came to greet you was silence.

Perhaps your first mistake was going camping in the forest out of the city in the first place, and perhaps your second was to hike out even when clouds filled the sky, but in your defense it was hardly the first time you’d done this, in fact it was a frequent passtime, and every other trip out had ended up just fine. You were familiar with these woods, familiar with the weather, and had never had reason to doubt in them; that’s what made the fact you were so hopelessly lost as to find an entire mansion in the woods that you had no knowledge of even more confusing.

If you could find this place there was no way you’d make it back to the campground, much less while weathering the storm which raged up above. Steeling yourself, you forwent the doorbell in favour of pounding on the door like the desperate, unfortunate soul you were.

“Excuse me, is anyone home? I noticed your light was on and was wondering if I could come use your phone, or maybe borrow a map?” You knocked again, louder in case you weren’t being heard over the thunder’s bellows. Just as your mouth parted to call out again, the door flew open in a gust of wind, gale nearly pushing you forward into the opened doors and causing you to trip, landing against a firm body which quickly let go of the door to steady your waist. The door shut behind you, and you tremble in the arms of a stranger.

God, this was so embarrassing. You barged into someone’s home, tripped onto them, and now just stood there, soaked from the storm. What are you even supposed to say in this situation? ‘Hello helpful stranger, nice home you got here? Love the gothic aesthetic, the whole ‘dark colours and crumbling marble’ thing you got going on. Do you have any tea or something so I can warm up?’ Fuck no, the situation was weird enough as it is! Biting your lip, you looked around to distract yourself.

Glancing across the foyer, you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you were. Hair plastered to your face and leading rivulets of rainfall to caress your face and down your neck, reaching the shirt which clung, soaked, to every curve and crevice of your chest and stomach. Even your pants and shoes were soaked, slowly forming a puddle on the grand tile flooring where you stood. Blushing, you quickly looked up into the eyes of the one who’d come to save you from the storm.

He was beautiful, but in the most confusing way. Pale skin covered in scars marring his otherwise almost delicate face, silver hair which seemed to glow blue in the candlelight - and why was this house lit by candles? It’s the 21st century, for crying out loud! Not that you mind the aesthetic - and fell in waves to frame his face and brush his broad, strong shoulders which tapered down into what you could feel against you to be a thin waist and surprisingly soft stomach. He was far from flawless, which only added to your interest.

Red eyes glowing bright as blood bore into your own, and you couldn’t help but question how such a colour was possible. Were they contacts, perhaps? There’s no way it could be natural. And there was something hypnotic about them, drawing you in, making you forget what you came here for and only wish you could stare into them forever, going deeper, discovering all the secrets lying in wait…

“I don’t suppose you’re going to say something, huh? I was busy before you came by and started being an annoyance, so at least a name would be nice,” despite his harsh words, his voice wasn’t as dark as you expected. If anything he sounded amused, almost fond. Which of course made no sense, since you’d never met, and clearly you were being an inconvenience by barging into his house like this, “I could always throw you back out in the storm, you know… I almost want to, just to hear you beg to be let back inside. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Letting out an undignified squeak of surprise, you quickly gave your name and apologized for causing an interruption, hoping his comment about throwing you out was simply a sign of a mean sense of humour. The red-eyed man smiled, carding fingers through your wet hair in what could be mistaken for an affectionate gesture. You shivered as his nails scratched against your scalp, almost making you relax against him even while you felt an urge to pull away.

Your name rolled off his tongue with ease, almost as if it was an already familiar shape in his mouth. But you’d only just met, so how could that be?

“You’re cute, so I suppose it’s alright if I have you stay a while.” He pulled back, clawlike grip still gentle as it trapped you in pace. “My name’s Tomura. I look forward to getting to know you.” Tomura’s grin was sharp, and there was something inhuman in the way it spread across his cheeks; you were too entranced to care.

“Tomura… I, thank you for-” You were interrupted by him walking back towards a hallway, dragging you along by the wrist and leaving you thoughtlessly tracing his footsteps. Before you knew it, you were in a change of scenery. It was an ornate room with cold stone floors and a grand yet threadbare bed with little reprieve from the chill from the stale air, shelves full of books and bottles and all manner of unusual - yet some uncannily familiar - trinkets and things, and no light to illuminate but the steady uncertain glow coming from a collection of screens on the other side of the room which appeared to be in some sort of pause-screen.

“You should- you should get changed, right? I can’t imagine those wet clothes are very comfortable.” And the way he looked at you wasn’t particularly comfortable either. Tomura’s voice was strained, and while you felt abnormally at ease for some strange reason, anxiety stabbed at your gut. But when you looked into his eyes, so bright and alluring, you couldn’t help but want to listen. After all, you did want to warm up, and the rub of wet cloth across your skin was undoubtedly annoying. Reluctantly, you nodded, quickly taking off your shoes before standing.

You moved to step back, asking if there was a bathroom for you to change, when he pulled you back against his chest. You froze as his cold form pressed up against your own.

“Shhhhh, let me help. You’re a guest, right? That means I get to take care of you.” Voice ragged and heavy with something you couldn’t quite understand, you froze as his hand reached under your shirt to pull it upwards. His trailing touch was like ice, and you wanted to flinch away, but his skin upon your back was just as harsh. Biting your lip, you tried to find it within yourself to push past the strange fog of curiosity and content that was swirling through your mind. Instead, you only let out a whimper and tilted your head back against his shoulder.

Tomura grinned, taking it as invitation to let his tongue roam your neck, the teasing graze of teeth quick to follow.

“You know, I’ve seen you before. Walking through the forest, acting all stupid and naive out there by yourself as if no one was watching…” his breath was chill on your neck, causing you to shiver from more than just his words, “so imagine how surprised I was to see you clawing at my door like a pathetic little wet cat begging to be let in. It’s almost like you wanted me to find you!”

Tomura pulled back, bringing your shirt over your head with the space reluctantly provided. The space gave you a moment to think, to wonder if you might be better off running back into the storm instead of in the arms of such a loose canon, but he pulled you closer while walking back towards the bed. The next you knew, you were shoved back to fall upon the aged cushion.

The chill air was electric between you, and as much as you were confused for the turn of events there was a large part of your mind preening unnaturally at the allure of Tomura’s lanky body hovering over you. When he smiled, teeth glinting sharp and bright in the low lighting, a thrill ran through your belly and progressively sank lower into your core. The way he stood so still, the sharpness inside his mouth, how his eyes glowed in the darkness, it all painted a picture of something dark and inhuman. Part of you still wanted to run, but Fuck, it was sexy.

“I don’t normally play with my food, but there’s something special about you. You don’t cower or fight back, not like those NPCs I usually deal with,” Tomura crawled over you, straddling your waist and mouth hovering above yours. There was burning in his eyes, a mix of desire and love-kissed, childlike curiosity, “and you’re a recurring character too! Playing your part of the perfect, sweet little innocent. Are you supposed to be the princess? It almost makes me want to steal you away and corrupt you.”

Tomura’s words were accentuated by fluttering kisses and roaming hands, one fondling the softness of your breasts, your stomach, while the other snaked towards your hips to pull pants down and out of the way. You only gasped in response to the unasked-for caresses, too caught up in the mounting desire and pleasant blank-mindedness it brought.

“Is that what you want? You want me to ruin you? Because I could… oh the things I could do to you!” Tomura giggled, the flash of his teeth again catching your eyes and you lay trapped beneath him, “I could kill you right here, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.” This time his words were followed by a airy sigh, breath full of cruel elation.

“But I don’t want to kill you. No, that would be a waste, wouldn’t it? So I guess you’ll just have to wait for me to show you what’s gonna happen to you, aren’t you, pet? So soft and fragile, all at my mercy.” Lying still beneath him, frozen in some primal understanding your body knew but mind was lost on, your breath came quicker.

Fuck, this situation shouldn’t be so hot, should it? And yet heat continued to gather between your thighs, goosebumps growing on the skin exposed to the cold air and colder flesh of the man above you. When Tomura bends down to mouth at your neck, your arms weakly reached out to pull him closer, keeping him in place despite the danger.

It felt so good, so right; there was danger in each movement, you could feel death hovering over you, and yet there was nowhere you’d rather be in that moment than devoured by the red-eyed man holding your life in his hands. Rough lips dragging across sensitive flesh, tongue licking away the dampness of sweat and stormwater, keen teeth grazing skin which begged to be bitten, you were completely taken in by the feelings forced upon you. With each messy kiss gifted by his cruel mouth, a litany of moans left your own unbidden.

Soon his hands joined in exploring, groping everywhere he could find in earnest. Rough fondling of your breasts, claws dragging marks down your fluttering stomach, his lithe form parting your knees to settle between open thighs, his fingers dipping inside your folds to spread the wetness there with teasing movements, all of it was coming together alongside the lightheaded love-drunk pleasure started by his lips upon your neck.

When he moved up to meet you, finally placing his lips firmly on yours, you distantly noted the bitter kiss of blood on your tongue.

It was rough, desperate, starving; Tomura’s lips devoured yours in a frenzy which could only be sated by the eager moans of his name filling the space between your breath and his. Tongue exploring your mouth, he took until you had nothing left to give but pure surrender towards the pleasure he provided. Distantly, you could also feel the pain that came alongside it.

Tomura didn’t stop to breathe, only pulling away when you were on the verge of fading. As ragged breaths shook your chest, Tomura leaned back to take in the image of you beneath him. You couldn’t imagine what he was seeing, but the manic, gleeful look in his eyes, the wide smile across blood-stained teeth, made you flush and whimper and legs spread ever wider in need. Licking his lips, he eagerly freed his cock and crawled back down to place himself properly between your open legs.

“You’re so pretty like this. Open and powerless and all mine to use,” dick in hand, Tomura guided it to your soaked slit before teasingly dragging it along your folds to see you tremble and whine beneath him, “Yeah, mine. All mine.”

Tomura harshly pushed in with a groan, leaving you to cry out at the sudden fullness. Fuck! You could hardly think, struggling to focus as pleasure washed through a hazy pleasure-drunk mind.

“Tomura! Fuck, please, I-” Your voice broke into a moan as he thrust forward, lips going back to toy with your neck before trailing down to kiss and bite across your chest, your collarbone. His hands went back to fondling your breasts, inhuman moans leaving his lips as he reveled in the velvet heat around his cock, the plush softness within his hands, the addictive taste on his lips.

You could tell it was nearly too much, and he’d only just started; you were in no better shape, the pleasure building between your legs already reaching a height you’d never thought possible before Tomura had taken you into his arms and bed.

His hips thrusting hard enough to shake the bed, Tomura filled your body and mind, leaving nothing but need and pleasure and a foreign submissive devotion in his wake. You wanted to cum, you wanted to please him, you wanted him to want you and need you like you needed him- you needed him like you needed to breathe, like you needed to live, and yet all you could do is lie there and take what he forced upon you without even the energy to beg for more; fuck, you wanted more, you needed it, you needed him to fill you up completely, to mark you and own you like you belonged and all you could do was cry and bleed and moan his name and-

You came around him with a cry, drool running down your chin and eyes thick with tears as they rolled into your skull from the force of feelings washing over you and whiteness taking over your vision.

Tomura shuddered as you tightened around him, animalistic grunts and growls passing his blood-slicked lips, lovesick eyes glowing in the darkness. Fuck, he wanted to cum in you, to mark you inside and out until there was no denying his claim over you.

“Perfect, you’re being such a good little slut for me, princess. You feel so good, fuck, I’m gonna mark you up so you’re all mine, gonna use you until you can’t take any more and fall apart for me, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Break you and own you and, you’re mine, all mine-” His words bled together, too lost in the way your slack body was still so warm around him.

Tomura came with a yell, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises and cum filling your cunt until his dick grew soft and mind came down from his high of lust and obsession.

Pulling out with a sigh, Tomura grinned at the sight of you laid out and drained on the newly blood-soaked mattress; his cum was leaking from between your legs just as blood was slowly leaking from the healing puncture wounds on your neck, both so lovingly gifted from him to you. He truly didn’t plan to take you before this, but seeing such an intriguing little human come to his doorstep was too hard to resist, and now Tomura knew he made the right decision. You were something precious, and he wasn’t about to waste such a rare offering.

“So sweet… I think I’m going to keep you.” Tomura’s voice was bright with amusement, possessive affection breaking through in a mockery of care. Holding you close against him in the too-big bed made for none, the pale man lifted your chin to make lips meet. Too drunk on his taste and touch, you let him. You were afraid; you were at peace. It was intoxicating.

Lightheaded from the taste of blood on your tongue, you began to get lost in his arms.

[javistg]

Snapshot 8

Canon compliant, GBT snippets of every day life. 

Everlark. The first summer after the war.

Camp Nano has officially begun! 

I’m supposed to be writing new chapters for my WIPs, --and I am-- but I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak one of these little pieces into the mix.

As some of you know, these snapshots are supposed to be 1,000 words or less, but this little story has been sitting in my drafts folder for years, so I guess you can understand why I was incapable of keeping it short. 

Alright, enough introduction! Hope you enjoy. 

Looking for the rest of the collection? 

Snapshot 1, Snapshot 2, Snapshot 3, Snapshot 4, Snapshot 5, Snapshot 6, Snapshot 7.

The Hunting Partner

The sun was high up in the sky when Katniss pushed her front door open. It was a lovely day with clear blue skies and not a cloud in sight. A gentle breeze came down from the mountains keeping the sticky summer heat at bay.

Filling her lungs with the sweet smell of the gardenias she had planted along the veranda, Katniss smiled. It was a little late to go hunting, but the world outside seemed so inviting that she still wanted to go out for a walk.

She was halfway down the street that crossed the Victors’ Village when she saw Peeta. He was sitting on a bench with his legs stretched out in front of him. A contented smile played on his lips as he slowly flipped the pages of the book he held in his hands.  

Katniss stopped in front of him, bouncing a little in place to release some of her new found energy. “Hi!”

Peeta looked up. As soon as he saw her, his eyes lit up. “Hey! Going hunting?”

Katniss shook her head. “It’s too late. I’m just going out for a walk.” Tilting her head towards the woods, she asked, “Wanna come?”

Peeta closed the book with a loud snap and stood up. “Sure! Do I need to bring anything?”

“Nope.” Katniss patted the hunting bag she carried over her shoulder. “I’ve got plenty of goodies right here. We can share.”

“OK.” Waving the book in his hand, he said, “I’ll just drop this off on my porch, and we’ll go.”

A moment later, they were on their way.

An easy silence fell over the pair as they crossed the gates leading out of Victors’ Village and turned onto the unpaved road that took them to the edge of the woods. It was a path they often followed --one they took every Sunday after having brunch with Haymitch and Thom and a few of their other neighbors—and the familiarity and peacefulness of their surroundings comforted them like a soothing balm.

When they reached a fork on the road, Katniss stopped. Pointing to the trail leading to the right, she asked, “Do you mind if we go this way?”

Peeta followed the direction of her finger. They usually kept to the pathway on the left, the one that circled the outline of the woods, but he knew Katniss went deeper when she was on her own, and he trusted her to know the way back. “No. Lead the way.”

Almost as soon as they began walking, the vegetation became thicker. Tall, majestic trees grew closer together, bringing shade and a welcome relief from the warm sun above.

Katniss quickened her pace. Peeta easily followed.

After a few twists and turns, he noticed a change in incline. Looking up ahead, he saw that the narrow path turned upwards leading up a hill.

After climbing for a few minutes, the pair reached a rock ledge overlooking a valley. The smooth, flat boulder was surrounded by a thicket of berry bushes which kept it hidden from prying eyes.

Katniss stopped and, for the first time since they’d started walking, Peeta noticed her shallow, rapid breaths.

Worried, he placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “You OK?”

Katniss nodded. She lifted her hunting bag from her shoulder and dropped it on the ground, right beneath the rock. “Want to sit down?”

“Yeah.” Peeta walked around the rock formation and waited for Katniss to sit before joining her.

As her breathing slowed down, Katniss folded her legs, pressing them to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. She dropped her chin on her knees and stared at the valley down below.

It’d been a long time since she’d been there. Now that Gale was gone, it didn’t make much sense to go to their meeting spot anymore. She didn’t understand the impulse which had driven her out there that morning, --she certainly hadn’t been planning on taking that route when she’d first set out-- but something had snapped inside of her on that fork on the road; an inexplicable need to reconnect with this place and share it with Peeta.

It was a bit odd, being there with him, --his solid, sturdy presence, the sound of his breathing, his enticing scent were so unlike Gale’s-- but he didn’t feel like an intruder. Ever since they’d started going on their Sunday walks, the woods had become an extension of the life they shared together. One more routine they had created; one more hurdle they overcame as a team.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was looking away from her. A small smile turned his lips as he took in the beauty of the valley below with its meandering river and lush clusters of bushes, wildflowers, and trees.

Hunting was something she did alone, but she liked sharing the beauty of the natural world with him. She loved seeing it through his eyes. The way he captured the essence of the places they visited in his paintings boggled her, and she couldn’t wait for the day when she felt strong enough to take him to her father’s lake.

Her mind flew back to the little cement building by the water’s edge, and the last time she’d been there. Unbidden, a dark cloud wrapped around her heart.

Her life had been so disjointed then. The world had been at war, Peeta had been a prisoner of his ghosts, and Gale…

Gale had been angry —angry and hurt.

She remembered trying to appease him by kissing him during their visit to her home but, as usual, it hadn’t been enough. Once again, she had failed, and that gaping wound that existed between them --that chasm that had made it impossible for her arguments to reach him in District 2, and in Bette’s lab-- had only grown.

They had been friends, the best of friends, the kind of friends who shared everything they had but, somewhere down the corridors of District 13, she had taken a wrong turn, and she had lost him.

The boy who had once shared this very spot with her had finally found the appreciation and approval he sought in Coin’s command room. It was really no wonder he had given free rein to his darkest instincts. Blinded by his anger, Gale had simply searched for what he thought was the light.

Overcome by sadness, Katniss tightened her hold on her legs and let out a shaky sigh. It seemed impossible that this bright, beautiful day could turn gloomy at the drop of a hat.

Peeta’s soft voice broke through her fog. “You miss him.”

Katniss closed her eyes, cradling Peeta’s words against her chest. They weren’t a question or an accusation, just a statement of fact and, as such, she acknowledged them.

Pressing her cheek to her knees, she turned to face him. “How can you tell?”

Peeta shrugged. “It’s written all over you.”

Katniss looked away, feeling small and weak. Peeta was right. As much as she hated some of the things Gale had done, she still missed him. She missed his laughter and his warmth. She missed the simplicity of the lives they’d once shared.

Next to her, she felt Peeta shift. Suddenly afraid that he was going to leave, she turned towards him. “I’m sorry,” she apologized in a panicked whisper.

Peeta leaned closer to her –a sure sign that he wasn’t going anywhere. His bright blue eyes found hers, and she held on to his gaze. There was no animosity there, no recrimination, just acceptance.

“Don’t be sorry,” Peeta said. “Gale is this huge part of you, Katniss. I’m actually surprised that…” Cutting his words short, Peeta pressed his lips together and shook his head. With a soft huff, he turned away from her.

Katniss let go of her legs and turned to face Peeta. They’d had all sorts of conversations over the past few months but, for some reason, they’d hardly even mentioned Gale.

It wasn’t surprising, not really, her hunting partner had always been a thorny subject between them. She hadn’t been strong enough talk about Gale’s actions during the war with anyone but Dr. Aurelius but, sitting there, –on that ancient ledge where she’d spent so many happy hours-- she couldn’t escape the notion that, maybe, that was why she’d brought Peeta on this walk.

Reaching out to touch his shoulder, Katniss pressed, “You’re surprised that what?”

Peeta let out a long breath. His head dropped, and his shoulders slumped forward following the motion. His face was like a clean slate, devoid of any discernible emotion when he looked back up at her. “I’m surprised he isn’t here.”

“He has that big job in Two,” she reminded him.

Peeta chuckled at her weak excuse, “Yeah, I know, but… He hasn’t even visited.”

Katniss shrugged. “He’s busy.”

“Busy?” Peeta shook his head, unconvinced. “No, Katniss, that’s not it. You’re here. He’s not. Something must have happened between you two, I just don’t know what.”

And there it was, the moment when she’d finally have to come clean --when she’d have to fill him in in all the sordid little details of the horrible avalanche she hadn’t been able to stop.

Bracing herself for what was to come, Katniss filled her lungs with the familiar scent of green moss and damp earth which surrounded her and gathered her courage.

“You’re right.” She nodded, slowly acknowledging Peeta’s words. “I do miss him. I miss my hunting partner, my friend. I miss the boy who would sit with me on this rock to share a joke and a laugh. I miss divvying up our haul at the end of a long day. I miss knowing our families would be waiting for us on the other side of the fence.”

Straightening her back, she found Peeta’s eyes –they were still and steady as he hung to her words. “But I don’t miss all of him. I don’t miss his possessiveness and jealousy, or the way he made assumptions when I came back from my first Game. And I definitely don’t miss the angry Capitol hater who only dealt in absolutes and didn’t care for other points of view.

“Sometimes, when I’m having a bad day, I miss the brave fighter who raided the Capitol with us, our brother in arms,” she admitted, her voice hardening under the weight of her disappointment, “but I don’t miss the Mockingjay’s fan; or the overeager soldier who followed Coin’s instructions blindly.” Overwhelmed by the anger boiling within her, Katniss looked away.

Peeta, who had been momentarily shocked into silence by sadness and confusion, found his voice. “What instructions, Katniss? What did he do?”

Katniss sighed, the words were there, but she wasn’t ready to say them, not yet. So, she leaned back, lying flat over the cold, smooth rock. A canopy of bright green leaves hung from the branches up above, shielding her face from the glare of the midday sun and creating a kind of cocoon where she felt safe from harm.

In a soft, wistful whisper, she began. “Have I ever told you how Gale and I met?”

Curious, Peeta laid down next to her, propping himself up on his arm to look at her. “How did you two meet?”

“It was out here in the woods. I was still twelve, and --the first time we spoke-- he threatened me.”

“What?” Peeta blurted out, “You were a teeny little thing! Why would he do that?”

Katniss’s eyes twinkled in amusement at the shock on his face. “He didn’t mean anything by it, he just thought I was about to steal his rabbits, and he wanted to scare me straight.”

Softly, as if trying to keep her memories just between them, Katniss told Peeta about the tenuous alliance she had first established with Gale. She talked about their first trades, explained how they had eventually learned to trust each other.

A lonely tear ran down her cheek when she spoke about the first time Gale and Prim had met. Her heart clenched as she remembered Prim being a bit weary of the older boy who looked so much like a grown man. “But he was so nice to her, Peeta. She was like another sister to him.” Her voice broke at this, the memory too painful in light of what had happened later.

Peeta reached out to wrap his hand around her arm. “Katniss, you don’t have to--,”

“Yes, I do,” she sniffed, wiping the tears from her face and resting her hands like a protective shield over her chest.

“I don’t really know much of what happened when I arrived in District 13. I spent the first few days unconscious and, even when I was awake, I was completely disoriented. But I know that, soon after being rescued, Gale was…” Katniss stopped, searching her mind for the right word to explain what had happened. None seemed right. “I don’t know, I guess he was recruitedby Coin.”

Peeta creased his forehead. “Recruited? Wasn’t everyone recruited into Thirteen’s army as soon as they arrived?”

“They were, but this was different. The refugees, they all… They all said Gale had been the one to lead them out into to the woods. They said he kept them safe. I guess Coin was impressed by that, so she took an interest in him. She must have also found out we were friends at some point –maybe she even thought we were related, I don’t know, but I think that might have spiked her interest even more.

“By the time I started moving around, he was already entrenched in their little group, tightly wrapped around Coin’s little finger. They included him in tons of tactical meetings and assigned him to work in the weapons development lab next to Beetee. From then on, all his energy went into defeating the Capitol and winning the war.”

Peeta tilted his head, uncertain. “I seem to recall him hanging around you a lot.”

“He did. He was usually busy, but he made time so that we could have most of our meals together. He also came with me whenever I left the district, and we even went out hunting in Thirteen a few times.” The ghost of a shy smile turned her lips at the handful of pleasant memories she had from those unfamiliar woods. “He was supportive, patient even, and I was grateful. I thought we had gone back to just being friends.”

Katniss closed her eyes, losing herself for a moment on the comfort of the world around her; the delicate murmur of leaves rustling in the wind; the warm caress of the sun on her cheeks; the steady rhythm of Peeta’s breathing as he lied next to her.

The soothing pattern Peeta’s thumb had been tracing over and over on her arm brought her back. “I was so lonely, Peeta. I was just glad to have someone who knew me by my side.”

“I know,” Peeta whispered. After everything they’d shared in the past few months, she believed him.  

“You know?” she said, looking at him once more, “When he volunteered to get you out of the Capitol, I thought he was doing it for me --because I was so broken-- and I was so grateful, but I was also worried. I remember sitting by Finnick’s side, my head going round and round in circles, thinking I was going to lose both of you that day.”

Her chest tightened as she thought about those long dark hours she’d spent tying knots next to Finnick as they waited –and waited-- for the worst to happen.

Needing to ground herself in the moment, Katniss covered Peeta’s hand with one of hers. He immediately squeezed her arm in response. It was the gentlest of touches, but it was all the encouragement she needed to go on.

“But now, after everything that’s happened… I think that maybe Gale just did it because he felt guilty —because he felt like he owed you for standing up to Thread.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” she mussed, “I understand the need to repay a debt --and that was something big, what you did for him-- but I can’t escape the feeling that he was also doing it for his precious Mockingjay. Bringing back what I wanted just so that I could put on the uniform and start rallying the troops again.”

Peeta shook his head. “No. I mean, you’re probably right about him wanting to repay a debt —I’ve always assumed that was why he rescued me— but I’m not so sure about the rest. There’s no doubt Gale was devoted to the cause, —even I could see that— but I can’t believe the revolution mattered more to him than you did.”

Tears filled her eyes. That’s because you don’t know the whole story yet, she thought.

Tightening her grip on his hand to keep him close, she said, “The thing is… I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about his reasons or his motivations. All that matters to me is that he brought you back. You were confused and broken, and you hated me, but you were safe —safer, at least— and away from Snow. That’s all that matters.”

Letting go of her arm, Peeta turned his palm up and pressed it into hers, lacing their fingers together he brought both hands to rest on his chest, right above his heart. “Why are you so angry at him?”

Katniss’s eyes darkened, the storm within her aching to be set free. “Because he stopped listening, and he used what Snow did to you as an excuse to become ruthless. Because he reached a point where he only followed the path Coin set for him.

“When the rebels needed to bring down the military compound in Two. He was their man. He conveniently forgot his father’s death and turned the mountain into a mine that caved in on itself.

“When Coin asked for strategies to capture and kill the enemy, he developed them. He used his instincts as a hunter to trap the innocent, substituting his snares with locked gates and his arrows and nets for bombs.

“He didn’t care anymore, about who got trampled or hurt. As long as the rebels moved forward, he didn’t mind. And when we left for the Capitol, he left it all behind; the plans, the schematics, the details. A catalog of horrors just waiting to be used.”

Peeta’s pulse quickened beneath her palm, and Katniss went still, worried for a second that she might not have chosen the best place to share this information with him. They had dealt with his episodes before, but never when they were this deep into the forest.

Sensing her fear, Peeta gave her a small smile. “I’m OK,” he assured her, “I just…” He closed his eyes and dipped his chin, blocking the world outside to unravel the meaning of Katniss’s words.

A low hum like that of a wounded animal, heavy with pain and despair, rumbled deep within his chest as he slowly opened his eyes. His voice was tight with sorrow. “Coin used them, didn’t she?”

Katniss nodded. Her trembling lips pushed the words out. “In the City Circle.”

Peeta’s eyes clouded over with tears. He knew. He understood. There were no more words to be said.

In one swift motion, he let go of Katniss’s hand, wrapped his arm around her small frame, and pulled her to him.

Hungry for comfort, Katniss melted into his embrace, draping her arm over his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest to keep him close.

The echo of birds’ wings, fluttering high above, kept them company as they trembled and cried, tightly clinging to each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Peeta whispered into her hair, the words broken in his ragged voice.

Katniss pulled back with tear-streaked cheeks and wild hair. Now that her secret was exposed, and her tears had run out, she was exhausted —empty— but, for the first time in months, she wasn’t hollow.

It was as if, by setting her words free, she had allowed an empowering sense of calm to root deep within her, protecting her from the void Gale’s absence had left in her soul and filling her with a faint glimmer of hope.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to wipe the tears from Peeta’s face. “I don’t think I could do any of this without you.”

Peeta shook his head. “You’ve done plenty on your own, Katniss. You don’t really need me that much.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “But I do! I always have, Peeta.” Letting her hand travel up his behind neck, she reached the back of his head and buried her fingers in his hair. It was shorter than she liked, he always kept it that way in summertime, but she could still feel its silky softness as she massaged his scalp.

“When I’m with you, I always find the right path,” she whispered. “And I know that, if you had been there with me —back in Thirteen— none of this would have happened, because you would have found the words. You would have found a way to make him see what I couldn’t.”

Peeta dipped his head forward, granting her better access to play with his hair. A sad, disbelieving chuckle escaped his lips. “I don’t know what gave you that idea —what makes you think he would have listened to me— but I’m sure you’re wrong. It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Katniss nodded. It wasn’t fair to put something like that on Peeta’s shoulders. “Maybe you’re right, you probably wouldn’t have been able to stop Gale, —he was too far gone— but I know you would have been able to change a few things, to make them better.” Tugging on his hair, she made him look up. Staring straight into his eyes, she said, “You don’t know the effect you can have, Peeta Mellark. When youtalk, the world stops to listen.”

A deep blush crept up Peeta’s cheeks at her words. His eyes twinkled. “I never wanted to talk to the world, Katniss. I just wanted to talk to you.”

She smiled, basking in the warmth of his words. “Well, I’m listening.”

In a slow, careful motion, Peeta’s hand traveled up Katniss’s back until it reached her braid. Tender fingers wrapped around the silky rope and slid down to the end where he gave it a playful tug. “So… Got anything good in that bag of yours?”

With a light, musical laugh, Katniss disentangled herself from him. “I do, actually.” Leaning forward, she grabbed her hunting bag by the strap and hoisted it onto the ledge.

They spent the next hour sitting there, talking about their plans for the following days as they sipped cold mint tea from Katniss’s thermos and shared the food she had brought.

He heart was so relieved after sharing her burden that she even let him have one of the cheese buns she had greedily kept to herself the previous night.

As they made their way back to the Village, their fingers laced together, their stomachs full, Katniss couldn’t help but think that maybe —just maybe— she had finally found a way to step away from the heartbreak she felt whenever Gale slipped into her mind.

That insistent little voice that talked to her whenever Peeta was around told her she was ready to move past the anger, and focus on the light.

XXXXX

Have a post mockingjay snippet idea? Let me know, I might turn it into a snapshot.

[savvylark]

Crush It - chapter 8

This story started with the prompt: “You’re my crush’s sibling and I started dating you to piss off my crush and make them jealous enough to confess feelings for me, except you’re actually really sweet and awesome and I think I might like you better, and I don’t know what to do now that my plan seems to have worked.”

An Everlark Summer College AU. Huge thank you to my Beta, the legend, my personal friend @katnissdoesnotfollowback who this story was written for. Her advice and incites are invaluable. When I was discouraged she nudged me and motivated me. Also shout out to my new friend @butrfac14 for pre-reading this.  And thank you to the talented @akai-echo for this beautiful banner!!

Rated: M or maybe E for dream smut and future Everlark steaminess.

Read it here on Ao3 or 

As I drive home in a figurative fog, the emotions I've been repressing have clouded to the surface, a storm builds inside me. Echoing how I feel in unexpected solidarity, light water droplets pepper my windshield. When I first formulated my plan, I planned to date Peeta, casually, so as not to hurt anyone… and it seems I've hurt everyone, especially myself.

Lightning flashes as the song playing on the car radio croons on about a crush, of all things. The sound is vaguely familiar. Though I haven't sung a note since my dad passed years ago I find myself humming along.

The lyrics express the exciting hesitant eye contact, the sighing, the blushing, the curiosity and want for more. That's how I felt about Rye. An emotional reaction. A fleeting thrill. We were both interested in the other's attention. What it did to boost the other's ego. It felt good, exciting. Temporary.

The cold reality washes over me.

As the radio shifts to a song with more depth, a raspy voice confesses a deeper love.

The damn inside me breaks.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I'm forced to sort out my feelings.

Peeta and I looked out for each other. Had our own lives, our own interests. We confided in each other, opened up about real things and shared hardships in our past. He paid attention to the things I cared about, and what would fit into my busy life as well as his own. We looked out for each other. There was a healthy give and take. It seemed to come so naturally. We just fit. Whether consciously or unconsciously, I was slowly falling, with each caress, embrace, hand squeeze. In our comfortable silences. We were living life together side by side. A unified front.

I do have some lingering questions that confuse me. How much of it was Peeta merely playing along to help me make Rye jealous? How much of it was real?

I started to hope the things were real for him. The things he said the night he fought with Rye might have meant...but now I don’t know. He could have said those things in defense of a friend. Maybe I heard it all wrong.

The beautiful melody and lyrics prompt a memory I’ve tucked deep in my heart for safe keeping, I remember my father's face.

His dark hair hung over his forehead and eyebrows, knitted in concern or concentration, his jaw clenched and eyes squinted. Then my mother seemed to float by, a flutter of silky flowing golden hair and creamy pale skin. She wrapped her arms around my father and murmured sweet reassurances in his ear. His steely gray eyes softened and seemed to sparkle as his whole expression loosened all tension. His shoulders relaxed and his strong arms wrapped around my mother. He held her tightly as if she was giving him strength, re-energizing him. He sighed and swayed with my mother in his embrace to the music.

Then, as if he was actually in the car, a voice over the radio becomes my father's singing voice to my ears. Painting beauty in my mind's eye, a deep rolling vibrato rumbling in my chest, resonating out and swirling through the car back to me. A precious sound I treasure and keep locked away. Conjuring up the memory of the look in his eyes, the unmistakable expression of love on his face when he would sing to mother.

Sweet moments with Peeta Mellark come flooding back. There's a big difference between a crush and the way that Peeta has deeply rooted himself within me. I gasp when I finally recognize the sound I barely recognize myself. It's my own voice echoing back to me.

I hate to cry, but for some reason I don’t fight it. I let the tears fall and as if I willed it to, the light tapping of the rain on the car increases and pours down. Lighting flashes again, the thunder roars, and rumbles deep in my chest, drowning out my sobbing.

It's almost cathartic, the earth and I are in agreement. Crying out together, alone.

I revved the engine, water splashing, lightning flashing. A hazy watercolor scene of blues, grays and flickers of blinding bright lightning.

I make a split second decision and u-turn, gunning my car back to the bakery. Back to Peeta.

I have to tell him.

I screech to a halt, bolt out of car and feel the water soak my clothes, but somehow I don’t feel cold. I feel red hot. I sprint through the metallic and glass bakery doors. I’m flooded with hope at the sight of Peeta’s smiling face. I speak the words in my heart. The muted and muddled colors seem to pale and gray around me. His blue eyes look pained as his brows raise and lets me down gently. He was helping me make Rye jealous.

He only ever saw me as a friend.

Nothing more.

I turn over and gasp for air, then bury my face in my pillow and scream. I’ve had this dream a few times now. It seems to start out with true events, driving in the rain through tears as the radio plays.

I never turned around that day, but I dream of the ‘what if.’ What I find through the bakery door changes with each dream. I find Peeta kissing the blond he was with, I find him angry with me, and one instance that I cherish, he runs out before I reach the doors and kisses me in the rain.

It's Monday morning, or is it afternoon? I stand, rub my eyes and study the clock. I would normally be late for my second job by now.

As if life would ever relent in the roller coaster that this summer has been, last week my fatigue and an itchy throat came at me full force. My mom urged me to get checked out, and sure enough, the blood test came back positive: mononucleosis.

I was forced to quit my second job because of exhaustion. The fall semester is approaching, so I convinced Sae to keep me on the schedule at the diner, even if all I can do is four hours shifts, and then rush home to collapse into bed. She instructed me to wash my hands every chance I can and keep my mouth shut as much as possible. “I'm sure that will be difficult, I’m known to be so warm and talkative, Sae.” I rolled my eyes and then shrieked as Sae snapped her towel at me for my sass.

Adding insult to injury, Gale's various texts informed me that Rye was also bedridden with mono. Another reminder of the kisses we shared. I collapse in a heap on my bed and sigh into my pillow.

My days and nights are so mixed up. I've barely left the bed on days that I'm not scheduled to work. I'm fatigued all the time and pathetically weak. I hate being weak.

My eyelids grow heavy. In a sleepy daze, I distantly hear the rattling of the loose front door knob. Prim cheerfully greets someone at the door and eventually two muffled voices echo from the kitchen. The deep timbre I hear almost sounds like Peeta's, but that can't be right. “I love his warm laugh,” I mumble to my empty room as I drift back to unconsciousness.

As I feel a blanket being tugged over my body and a kiss planted on my cheek with a brush of stubble, I smell baked bread and a manly scent that bring me warm feelings. I grip the soft cotton fabric tightly and beg for the feeling, the sensation of home to stay. I feel moisture escape one of my eyes.

I hear a raspy whispered reply and I'm engulfed in a haze of warmth, sweet aromas and a sense of belonging.

I drift off in a blissful sleep thinking of deep blue eyes and orange sunsets.

I wake and it seems to be the middle of the day. I look next to me and muse, “I love dreams when I find myself wrapped in Peeta's arms.”

I gently reach for his hair and sink my fingers into the soft blond waves. I remember noticing these ashy blond strands in a couple of college courses we shared, and I couldn't help noticing the way his biceps protruded when he would stretch. I kept thinking he was out of my league, and I was right. I gently scratch at his scalp and study his profile through weary eyes.

“I do too.” He sighs, slowly opens his eyes, he tightens his hold on me, and snuggles a little closer into my chest.

My breaths becomes out heavier, my heart beats a little faster. I relish in the feeling of Peeta's body against mine.

“We need to eat. I'll make dinner soon.” I mumble.

“Not too soon alright?” His voice has a husky sleepy quality. His kind eyes meet mine and plead with sincerity, “Just let me take care of you for awhile.” I nod with a small smile.

This is such a nice dream. I feel so warm inside. Cocooned safely, wrapped in hope and light.

“I'll wake up any minute and he’ll be gone. He won't be mine. I’ll wake up alone and cold,” I think. The agony and longing in my heart causes me to wrap tighter around him.

“I'm so tired, Peeta.” I trail kisses across his jaw and whisper secrets in his ear. Words of longing. I confess that I think of him all the time and keep dreaming about him. I even blurt out that I was thinking about him when Rye kissed me, wishing it were Peeta instead.

“Every love song on the radio is about you.” I hum a tune, and sing the melody softly. He looks at me with surprise, happiness and opens his mouth to say something but closes it, looking curious, but almost afraid to say anything. Peeta sighs and holds me tighter.

I whisper, “I know I don't deserve you.” A tear slips down my cheek. All words I would never be brave enough to speak face to face to a living breathing non-dream Peeta. More tears seem to prick my eyes as I bury my face into his neck and inhale his scent, sweet bread and dill from baked goods.

“I'm sorry I ruined it Peeta, I'm sorry for everything.” I admit pathetically, and I drift back to sleep.

I turn over and open one eye. I'm alone, as expected. I wrap a blanket around myself to follow the banging pots and chopping noises in the kitchen. Prim’s happy chatter causes me to search the clock, 5pm. I squint. Does mom have a short shift today?

Two blond heads are bent down chopping vegetables and chatting in our tiny kitchen.

I do a double take because the second head is taller, and much broader than my mother.

I think I know why Peeta's here: I'm in trouble!!

I slap a hand over my forehead, “It's Monday isn't? I'm sorry Peeta! I didn't mean to bail on our hiking plans.” I grit my teeth and cover my eyes. Of course I'm already ruining our fragile newly established friendship.

Prim laughs, “Katniss that was hours and hours ago. I told him how exhausted you've been and,” she smiles at me with mischief in her eyes,  “how much nicer you are lately. You don't scowl as much! You're just sweet and pitifully tired.”

If I had more energy I would say something sarcastic, or at least make a face. Instead I just slump in a chair at the kitchen table wrapped in my blanket.

Prim smiles at me and tells me Peeta had her practice driving in an empty parking lot, he taught her how to parallel park. She's so excited to get her licence soon. She casually mumbles something about groceries.

“That's nice.” I remark as my head lobs forward. I give up, holding my head up is far too much work. I rest it in the crook of my arm on the table. Stifled laughter follows.

The laughing might be about me but I don't have the energy to care.

“Do you need anything for your throat?” Prim asks me, I open one eye to look at my amused sister with sweet baby blue eyes. “We picked up lozenges for you.”

I bob my head and close my eyes, just for a moment...

I turn and find myself wrapped in steady arms. I burrow in and inhale the calming scent.

I’m gently placed on my bed and my arms wrap around Peeta, I look up at him with blurry eyes. Things I want to ask him, things that I want to say linger heavy in my chest.

Why are you still here? Why are you taking care of me?

And of course the guilt.

I’m sorry.

His blue eyes twinkle as he looks at me, a crooked smile on his face.

I’m sorry I kissed Rye.

He motions to pull away and I shake my head and cling to him. “Just-- Will you talk to me?” I ask in a small voice. I shift and pull him to me, he groans but relents and shifts beside me.

We lay beside each other in silence, all my thoughts bubble and boil to the surface until I just blurt it out all at once “I didn’t do that on purpose, that wasn’t my plan to, er--” I sigh and try again, “I kissed Rye and it was a mistake. I didn’t… It didn’t…” I lower my head and hold my face in my hands with a discouraged sigh. I feel Peeta’s comforting hand lightly rub my back in circles.

“Katniss, it worked. Rye was jealous and he stopped stringing you along and admitted he liked you. He stepped it up because you reacted tactically, you faked left and gained the edge and you had him in a half Nelson-- exposing but not pinning. Most girls would go in for the take down, once they have him, they pin him…”

I shake my head and blink a few times. “What?”

Peeta sighs, shakes his head, scratches under his jaw and tries to explain again. “I already talked to Rye, I know you don’t want to be with him. You got close enough to know that he isn’t right for you. Thanks for putting my brother in his place. I think he needed that lesson,” he smiles sadly, “and I got to know you.” Peeta squeezes my hand and lets it fall.

“You say things when you’re tired. I don’t always know what’s real and what isn’t, but I’ll find out,” he whispers and I stare at a spot on the wall as my mind races, trying to imagine what that means. Did he hear me talk about my dad? Did I talk about Peeta in my dream about him?

“Don’t worry about it now, okay?” he says. I nod and stretch out, so that we're both lying in my bed facing the ceiling, and Peeta pipes up, “So tell me the story of how you won Lady the goat for Prim?”

His blue eyes are intent to listen, as I start in with how excited Prim was to see the goat at the fair. Peeta takes my hand in his and playfully draws shapes on my palm that make me... Well, warm, relaxed, and nervous I guess? Because it's hard not to concentrate on the gentle caresses across my palm.

“...and I looked at the target and thought, ‘well that can't be too hard.’ Sure enough, Gale would have scoffed at my so-called-competition. I basically had none. I found a pink ribbon at another booth for the goat to wear before I showed my sister. The best part was the look on Prim’s face.” Peeta’s blue gaze meets mine and my heart skips a beat. I bite my lip and attempt to divert the conversation.

“I knew that goat could be a gold mine, you can make a killing with goat milk at the farmers market. We've done pretty well.”

“Right, and it had nothing to do with how much you love your sister and her happiness?” Peeta asks in a teasing tone, his eyes gleam.

His fingers continue to trace each of mine and with gentle strokes in soft slow movements. I'm nearly taken adrift, lost in the sensation. I find my eyelids growing heavy, gently lulled to sleep. The kisses on my cheek slightly tickle.

I barely breathe out the word “Stay.” A pathetically vulnerable plea, but I just want him with me. I feel like everything is going to be alright with him near.

His sexy breathy voice does things to my insides that make me squirm and breathe heavier, “Always.”

His warm plush lips land on my cheeks. I feel his lips reach below my ear, then linger on my neck, a hum trembles deep in my throat. “That's not a friend thing to do.” I mumble, though I can't fight the tug of a smile I feel on my cheeks.

“Huh?” he asks, all too innocently and kisses my neck again.

“In the bakery, you said we were just friends.” I murmur drowsily.

“Friends, for now.” Peeta whispers just before I'm taken under the heavy nothingness that is a sound deep sleep, wrapped in safety and warmth.

“I just don't know why Peeta would want me to go to the zoo with his sister-in-law and nephews Saturday.”

Prim looks at me like I'm an idiot and throws a kernel of popcorn at me. I wince, turn my head and laugh.

“Why would he come by almost all week, knowing you would be a walking zombie, just to be with you?” she asks.

“I don't know, maybe he feels like he owes me because I helped him when he had a concussion?” I answer, frustrated.

“Katniss, you're oblivious sometimes, but not this bad. What's your real deal here?”

“Don't know, I'm scared? This is nothing like the way I felt about Rye, or any other guy for that matter. I think he's seeing a beautiful blond, and Rye did tell me Peeta had a silver tongue.” I huff, I’m getting frustrated and exhausting myself by over thinking.

“Did you ask him if he was seeing someone else?” She asks, her eyes twinkle in a way that tell me she finds my frustration funny.

I sigh and shake my head.

“And he's an amazing guy, I'm selfish, impulsive, brash…” I trail off and don't admit my fears about it not being real, he’s so kind to everyone. That doesn’t mean he feels the same.

We gather the popcorn bowls and set them on the coffee table, and then pile pillows in spots where people might want to lounge on the floor for our movie, because we only have one couch and a chair in our small living room.

“And what if those are things he wants? You're fierce, assertive, protective of those you love, and you jump at the chance to do what is right. Plus, you're beautiful, his eyes follow you when you're not looking.”

I start shaking my head because Peeta doesn't feel that way, and I'm plain looking. But those kisses on my neck and his words, “For now…”

Prim looks at me seriously, “He's so in tune with you, Katniss. He knew just what you needed when he planned this movie night!”

The bell rings and at the door I'm met with Finnick, Annie, Gale, Madge, and Peeta's smiling faces.

“We brought Pizzas!” Finnick announces, holding the hot boxes above his head as if dramatically bestowing a gift. Annie rolls her eyes and steps in to hug me and place the boxes on the counter.

Peeta has a way of making everyone feel comfortable in a group. The way his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile and how humor and hidden genuine compliments just roll off his tongue he makes everyone feel appreciated and keeps the conversation flowing without dominating it.  

I made it halfway way through the movie before my eyelids felt too heavy. My head started to nod, as I fought to keep eyes open.

Peeta opened his arms I started to slump towards him and snuggled into his warm soft sweatshirt. Enjoying his comforting scent and the safe feeling of his arms wrapped around me as my eyes slid shut.

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 20 - Twilight

Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

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Chapter Text 

And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes in a hundred worlds in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you  

—Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars  

The grand old place had fallen into disrepair. Lawns infested with weeds, the pond had flooded and at least a dozen shutters had half-fallen off their hinges. Ben wiped his boots on the steps, trying to kick away a layer of mud. There used to be a welcome mat here, he knew this as it was his job to beat the dust and dirt from it every week, but now there was nothing but scuffed concrete, cracked with weeds, covered in muddy footprints.

He was responsible for it all, another failure, like notches on a belt, they wrapped around him, squeezing the air from his lungs some days, other times it held him together, an identity that gave him certainty.

Much had changed here, but the spirit of the place remained; elegant but austere in this place of nature with its white-washed walls, keeping watch over the cliffs that overlooking a wild sea.

A growl of thunder rolled from the horizon. Ben pulled his coat across his chest as a fresh slap of wind billowed his hair and slammed the shutters against the windows.

He hadn't knocked yet. He'd travelled over a hundred kilometres to get here but the space between himself and the door was like a step between worlds.

Leia's voice came from inside and he froze, the sound of it hit him in the heart. She could be gentle, away from the public spotlight, forgiving to a fault, unyielding in her opinion, ferocious in her defence.

And God, he had missed her.

Ben reached his hand towards the door, ready to knock, while his other hand buried deep in his pocket. The door opened.

A gust of wind rallied the trees behind him, and Ben's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he struggled to find something to say.

For a woman who was grander than life, Leia's stature had always betrayed her. She'd answered the door in her nightgown, a long white robe that reminded him of childhood days, her grey hair, rarely loose, tossed behind her shoulders.

She gasped, hand clasped over her mouth in shock.

Twelve years old again, shame coloured his face and he averted his gaze, slipping his free hand back into his pocket.

Why did she have to look at him like that? Brown eyes shining with tears, pale lips cracked with aged lines and parted in shock.

He shot a fleeting glance back at her, pulling his hands out of his pockets and balling them into fists, swallowing an overwhelming urge to vomit over her petunias.

She had changed too much, grown older. And, even more unnerving was the fact she was speechless.

He opened his mouth … hi, I've missed you, I'm sorry …

But instead.

"Senator Organa-Solo lost for words? That's a first."

Shit.

It was a jerk thing to say, but she was making him nervous.

"Ben," she whispered in awe and from the corner of his eye he saw her hand lift, as if she would caress his cheek.

"Yeah, well, I've —" He scrunched his face. He shouldn't have come back. He went to turn away but this time she stopped him, pressing her warm hand against his cheek and forcing him to face her.

One touch was all it took. He broke like a piece of clay crumbling in the hands of his maker.

"I messed up, mum." They were barely words, rather jumbled gasping breaths.

"Oh, my boy—" She pulled his head to her shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. "You came home."

Rey leant her forehead against the car window. The glass was bitingly cold and vibrated against her forehead. Finn had warned her the drive would be long, just over an hour, to a place she'd only ever known by name for its massive estates and ocean cliffs, Chandrila.

The world shifted, from grey hues of the city to clean-cut lines of suburbia, and onto large homes on acreages sitting atop velvet green hills.

Her eyes lazily opened and closed, giving in to the overwhelming fatigue. On the horizon, curtains of grey mist reached down to the ocean, blurring the line between sea and sky. Clouds and sunlight painting it from turquoise blue to navy grey.

She wound the window down and the icy wind whipped against her face.

Lost in a sensory shower of sea salt and ozone, her mind wandered. What had happened to Ben after she left?

She would have called him right after her talk with Maz, but if that number belonged to the First Order, or worse, Snoke, she wouldn't risk it.

What would she have said to him, anyway? He'd tried to explain the truth to her and now it was with some shame that she acknowledged a part of her would never have accepted what he had to say this morning. Not then. Not from him. The reality of knowing what really happened that night had broken her. It was like every bad thing in her life had led to that point, the memory that had fired and moulded her into who she was and what she believed.

He'd broken her apart and now her soul rebuilding itself on new foundations, her understanding of the world, skewed in a new light.

"Are you alright, peanut?"

"Yeah." She put the window up and hugged her arms with a gentle smile. "I'm good."

"I hope you don't mind being dragged out to this interview?"

"Are you kidding? I love seeing you in action."

A smile crept onto Finn's lips and he straightened in his seat. It was so easy to shift gears with Finn; for a moment in time, she could find the part of herself that was always happy, no matter what life threw at her.

It wasn't true. But everybody wore a mask, not just monsters.

"So… What's your status now anyway—you got a girlfriend?" She flashed a mischievous smile in his direction. "Boyfriend?"

"Oh my God. That was once!"

"I know."

"In college."

"I remember," she giggled.

"I was very drunk."

"You told me."

"And curious..."

"You don't need to defend yourself to me," she said, trying to placate him now he'd given her the rise she knew that was coming. "There's nothing wrong with being curious."

"Geez, Rey, I told you that in confidence."

"And I've never told a soul."

"I like girls," he said. "Like, a lot."

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "I just thought, you know, Poe's a handsome guy and you work pretty closely together."

"Poe's married with kids, and his wife is a researcher at the paper!"

Rey nodded, pressing her lips together. The noise of the car dulled into a quiet roar as they came onto the smooth road leading to Chandrila.

Finn exhaled, as though he'd been holding his breath.

"Look, I know in the past I might have swung both ways…" He glared at Rey, daring her to say something, but she kept her mouth shut. "But I haven't met that someone yet. I thought I had but life just pans out differently than we think it will sometimes… "

He gave her a pointed look and returned to concentrating on the road ahead, leaving those unsaid words to fall into oblivion.

Rey stared at her hands. At some point, she had started wringing them together. There was nothing to say, they'd been here before and he knew, as well as she did, that sometimes you can love someone but still only ever see them as a friend.

And now, she'd felt what the other end of that spectrum was like, when you loved someone so much that the boundaries between the two of you blurred. Rapture, belonging … coming home after never having one…

"How about you?" Finn asked, back to his happy self again. "Got a boyfriend, a cute boyfriend?"

Rey's stomach dropped, and she stared straight ahead.

"Well?"

Cute boyfriend? No, Ben was hardly what she would call a cute boyfriend.

"It's complicated," she deadpanned.

"Isn't it always? What's he like?"

What was Ben like? He was darkness, and light, and shadow all mixed together. Intense and achingly expressive. Strong and vulnerable. Beautiful and terrifying. He wasn't any one thing, he was everything. How could she come close to describing such a man?

Rey cleared her throat. "Tall."

"He's tall?"

"Yep." She nodded, gluing her eyes on the dashboard.

"And … that's it?"

"Yep." Couldn't she just hide in a hole now? Anything was better than answering these questions.

"Wow," Finn said, nodding. "Wow." He turned to her, those wide friendly lips bubbling in a smile. "He sounds amazing, Rey."

She cracked, laughter breaking the tension. They only stopped when there was a loud bang beneath them and the car began to tilt with a recurring thump.

"Ah, crap!" Finn stuck his head out the window, trying to see the damage.

"What was that?"

"I dunno. But it's blown the tyre." He looked back again. "I don't have time for this."

"It's okay. I can change it for you. You got a spare?"

Finn sunk into the driver's seat, avoiding her gaze. "That was the spare."

"Oh."

The thumping sound slowed as the car pulled over to the side, crawling along the shoulder in the shadow of wind-tossed maple trees that let through tiny pinpricks of rain every time a gale blew.

"Tell me again, what did they teach in that military academy you went to?"

"How to kick butt, that's what! Care for me to show you?"

"Bring it on, soldier. I'll take you!" Rey laughed, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

They got out of the car, jostling and laughing until they were holding their sides and out of breath.

Meanwhile, the ash-coloured rain clouds had swarmed overhead, covering them with light rain and mist.

Rey wiped the light droplets from her forehead. "Seriously though, what are we going to do? You can't miss your interview."

Finn stared at the car, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Not much we can do. I'll call Poe and let him know what's happened. But first, I need to pee."

He wandered away from the road and into the bush.

Rey shivered, listening to the melodious rumble of thunder rolling overhead like a giant stone. The wind picked up, blowing a sleeting rush of rain across her cheeks. In the distance, she could hear another vehicle and when she looked up a pair of lights were coming at them from the end of the road.

She looked back at Finn. He hadn't even noticed the car. It was travelling far faster than the speed limit and as it approached, the warm yellow lights bounced off the slick grey road creating a line of light before it.

Rey bit her lip, calculating a risk. In a flash, she'd shoved her thumb in the air, walking backwards along the side of the road, eyes fixed on the oncoming car.

Tyres screeched on wet bitumen and she held her breath as the eighties-style silver car with butterfly doors came to a sharp stop beside her.

A Millennium Falcon. She beamed at it, as Finn ran up to meet her.

"Are you mad?" he hissed. "He could be a psycho, a murderer, a…"

Finn closed his mouth as the driver's side window came down with a whir.

Rey strolled up to it, ignoring the way Finn pawed at her hand to come back. "Thanks for stopping."

"You could have given me more warning," a male voice grated out the window.

"I wasn't sure you would have stopped," she said, catching sight of an overactive Newfoundland dog dashing around the back seat in a blur of hazelnut-coloured fur. "Aren't you a beautiful guy!"

The dog barked at her excitedly, trying to nuzzle past the front seat to lick her.

The driver got out, walking over to her with a slight bend in his back, straightening with each step.

"His name's Chewie, and don't be fooled, he'll rip your arms out of its sockets if you cross him."

"I wouldn't believe that for a minute."

Finn came up to meet them, wiping his hands on his pants.

"We blew a tyre back there," Rey said. "Can you help us out?"

"I don't think—" Finn began but even as he spoke the man flipped the front seat forward indicating for him to get in.

"I'll take you as far as the next petrol station. Where are you headed?"

"You probably won't even know it," Finn rushed. Rey noted the way he'd brushed his eyes over the car, lingering on the ripped leather seats and rubbish scattered on the floor. "It's just one of the houses around here…"

"Try me." Han was gruff and Rey suspected he'd also noticed the way Finn had looked at the car like she was a pile of junk. If only he knew. A Millennium Falcon was far more than outward appearances. It was the way she moved, the speed, the old-world devil-may-care character —

"Senator Organa-Solo. I've got an appointment with her."

Rey's mouth hung in shock. "You do?"

Finn nodded, buoyed by her reaction.

"Yeah. It's a pretty big deal."

"Well, big deal, jump on in. I'm on my way home, anyway."

Home?

Rey stared at the man, noticing the familiar long nose and narrow face. Time had worn away some of his good looks, but it didn't take much imagination to see the man that he once was. Han Solo, four-time winner of the Kessel Run, a notorious scoundrel—

Ben's dad.

"You're lucky I found you, the Senator doesn't like to be kept waiting. Get in back. We're not more than five minutes away."

Han stepped back, holding the door open for Rey as she scrambled in the front seat, no longer able to meet his eye.

Her hands shook as she secured the belt, heat rising in her cheeks.

"So, what's your story?"

"Mine?" she stammered. "I don't have a story."

"Right. What's your name then, kid?"

"Rey." She flicked her eyes up at him before pulling the door closed and trying not to gauge his reaction. "You know, with an 'e'."

He held his chin, nodding, and for a fleeting moment, Rey had the startling realisation that he'd seemed to recognise her name. But when Han got in the driver's chair, he just he revved the engine and said: "Rey? What kind of name is that?"

Rey had never seen such richness in her life. The estate and its grounds were breathtaking, even under the grey hue of the passing rain clouds. All around them, long verdant grass stretched out before them. Before the mansion was a pond, flooded from earlier downpours; even now raindrops tickled the surface of the water in tiny radiating waves. A worn fountain lay at its centre, dripping a steady stream of water like a leaking tap. They stood before the oak doors as Han wiped his muddy boots on the cement and ushered them inside.

The sound of Rey's heart competed with the roar of thunder as she stepped over the threshold into what must have been Ben's childhood home. Han showed them through a long narrow corridor lined with photo frames, while Chewie nuzzled into the back of her hand.

She felt a stab of pain as she spotted the familiar flop of black hair in the photos, each one of them sending an electric charge to her heart. With every step, she passed a story of Ben's life, as he transformed from a stocky, doe-eyed toddler with grazed knees to an awkward teenager who hadn't grown into his long arms and legs. The last photo was of Ben in his karate uniform, smiling proudly, his parents on either side of him sharing his enthusiasm.

That was the last photo they had of him. The rest of the hallway was empty, hospital-white in contrast, like life had stopped from that point.

By the time they reached the end of the hall, Rey noticed the older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a regal expression standing in the lounge room. Rey's breath caught at the sight of her. Ben's mother. Yes, she could see the resemblance in her dark, intelligent eyes and the proud way she held herself. This was a woman who would never bow before anyone. She was magnificent. There was no other word that came to mind.

"You must be Finn. I'm so happy you got here safely. Poe called me about your car troubles." She turned to him. "It was lucky Han found you on his way back from town."

"Senator Organa-Solo, it's an honour."

"Call me Leia, please." She turned to Rey then, regarding her with an odd expression. "And you are...?"

"Rey." The word was blurted out, and she pushed her hand towards the Senator a little overzealously. Finn raised an eyebrow at her, but she dared not look at him. She already knew she was being awkward. "I'm here as a friend to Finn."

Leia reached her hand, wrapping it in her own, a smile spreading across lips and sparkling in her eyes. "Rey," she repeated. "I'm very happy to meet you."

The tight press of Leia's hands filled Rey with warmth and time slowed to a crawl. How lucky Ben was to have a mother. Did he even know what a blessing that was?

Rey blinked, pushing the thought of him away.

"Rey's helping me on the Snoke story, too."

"I see," Leia nodded. A small line spread across her brow as she indicated for them to sit.

Finn pulled out his notepad and phone, and the sky burst with loud clamouring rain, pelting against the glass.

For a moment, Leia's guarded expression faltered as she looked to Han, who was already staring out into the grounds, pacing like the scurrying raindrops making lines down the windows. He turned back to Leia, shaking his head, and she sat back in her chair, mask back on.

"So, Senator Organa-Solo—Leia, I wanted to ask you about your decision to return to politics after all these years?"

Leia cleared her throat, her voice was low and rusty, like she had spent a lifetime delivering speeches. "I hadn't planned on returning, but when I see our political system being flaunted and abused by the current government with their hands chained to the pockets of larger corporations, I couldn't stand by any longer. It has gone on long enough."

Leia looked up at Han, but he was not listening. Instead, he still paced by the window, growing more and more restless.

"It has been … difficult on my family," she said haltingly. "But they stand by my decision to run again…"

"Your family is happy with your decision?" Rey could have slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Finn peered at her with an expression as if to say what the hell?

"Yes, I believe so," Leia answered stiffly.

"All of them?" She couldn't stop herself, her words were like knee-jerk reactions.

Leia's face twitched. "My husband has always supported my political career."

"And your son?"

What the hell was possessing her to keep going?

"My son?"

Rey sighed. She'd dug this hole, she may as well keep going. "Doesn't taking up the helm of the Resistance put him in a position to be under more scrutiny, or worse, blackmailed?" She stumbled at her words. "'Them', I mean to say. Not 'him'."

Finn choked, poking her in the side with a sharp but subtle elbow jab.

"Excuse me?" Leia seemed incredulous at the line of questioning, her gaze searching for Han even more so, almost demanding him to look at her. But he wasn't there anymore and through the heavy lines of rain, Rey could make out his form heading out into the grounds.

Leia composed herself, not missing a beat. "I've always kept my son out of the media spotlight."

"But that hasn't stopped him from being a target though." The words rushed out of her again.

Rey's flushed with colour, astounded at how defensive she had gotten.

There was a beat and Leia stood then, smiling at them both. "Give me a minute, please."

She left the room, opening the French glass door panels and standing under a small alcove. Leia's outline glowed beneath a dull outside light, lines of rain provided a backdrop to her stoic figure, drowning out every other sound.

Eventually, Han emerged, running slightly, out of breath. He leant in close to her ear; they could have been shouting for all Rey could hear amidst the constant clamour of the rainstorm. Leia raised her chin, brows furrowed as she spoke to Han, and biting her lip when she listened. Rey leant forward, trying to imagine she could lip-read, and that's when Leia looked straight at her.

Rey turned away in a flash, only to be faced with a very angry-looking Finn.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Huh?" she asked, refusing to meet his eye.

"Why are you asking her about her son? Everyone knows she doesn't like to talk about him."

Rey shook her head, overcome with shame. The last thing she wanted was to mess this up for Finn … but, being here, before his parents, knowing what challenges Ben was facing alone right now. How could she not fight for him if no one else would?

"I'm sorry," she whispered back. "But don't you think it's worth asking?"

"No," Finn said through gritted teeth. "Not if it will cost us the whole interview. The only reason Leia agreed to do this was as a special favour to Poe."

Leia returned from outside. As she did a fresh zephyr of wind swept in through the sitting room. The cloud burst had passed now, leaving only a small drizzle of mist-like rain floating in the outside air once more.

Her mask was unreadable. She was seasoned at concealing her expressions, something her son had never learnt.

Nor Rey, obviously.

She attempted to apologise when Leia spoke up, interrupting them.

"Do you know my son?" she asked, the question to both of them, but Leia clearly directed the words at Rey.

"We met in town the other day," Finn replied.

"And you?" Rey's cheeks glowed at the way Leia stared her down, almost like she knew what they had done together in the privacy of her apartment.

"As Finn said," she mumbled. "Poe introduced us."

"He must have made quite an impression on you then."

Rey gaped, speechless for the first time.

"I—"

Fuck. She scrambled for words and every one of them failed her.

"I appreciate your concern with my family," Leia said. "But you won't find what you're looking for here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ..."

Oh, God. She had messed this up so much.

"Perhaps, you could take a walk about the grounds while Finn and I finish this. The rain has stopped now. Who knows, it might give you the answers you're looking for."

Was she really being kicked out? Rey's face felt hot with humiliation and guilt. Without saying another word, she got up and walked over to the double bay doors where Han waited, smiling.

"Don't be offended, she gets very defensive about Ben," he said, and then raising his voice again. "And she likes to order people about. It gives her something to do."

"I'll give you something to do, you scoundrel" Leia snapped at Han, but her expression was fresh, all mischievous joy. "Where should Rey go?"

Han and Leia's exchanged a look, and Rey could have sworn there was some kind of conspiracy brewing between them. Han opened the door, handing her a large golf umbrella.

"There's a small pond by the cliff face. It looks out over the ocean. You'll find it if you head north through the rose garden and cross the bridge over the brook," he said, adding, "You'll know it when you see it."

Rey nodded, glancing back at Finn one last time. He was now deep in conversation with Leia, scribbling notes on his pad without even noticing she was leaving.

She sighed, pushing open the umbrella and with a fleeting smile at Han, embraced her banishment.

Rey slipped off a pair of shoes and stepped out onto the wet grass. It was freeing to be outside, no longer in danger of saying or doing the wrong thing. Overhead, a breathy roar of wind thrashed through the canopies of silver eucalyptus trees. The daylight was fading into twilight, with the sun trapped between grey storm clouds and a grey sea.

She began walking, enjoying the way her toes sunk into the overgrown grass. The air was crisper and brighter now that the rain had passed. She stepped over a small bridge that passed an overflowing brook, and she cleaned her feet in the water, listening to the sounds of nature coming back to life after the downpour.

Seagulls called from the cliff face, frogs croaked by the pond and the wind continued to roar like distant rivers, the quiet backdrop to it all.

Rey let the sounds fill her senses, and it didn't take long until her thoughts turned inward, thinking back to the morning when she and Ben had made love. For one moment, she had been so blissfully, divinely happy.

Perhaps they could have that again.

Even after … everything.

She felt close to him here, walking through the grounds of his childhood. Longing for him to be here, telling her where he used to play as a boy, the secret hideaways and mystical forests that made up imaginings of youth.

In the dim light ahead there was a large pond that stretched out to the edge of the cliff, dotted with fading solar lights and white lilies. The young trees around the edge cast long slim shadows on the ground, shivering and swaying dark shapes upon the ground.

But one of those shadows moved against the others.

Rey squinted, trying to make it out … large, hands in pockets, hair wet and stuck to his long thoughtful face, his gaze fixed to the ground.

Rey pressed a hand over her heart. How long had he been out here in the rain? Did he even know she was here?

"Ben!" she cried out.

He froze, slowly turning to see her. His face was pale and shiny with rain. Even in the darkness, she could see how he shivered.

Ben hadn't moved, and nor had she. Then she felt a wave of tenderness wash over her and the stillness shattered. She ran, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him everywhere she could reach.

Chilled hands pressed into the small of her back, tucking her into his body.

"What are you doing here?" his voice croaked, barely audible. "I thought—"

"You saved me!" She pressed her cheek to his chest, holding him close as her breath came in halted sobs. "Thank you."

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 32 -The Storm Giant

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

The Storm Giant stopped about a skiff’s length away, his booted feet planted in the black shingle and his thick white brows pulled down over sharp eyes as he glowered at them each in turn. Even though he was barely taller than most men, he gave the impression of immense size, and complete authority over all he surveyed. Alistair, feeling himself shrivel under the fierce regard, squared his shoulders and straightened as far as his princely attire would allow, trying to distract himself by looking past his host to the group of warriors who had come to the beach with him. It was a mistake. The dozen or so people standing at the Storm Giant’s back shared his wild appearance, some with bare, brawny arms or hair swept back in intricate braids over their plaid cloaks. All of them kept their hands on their very well-kept weapons.

One woman, willowy and almost as short as a dwarf, strode into the middle ground between the two parties. She wore no steel over her elegant grey robes, and her face was painted with two vertical streaks of cracked, bluish dye that covered her eyes hid her age. The marks ended at the line of her rich red hair, which was crowned by a headdress decorated with raptor’s skull.

“That’s the chief augur,” Rosslyn muttered in Alistair’s ear as the woman raised her arms.

“I can see why you didn’t want Mother Berit to come. She’d be scandalized.”

She tilted a faint grin at him, and paused as the augur began speaking in Clayne. The woman’s voice emerged gritty despite her youth, like it came from the bones of the earth, and it boomed against the cliffs with a strength surprising for someone barely taller than a mabari.

“She’s invoking an old welcome,” Rosslyn said. “Blessing the Lady’s grace that brings honoured friends to the shores of the Storm Islands and protects against – there isn’t really a word for it in Common. Against, uh, baneful influence, let’s say.” She paused. “We are made welcome, given guest-honours and good luck for the days to come.” There was something else that she frowned at and did not translate, but before Alistair could ask what was wrong, the augur switched to the Common tongue and swept forward, her arms wide.

“Speak your names before the lord of Innse Gaillean,” she cried, “and be received as guests!”

Brantis took the cue, tilting the flagpole upright on the shingles so the banners fluttered in the faint wind, the two red War Dogs on a quartered field, and the golden Laurels beneath it. “Hail to Lord Fearchar, Arl of the Storm Coast and protector of the Waking Sea,” he called in his reedy voice. As he rattled off the formal greeting and the king’s titles, learned by heart, he didn’t seem to notice the agitated rhythm the Storm Giant was beating on the haft of his war mace.

“Ach, by the Lady! Enough o’ this blathering!”

The old chamberlain stumbled over the last syllables of Alistair’s name, consternation flushing his cheeks scarlet despite his efforts to appear unruffled. He still had two memorized paragraphs to go.

“Tha’s better. We all know each other – extend fondest greetings, blah blah – the same old routine.” The Storm Giant waved his hands as if dismissing a fly, and picked his way across the beach. “The tide is rising, my oald bones are aching, and there’s a feast warming in the broch, so let’s get on wie it. Your Highness, welcome to my home.”

He held out his arm, and Alistair, still reeling from the abrupt change in formality, hesitantly mirrored him, grateful for the braces Rosslyn had given him when strong fingers closed about his forearm like a vice.

“Thank you, my lord,” he managed, without tripping too much over the words. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

Close to, the Storm Giant still had streaks of grey among the white of his mane, a face marked by years weathering the fiercest winter storms. It was his eyes, however, that Alistair found most unnerving. They were a pale, icy green, rheumy with age around the ring of the iris, but no less sharp despite it, and under the older man’s cunning gaze he felt exposed, pinned like one of the butterflies in the collection Eamon kept in his study.  

“And I’ve heard much about you,” their host replied. “They say ye’ve a strong arm, and a clear head.”

“Um... do they?”

“Aye, and that ye’re a good man besides.”

“Well...” Alistair felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. “I try?” He glanced sidelong at Rosslyn and found her biting her lips together to hide her mirth.

The Storm Giant gave a bark of laughter. “Glad tae hear it, laddie. And is this the boy?” He turned his gaze to Connor, who had tucked himself into Wynne’s side in an attempt to seem invisible.

“Yes, this is Connor,” Alistair replied. “There’s a letter – uh, we must have left it on the ship.”

“Never mind it. There’s nae need te hide behind your nanny’s skirts, wee man,” he added to Connor. “I’m no’ a wandering doonie come te steal you away.”

“I am not his nanny,” Wynne corrected.

Connor glanced at her, and when she raised an expectant eyebrow he shuffled forward and offered a bow. “I am pleased to meet you, my lord,” he said.

“Those’ll be yaer mother’s manners, no doubt.” The Storm Giant shook his head. “We’re none so fancy here, are we, lass?”

Not expecting the question, Rosslyn tensed, her smile disappearing in the clench of her jaw as she shrank away from the bright scrutiny of eyes so like her mother’s. The Storm Giant turned towards her with brows knotted together like the roots of an old yew, and asked her something in Clayne. When she answered, gaze downcast and knuckles white on the hilt of her sword, the frown deepened. He prowled towards her.

“Dinnae tell me these formal manners are catching now?” he asked in a gentler, joking tone.

“I...” She darted a glance up, but her nerve failed and she swallowed as she looked away.

The Storm Giant’s expression softened. “Oh cuilean, you didnae think we’d blame you?” He reached out and tucked a finger under his granddaughter’s chin. “We wept when we heard, and we wept again when they told us you lived.”

“I tried...” Rosslyn croaked, meeting his eye at last. “There was nothing I could do.”  

“You’re so like her – and you survived. That was no mean feat, from what I’ve heard. Now,” he added, regaining his former brusque tone, “shall we have nae more o’ this?”

She steadied herself. “No, grandfather.”

“Grandfather?” he prompted.

“Uh...” Her gaze flickered to Alistair’s, for the briefest instant, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I mean... Gamba.”

The embarrassment didn’t even have time to reach her cheeks. With a booming laugh, the Storm Giant grabbed her around the middle and hoisted her into a lung-crushing hug that left her stiff and staring with shock when he finally released her.

“Welcome home, lass! They’re all dying te see you.”

He turned to gesture to his honour guard, and Rosslyn used the distraction to wipe the moisture away from the corners of her eyes. She jumped as a gentle hand touched her lower back.

“Are you alright?” Alistair asked as the party began its march up the beach.

She nodded. “I’m fine – just a bit of grit in my eye.”

“I hate it when that happens.”

“Your Highness,” Mhairi interrupted, apologetic. “We ought to go.”

“Huh? Oh – of course.” He turned his attention back to Rosslyn, who offered a brief smile and squeezed his hand.  

“Ready to meet the cousins?” she asked.

He stayed close to her as they climbed the steps up the broch. The path wound out of the shadow of the cliff and into brilliant morning sunshine that sparked off the sea and soaked into verdant green pastures dotted with fluffy white rams. Away over the sheer drop, the Siren’s Call bobbed against her anchors as she waited for the return of her boats, while above, the gulls that had survived their morning feast wheeled against an egg-blue sky. Rosslyn tried to focus on these things, on the warmth of familiarity settling in her chest as they passed places she had explored as s child, because the alternative was the brush of Alistair’s shoulder against hers, and the memory of him on the ship, so close his breath tingled against her lips. She could feel him watching her now, hovering at her side with an intensity that, while not exactly unpleasant, held too much tension in it to be comfortable.

“Sooooo,” he said, and she turned in time to see a grin spread across his face. “I have to ask...”

A smile pulled at her mouth too, though she squashed it back. “Shut up.”  

“I will not,” he snorted. “This is far too good an opportunity to pass up. ‘Gamba’? I have to know the story behind this.”

She turned a glare on him.

“You don’t scare me, you know,” he teased. “And you know I’ll just keep asking until you tell me.”

He wouldn’t. If she told him to stop he would drop the subject like a hot stone, but he watched her with such hopeful enthusiasm all she could do was roll her eyes.

“When my parents brought me here for the first time, I was very small, and I’d never been so far from home before,” she told him. The day had been overcast, the waves whipped to white peaks by the gale that chased them into the harbour. Everything had been strange, the people all staring, and on the central dais of the broch, the man they called the Storm Giant, wild hair and wilder eyes, whom even her father treated with deference. “I was presented to the clan, but I was so terrified I scrambled the words I was meant to say, and Lord Fearchar liked the name, so it stuck.”

The guard walking next to them, a burly man with storm-grey hair, chuckled. “Aye, and the rest. The wee thing stood there scowlin’ like a bull and red as a beet while Big Yin laughed his heid off, and she wouldnae say a word to anyone until he apologised.” He grinned at Alistair, tipping Rosslyn a wink. “She’s had him wrapped around her little finger ever since.”

Mortified, she picked up the pace, but Alistair’s longer legs soon caught up. Glee radiated off every inch of him.

“This is so much better than I could have imagined. You were adorable! I knew it.” He only beamed wider when he caught the smile she was trying to hide between her teeth.

“I am so close to pushing you off a cliff.”  

“You would do violence? Upon me?” He clutched his heart. “Dear lady, I am shocked and appalled. You know that would be treason, right?”

She turned and met his teasing with a catlike smirk, inches from his face as she stared him down. “Not if they couldn’t prove I did it,” she told him silkily, and the low, velvet tone of her voice left him rooted to the spot, mouth dry and breath stalled as she sauntered away.  

It didn’t take long after that to reach the settlement of Dunedyn. In size, it was comparable to the village at Redcliffe, two dozen or so houses brightly painted in every colour imaginable clustered along a winding cobble road that led up the steep slope towards the broch. They had a similar layout to the roundhouses that covered most of Ferelden, but here the Alamarri style was cemented in stone instead of wood, and each main house had several extensions to allow for more communal living when the harsh extremes of weather made it unwise to venture outside. And in every doorway, people had gathered under the charm-carved lintels to watch them pass. Most of them were children and the elderly set to watch them, since the adults were busy working out at sea or in the meadows that crowned the island’s interior, but they held no fear of their lord, who greeted them warmly, asked after family, and treated them with far more familiarity than most nobles on the mainland would ever deign to show.

There were other differences, too. Among the throng of humans were a good number of elves, marked apart by their large eyes and pointed ears. They were wiry, but looked well-fed, and stood beside their human neighbours with the same open curiosity, lacking the hunted, pinched look usually seen on the elves who dwelt within the cities.  

“You have mages here,” Wynne remarked to one of the guards as they passed a young woman lightly leaning on a staff topped with a bright orange stone.

“Of course,” the guard replied. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Connor’s eyes were wide. “But where are the templars?”

“Feh,” the guard scoffed. “We’ve nae use for Chantry hounds here.”

“You do not fear abominations?”

The guard shot the old woman a sidelong look. “We dinnae fear templars.”

Wynne’s lips pursed, but Connor peered around with new interest, noticing how the mages of Dunedyn formed part of the crowd without fear on either side, and for the first time in days, a smile cracked across his face.

Up ahead, the procession came to a halt on the terrace in front of the broch. As the meeting place for the whole settlement, it towered over the rest of the houses like a wolf watching over her cubs, whitewashed to brilliance with a cone roof of concentric slate tiles. A collection of residential buildings nestled in a hollow further up the hill, evidently the living space for the Storm Giant, his family, and his guests, all of whom seemed to have squeezed in to the space in order to greet Rosslyn, Alistair, and their entourage.  

A tall, slender woman with steel-grey hair stood at the front of the group, her air of cool authority keeping the rest from becoming too boisterous. When she saw Rosslyn, her face broke into a smile and she glided forwards to wrap her arms around the younger woman, a tight embrace that spoke of worry and relief in equal measures.

“Failte dhachaigh, mo chridhe,” she said.

Rosslyn returned the gesture, her own murmured words lost to the wind as they parted again. “Al- Your Highness, allow me to present Lilieas Mac Eanraig, my grandmother.”

“You are most welcome,” the older woman told him, in an accent far softer than that of her husband.

“This place is beautiful,” he replied. “I’ve never received a warmer welcome in my life.”

“Indeed? Then I need not tell you the family is all waiting to meet you both.”

“The infamous cousins?” he asked. “I wonder how many of them have stories about the Teyrna of Highever when she was just a wee lass.” He grinned at Rosslyn, who groaned and rolled her eyes again.

Lileas chuckled. “If you’re after stories, there’ll be plenty of time later, at the feast.”

“I do hope so.”

“Come on, Your Highness,” Rosslyn interrupted, fighting against the colour rising in her cheeks, “you wouldn’t want to seem rude.”

The cousins swarmed them. Rosslyn was engulfed by at least four people who tried to hug her all at the same time, and by the time she emerged from under the crush of bodies to formally greet her uncles, Alistair had been folded into the crowd as well. The presence of so many people so close and actually happy to see him left him daunted, but Rosslyn’s steady presence next to him was a relief, even if she fired off far too many names for him to remember all at once.  

“I think they’ve adopted you,” she chuckled as a small girl tugged on his wrist to get his attention.

“Oi!” boomed a familiar voice. “You ignoring me now, lass?”  

“Eoin!” She turned so quickly she failed to spot Alistair’s bemused expression or the wistful way his eyes lingered on her, on the radiance of her smile as she was grabbed around the middle by the captain of the Reaper.

He didn’t realise he was being watched himself.  

“I didnae expect this,” the Storm Giant muttered to his wife.

“Will it change things?”

“Not in any way that’ll matter to the rest o’ the moot.”

Lileas shook her head. “In that case, there’s no point drawing things out. They should be allowed to rest after their journey.”

“Ach, let them have their fun,” he replied with a bat of his arm. “They can rest when – well. Later.”

She wrenched her hand away from his. “Are you a common Raider now? Do you not mean to give your own granddaughter a chance to refresh herself, when she’s come here on a mission out of loyal duty to her lord? You’re a man playing host to the king’s own brother, by the Lady – show a little decorum!”

“Don’t take on so, woman,” he huffed, then sighed his defeat. “But you’re right. As always. You lot!” he shouted. “That’s enough of that! Ye’ve all had your fun, ye’ve made your greetings, now leave our guests be. They’ve had a long journey, and they must catch their breath before tonight, or so I’m told.”  

Lileas elbowed him neatly in the ribs and he stole a kiss to her hair. Murmurs of disappointment rippled through the crowd, but they heeded the command nevertheless and dispersed with final handshakes and good-natured slaps to the shoulder. The child that had squirmed her way onto Alistair’s hip demanded to be put down. He puffed out a sigh as she scampered away, relieved and a little bit surprised to see he was still whole and mostly unruffled after the melee – he couldn’t be sure, but at least two people might have challenged him to duels. Rosslyn was a few paces away, saying a farewell to Eoin, who close-to was almost comically short and had a rounder, softer face than expected now that he was on dry land and not blustering at them.  

Before he could take even a step towards the pair, with a vague idea in his mind about snatching a few moments alone with Rosslyn with better privacy than could be found on the ship, he found his way blocked by a rather freckly redhead, who stared up at him from deep, sea-blue eyes.  

“Uh...”

“Nerlina,” Your Highness,” she prompted.  

He blinked. “Of course – sorry. All the names sort of bombarded me back there.”

“I’m not surprised,” she giggled. “I take no offence. I was wondering if you’d like a tour of the hold? You must want to stretch your legs after being cooped up for so long on that ship.”

“No, thank you – I mean, that would be nice, but I really should oversee getting all the things off the ship, and...” He glanced at Rosslyn.

“Oh, I could take you to the docks,” Nerlina assured him. She smiled at him so sweetly he didn’t know how to refuse her.

“Uh, thanks. That – that would be helpful, actually. Hang on, let me just...” He pushed past her and reached out for Rosslyn’s shoulder, so he could relay his plan.

“I could do that,” she replied.

“No, you’ve been away so long, you should take the time to catch up with everyone here.”

She cast a smile at him that made her whole face light up. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.” He cleared his throat. “Will I see you later?”

She heard the implied question underneath the one he asked, and once again her memory surged back to that moment in the cabin, when they stood so close and the feel of his hand on her waist made her stomach twist. “Definitely,” she echoed. “At the feast if not before.”

“Good. Well, I’d better... go then. Yes. I’ll just – go.” He stumbled backwards to where Nerlina stood waiting with her hands clasped behind her back, and offered one final wave as he turned away.

“Any chance you’d like to be a little more obvious with that prince of yours?” Eoin asked once Alistair had gone beyond earshot.

The smile on Rosslyn’s face curled into a pout. “He’s not my prince.”

“Not if Nerlina gets her way.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means she can charm the stones off a golem.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “Ach, I’m only teasing – dinnae worry about it. She knows not te go too far.”

“What would I have to be worried about?” But something cold squirmed in her gut nonetheless as she caught sight of the two distant figures, their pace brisk, the taller one’s head bent low to laugh at something his companion said as they rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

[readyfreddieforyourbullshit-blog]

Deep in the Meadow, Chapter 1.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Attempted suicide, torture, brainwashing, kidnapping, attempted murder, traumatic flashbacks, twelve year old writing, drinking, swearing, betrayal, and probably more stuff. (Yeah this isn't light hearted. At all.)

Plot: The boy she loves is basically gone, her sister is dead, with her best friend to blame, she's responsible for the death of hundreds. But somehow, she and Peeta learn to heal. But just as their nightmares start to cease, they come to life in the worst way possible.

A/N: Like I said, this was written by my twelve year old self, so is the writing the best? No. But I am kind of proud of this! Don't be too harsh, please. This was my first attempt at fanfiction. Please let me know what you think! I'm going to upload one chapter a week. Anyways, please enjoy!

We arrive in District twelve at night. The sun no longer there. The fire burned out.

I go straight to my home, Haymitch following me. When I get there, I lock the door behind me, and go straight to the kitchen. There has to be a knife in there. I hear another door open, but I know it's only Haymitch. Locking the door. drinking all of his remaining liqur. If there is any. I highly doubt it, but knowing Haymitch, he probably hid some incase a disaster was to happen, and he wouldn't have to be sober for once in his sorry lifetime. For instance, me and Peeta winning the Hunger games.

Peeta.

I haven't thought about Peeta in a long time. I wonder how he is, if the hijacking took over his mind after what I did. Probably so, and just as he was coming back too. The old Peeta, whose smile brightend the whole room, his hands, that could create such beautiful paintings, his words, used to heal. Not hurt.

I am attacked by racks of sobs. I cry and wail. I just can't help it.  I killed him. I killed Finnick. Prim. Madge, who had no reason to die other then being my friend. And now I've lost Gale. My friend. My hunting partner. The only one besides Peeta that I would allow to see the weak and defenceless side of me.

I know that the world would be better without me. Without a mad, murdoress girl. I make my way somehow to the kitchen, and find a butter knife. Not as sharp as I was hoping for, but enough that it would work. I start to put it up to my throat, when someone comes bursting in thru the door.

"Katniss?" Peeta. So, he's not gone over the bend yet. Good. I didn't kill him after all.

I start to drag the knife across my throat, when a terrible thought hits me. If he finds me in here, then he surely would go mad. no doubt about it. He would try to find me, and when he did, go completely insane. I will have to get him out of here, and try again when he leaves. But before I can even move, he's right there in the doorway, almost as if he expected me to be there.

"Katniss, what are you doing?!" He grabs the knife from me and throws it at the wall, causing it to pierce right into it. He kneels down onto the floor in front of me, and grabs my shoulders and starts shaking me. "Why did you do that?! Don't ever do that again! Do you hear me?! Ever! I can't lose you too!" His face is now red and puffy from crying. He holds me in his arms. rocking me back and forth. His sobbing dies down a little, but not much. "Do you know how many times I wake up from a nightmare telling myself 'not real'? Only to find you about to slit your throat?!" He grabs my face, and pulls me closer. "Don't ever let that be real. Please Katniss. I can't lose you too." His tears fall silently down his face. His blue eyes locking into my gray ones.

"Peeta, I can't-"

"Yes you can, Katniss. If you won't do it for me, do it for Prim." This strikes a chord in me. I bow my head in shame. Peeta puts his hand under my chin and tilts my head up. "Look at me."

I force myself to meet his gaze.

" I love you too much Katniss. Please make me this promise." I can't. I can't even lie to him. Not while he is in this state of weakness. "Do you remember in the Quarter Quell, how I told you nobody needed me, and you said you did? Katniss, no matter how much you think nobody needs you, you're wrong. Think about it. Your mother, Gale, me." I feel the tears welling in my eyes. "Katniss, if you die I will have nobody. I would rather die than lose you. Do you understand?" I nod my head. Peeta gives a slight smile. I fall into him, his arms wrapping around me. Even with Peetas warmth, I start shivering. "God, Katniss. What did they do to you?" I realize that this must be the thinnest he's ever seen me. Even when me and Prim were slowly starving to death, we weren't as thin as I am now. I scratch my throat and discover a small cut that the butter knife must have made. "Oh Katniss." He cradles me like an infant.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, I was in bed with Peeta laying next to me. His arms still wrapped around me. I look at him. He looks like he's at peace when he's asleep. Before I know what I'm doing I gently press my lips into his. I pull back when I feel him doing the same. His eyes open and he smiles. "Hey." I say as though I didn't just kiss him in his sleep.

"Hey. You're up early." Confused, I turn my head to my window facing opposite of me. And it turns out Peeta was right. It didn't look close to dawn, either. "Did you have a nightmare?" Peeta asks.

"Huh- oh! No! I...I think this is the first time that I didn't wake up from a nightmare."

"Mine too." Replies Peeta. He doesn't seem to want to know why I kissed him. "You kissed me, real or not real?" Never mind.

"Real." I admit. He wraps his arms around me. I gladly go into his warm embrace.

When I wake up again, I smell something. Cheese buns. Peeta knows they are my favorite. I walk downstairs into the kitchen and my suspicions were correct. Peeta from what I can tell is nowhere to be found, so I eat alone.

I think of last night. How did he get here in time to stop me? Did he hear me crying? If he did, then does that mean Haymitch did too? And if he did, why didn't he come here with Peeta? Was he so drunk he passed out, or did he just not care after almost two years? About a million questions run through my head, and even after almost an hour and a half, I still don't have a slightest clue. Like as to why Peeta was in District twelve, and what did he mean by 'I need you'? Could he have meant it in a non-lovers way like I did? Or was he just saying it in a moment of desperation? By noon I still don't know.

Greasy Sae comes at one to make me lunch with her granddaughter. She picked up one of my mothers blue yarn balls she used to knit with.

"Claire, put that down!" Greasy Sae yelled at the little red-headed girl, who seemed to like to live in her own little world. If my world wasn't so dark and terrifying, I might just join in on the idea.

"It's alright. She can have it." I tell greasy Sae. I eat my breakfast while greasy Sae watches me. Making sure I eat every last bite. No doubt told to by Haymitch or Plutarch. When they leave, I become aware of the fact that I smell terrible, so I take a shower. After about an hour of combing out my thin hair, I go to the kitchen to see what to do about the knife in the wall. I pull it out and look at the hole. It's not to big, so I could probably just put a table in front of it, and nobody would notice.

I go to the meadow later that day, and try and answer my question. Like how is it that I can survive over sixteen years of starvation, two Hunger games, a rebellion and yet not know anything about love, other than it's impossible! I groan in frustration.

Then I see it. The evening primrose. I look at it, afraid to touch it, like if I did I would set it on fire.

"Prim." I whisper softly. It's still a little cold in district twelve, so I notice that there's is some frost on it, left behind by the cold. I feel tears wealing up in my eyes as I touch the soft petal, watching the frost melt at my touch. I feel the tears starting to fall down my cheeks. "Prim." I say a little louder this time. I hear something 'meaw' behind me, and snap my head around to see what it was. Buttercup. Of course it's Prims stupid cat. "Go away." He hiss' at me. "Go. You won't find her here, so just GO!" I scream at him. I grab a thin stick that won't make a dent in him, but all I want is for him to just go away. "Prim is dead! Do you hear me, you stupid cat!?" I wave the stick around like a manic. But he doesn't run away. He just sat there, taking it. Along the way of me screaming Prims death he must of realized something terrible has happened, and starts giving his own animal crying. I fall to my knees and hands and try to catch my breath. Buttercup comes to me and rubs against me. But instead of pushing him away, I hold him as we cry. At dusk me and Buttercup make our way to my house, where when we get there we find a frantic Peeta. "Peeta?" I'm very confused as to why he's here.

"Katniss!" He holds me in his arms tightly while Buttercup goes off to find a place to sleep, and I don't blame him. He looks like he also has had a couple of sleepless weeks. "I thought you were dead! I didn't know where you were! Oh my god are you okay?!" He asks hysterical. I must still look like I've been crying and made him think something terrible has happened to me.

"I'm fine Peeta. I just went out to the meadow and...I found a primrose..and-" A look of understanding appears on his face, and he holds me in his arms and rock me gently. Murmuring that it's okay and he's still there for me. I pull away and look at him. "Thank you." I say softly. We both start leaning in and our lips have barley touched when the door opens with Haymitch stumbling in.

"Well sweetheart, looks like you're alive." He says as he takes a swing from a flask. So I was right about the alcohol.

"Yeah. I see you're as drunk as usual." I'm a little mad he came stumbling in on an important moment.

"I got it Haymitch." Peeta says after seeing the look in my eyes. Haymitch  grunts and turns to walk out saying

"Fine. I didn't wanna see you makin' babies anyway." and slams the door behind him. I look at Peeta and see what must be a mirror of my face. He has wide eyes and his face was an interesting shade of red, with his mouth partly open. We lock eyes for a moment and bust out laughing at how ridiculous we look. After our laughing fit we go to the kitchen.

"Peeta, why were you here? I mean, I thought greasy Sae was making me dinner." I ask him in confusion.

"Sae came to my door to tell me that she lost her granddaughter while shopping so she wanted to ask me if I could fill in, and I said 'yes'." He replied. I nodded and watched him for a while. After we ate, I asked Peeta a question that had been on my mind.

"Peeta, why did you come last night?" He sighs and thinks for a moment.

"I was sent here last week after you killed Coin for my safety. Or at least that's what they told me. I didn't care really, I just wanted to go home. They told me you and Haymitch were coming home that day and I wanted to see you. It was almost eleven by the time you got home, so I decided to wait until tomorrow. Then I heard screaming, and...I...I almost had an attack." I look at him. He looks like he's lost to the world, staring at the fire in the fire place.

"Peeta?" He looks at me, but not in the same caring way he did only a few moments ago. I try and move away, but his hands are around my throat before I can move. "P-Peeta." I can't breath. "P-Please. Peeta."

"Mutt!" He throws me away. I feel my head snap backwards and forward. I put a hand to my throat and cough while I try to get up, but I stumble and fall.

"Peeta..." I whisper as I drift into unconsciousness. Waiting for death to come from the boy with the bread.

A/N: Like I said, not the best writing in the world, but I'm still proud. Please reblog! Thank you for reading!

[goldmedalninja]

Impromptu Bonding: A Ninjago OC Day one-shot (2/4)

This is the longest one I wrote, and I wish I could improve it, but I need to write my last one. I hope you enjoy.

———————————————

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Lou asked his children. “I know me having this job isn’t the best for-“

“Dad.” Maria interrupted him. “You have done so much in the past few weeks to try to rekindle our relationship as a family. But we know you need to do this.”

“Touring is part of your job.” Cole added. “We’ve been fine on our own before.”

Lou smiled. He was proud of his kids.

“Well, you know the rules. No parties, credit card is for necessities only, and if you break any rule-“

“We’re grounded.” The twins said at the same time.

“Don’t worry. All I’m doing this weekend is having Bri and Nya over tonight. We’re going to try to get back to where we were in middle school. Friendship wise, I mean.” Maria assured him.

Cole looked confused. “I thought that tonight was my night. I invited the guys over to test out the latest Fist-to-Face.”

Maria blanched. “Did we really schedule sleepovers on the same night?”

“Looks like it.” They both groaned.

Lou just rolled his eyes. “Well, just don’t burn the house down. I have to go. I love you both.”

“We love you, too, Dad.” Both called out before staring each other down. Finally, Maria made a move.

“I call living room!” She rushed out of the kitchen while Cole swore.

“Not fair! I have more people!”

———————————————

About 2 hours after everyone arrived, the girls were downstairs, just talking about things that have gone on since they began high school. But soon they ran out of topics, and the air grew silent.

“This is awkward.” Maria said after a minute.

“No duh, Sherlock.” Bri retorted.

“It feels weird. I’ve been hanging out with the guys for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have proper girl time.” Nya admitted.

“Truth be told, most of our sleepovers have consisted of us bothering our brothers.” Bri told her.

“Great idea!” Maria got up.

“Really? You want to go bother a room of 5 fully trained ninja?” Bri looked at her best friend like she was nuts.

“Why not?” Nya asked. “You’ve got one on your side.”

Bri groaned. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

———————————————

Lloyd finally lifted his head up from the ground after listening in on the girls.

“What are they talking about?” Kai asked.

“I’m not sure, but I heard the word ‘ambush’ and ‘ninjas’.” Lloyd responded.

“Oh geez. They always do this.” Cole stood up. “They get bored and decide to pull a surprise attack on me.”

“Well, we have an advantage.” Kai joined him. “We know their plan. Let’s beat them at their own game.”

“Um, are you sure about this?” Jay asked.

“I have to agree. Aren’t we supposed to stay separated due to your ‘sacred twin rules’?” Zane added.

“She broke them first. Let’s get planning.”

————————————————

Somehow (big shock) the neighbors heard their shenanigans and almost called the police. So the party reached a truce and decided to combine.

“Alright. My 2 truths and a lie,” Bri started, “my first kiss was with a girl, all of my jeans have at least one hole, and I have a bald spot on the back of my head.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Maria asked.

“That’s why you aren’t allowed to guess.”

“I’m going with the kiss.” Kai guessed.

“Definitely the jeans.” Nya.

“I don’t know. Probably the bald spot?” Jay.

“I’m going with jeans.” Cole.

“Bald spot.” Lloyd.

“Probably the kiss.” Zane.

“Cole and Nya are right.” Bri turned her head and held up her hair to reveal a pretty prominent bald spot on her head. “My first kiss was Gale Russell, 9th grade, at Homecoming.”

“Really? The gossip?” Lloyd asked.

“My turn!” Maria interjected. “Cole and Bri aren’t allowed to guess.” Said teens groaned. “I broke my pinky in 4th grade, I’m older than Cole by 6 minutes, and I introduced Cole to AC/DC.”

“AC/DC.” Everyone said at the same time.

“Nope.” Looking at her brother, he nodded.

“Yeah. I’m older by 10 minutes. And she INDIRECTLY introduced me to AC/DC.”

“You asked me what song I was singing and looked it up immediately after I answered. I think that counts. And as for the pinky,” she clasped her hands together, her pinky flopping weirdly, causing everyone to cringe.

One by one, everyone shared fun facts about themselves. Cole did ballet as a kid, Jay had a small scar on his forehead from an invention malfunction, Kai spends 60$ a month on hair gel, Nya once helped paint a mural for a tea shop, Zane volunteers at a falcon habitat, and Lloyd revealed he was more of a dog person.

Most of the night was spent playing video games, sharing stories, and overall enjoyment. Everyone started dropping around 2 AM; Cole and Bri somehow ended up cuddling on the couch, Maria and Jay fell asleep in the recliners, Lloyd was upside down on the loveseat, and Nya, Kai, and Zane were in the sleeping bags originally for the girls. It was a cute sight.

No one knew how much their friendship would matter in the years to follow.

[everlarkingjoshifer]

A Different Way CHPT 7

Happy Valentine's day my wonderful readers. 

Normally I wouldn’t have posted a new chapter so soon but I thought “what the hell” and decided to give you all a new chapter to express my gratitude to those who have been so kind as to stick with me throughout this story. You guys are awesome! Now here are the following people I would like to thank for the undying support. @mega-aulover and @jobanana7 for being my biggest cheerleaders. To @javistg and @titaniasfics for being such wonderful betas. To @sunsetsrmydreams for her beautiful banner and to my wonderful husband for being so sweet and understanding about all my late nights. 

Please don’t forget to read, review and reblog if you’d like to access the earlier chapters, you can do so here: AO3

P.S. some of the things depicted in the story come from true life and as impossible or even as wacky as it might seem some of this is quite true! 

Disclaimer: this story is a work of fanfiction. All characters and certain references belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. 

Several days passed and upon Finch’s insistence, or rather constant nagging, Katniss agreed to meet up with her to make a plan of school activities that could be done and posted in the monthly school calendar. Katniss showed up with a laptop in hand and a resolution to be as pleasant as humanly possible. Thankfully, things had run much smoother with both parties satisfied with the results.  

However, all of that quickly changed when it came time to throw a small movie night party for the kid’s Halloween celebration. Katniss having been the secretary didn’t do much except turn in a small homemade flyer to advertise the event.

Peeta, on the other hand, messaged her to let her know that things were going as well as a tornado-ridden town but, as he was the treasurer, there was little he could do as to the planning. Katniss chuckled at the disorganization of said event but decided to let Finch fall on her face. Maybe that would bring her down a peg or two.

However, she wished she hadn’t done so. When she walked into the school that fateful Halloween afternoon she was greeted with an exasperated Peeta, a nervous Madge, and Finch who refused to accept her utter failure at planning.

The gyms’ bleachers hadn’t been pulled out for the guests to sit on. Instead, there was a gaggle of kids running around like unsupervised hellions. Finch had placed a bowl of candy for all kids to grab at their leisure, thereby leaving parents to deal with hyper children screaming at the top of their lungs. Cartons of juices were left on the floor as their contents carelessly spilled out onto the floor. The table that was meant for face painting was bombarded by a mob of kids, each proclaiming that they wanted a certain figurine painted on their skin.

Katniss rolled up her sleeves and texted Gale to come to the school to help. When that didn’t work, she facetimed him and passed the phone to Willow who enthusiastically begged her daddy to come and be a part of the fun. That had done it. He quickly agreed and was at the school in a matter of minutes.

Sighing she got to work on the face painting. Her back was killing her from leaning down for so long in order to paint each child’s face. Their miniature height was not doing her any favors as she sloppily ran some paint over a stencil pressed against the child’s face. The kids didn’t seem to mind her poor work and ran off contently with a glob of paint smearing their cheeks and hands.

“Katniss, can we leave already? This place is a disaster and I’m not sure Willow is having much fun either,” grimaced Gale.

Katniss looked at her daughter who was animatedly talking to Peeta’s son and some other friends. She had to agree on the disaster part, but there was yet a chance to improve the situation. “I think it’s you who wants to leave. Willow is fine, but you can go if you want. It’s not like she was excited to have you here or anything.”

Gale groaned like a petulant child. “You know I can’t do that. She won’t forgive me if I leave.”

“Well then, tough. Guess you’re just gonna have to grin and bear it,” Katniss replied cleaning her hands with some paper towel.

Gale rolled his eyes and walked away without another word.

“Everything okay?” Peeta asked looking rather stressed.

Katniss nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She noticed his hair was mused and he wore a frown. “Are you okay?”

“The popcorn machine doesn’t work, and now we don’t have any popcorn for the movie,” Peeta answered. “Not to mention that I don’t think we’ve made as much money as the trouble was worth.”

Katniss groaned. “Great!”

Peeta nodded. “Let’s just hope nothing else happens.”

Well, all the hoping in the world didn’t deter the fact that the speakers meant for the movie didn’t work either. That was the final sign and they had to accept the fact that their very first attempt of a function was an absolute and utter failure as Katniss looked around at disgruntled parents who either carried the coats in hand or simply left their belongings on the floor.

It wasn’t until Finch burst through the gym doors with a lighted cake in hand singing Happy Birthday to her unsuspecting daughter that Katniss realized the reason for Finch’s rush into making this party happen. The little girl squealed as the rest of the children joined in on the chorus of song.

At that point, Katniss had had enough and waited for a slice of cake before grabbing her coat and leaving with an annoyed Gale following behind. She was fuming at Finch’s audacity. Gale, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care that her limit had been finally breached threw several complaints her way. Complaints she refused to handle which only made him press on even further.

His venomous tongue reminding her that even as a volunteer she was a failure. A failure like their marriage had been.

Katniss turned to stare daggers at him. “Gale, enough. I’m tired and, honestly, I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now, alright? Is this what you want Willow to see from you?”

“I mean, I’m just pointing out the obvious. You suck at this PTA thing and, whatever this was, it was definitely not a success,” Gale replied with Willow looking between father and mother.

Katniss growled. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t have much control over the situation.”

“That, I could tell,” Gale added.

“Go home, Gale. I’ll bring Willow over to your house tomorrow morning for your weekly visit. Right now I don’t need to hear you talk about something you have no idea of,” Katniss spat out reaching for Willow’s hand and walked towards the car.

“I never knew you were this much of a bitch. Is this all-new, or is it something you’ve developed through the course of our divorce?” yelled Gale from behind her.

The setting sun brought forth a cold chill that stopped Katniss in her tracks as Willow gasped. She looked as startled as Katniss felt. Her little body shook with suppressed tears.

“Hey man, leave her alone.” Katniss heard Peeta’s voice call out. She turned and saw him walk towards her hands in his pockets. “Take Willow and Rye to the car and buckle them in,” he whispered to her.

Katniss nodded and all but whisked her daughter away along with the blond replica of Peeta to the comfort and safety of muffled voices. Turning on the ignition the car lit up the as the radio blared loudly and the heat blew about turning the car toasty warm. Not wanting Willow to hear any more of Gale’s stupid words Katniss lowered the volume enough to keep the kids from hearing anything else as she closed the doors after promising that she would be back soon with a kiss to the forehead and a wavering smile.

Stalking back to her ex, she saw that Peeta was now speaking to him. Gale had his arms crossed while Peeta had his hands on his hips, face set in an accusatory glance.

“Gale, what the fuck is your problem?” Katniss said once she was in his face.

Gale shrugged, looking as though her question was of no consequence. “I was just stating the obvious.”

“That wasn’t obvious. That was hurtful,” Peeta tersely said eyeing Gale.

“Do you have any idea how Willow must’ve felt?” Katniss searched for any sign remorse.

“Oh please, Katniss, she’s far too young to realize what my words meant,” Gale flippantly replied as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

Katniss flared her nose and stepped closer with Peeta standing behind her. “Wrong. She was devastated and, for the record, I’m not a bitch. I was doing what was asked of me and things didn’t turn out perfect. Newsflash, that’s not my fault. Now, you calling me that in front of our DAUGHTER, who will one day become a woman herself, is demeaning. How would you feel if anyone treated her the way you just treated me?”

“I mean, it’s not even a big deal. As usual, you’re overreacting, but like, hey if it makes you uncomfortable, it’s probably because it’s true,” Gale replied.

Katniss took a step back feeling as though he might as well have slapped her.

“Wrong again. Katniss has been nothing if not the most patient woman with the kind of group she’d had to deal with lately,” Peeta interjected.

Gale lifted an eyebrow. “Right, and who the hell are you anyway?”

Peeta sighed and crossed his arms, “I’m Peeta Mellark. I used to go to high school with Katniss, and I was her next door neighbor.”

Gale looked thoughtful for a few seconds until his eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, you’re that creepo who use to stare at Katniss all the time?”

Katniss looked at Peeta whose jaw muscles tightened as he nodded.

“Yeah, listen here, weirdo, you don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot say to my wife,” Gale threatened.

“Ex-wife,” Katniss spat out.

Gale rolled his eyes, “Whatever. The point is you were mine and that’s enough.”

“Gale, you don’t own me. You never did and you don’t get to tell me who I am,” Katniss said.

Peeta sighed, his lips pursing and his eyebrows set in a permanent frown. “Maybe, instead of proclaiming ownership, you should respect the woman who gave you a kid.”

Gale shifted his weight onto his other leg. “Yeah sure, whatever,” he shifted his attention to the petite woman before him, “ Katniss, I just wanted to let you know that I can’t take Willow tomorrow. I have a meeting and Glimmer wants to go out.”

“So, your meetings and Glimmer are more important to you than your six-year-old kid?” Katniss asked.

“Oh, don’t get sanctimonious with me. I got shit to do. I’ll take her next week,” Gale sucked his teeth looking thoroughly annoyed.

“That’s what you said last week,” Katniss reminded him. “But fine, it’s not like you were ever reliable anyway.”

Gale turned without so much as another glance and walked to his car.

Peeta, who’d been observing the whole scene, walked Katniss to her car and took his son out of it to go to his. They bid a quick and awkward goodbye before driving off.

That night, after tucking Willow in and reassuring her that daddy was just playing, Katniss sat in front of her computer. Upon not being able to write, she began to cry. At first, they were stressful tears. Tears reminding her that she had so much on her plate and none of the help. Until finally they turned into tears of sadness upon accepting that marrying Gale was the worst mistake she’d ever made.

Hot anger and anguish ran down her cheeks as each clear dollop landed on her hands. She was angry that things had turned out for the worst and was now quickly unfurling into an even bigger mess. Stupid or not, Katniss decided that at least Willow was the only good thing she had ever been good at and so, after an hour of shaking with the effort of having to hold in all her hurt and pretending that everything was dandy, Katniss finally cleaned her face and blew her nose. She sat back on the computer feeling suddenly unblocked.

[foreversillythings]

An Ocean Between Us Chapter 3

A big shoutout to @damndonnergirls for explaining replying to replies to me, I really appreciate it! :) 

I hope you enjoy!

An Ocean Between Us

Saturday, April 13 The Endlessness of Tomorrow

“Have you ever seen anything so blue?” Delly sighed, gazing out at the ocean. Madge shook her head, more than a little distracted. It was like there was a pebble in her shoe, small but irritating, constantly tugging at her thoughts. And that pebble was Gale.

Why hadn’t he kissed her last night? The most obvious answer would be that he hadn’t wanted to; after all, he’d had plenty of opportunity. Or maybe he was simply unsure if she’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d thought she was being obvious, but maybe not. Or it could be that he was being a gentleman, and they certainly didn’t go around kissing girls they’d only just met.

Or maybe he just didn’t like her that much.

Madge almost screamed. Boys were much too confusing. Maybe she’d have been better off waiting for her parents to find some boy to marry her off to, instead of trying to talk to one now. She had no idea what to make of her and Gale’s encounter last night, wasn’t sure at all how she was supposed to feel. One thing she did know though, was that she couldn’t stand here any longer, her uncertain thoughts likely to drive her insane.

“I’m not feeling well, I think I’ll go lie down,” she said and Delly nodded.

“Alright, feel better.”

Any other day, Madge might have thought this suspicious. Delly was certainly the type to be more concerned about something like this, the kind who would escort her back to her room and try and look after her. At least the type who’d ask more questions. Madge didn’t think about any of that though, she was just grateful to get away without having to say anything. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Delly about Gale, couldn’t find the words. She hurried into the stairwell, fully intending to nap away her worries about Gale.

Well, that was the plan at least.

She should have gotten off at D-Deck. Instead, Madge stepped off the stairs at C-Deck.

She’d lost her mind.

Madge, without really thinking about it or planning it out,  was wandering towards the Third Class General Room and peeking through the halls, all in an attempt to find Gale. It was appalling really, her behavior positively scandalous, but Madge needed to talk to him, needed to know where they stood. He might think she was pathetic or desperate or…salacious, but Madge just wanted to know, once and for all. She liked him, there was no point in denying it. And though she knew well brought up girls should be patient, she apparently wasn’t. And maybe he’d be happy to see her. Maybe. Hopefully.

She reached the general room and was surprised she’d actually remembered where it was. Apparently, she’d retained more of Delly’s tour speech than she’d thought. Madge squared her shoulders. This seemed like a good place to find him, after all, she’d already noticed when she’d been up on deck that he wasn’t standing on the Poop Deck. I can do this. She stepped through the doors and scanned the room, her nerves screaming at her to flee.

And then she saw him.

He was sitting on one of the benches, laughing and smiling, so, so handsome. He looked happy, leaning close to a girl about Madge’s age. Her stomach plummeted. Oh. Oh. She shouldn’t have come.

I guess that’s my answer.

“Madge?”

He’d turned while she’d been staring and noticed her, his face masked with confusion. He was already half standing and Madge felt a stupid urge to cry. She spun and rushed off as fast as she could, cursing herself for becoming so attached to a boy she hardly knew.

“Madge!”

Her heart seized at his call but she didn’t stop running, so utterly, totally mortified. She was such a fool.

“Madge, stop! Wait!”

She felt his fingers on her arm and froze, even as her legs yearned to keep going, to run as far as she possibly could.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her back and she wanted to sob.

“Nothing,” she snapped and went to leave again. He was faster though, somehow slipping in front of her. She stared at his chest, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“That was my cousin, Katniss.”

Madge’s eyes went wide as she jerked her head up, could see the truth of that written all over his expression. She felt her face burn.

“I know,” she said, even though she obviously hadn’t. Gale nodded.

“Of course. So, why did you come?’ he asked and Madge could say something, but then, someone much wiser than her once said “actions speak louder than words”. With that in mind, she grabbed the front of Gale’s shirt and kissed him. It was the wildest, boldest, most insane thing she’d ever done, but she felt sparkling and alive, his mouth hot as it met hers. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her flush against him, his mouth opening against hers and yes, she was fairly certain that wise person was right.

Actions definitely did speak louder than words.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Madge said, pulling away from Gale.

Somehow, they’d found a bench, one slightly hidden from most people. They’d spent…well, she wasn’t really sure how long they’d been kissing. Time seemed to have stopped, nothing else even registering with Madge besides the feel of Gale, his lips on hers, his arms keeping her close. She still had her hands fisted in the material at his shoulders and she felt a little breathless.

“What?” Gale asked, leaning in towards her, his eyes still closed.

“I don’t even know your last name.”

It seemed a little ridiculous, but the thought had just occurred to her. How could she be here, kissing this boy, without even knowing his last name? Gale smiled, his forehead pressing against hers.

“It’s Hawthorne.”

Oh. Gale Hawthorne. It sounded nice.

“Undersee,” she replied and his eyes opened, perfectly, beautifully silver.

“Madge Undersee,” he repeated and her whole body seemed to erupt with flutters.

“How old are you?” she asked and a part of her was curious, while another part just wanted to shut up and kiss him again and again and again.

“18. You?”

“16,” she answered and hoped he didn’t think she was too young. He squeezed her waist.

“Same age as Katniss,” he commented and she smiled a little. She kissed him again, getting lost for a moment in the taste of him. He dragged her closer, their chests pressed together and Madge was hot all over. She pulled away again.

“Did you come with anyone else?” she asked, voice a little breathy. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, Katniss’ mom is here and her sister Prim too. And my mum, my brothers, Rory and Vick and my sister Posy.”

Madge didn’t actually say anything, but maybe Gale could feel the question through her skin.

“My dad’s dead. Work accident.”

“Oh, Gale. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Well, no, it’s not, but, it’s been five years.”

Madge bit her lip and wished she knew what to say. Gale forced a smile.

“And my best mate Thom, he’s here too.”

Madge recognized his attempt to change the subject.

“Did your whole street pack up and leave?” she joked and he grinned a little easier.

“Only the interesting ones.”

She snorted.

“And what about you, who’re you with?”

“My parents. And my friend Delly, and her family.”

He nodded and they were silent for a moment, every nerve in Madge’s body singing.

“My favourite colour’s blue,” he murmured, “a darkish blue.”

It was such a small, inconsequential detail and yet, Madge couldn’t help feeling like she’d just learned something precious.

“Mine’s lavender.”

“That’s purple, I know, but I’ve no idea what shade of purple,” he admitted and she laughed. She thought about kissing him again but there was something burning in her stomach, like hot coals in a fire.

“I’m afraid, of what’s going to happen to us in America. It took everything we had to get this far, if things don’t work out quickly, what are we going to do?”

“I know how you feel,” he nearly whispered, breath faint on her cheeks. “We sold everything to get these tickets, if I don’t find work fast…”

She kissed him then, her passion mixed with desperation. He matched her in both and for a moment, nothing seemed quite as frightening as it had before.

Goodbye was kisses and promises for that night.

Goodbye was Hello.

“And what did you girls do today?” her mother asked over dinner.

“Oh, I wasn’t feeling too well, so I took a nap,” Madge responded and her mother frowned.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, much better,” she answered, smiling brightly. Delly grinned at her across the table and if Madge weren’t so blissful, she might think that smile was far too knowing. Instead she merely beamed at all of them, too happy to worry about anything at all.

For the first time since she’d heard the name Titanic, Madge was simply happy.

Gale was waiting for her when she wandered out onto the promenade deck, painted silver and blue by the night sky. She took a moment to admire him, traced him with her eyes and he turned, smiling sweetly when he noticed her. Madge couldn’t help but smile back as they moved towards each other, the faint tinkling of music drifting out from somewhere in the ship. Gale cocked his head to listen for a moment and then grinned; set her heart ablaze with just one look.

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding out his hand. Madge felt her cheeks heat up but nodded, stomach bubbling happily. She took his hand and he drew her close, humming along to the music. She closed her eyes and hummed too, his arm around her waist and holding her near. Their bodies touched, the stars shone overhead and Madge could feel his heartbeat thudding in time with hers. They moved slowly, less dancing and more swaying, but she felt like she was floating, Gale warm in a way that touched her all the way to her bones. She tilted her head up and he tilted his down, their lips meeting.

Madge kissed him and knew this was crazy, entirely impossible, but standing in Gale’s arms in the moonlight, she honestly believed she might be falling in love.