#the open back and gold bangles over his spine i want to grab it and yank him around like hes on a leash

[minarcana]

[awesomerextyphoon]

Bura na mano, Holi hai!

This is my submission for @darkmcuficswap​’s Dark MCU Festive Fic Swap 2020! My giftee is the lovely @searchforanotherway​ / @saaracha​. Thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy this!

Summary: This year’s Holi Festivities would’ve been your best yet...if not for a handsome stranger.

Paring: Soft Dark!Thor x Desi!Reader (Fem)

Holiday: Holi (Festival of Colors)

Word Count: 2,022

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Warnings: Kidnapping, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Non-Con, Oral (f receiving), Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Swearing, Age Gap (reader is of age), Light Bondage, and Breeding Kink

A/N: This is my first time doing a Desi!Reader. Thank you @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ for hosting! Translations will be at the end. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​!

Back to Masterlist

“So, I guess you won’t have to tease about my poor gulal throwing skills since I’m coming back.”

You shrieked into your phone so loudly that you feared your Aunt Malati would stick her head in with a disapproving look again.

Harshad, your brother, was finally coming home after four years abroad! You had missed him dearly. He had called you twice a month for at least two hours talking about your novel idea. You were writing a sci-fi novel about a girl, Kanti, going on space adventures. You never thought you stood a chance since there weren’t many people who looked like you in the space, but Harshad was your biggest cheerleader.

Everyone was preparing for the festivities, getting the gulal, cooking all of the food (you were constantly salivating from the aroma), and making sure everyone has lotion for Rangwali Holi.

You and your best friend, Hema, were returning from an errand when a sleek black car passed your path. Luckily, neither of you were hurt and went on your way, but you were blissfully unaware of the occupants.

  You always loved your neighborhood’s Holika Dahan. Your grandmother used to regale you and the other children with tales of old. Your mother and aunts would hand out Gujiya, Barfi, Malpua, and other sweets. The bonfire always meant new things were coming for you. It was at the Holika Dahan that you had your novel idea two years prior.

This year you helped pass out the sweets to the crowd and shared a serving of Chana Marsala and Malpua with mango when you saw him.

On the other side of the bonfire was a man who was staring intensely at you. He could be described as some kind of supreme being in your sci-fi novel. He was 2m (6’6.75”) tall with short dark blond/light brown hair and beard, electric blue eyes, plump lips with laugh lines, broad shoulders and chest, and mostly had a defined midsection and legs. All of this deliciousness was wrapped in a tasteful royal blue Dupion Silk Kurta, a beige Churidar, and a pair of golden silk Mojari.

You never thought that a man like him would give you the time of day. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him-

“Hey! Hello, anyone in there?” Hema snapped you out of your musings, “I asked you if you want to come with the rest of the girls.”

You nodded and left with her not noticing your mystery man talking with Harshad.

  “Rangwali Holi Mubaarak, Auntieji!” Bushra exclaimed as she jumped on your bed. She did this every Holi since she could crawl.

“Alright, alright Bushra. I’m awake.” You grumbled as you gave her a hug, “time to get ready.”

Nilam, your older sister, handed you a cup of Thandai from your favorite vendor as a bribe to watch over Bushra this year. Slightly annoyed, you accepted the cup and hummed at the flavors noting the extra pinch of cardamon they added just for you. You made sure that Bushra didn’t get near the Barfi (not wanting a repeat of last year) and made sure that she moisturized herself.

Once you and Bushra were ready, you met up with Hema and had a blast at Rangwali Holi. You smiled at Bushra running around with her friends with her playful yelps and laughter. Hema got you square in the face with gulal so you chased her until Harshad stopped you.

Afterward, both you and Hema helped your mother and aunts prepare for the party. The party was wonderful and you may have had a few more Gujiya and Barfi than you should’ve. Though you did catch a glimpse of the striking man from last night.

After the festivities, you walked around your neighborhood with Hema talking about clothes, boys, and music (nothing major). You got another cup of Thandai from your favorite vendor once Hema decided to retire for the night.

You went against your grandmother’s warnings and took the shortcut through the dark corridor. You got about ten steps in when you started to feel incredibly dizzy. Someone caught you before you fell and the last thing you saw a pair of plain gold Mojari.

  Your eyes fluttered open then snapped open once you realized that you weren’t on your bed. You found yourself in a red embroidered art silk Lehenga with gold and ruby studded earrings and bangles.

The room itself was an immaculate hotel room with reds, blues, and green adorning the walls and surfaces. It felt unreal. It was like in your story where the protagonist got stuck in her adversary’s lair.

You were about to reach the window when the door opened and in walked the man from Holika Dahan.

He only wore a royal blue Dupion Silk Dhoti and the gold Mojari. And Fuck, he was a vision of masculine beauty and power. He had a powerful build with rippling muscles, rich tawny pink skin, broad shoulders, plump pink lips, long medium brown eyelashes, chiseled chest and abs, and a super defined Adonis Belt.

You could only imagine what was underneath his Dhoti.

The man strode in like a king, confidence and charisma came off of him in waves.

“How do you like the room, priya?” You nearly swooned at the smooth, deep timbre of his voice.

“Wh-who are you? Where am I?” you asked slightly terrified by the way the man was ogling you in your outfit.

He chuckled at your actions, “My name is Thor Odinson, but you may call me Thor, jaanu. As for where you are, well, you’re where you belong. You’re with me.”

“But I can’t be your jaanu! We’ve never met-”

“I would watch your tone, priya.” Thor warned as his nostrils flared and his eyes darkened.

“I jus-I just want to go home.” you nearly sobbed as Thor raised your head with a bent forefinger.

“It doesn’t matter now. You’ll see, mera pyaar.” Thor murmured as he kissed you.

You would’ve gasped at the sudden action. This man stole your first kiss, but it could’ve been worse. The kiss was soft and demanding getting more passionate by the second.

Thor moaned when he got his tongue past your full lips. You gave him a tepid response with your own tongue which only egged him on with the knowledge that he would be your one and only.

He scooped you up in his arms and gently placed you on the plush bed like a feather once he broke for air. Your clothes were gone in an instant and you felt helpless under the ravenous gaze of your captor.

Thor started with a kiss to the top of your forehead, inhaling the Damask Rose perfume he got from Kannauj. “You smell divine, jaanu.” He descended upon your face, neck, and shoulders kissing and marking your skin with love marks.

You tried to push him off of you, but he bound your wrists to leather handcuffs and returned to his foreplay.

Thor hummed at your moans and gasps loving how responsive you were. His kisses sent shivers down your spine and waves of heat to your lower abdomen, sometimes simultaneously.

“P-Pleas-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Thor tutted at your incoherent pleas, “You need to use your big girl words, jaanu.”

You begged him to release your wrists and he only did once you promised not to fight you. He released your wrists and gave each wrist three open kisses while making eye contact. You shyly ran your fingers through his hair and his smooth plains of muscles while Thor praised your efforts noting that you will get better in time.

He stopped at your breasts and loved how they filled his hands musing on how much bigger they’ll be once you’re round with his seed.

That scared the shit out of you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids at all...you didn’t want kids now.

Thor alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples and covered your chest in love marks. He moved to your midsection and hips, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful jaanu.” he murmured as he kissed your hipbone.

“Please, Thor, I can’t-”

Thor pressed a forefinger to your lips, “It’s fine, jaanu. All will be well.”

“I’ve ne- I’ve never been touched down there.”

Thor chuckled, “I know, mera pyaar. I’ll be your one and only,” He kissed and nipped your inner thighs and gave your slit a long, slow lick. Thor moaned at the taste, “Better than the finest cuisine,” and dove in like a starving man at a feast after only knowing years of famine.

Never in your life had you felt such a rush tear through your body. Each movement brought you to a new level of pleasure. You weakly grabbed his hair and arched your back to him begging him to continue.

Thor kept you on the edge for what felt like an eternity, “Come, mera pyaar.”

The floodgates burst at his words and he made sure to slurp up every drop of your juice that squirted.

You were in a euphoric daze when Thor removed his Dhoti. You would’ve gasped if you could because the man was a sculpture of near hyper-masculine perfection with his form glistening with sweat.

Then you saw his cock. Fuck! He would split you in two!

You begged him to stop once more, but he kissed the corner of his mouth and said that the pain will pass.

Thor pushed into you as gently as he thought possible. You wanted to scream but he swallowed them in a passionate kiss and even took you biting him in stride.

“You feel amazing, jaanu!” Thor exclaimed once you calmed down and he filled you to the hilt. He started thrusting at a good pace and the feeling of pain soon turned to pleasure,” Isn’t this better, mera pyaar? Being under me, taking my cock like a good wife?”

You were too fuck-hazed to respond.

It didn’t take long for you to come again. Not a minute later, Thor came with a roar with thick ropes of cum shooting into you.

You thought it was over only to see Thor inside you...and hard.

“Did you think that was it, jaanu?”

After a couple more rounds, Thor let you fall asleep and had someone get you ready for the jet.

It was all coming together. Odin neither liked nor trusted his playboy lifestyle and threatened to disown him and cut him from the company if he didn’t find a wife. The woman had to be someone he approved and he had two years to do it.

Seventeen months into his search, he met Harshad. Thor thought the man bright and amiable so he got the man a job in the company as a Data Engineer. He kept an easy-going friendship with him, but all that changed when Harshad talked about you.

Harshad talked about your interests and dreams like a sibling is wont to do. Thor thought you were a lot more interesting than his usual lays. Your brother showed him a picture of you that your mother took right before he left.

Thor was hooked.

You were softer, plumper, and much more genuine than the models he dated. You were simply breathtaking.

Thor almost snatched the photo from Harshad.

Thor started to search for you that night. He scoured your social media presence captivated by your smile and words. He hired a private investigator to get more information about you and he convinced Harshad to let him celebrate Holi with your family. His cock hardened when he saw you walking with your friend, Hema, on his way to the hotel. He almost came on the spot when he locked eyes with you at Holika Dahan. Thor had his agents watch you during Rangwali Holi and take pictures and bribed a worker to give you a drugged Thandai.

Now he had you.

Sure, you will be rebellious at first, but you will accept this. Perhaps he could help you with your book series. He hoped his children would be as creative as you.

Maybe one day you’ll laugh.

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @jtargaryen18​ @sapphirescrolls​ @jobean12-blog​ @sweeterthanthis​ @gotnofucks​ @mcudarklibrary​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @navegandoaciegas​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @tilltheendwilliwrite​ @imanuglywombat​ @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ @navybrat817​ @anyatheladyclown​ @buckysbunny​ @nacho-bucky​ @donutloverxo​ @stephanieromanoff​ @threeminutesoflife​ @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight​ @chixkencxrry​ @hurricanerin​ @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil​ @captain–barnes​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @thebanprincess​ @winteralpine​ @leslie2898​ @buttercandy16​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter​ @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger

jaanu => my life

mera pyaar => my heart

priya => darling

Bura na mano, Holi hai => Do not mind, it’s Holi

[desiraypark]

Like Magnets (Part II)

Clyde x Sherri (Non-Linear Series) [Part I] Remember how Clyde and Sherri broke up, then made up? Well, here is the making up! Content: Unprotected bonin’.   Word Count: 2,184

Clyde stepped back into his bedroom, as Sherri followed. He pulled her close and as they kissed, his fingers tugged at the fabric of her dress--scrunching it up so that it was balled in his hands. Suddenly, he let the dress go and pulled away.

“Shit, I ain’t got no condoms, Baby...” he said. 

Sherri looked up at him, cringing. She shrugged. “I don’t wanna wait any longer, Baby.”

Clyde pulled her back in his arms, but she tilted his head back.

“But buy some condoms, please,” Sherri said. 

Clyde chuckled and nodded. “I will.”

“And I’ll buy some, too.”

“Okay.”

Sherri grabbed her dress and lifted it over her head--her gold bangles jingling with the movement. Clyde stood back and looked her over--she wore a strapless bra with no particular pattern and blue hipster panties--the edges of her underwear pressed into her juicy flesh. He knelt and kissed her on the lips again, then blazed a trail of kisses down her neck and onto her breasts. 

Holding on to her waist, Clyde stepped to his bed and sat on the edge to continue worshiping her body. Kisses to her sternum and over her belly--over her pubic bone. She rested her hand on his shoulder to maintain balance as she tugged her flat sandal off. Then, she switched hands and did the same with the other sandal. As soon as her feet were bare and on the floor, Clyde pulled her down on him. The kissing reconvened, and he rested his large hands on her waist.

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” he mumbled.

“I won’t,” Sherri said softly.

“Ever again...”

“I won’t.”

With his right hand, Clyde unsnapped the hooks of Sherri’s bra. She helped him pull it off, and before it hit the floor, her left nipple was in his mouth, and both of his hands squeezing her breasts. The sensations were different, but felt oh, so good--massaging out aches she didn’t realize she had. Then, he let go of her left breast--his warm hand found its way between their bodies and over her mound. Sherri moaned when he palmed it and she gyrated against his hand.

“Mmm...” Clyde moaned in her mouth, the feeling of her heat sending a sharp wave through his body. “I need to feel you, Babygirl...”

Sherri sat up and rolled over on the bed beside him. She abruptly sat up, pulled off her bracelets, and placed them on the nightstand. Then, she laid back down and pushed her thumbs under the band of her panties.

“Mmph-mmm,” Clyde said, standing up. “I wanna take ‘em off.”

A dimple appeared in Sherri’s cheek as she smirked. Clyde began to work at his belt, and Sherri sat up and loosened it for him. Then, she pulled it off and let it fall to the floor. Clyde worked at his jeans and Sherri sat back on the bed. She began to rub her breasts--her entire body aching for him. His body tilted to the left, then to the right, as he toed off his shoes--eyes burning into her as she played with her tits. Then, he slid down his jeans and boxers--his thick length sprung out, bouncing up and down until it found its center.

Sherri’s eyes widened and she pressed her thighs together. 

“Jesus, Clyde...” she mumbled.

This time, his dimples appeared. Then, he got down on his knees, pulled Sherri’s panties down, and pried her thighs apart. All of his senses came alive: his eyes feasted upon her most intimate spot--slick and weeping for him. He could smell its tanginess and even heard her wetness separate with a tiny squelch when he opened her legs. Now, he just needed to feel it--and more importantly, taste it.

He nuzzled his nose against her clit, pulling a soft moan from her. His flattened tongue glided up her pussy, collecting her sticky slick, and he dragged it up, up, up, until it met her stiffened and inviting clit. He flicked his tongue against it, and she lifted her knees, exposing more of herself to him. Clyde moaned with every lick and every suck, as though he were eating his favorite dessert.

“You taste so good, baby,” he said.

Sherri’s pussy clenched and she let out a hot, lusty breath. He looked up at her, only seeing her neck and her brown arms extended at her sides, gripping his sheets. Then, he grabbed her right thigh with his left hand--even the bionic fingers knowing that her plush skin needed to be held in his grip--the pads pressed into her flesh as the warm middle finger of his right hand slipped into her dripping hole.

“Oh, fuck,” Sherri whispered. “More...”

Clyde slid his index finger inside and worked Sherri open as he continued lapping up her juices. Soon, the sensations became a bit much--not too much, but enough to make her scoot up the bed some. But Clyde wrapped his arm around her thigh and yanked her back to him.

“No running,” he said. “Every time you run from me, I’m gonna give it to you hard.”

Sherri let out a guttural groan and her pussy squeezed Clyde’s fingers. She covered her face to hide her smile, and lifted her left knee to push her foot into his mattress. 

“That goes for my dick, too, Babygirl,” he said.

Sherri chuckled with disbelief. 

“Oh god...” she said to herself.

Clyde released his grip around her thigh and pulled his fingers out. He licked her off his skin with a hum, then began to stroke his dick. “What’s our safe word, Babygirl?” 

Sherri looked around his bedroom and her eyes landed on Clyde’s old boombox on the dresser. She squinted and read the brand name. “Panasonic...”

Clyde looked over his shoulder at the radio and laughed, then Sherri did the same, covering her embarrassed face as she did so.

“Radio,” he said.

Sherri nodded.

Clyde started sit up. 

“Do you want me on top?” Sherri asked. 

“No. Not yet, anyway,” he said. Sherri scooted back some and Clyde rested between her legs. He held her right leg up and placed it against his chest. He kissed the top of her foot, and--finally--slowly pushed inside of her. Sherri’s hands flew to the covers and she pulled the fabric into her palm. Clyde watched her face as he buried more of himself. When he could go no further, he let out a sigh of pleasure and rested there.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” Sherri said, pinching her nipples. 

Clyde dragged out of her, not pulling completely out, then slid back in. He repeated the motion, stroking her walls as they contracted around his circumference. Then, he held her ankle and picked up his speed. Sherri squealed and involuntarily slid backward. Clyde stopped and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Babygirl,” he said. He slammed into her one hard time, pulling a shriek from her and making her head tilt back. He fucked her faster and harder.

“Oh, shit!!!” Sherri cried to the ceiling. Her soprano moans were music to Clyde’s ears as he pounded her. She sat up, rested on her elbows, and stared at Clyde--her jaw lax and her eyebrows knitted together. She whimpered another expletive, unable to process the monster that was slipping in and out of her body. Her pussy made filthy squelching noises, and Clyde broke their stare to get a look at the sight.

“You got the prettiest pussy I ever seen, Sherri,” he said.

Sherri hummed at the praise. “Your dick is so big, baby...”

Clyde bit his lip. “And you’re takin’ it so well. Wrapped around me like a glove.”

Sherri fell back against the mattress and let the drag of Clyde’s veiny dick excite her every molecule. Her toes curled and her eyes rolled back. This moment couldn’t be real.

“Shit, Babygirl, I’m not gonna last,” Clyde said. Sherri snapped out of her fog and sat straight up.

“Do you need to pull out?” she asked sternly.

“I’m gonna pull out on time, Baby. I promise,” he assured her. “I’m not there yet. But this pussy is just so damn wet and messy...”

“Does it really feel that good, baby?” Sherri asked. She lifted one of her breasts and held the nipple to her lips. 

“Fuck,” Clyde mumbled at the sight. “Yes,it feels real good. I’m surprised I’ve been lastin’ this long. You got my dick lookin’ like a honeybun.”

Sherri snorted and covered her giggle. Clyde laughed and grabbed her leg--gently pulling it away from his chest. Getting the hint, Sherri brought her limb down and rested her foot flat against the bed. Then, Clyde gently fell over her--putting most of his weight on his right arm as he dove in and out of her. Sherri wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her fingers through his hair. Their lips collided--their tongues explored each other’s hot mouths. 

“I want you on top now,” he said over her lips. He pulled out and lied down on the bed. Sherri tossed a leg over his body but paused. She moved her leg back and turned the opposite way. Then, she got in reverse cowgirl position, but Clyde pressed his hands against her ass, halting her movement.

“Babygirl, we gon’ be parents within three seconds if you do that,” he said. 

Sherri readjusted her body and faced Clyde again. He bit his lip and blushed. 

“This way I can throw you off if I need to,” he said.

Sherri laughed as she lifted her lower body. She steadied herself above him as she held his dick in her hand, then, she slid down until most of him was inside. She let the prickly chills shoot down her spine, then rested her hands on his torso and began to bounce. Their moans and groans filled the air of the otherwise quiet bedroom and Clyde watched Sherri’s breasts bounce. Eventually, the sight of her body moving up and down over him became too much to handle, and he felt his dick twitch. “Stop, Babygirl,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush with his chest. Sherri rested her arms around his head and sat still. Clyde breathed in her scent, and she did the same--his hair smelling faintly of shampoo. 

“Sit up for me,” he said. Sherri sat up and Clyde pried her legs apart. He flicked his thumb across her clit and Sherri leaned back, pressed her hands down into the mattress on either side of him and began bouncing again.

“Baby...” she whimpered--her eyes closing and her thighs burning. Clyde traded his thumb for the pads of three of his fingers, then he began to meet her thrusts with his own--the head of his dick tapping at the very bottom of her pussy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming!” she shouted.

Clyde felt her pussy clenched around him, and hot liquid squirted out of her and landed on his lap. But he didn’t stop thrusting. “Gimme some more, Babygirl. Gimme some more...”

A breathless scream emanated from Sherri’s throat and her eyes rolled back as two more gushers came out of her. 

“OH MY GOD!” she cried. “FUCK!”

“Shit, where do you want it?” Clyde asked, pulling Sherri off of him by her waist, but he gently helped her down to the side of his body.

“My tits,” she answered, squeezing her breasts together. Clyde sat on his knees stroked himself over Sherri. Ropes of cum shot out onto her breasts and stomach. He groaned through his orgasm, and just as he neared the end, Sherri lifted her head, grabbed his length, and sucked him through the finish. She swallowed the last few drops of his climax, and Clyde knelt to kiss her. 

They both fell onto the bed, and Sherri tossed a leg around Clyde’s body. And he lifted his right arm. Sherri maneuvered to rest her head on his chest. He kissed her forehead, and they just laid there. Moments of silence passed them, then Clyde got up and left the room. He returned with a wet washcloth and wiped Sherri’s breasts and belly down. Then, he dumped the cloth into his hamper.

“Can we get under the covers?” Sherri asked.

“Sure,” Clyde said. Sherri climbed off the bed, and they both pulled the covers back and got inside. Sherri snuggled close to him and rested her head on his chest again. 

“I’ve never squirted before,” she said. 

Clyde huffed and smiled. “I’ve never fucked raw before.”

“Me either.”

Sherri listened to Clyde’s heartbeat, then laughed. “Look at us bonding over unsafe sex.”

Clyde’s pec bounced against her face as he chuckled. He looked over at the clock on his nightstand. He had hours before it was time for him to go to work. 

“You work today?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm. What time is it?”

“10:15,” Clyde answered.

“Mmm,” Sherri said, snuggling closer. “Plenty of time.”

Clyde ran his fingertips up and down Sherri’s bare shoulder blade. “I love you.”

Sherri lifted her head to look in his eyes. “I love you, too.” _____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless​​ @direnightshade​​ @finn-ray-nal-beads​​ @a-true-janian-reply​​ @thegreenmatt​​ @sister-winter73​​ @loewsy55​​​ @mariesackler​​​ @clydes-hole​​​ @sydneyssmut​​​ @kirah36​​ @lovelyyandtired​ @morby​ @tsarinastorm​ If you’d like to be tagged in Clyde x Sherri posts, just leave a comment below, or check out my Tag List request post where I’ve listed/categorized my work, and leave a comment there or shoot me a message!

[newmoonyue]

Prompt #46- Mako Aladdin!AU (Angsty-ish)

46. Requester’s Choice! ( For @princeasimdiya12​ )

This AU is based on Aladdin, Disney's 1992 film. Some text is actually an excerpt from the transcript! I do not own Aladdin, nor the text from the film. Enjoy! 

Pairing: N/A

Word Count: 1.8K

Nobody ever saw his face. He was careful not to let anyone get that close, not even his friends. He always wore a tattered red cloak; it was almost like a calling card. If you saw a blur of red and the slender shadow of a man disappearing into the alley, you would know it was Mako.

Mako had lived on the streets all his life, first living in and out of dilapidated orphanages with his brother Bolin. Then roaming the streets, trying to survive on what they could steal. They had never known their parents. Maybe that lack of parental affection was what drove Mako to become a pickpocket, or maybe it was the desire to have something for himself, to call his own (even if it wasn't actually his).

"Mako!" Bolin called happily. Pabu, his fire ferret rested on his shoulder. Mako had just returned home from a day scavenging in the local market, his bag filled with stale bread and lopsided fruit. He had even managed to snatch a shiny gold bangle, and he knew it could be sold for a pretty penny.

"Yes Bolin?" He tossed his younger brother a stale loaf of bread, Bolin caught it and smiled, breaking off a chunk for his little pet.

"I saw her again, Princess Asami! She's gorgeous." Bolin looked star struck. He always had an affinity for the royalty of the kingdom, even if they could give a crap about the lowly people living in poverty.

"Yeah whatever. The Sato's don't care for us. If they did don't you think they'd try and use even a small part of their endless fortune to help build up this end of the city? Or maybe even just help feed the orphans?" Bolin looked down at the bread in his hand. Mako's shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry Bolin." He walked over and sat down next to his brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I shouldn't take my frustration out on you, you just know how much I hate the royalty of this damn city." His brother nodded, but still seemed sad. Mako sighed.

"Tell me about her." Bolin's eyes gleamed with pure happiness.

"Oh my gosh! She's so pretty! Her perfect green eyes are so kind! And her dress just seemed to flow in the wind!" If it were possible, Mako knew that Bolin would have hearts in his eyes. He's only seen the princess from behind, so he took his brother's word for it. He smiled lightly.

"I'm gonna go sell this and see how much I can get for it." Bolin nodded. Mako pulled his hood up, ducking out of the rooftop shack they found for shelter. He grabbed the rope and swung down onto the next building over, being careful to tie the rope up so he could climb back up. The tall slender teenage boy peaked over the edges, taking care none of the royal guards were patrolling. Once he knew he was safe, he quickly climbed onto the ledge and hopped down into the alley, making sure nobody was around. He couldn't let anyone know who he was. He could see the black cloth that hung above the fence.* Once he swung down to the side door, he knocked three times, the sign that he was outside.

"Ah, Hello Mako!" The old man opened the door and let him inside. There were a few older men roaming around, browsing the many stolen treasures laid out. One man, a tall man with long hair glanced over at him and looked him up and down.

"What can I help you with?" Mako held out the gold bangle.

"Ah what a gorgeous piece, whoever lost it must miss it dearly." Mako nodded, he didn't want to speak, especially with the strange man looming nearby.

"This I'm sure is worth a lot, but I can only give you 10 gold pieces for it. Mako nodded, glad he received anything. The old man dropped the gold in his hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you!" He dropped the coins into the pouch tied to his hip, each making a satisfying clink. He nodded again, ducked into the dark alley to return home.

Mako made it a few yards before he realized that there was footsteps echoing behind him. He turned quickly and saw the same tall man behind him. He clutched the money bag tightly.

"Who are you? What do you want!" Mako said sternly. The tall man slowly advanced forward, as soon as he was close enough he noticed it was Tarrlok, the Sato's trusted advisor.

"Hello street rat." I scowled at him as he smirked at me.

"What do you want Tarrlok?"

"Oh you know just your ass in jail, but as of now I'm going to put that behind us, because I have a little deal to make with you." Mako didn't trust Tarrlok at all. This man was known for manipulating the poor folks to do his dirty work.

"What kind of deal?" Tarrlok's smirk widened, as if he knew he had a poor little rat in a corner.

"I've been doing some research, and I'd like to explore the Cave of Wonders." The older man's voice was like velvet, but Mako could tell he was as slippery as a snake.

"And why are you telling me this?" Tarrlok raised his brow.

"Well of course, I being the trusted advisor of King Sato I must remain here to aid him, you will be going with a few of my trusted guards to the Cave of Wonders to collect this prized object, return it to me and I will pay you a handsome fee!" Mako's eyes widened. It couldn't be this easy, there had to be a catch.

"No, no catch." Mako's eyes widened. A chill ran down his spine. "I can also easily persuade the king to allow a fund to be distributed to the orphanage if that pleases you." Mako rolled his eyes, as if he had to persuade the king to do anything. Tarrlok seemed to make all the laws and rules, the bumbling king just signed the papers. Nobody had even seen the king outside of the palace since Princess Asami was born and the Queen died.

"I swear on my life that I will uphold our end of the deal, as long as you uphold yours. You must bring me back treasure without disturbing it, and I will make you and your little brother as rich as kings." Mako's eyes widened. Bolin! What would he tell his brother? Should he just leave, and not say a word?

"Deal?"

"Deal."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Are we there yet?" Mako asked the burly guard holding the map.

"A few more yards. It should be just over this hi-" The guard stopped as they reached the top of the hill. Below was the cave, it seemed as if a giant tiger was frozen in time, it's mouth suspended open. It's eyes glowed an eerie white color, a yellow glow coming from inside its mouth.

"It's nothing like I've ever seen before." Mako said sliding down the hill, and standing back from the glowing entrance.

"Stay on task street rat. Here's the treasure. Make sure you get it. Don't! And I repeat don't, rub it." Mako grabbed the parchment and saw a beautiful golden lamp. He turned and stood in front of the mouth. As he got closer, the mouth sprung alive, shocking the three men.

"Who disturbs my slumber?" Mako stumbled back.

"It is I, Mako." The cave eyed the young man for a moment.

"Proceed. Touch nothing but the lamp." The mouth of the cave opened wide.

"Remember boy, the lamp!" Mako nodded, beginning to descend the long winding staircase. Once he reached the bottom he entered a room filled floor to ceiling with glittering gold and gemstones. He followed the path taking care not to step on or touch anything. As he advanced through the cave he felt as if something was following him. He quickly turned and saw a beautiful magic carpet peaking out from behind a pile of gold.

"A magic carpet! C'mon. I'm not gonna hurt you." The carpet slowly crept out.

"Wow, you're amazing! Do you think you can help me?" Mako reached for the parchment and showed it to the carpet. It flew up and danced around in the air.

"I take it, you know where it is?" The carpet flew forward as Mako followed. The pair reached a long tunnel. There seemed to be a bright light. Mako, excited that he was almost finished with his mission, found a long cavern with a tall pillar with a beam shining down from above.

"That must be the lamp!" Mako hurried forward, taking a walk up the steep staircase. While Mako climbed the staircase to the lamp, the curious carpet noticed a monkey statue with a glittering, giant ruby. Entranced in it's beauty the carpet wrapped around the jewel just as Mako grabbed the lamp. The ground around the two began to rumble.

"You have touched the forbidden treasure." Mako looked around in a panic. He began to rush down the stairs, but halfway down they disappeared, turning the once steep stairway into a slide. Mako's eyes widened as he noticed the water that was once surrounding the pillar turned into boiling hot lava.

"Carpet!" The blue carpet rushed towards him, catching him midair before he landed in the lava.

"Oh carpet what did you do!" As the ceiling began to crumble Mako and the carpet dodged and weaved through the Cave of Wonders until they reached an opening. Just as they were finally about to be free, a giant boulder the size of an elephant fell from the opening. Mako drove for the wall, but the carpet wasn't so lucky.

"Help me!" Mako yelled to the guards. They both began to laugh at Mako's misfortune.

"Give us the lamp!"

"Please! I can't hold on much longer! I'm gonna fall!" All the while Mako was struggling to pull himself up, carpet was being surrounded by lava. It tugged and pulled until finally it was free!

"Just pass the lamp and we'll grab your hand!" Mako reluctantly reached into his cloak and passed the two guards the lamp.

"Hahaha! I finally have the lamp!" The two guards began to fade away as Tarrlok appeared.

"You tricked me!"

"Yes! And I'm going to give you your reward now! Death!" Mako's mind flashed to Bolin. He had to survive for him. Just as Tarrlok went to push Mako from the wall, carpet soared out and knocked Tarrlok to the group, scooping up Mako and the lamp that had been discarded on the ground.

"Now, let's go home buddy!" Mako said, cheering at his victory.

This took me so much longer than I hoped! I'm so sorry to @princeasimdiya12​ for the wait! Please let me know what you think! Thank you all for reading!

~Grace

*- Fence is used to refer to the dealings in stolen goods

[headfulloffantasies]

Playing with Magic

For @bearholdingashark for the wondertrev gift exchange! Merry Christmas.

Diana and Steve run into Circe. The sorceress has devious plans for Steve.

Ao3 link

“If you ever see my Aunt Circe, run the other way,” Diana said over a candlelit dinner. 

Steve paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Beg pardon?”

Diana waved a hand, “She’s not really my Aunt, but calling her that annoys her, so…”

Steve glanced around the crowded Italian restaurant. No one seemed to have noticed their conversation. He leaned across the table. “But Circe? Like the magician?”

“Sorceress,” Diana nodded, twirling her fork through her pasta. “She has sworn a blood oath against me. I expect that if she knows about you, she may try something devious.”

“Okay,” Steve gulped. Since returning to the land of the living he’d been rolling with the punches almost every day. Diana had lived a full life without him. She tended to drop random tidbits about her experiences into everyday conversations. 

He took another bite of lasagna. “So, sorceress? What does she do?”

Diana grimaced, “She worships the goddess Hecate. There is a prophesy that Hecate will be reborn, and Circe believes I will be Hecate’s vessel. It has been… a source of conflict.” She sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it. Just remember her name. She’s dangerous.”

Steve reached across the table and took Diana’s hand. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?”

Diana glanced at her mostly finished plate. “Yes, please.”

Steve got the waiter’s attention and paid for their meal. Diana wrapped herself in a long wool coat and took Steve’s arm. 

He led her out of the romantic lighting of the restaurant and into the chilly wind. Darkness fell early when the sun vanished behind city skyscrapers. Steve pulled Diana closer as they walked down the street. His breath fogged in front of him. 

They turned down a side street, heading uptown to their apartment. They slid around the back of a block of office buildings. The brick walls closed in on both sides, protecting them from the wind. Overhead, the streetlight suddenly went out with a pop. A shiver ran down Steve’s spine. His hand tightened around Diana’s arm. 

“Steve-,” Diana broke off. 

A cackle startled both of them. It echoed up the walls around them, rising into a shrieking wail. Diana shoved Steve behind her, backing him into the rough brick wall. Steve cast eyes around wildly for the source of the laughter. 

“Diana, darling,” an invisible voice purred. It sounded like it had exhaled from the bricks behind Steve. “Who is your little friend?”

“Circe,” Diana hissed. “Show yourself!” She unleashed her lasso from the hidden depths of her coat. It’s glow filled the street, illuminating the figure standing between two buildings. The stranger stepped closer, revealing a tall woman wearing a green sheath of a dress. Gold jewelry dripped from her neck and wrists. Her eyes glittered even in the dark. 

“Diana,” Circe tossed russet curls over her bare shoulder. 

“Aunty,” Diana sneered.

Circe’s face twisted into a snarl. “Your time has come, Amazon.”

Diana didn’t wait for Circe to make the first move. Her lasso lashed out, arching at the sorceress. Circe lazily raised a hand and deflected the blow. The lasso clanged of one of the many bangles on Circe’s wrist. 

Diana charged. Circe laughed, crouching to intercept Diana. Diana crashed into her. The sorceress dissolved into purple smoke. Steve blinked in surprise. She’d vanished! He swiveled, searching desperately for the villain. 

“Next time, darling,” Circe’s voice cackled invisibly.

A shadow fell over them. Steve looked up and ducked. A griffin, with the head of a lion and the wings of an eagle, swooped down between the buildings. Its talons snatched Diana around the waist and lifted her off her feet. 

“Diana!” Steve grabbed for her hand and missed. The griffin flapped its golden wings, knocking Steve down. It rocketed up into the sky, Diana in its clutches. Steve made to chase, but a cloud of noxious purple smoke burst around him. Steve choked on rancid cloves. He threw his hands over his face. 

The smoke intensified from a cloud into a burning light. Steve shouted. The world spun around and around. Everything shot up, growing a hundred times its size. Steve’s bones cracked. His spine rippled. A nauseating shift of his stomach lurched all his organs dizzyingly. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. 

He flopped on the sidewalk, breathless as the violet cloud dissipated. His heart raced. Nothing felt right. He was going to be sick.

A net of acid violet rope fell over him.

Steve tried to yell. A strangled croak warbled from his throat.

The air rippled like a curtain parting and Circe stepped out. She reached out and tied up the ends of the net. “Steve Trevor. You make a lovely little pet.”

Steve struggled. His body felt wrong. He twisted his neck to look down at himself. 

Oh hell no. Feathers. He had sprouted feathers. And wings. 

“What a beautiful little bird,” Circe crooned. “You know, I think I was mesmerized by your eyes. Your feathers are the same shade of blue.”

Steve’s tongue would not cooperate with his mind. He tried to say “You’re a crazy evil witch”, but what came out was “Witch”. 

Circe laughed. “Indeed, my parrot friend.” She scooped up the net, sending Steve tumbling. “Let’s be off. Diana won’t be far behind.” The cloud of purple surrounded Steve again. 

When it vanished, they were no longer in the street. A lavish garden, rolling with green fig trees, lush ferns, and an array of flowers greeted Steve. For a second he blinked in the sudden midday sun. Circe moved, jostling the net again. Steve flailed indignant wings. Circe skipped over to a particularly large mossy rock carved in the shape of a throne. She threw herself down, tossing Steve at her feet. He landed in a heap, hopelessly tangled in the net. 

Steve tried to protest, a squawk tearing from his throat. 

Circe threw back her head and laughed as if he’d made some hilarious joke. “Precious, come here,” she leaned down and waved her hand. The net evaporated. Steve strained his wings, visions of flight and escape running through his mind. He wobbled, uncoordinated. Circe’s hands caught him, pinning his wings to his sides. He cawed and tried to peck her. 

Circe tsked. “Behave little parrot, or I’ll turn you into a pig.” 

“Oink,” Steve managed to snap.

Circe giggled. “I see why Diana likes you.” She leaned back on her throne, petting one hand over Steve’s head. “Do you like my tropical paradise? It’s not real, you know. All illusions. This is really some abandoned theatre I stumbled across. The irony of disguising the stage was too good to pass up.”

Circe stroked one dagger sharp fingernail over Steve’s throat. His feathers ruffled in annoyance. 

“Diana will come find you. She’ll walk right into my trap for you.” Circe lifted Steve to eye level. “Because Diana believes in love,” she spat. “She thinks you pathetic humans are worth her heart. You’re not.” She gave Steve a shake. His brain rattled in his tiny skull. “You’re no better than animals.” 

Circe suddenly let go. Steve freefell into her lap and bounced onto the floor. He flapped and flopped upright.

He turned one glaring eye on Circe. He wanted to tirade against her. Yell, scream, rant. Diana wasn’t wong. Humanity didn’t deserve Wonder Woman, but it wasn’t about deserving. She chose to help those who couldn’t help themselves. That made her better than all of them. She could have abandoned humanity. She almost had, after Steve’s death. Persevering, doing the right thing, made his sacrifice worth something. She’d made him proud. 

Steve’s feathers puffed. If he had his voice, he’d tear Circe a new one. He cocked his head. “Hero.”

Circe stiffened.

“She is, isn’t she?” Circe said so quietly Steve almost missed it. 

The garden all around them was silent. Even the breeze that occasionally ruffled the ferns didn’t whisper in Steve’s ear.

The shimmering blue sky suddenly shattered into pieces of topaz raining down. Diana fell through the opening, landing in the center of the tropical garden. She’d shed her evening gown and wool coat for her armor and diadem. The lasso at her hip glowed in the sunlight.

Circe screeched, leaping to her feet. “You found me at last, princess.”

“Give me Steve Trevor, Aunty.” Diana advanced slowly, a menacing slink in her step.

Circe snapped her fingers. Steve gasped as chains snaked over his body, pinning him in place at the foot of the throne.

“Do you like the improvements I made to your little friend?” Circe laughed. “He already follows your every move, now he can really parrot you. You might not even notice the difference.”

“Change him back,” Diana demanded. 

“Make me,” Circe growled.

The lasso arced overhead. Circe dodged and deflected its spinning lashes. She struck out, a wave of violet fire racing across the ground. Diana leapt, sidestepping the attack. Burning foliage smoked in the space between them.

Steve cawed, anxiety tearing his chest to ribbons. His struggles against the bonds only made them cling tighter. 

Diana snapped the lasso. A glowing blow flashed across Circe’s cheek like the lash of a whip. Circe shouted. She stumbled and fell at the base of her throne. Her razor nails touched the red welt on her face. It had already begun to fade. 

“Give up, Circe,” Diana towered over her. 

“Never,” Circe struggled to her feet. Bolts of violet energy engulfed her hands. Crackles of light lanced from her fingertips. Circe lifted her hands over her head. Diana braced for impact. Circe brought her hands down. A flash brighter than the sun erupted in a thunderclap. 

Steve’s vision swam. When he blinked the negative away Circe was gone. The lush garden faded, leaving a grey stage. Ragged theatre seats lined up at Diana’s back. Where the throne had sat, a shredded curtain hung limp and dusty.

“Distractions and illusions, Aunty. Will we never learn?” Diana muttered. Her shoulders slumped. 

“Diana,” Steve croaked. 

She turned, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Steve,” she dropped to her knees, gently pulling at the chains. He held still as the bonds crumbled in her hands like peanut shells.

“Are you alright?” 

Steve gave her a look that said “I’m a bird, how alright can I be?” Possibly it didn’t convey the same thing with a beak, as Diana sighed in relief. 

“I am glad you are unharmed.”

Unharmed? Steve flapped his wings indignantly. “Bird,” he croaked.

“Yes, I can help,” Diana stood. She unwrapped her lasso from her belt. She leaned down to Steve and hesitated. “This will hurt. Are you sure?”

“Bird,” Steve snapped. 

Diana nodded. She gently wrapped a coil of the lasso around Steve’s middle. She straightened, grasping her end of the glowing coil with both hands. 

The lasso burned.

“Remember who you are,” Diana commanded. 

Fire raced through Steve’s bones. His joints ground against each other. He squeezed his eyes shut as everything spun. His insides heaved and his skull groaned. Then it was over. Steve opened his eyes. His hands splayed over grey floorboards. He tried wiggling his fingers. The ten fingers in his field of view wiggled back. A relieved laugh escaped in a huff. 

Diana dropped to her knees beside him and crushed him in a hug. He circled his arms around her, incredibly aware of the difference between arms and wings.

“No bird jokes,” he said as Diana helped him to his feet.

“Not even one?” She circled an arm around his waist.

“No,” they stepped off the stage and made their way down the aisle between theatre seats.

“Just a little one? One wing joke,” Diana opened the front door.

Steve started at the drifting snowflakes blowing through the empty street. “No.”

“Someone’s feathers are ruffled.”

“Stop.” 

Diana’s fingers laced through Steve’s. They walked hand in hand all the way home.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Steve said as they reached their apartment building. 

“Anytime,” Diana squeezed his hand.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Royal Pains

HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS this is one of @ashestoashesvvi ‘s crowning achievements!! Have you ever wondered what it would be like if Steel Panther invaded the KISSteriaverse? No? WELL TOO BAD HERE IT IS ANYWAY!! So in this Michael Starr is Vince’s cousin and a constant thorn in his side. This time the Panther boiz assume to role of party crashers! Placed under a cut for length and dirtiness~

“W- We’re gonna what now?”

“We’re gonna bring some heavy ass metal to my favorite blond richy bitchy cuz! It’s gonna so fuckin’ rock, man!” Michael declared, jumping on top of their pool table in the middle of the room. He downed his open beer in one go and tossed it down on the floor when he was done with a pumped grin. “Woo!! Alright, bitches, c'mon, who’s game to party hard tonight?”

Lexxi blinked, and blinked. Then blinked again. Then he looked back at his mirror, shaking his head and fluffing up his hair. “Ahh, ahhhhh, you can go, but… but…” he paused, rolling the words around in his head. Beside him, Satchel just rolled his eyes as his bandmate’s mind was as lost as ever. “But I- I don’t think I’m for it after we jus- just snorted aaaaall, and I- I mean aaaall, the fuckin’ coke we had, dude. Kinda just wanna stay here and pet my turtle– you guys kno- know my turtle, yeah?”

“Lex, no damn turtle talk.”

“No one wants to hear where you shoved him up.”

“Guys!!” Michael groaned, “Duuuuudes, focus! Party time! Yeah or fuck yeah?”

Stix sighed, flopping down next to Satchel and Lexxi on their demolished, once lavish, black leather couch. “Eh, why the fuck not? It’s been a while since we had some fun, man.”

“Yeah, a whole fuckin’ six hours.” Michael nodded, grinning ear to ear. “C'mon, Lex, don’t you want to have some fun this weekend?”

“I- If by fun, you mean work on my highlights and fu- fuckin’ update our fashion style, then yeah. Ahhh….. What was I– Oh, yeah, just fuckin’, other than that, I- I don’t feel like going to some big party.” he said. He winced when Michael pouted then came running up to him, putting his head on his shoulder, whining and hugging onto his arm.

“Come on, please?”

“Bitch, you’re getting between m- me and the mirror- the mirror, man!” Lexxi pouted, pursing his lips out even more. He swung his mirror around in his hand to keep it out of Michael’s way and more focused on his own beautiful face.

Satchel laughed, “You’re gonna drop that, and that’s gonna break, and you’re gonna cry like a little girl in front of all of us, dude.”

“Then I’ll be careful- duh!” Lexxi sighed, wriggling out of Michael’s strong hold.

“Lexxi, you’re coming with us. It’s not a bitchin’ party until the whole band shows up!” Michael laughed.

“Mmmh…..”

“Lex, c'mon, c'here.” Stix sighed, shifting and standing to grab his taller bandmate. He forced him to lean down so that he could put his head on top of his, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Come and have fun, okay?”

“Wh- Wha- What’d you say?” Lexxi blinked. He tried to consecrate and think about what he was just asked, but all he could manage was a confused, cute squint.

“Come and have fun, okay?”

“Ca- Can you say the last work- word different?”

“…okie?”

“Ooh, see that’s what I th- thought you said.”

“Lexxi, stop being a dumb fuckin’ blonde– no offence Michael– for like two seconds and focus, man. Think of it, think of the tiddies! The booze! The drugs! I heard they’re importing these new blue lines straight outta Jendell! Jendell, man! I heard that shit makes electricity shoot right up your spine!” Satchel smirked, rubbing his hands together.

“Better yet,” Stix laughed, catching Lexxi’s short focus again. “Think about it, man… Prince Vince has an entire hall of mirrors in his crib~”

Lexxi’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten about that. He hummed, thinking about it now, debating on the pros and cons before giving in. “Alright, okay. I- I’ll go.”

Michael squealed and hugged him. “Fuck yes! For a second, I thought we had to bring your mother in this.”

“Y- You fuckers leav- leave my mom outta this shit–”

“Heh, she wasn’t out of this,” Satchel motioned to his crotch. “last night, dude.”

“Shuddap!!”

“Oh fuckin’ grow a pair and get over it, Lex. Can’t give her AIDS twice.”

“Or thrice.” Satchel added with a nod of his head.

“Or frice?” Stix said, smiling. “Or whatever the fuck it is.”

“Can y- you guys not gangbang my m- mom?”

“Too late!” Michael said, reaching for his microphone. “I gotta summon us a bitchin’ ride…. Hmmm… what’ll it be tonight, boys? One big limo or…?”

“Flaming limo with flames painted on the sides, and nachos when we get in. I want some fuckin’ nachos right about now, dude.”

“Annnnnnd hookers.” Stix said, letting Lexxi go finally.

Michael nodded, “Oh man, this is so tits. Vince is gonna be soooo fuckin’ happy to see us.”

“Or he’ll banish us from the kingdom again.” Stix shrugged, cracking open a beer.

“Eh, fuck that. We always come back, just like a bad STD.”

“Lexxi would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Lex?” Satchel laughed, poking him in the side.

“Stooooooop, I- I was cleared ages a- ago, man!” he pouted, sitting back on the destroyed couch as they chuckled and relaxed against each other.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Prince Vince watched his party’s performance in the palace’s throne room. Mick and Tommy sat to his left and Nikki sat to his right. Their eyes all watched as the ceremonial warriors and dancers of the Order of the Golden Pyramid from the realm of Sphynxia performed for them. They watched the sharp blades twirl in their hands and the air with ease in their finest silks and robes.

The normally rowdy court was calmed and entertained by them, and they even cleared the way for the belly dancers to take the main floor of the throne room. All the dancers in the troupe were women, and each one was catching the Prince’s and his friends eyes. Except for Mick, but he had been around enough to not fall so easily and forget that they were still warriors under those black halter tops adorned with gold jewels and beads, long black skirts with high cut slits, gold anklets and gold bangles.

As a final motion, the dancing warriors twirled and all did a ‘death drop’, leaping up into the air, doing a full turn which almost fully exposed their lower bodies, falling to land on one of their bent legs, and spinning around a few times before slowly rising and posing. The kingdom and all the entire court attending burst into applause for their performance. The members of the Order of the Golden Pyramid all gave a short bow of appreciation at the applause.

The leader of the group, Asim, stepped forward to Vince and knelt down in front of him, offering up a sword. “Prince Vince, this is a gift from the Order in honor of our alliance with Anarkia. May it be fruitful and prosperous for both of us.”

“Holy fuck, that’s a big ass sword!”

“Duuude, look how Vince is holding it like it’s his penis.”

“Nah, that blade is waaaay bigger than his tiny dick, man.”

“I- I’m confused… aaaahh, which way was the bathroom? Oh fuck it. Forget it, Imma just go over here.”

“Oh no,” Mick groaned, making a face. “They’re back.”

“Hell yeah! Can’t fuckin’ go and invite the whole kingdom to a huge ass mother fuckin’ party and not invite us! Just cause we’re on the Steel Pantherian moon doesn’t mean you get to skip out on our invite, cuz!” Michael shouted, bounding straight up to the throne. He seemed unaware of Vince’s reddening face of anger and embarrassment. Or he just didn’t care. “Oooh! Sweet! We’re cool with the Sphynx people? Awesome! Cause I need to go there to tan. See, I’m getting a bit pale and–”

“What are you doin’ here, you fucker!?” Vince growled, trying to keep his cool during his important alliance set up. “I banished you fifteen times!”

“….And?” Michael giggled, then caught sight of the lovely warrior beside them. “Oooooh~ Hello, baby~ Hey, hey, don’t get with this bratty prince, c'mon and hang out with a duke and his boys, honey. I got a real swollen member, and I really need to cum in an ass tonight~”

The olive skinned warrior scoffed, then snatched the sword straight from the prince’s hands. “Master Radames will hear of this behavior and this- this vulgar offering. He had thought you Anarkians had matured after assisting the KISSterians in battle so many times.”

“N- No! Th- This fool is not affiliated with us!”

Nikki growled, nodding in agreement with Vince. “These bastards are just a buncha crossbred, inbred fucks! C'mon! You can’t just–”

“There is a certain level of respect that we expect during such ceremonial events, and this,” Asim motioned to the long hair blonde taking a piss behind a potted plant. “This is not something I can allow to happen on my first mission of alliance.” She shook her head, signaling to the rest of her troupe to pack up and head out.

“Hey, hey,” Michael said, grabbed the warrior’s wrist. “Listen, please. I’m sorry… I guess I messed up… Lemme restart, c'mon, how about I make it up to you and my cousin by offering to let you both blow me. You don’t even gotta worry about the rest of the band. Trust me, compared to the rest of the guys, I’m less likely to cheat, too, if you wanna meet up a second time and make it a thing.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed him away harshly. “My master will certainly hear about all of this.”

“Michael, I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle you and banish you to a damn realm without pussy!!” Vince screeched, putting a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

“Hey, dude, fuck off!” he snapped, “I’m trying to help things!”

“You’re making it worse!” Vince growled, his grip on Michael’s shoulder growing tight.

“Hey, let go of our Michael, you royal fuckwad!” Satchel shouted, darting in from the side, swinging a fist back and punching Vince square in the nose.

The crowd gasped, and the members of the Order of the Golden Pyramid quickly fled before an infamous Anarkian battle broke out right in their palace.

Vince growled at the punch, coming at Satchel angrily. With one quick motion, he slammed the guitarist’s head toward the floor, then felt the hardest hit he’d ever had in the ribs. Stix smirked at him as he gasped, standing there frozen and a little shaken from what had just happened.

Tommy came up from behind and kicked the bulkier drummer to the wall across the throne room. “You fuckin’ assholes!! You ruined everything– again!!”

“Ugh… Fuck you! We just came for fun and a good time!”

“BAD FUCKING TIMING, FUCKERS!” Vince shrieked, recovering, then leaping to try and claw his cousin’s eyes out. Michael laughed, holding his wrists an inch from his pretty face.

“Awww, hey, I missed this!!” he giggled, staring into the blazing pits of hatred of the prince’s gaze. “Jeez, I’m just sorry we didn’t show up sooner!”

“IMMA KILL YOU ASSHOLES!!!”

“Nah! You’re just gonna banish us again!” Michael smiled at him, “Make it a tiddie beach this time, though, would ya? I get bored just jerking it off to Lexxi’s girly face.”

“D- DID YOU JUST NOT HEAR ME—!?!” Vince shouted, then cut himself off in an angry roar. “AAAAAAAARGHHHH!!!!!”

“I’m too old for this shit…” Mick growled, sinking down in his chair, glaring at Lexxi off to his side. Blue electricity protectively crackled around him as the tall blonde just stared at him like he let a hamster borrow his last brain-cell. “I’m not gonna do a fist fight, you lil’ shit.”

“Nah, I- I’m just… ahh, well… fuck, someone said something about a mirror hall…. yeah, mirrors.”

Mick squinted at him, then jerked his thumb back behind the throne. “Down the hall.”

“Thanks, old dude.”

“Ugh…” Mick rolled his eyes, watching the court explode, then actually explode into fire and flames. “There goes another perfectly good alliance.”

[ellanainthetardis]

Since next week is hayffismas week there won’t be a chapter, so I will see you on the 29th! Also, from this chapter on, it’s the part where I’m mean and I don’t say how many are left so it can end any time. Haha, my meaness knows no bouds. Let me know if you like this chapter! You know I live for feedback!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 26 : From Memory Alone

Haymitch forced himself to go on, down the corridor, to his own room. It wouldn’t help to go back in Effie’s bedroom, to hold himself. No word would comfort her. Dragging out the goodbyes would be more painful than it needed to be.  

He ran his fingers through his hair, almost punched and kicked the wall…

Katniss, he reminded himself, save Katniss. For the boy. For Effie. For all the kids you’ve failed over the years. For a chance at a shitty redemption.

He got dressed slowly, methodically. Comfortable clothes. Something he would have worn in Twelve.

There would be no cameras where he was going.

The knock on the door was faint and he wasn’t surprised to see Harwyn standing there instead of Maya. Katniss had told him she liked the Capitol woman well enough. It had been with a shrug, of course, and the implied statement that she wasn’t Cinna. He hoped the other stylist would be kind with Katniss. She would be nervous. Afraid probably.

He had only been through that whole part once before, almost too long ago for him to remember properly.

Mentors never met the tributes before the launch. His memory was rusty even if he knew what would have to happen. Harwyn’s walking stick was sporting a blue gem that day. The old man didn’t ask how he was doing and didn’t try to offer pointless words of comfort. He led him to the living-room in silence, a somber procession of two men.

His feet faltered in front of Effie’s room. He brushed his hand against the door on his way. A last caress. A last… He didn’t know.

He could hear voices in Katniss’ room, the hurried muffled whispers of goodbyes. They hadn’t taken the girl yet, then. They would get her once he was off. She still had a few minutes with the boy.

He felt jealous.

A few minutes…

A few minutes were precious.

A few minutes meant everything.

The doctor was waiting in the living-room, looking very professional in his white uniform, his small black case at his feet. He greeted Haymitch with a terse smile and a quiet profesional “How do you do?”. They were well acquainted, the two of them. He had ended up in the Games Clinic more times than he could count over the years.

He ignored the question and sat on the couch’s armrest. He wanted that part over. He wanted to leave the penthouse. He wanted…

Suddenly he wanted a lot of things.

A last breath of fresh air on a winter morning in Twelve, when snow had fallen all night long and everything was a pure white as far as the eye could see.

A last night with Chaff, Finnick and the others, laughing and teasing each other until they were ready to roll under the table or be thrown in the drunk tank.

A last kiss, one that didn’t taste of tears, one that tasted like happiness and hope and, maybe, of a better future.

A last walk around the Hob, a last bowl of Sae’s soup, a last chat with Ripper, a last glimpse of the woman who wore Maysilee’s face…

A last chance.

Haymitch focused on the blue gem at the end of the stylist’s walking stick when the doctor warned he was about to inject him with the tracker.

He focused on the blue gem when the shotgun fired the implant. The pain was brief but he hated the thought of being tagged like cattle.

He kept focusing on it when the stylist escorted him to the roof and the waiting hovercraft.

Haymitch sat down but it didn’t take off at once. The engine hummed softly, the whole aircraft shook briefly and he thought he could still make a run for it. He should have before that maybe. He should have grabbed the kids, their family and make a run for it before the whole mess even started. They might have made it in the woods.

He lost himself to that fantasy for a second. He pretended hard they could have made it. He pretended hard they could have found a safe place to settle in. He pretended the Capitol wouldn’t have tracked them and dragged them back kicking and screaming after killing everyone who wasn’t a victor in their group. He pretended it wouldn’t have killed him to leave Effie behind and leave the rest of his life without her.  He pretended.

The hovercraft took flight and any possible escape flew away with it. He watched the city disappear through the small round window, barely noticing the food at his disposal on the table in front of him.

He hated the city.

He hated the arena more.

“Did Effie ever tell you how we met?” Harwyn asked casually, as if they weren’t on their way to his worst nightmare.

He almost chewed the guy’s head off for that.

He turned back to the stylist with a snarl but the cutting bitter words remained stuck in his throat. He couldn’t utter a single sound. His hands were clutching the armrests of his seat. His heart was hammering hard in his chest. A bad shiver ran down his spine.

He felt sick.

All he could manage was a jerky shake of his head.

It was better than puking all over the breakfast table.

Harwyn started telling him the story of a seventeen year-old Effie who had accompanied her sister to a huge fashion show with several designer houses, of how she had boldly stepped up when one of his models had twisted her ankle, a short firecracker with an attitude… His voice was calm, his tone casual, and his descriptions precise.

Haymitch relaxed slowly because he could picture it, picture her and her ambition driving her to twist fate’s hand. Halfway through, the stylist pushed a plate in front of him and he started eating. He forced himself. The food tasted like ash on his tongue and settled heavily in his stomach. He forced himself because he would need the strength, he knew that. He drank plenty too. Dehydration was always a danger in any arena.

He felt more grounded by the time the hovercraft landed but, despite all the water he had drunk, his mouth was parched. He was desperate for some whiskey. A fine brand. The best brand. He could almost taste it on his tongue from memory alone.

The tremors were bad that morning and it would do him no favor in less than an hour.

The launch room was too small and he felt confined. He had forgotten about the shower and he declined it. He smelled faintly like Effie and he wanted to keep that, the memory of her skin against his. Or maybe it was in his head. Either way he didn’t feel like showering.

The outfit was waiting for him.

Simple black boxers, sturdy boots, thick heavy pants, a cotton undershirt and a brown jacket branded with a 12 on the back. It was similar enough to what they had been given during his Games and to what tributes usually wore.

It gave him no indication at all about what they would have to face. He had been expecting something a little less standard. This was a Quell after all.

His fingers were trembling so much he struggled getting dressed but Harwyn didn’t offer to help, something he was grateful for. It was humiliating enough to be visibly shaking like a leaf. It stung his pride.

The old man still adjusted the lapels and checked that everything fell appropriately but it was more a stylist thing than a gesture of pity so he could accept that.

They didn’t talk.  

The launching tube was two feet away, threatening in its harmless appearance.

Haymitch couldn’t stop staring at it.

He sat down to wait but Harwyn remained standing, leaning on his walking stick. The stylist looked ill-at-ease and it occurred to Haymitch there was a reason he had never worked for the Games before – or hadn’t, at least, made it a regular thing. He had never before contemplated how jarring it must have been for stylists to literally wait with kids for their own death.

When the mechanical voice told tributes to get in place for the launch, Haymitch licked his lips and stood up slowly.

Harwyn walked next to him. “Do you want me to pass along a message to your escort?”

He shook his head, his right hand closing around the hard gold of the bangle. Everything that had needed saying had been said.

His escort.

His wife.

It was the first time he had thought about her like that and it was both painful and strangely… comforting at the same time.

He had done it for her mostly, having long given up on any desire to form a family in the traditional sense of the term. He was a bitter old man with shattered dreams. She wasn’t. Despite everything, she still clung to hope and dreams and positivity. He had wanted to do something for her, show her what she meant to him, what they could have been…

He realized as he placed his hand on the cold plastic that maybe he had done it for himself too.

Maybe he had done it for the simple comfort of knowing she had been all in, his until death did them apart.

He wasn’t sure it really mattered in the face of everything but… It was a nice thought.

She had his ring, he had her bangle and the Capitol could do nothing to change that now. They had, at least,  won that particular battle.

He stepped in the tube and turned to face Harwyn.

“Thanks.” he said because the man had done more than he had to and it was rare enough to find in the city to deserve acknowledgement. “Make sure she’s alright, yeah?”

The stylist nodded.

The plastic door slid shut and he felt the slight vibration of the engine. He closed his eyes when he felt the platform start to move and only opened them once it was steady again.

He was ready for a meadow full of green grass, a beautiful deadly trap of an arena…

All he saw when he finally opened his eyes was his own reflection staring back at him.

[ellanainthetardis]

Training starts today! Is Haymitch up to it?

{FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 19 : A Package Deal

He woke up to lips trailing down his spine.

“What time is it?” he mumbled. They hadn’t got much sleep the previous night, too busy with more pleasurable activities, and he was starting to feel the lack of proper rest.

“The alarm is about to go off.” she whispered. “Peeta is already in the dining-room. You should join him for breakfast.”

He opened his eyes and rolled on his back to watch her, noticing the pink dress, the golden wig and the heavy make-up. He frowned. “How long have you been up?”

“A while.” she admitted. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Should have woken me up.” he rebuked, a slow smirk stretching his lips. “I’d have thought of something to do.”

She chuckled and ducked her head, her cheeks reddening a little. “I will be lucky if I can sit properly today as it is. Last night was…”

“The best sex you ever had?” he bragged, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Intense.” she corrected, placing a hand on his chest and petting the light hairs that he had fought so bravely to keep. “You were very dedicated. I expect the same level of commitment tonight.”

“Might take you in the bathtub.” he hummed sleepily, covering her hand with his and bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss it. “It’s been a while since we did it in the tub. Might be nice, too. Relaxing.”

“You are obsessed.” she laughed.

“With you.” he retorted smoothly.

She breathed out a small content sigh but the moment was ruined by the alarm going off. He groaned and put a pillow over his face to muffle the sound, letting her take care of that. She turned the clock off and snatched the pillow away

“I have something for you.” she declared.

“What a coincidence…” he deadpanned. “I’ve got something for you too.”

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.” she grinned without heat. She set a square shaped red velvet box on his chest. “You will hate it but… Well, it is gold.”

It took him a few seconds to remember her dangerous idea of sporting matching tokens. She was obviously nervous, she was fiddling with one of the rings on her fingers… He frowned when he realized it was the iris one. He hadn’t expected her to keep wearing it. And certainly not on her left hand, on a finger heavy with implications.

He didn’t say anything about it though. Certain things were better left unacknowledged.

He took the jewelry case and opened it with some wariness.

“You got me… a manacle.” he commented slowly. He took the… thing out of its box. It was gold, alright. It was heavy and impractical. The carvings looked like flames.

She clucked her tongue. “It is a bangle. And before you start, yes, it is designed for men. Men can wear jewelry and still be… manly.”

He shot her a dubious look but slipped it around his wrist. It would take some getting used to.

“Could have given me a lock of hair or something.” he muttered. “Something a bit more… discreet.”

“I can get you something else for the arena, if you wish.” she offered after clearing her throat. “If you are planning on taking your old token…”

“Burned it.” he cut her off. His mind flashed to the picture of his family. That had been the token he had had in mind. Tokens didn’t matter much in the end anyway though and it seemed important to her so… “This one’s fine.”

She beamed. “Truly?”

“Still think you’re playing with fire.” he warned.

“But you like it?” she insisted, leaning in to bump her nose against his.

It was a bit too cute for his liking so he kissed her hard instead.

She had some troubles convincing him to leave the bed and even more difficulties not ending up back between the sheets with him.

Eventually, she managed to send him back to his room so he could get dressed while she disappeared, claiming she had a lot of calls to make in the living-room and shouldn’t be disturbed. He concluded from all her chatter she was going to call her – very rich – sister and beg for a sponsoring pledge.  

Peeta was alone in the dining-room when he finally arrived, reading over years worth of notes written in Effie’s neat flowery script. Sponsors files, he figured. He hoped she would hand them over to the kids when she would leave Twelve. Those had come in handy a lot of times. She had recorded every important fact on every influent wealthy person in the Capitol. What they liked. Who their enemies were. Who their friends were. The files were kept to date, color coded, and allowed the two of them to target the people most likely to give them money.

“Have you thought about a training strategy?” Peeta asked before he even had time to grab a cup of coffee.

“Don’t really need one.” he shrugged, snatching a blueberry muffin from the platter in the middle of the table. “We’re not taking allies.”

Katniss walked in right at that moment and made a face, clearly no more impatient to talk about that than he was. She poured herself some hot chocolate and filled a plate, tossing Haymitch a reproachful look when she realized how little he was planning on eating. “You need to follow Mom’s diet.”

“Don’t remember your mom’s diet involving chocolate.” he replied.

“She’s right.” Peeta argued, making Katniss smirk around her next sip of chocolate. “Have some fruits. And get some meat for lunch.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, dad.”

Katniss snorted, Peeta chuckled and he considered his mission accomplished. Effie showed up a little while after, looking neither pleased nor annoyed. She clapped her hands, declaring they all had a big day ahead and that Haymitch and Katniss couldn’t afford to be late for the first day of Training. She was adamant about escorting them down but he was equally stubborn about her staying behind. They didn’t need a minder. Nobody down there would be waiting for their escort to show them the way.

Effie fretted and fretted all the time it took him to finish the fruits salad Peeta insisted on placing in front of him, arguing it was well past eight thirty and that they would be the last ones and that it wouldn’t do. He ate even more slowly only to annoy her further.

“That’s your token?” Katniss asked in the elevator, nodding at the bangle around his wrist.

He briefly fiddled with it, still not used to its weight. He would need to try and throw a knife or two with that thing to make sure it wouldn’t impact on his already limited abilities.

“Yeah.” he answered finally.

“Flashy.” she commented, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“That’s Effie Trinket for you.” he snorted, watching the floors pass by, already done with the whole day that stretched ahead. “Listen… At some point today, make a show.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

“You’re the new one. They don’t know you. They don’t know what you can do.” he explained even though it was obvious to him. “They’re gonna prey on you. You need to make a show of strength.”

“You want me to shoot?” she clarified.

“And aim true.” he added. “Make sure there’s an audience, too.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

They were late when they stepped in the Training area. And yet only Brutus and Enobaria had made it on time, it seemed.

Katniss seemed uncertain about how to behave but Haymitch didn’t let himself hesitate. He walked toward them with purposeful casualness and shook the hand Brutus immediately outstretched in good spirits. Enobaria didn’t extend the same courtesy but she nodded, both to him and Katniss, before focusing on the station in front of her.

Her knives flew in the air and hit each and every target.

He exchanged some small talk with Brutus and eventually wandered to the station Katniss had claimed for herself. Knot-tying.

“You really think this will save your life?” he snorted.

It earned him two dark looks, one from her and one from the instructor.

Victors were slowly trickling in the room and he talked a little with each of them, more interested in scouting out the competition than in listening to things he had been drilling into his tributes’ heads for years. Most victors focused on fighting stations, he noticed.

By ten, only half the tributes had arrived and Haymitch was starting to think some of them would never bother showing up at all.

Katniss had finally left the knot-tying station for the fire lighting one. It wasn’t hard to understand why. Finnick looked a little too pleased with himself and Mags was very obviously giving a laborious lecture, her hands distractedly playing with a piece of rope than ended up knotted so tightly Haymitch was certain he would have never been able to undo it. Beetee and Wiress were struggling to get their fire started and the girl eventually moved over and introduced herself.

He moved on to the spear station where Chaff and Brutus were having a friendly conversation about the merits of spears over swords.

“Hey, buddy.” Eleven’s victor greeted him. “Want to try?”

“Spears are really not my thing.” he chuckled. “Why not? Could be fun.”

He turned out he was very bad at tossing spears. Brutus tried to give him pointers but he always ended up missing the target by ten inches. Chaff was surprisingly good at it despite his missing hand and Haymitch filed that away as a potentially useful information.

“Maybe you should drop your pants.” Cashmere mocked, her hands on her hips. “It seems to do wonders for you.”

“That’s one spear I know how to use, sweetheart.” he retorted good-naturedly, making them all laugh.

The Gamemakers had arrived and were lounging around on the upper floor, more interested in stuffing themselves than in really watching the training. He supposed they weren’t being the most riveting tributes. He met Heavensbee’s eyes and the Head Gamemaker abruptly looked away, flustered and embarrassed.

He let Cashmere drag him to the knife throwing station where Gloss was training, not quite oblivious to the stunt the young woman was pulling. She was trying to figure out what kind of opponent he would turn out to be.

Gloss’ weapons of choice were swords, that was how he had won his Games, but he was very good at playing with knives… Or, at least, he was when Johanna wasn’t making scenes a few feet away. Why in Panem the girl felt the need to get naked and rub oil on her boobs… Every male gaze in the room was riveted on her.

It was no wonder Gloss missed half the targets.

And the only reason Haymitch did better than him.

It was nowhere close to Enobaria’s perfect score but it was good enough that Cashmere gave him a serious look.

“You and the kid are a package deal, right?” One’s victor asked.

He winked at her and left that unacknowledged. Let the Careers wonder.

Lunch was a joyful affair. He wasn’t sure who had the idea of pushing all the tables together – he thought it was Brutus – but it looked more like a friendly reunion than a meal shared between people who would murder each other in a few days. It felt like being back in the mentor’s lounge at the end of the season, once a victor was crowned, when rivalries and grudges faded away.

Haymitch had no hope of that conviviality extending to the arena and was taking the opportunity to study them all. It was tough to remember he shouldn’t consider them like friends – or colleagues at the very least – but like adversaries.

He ended up sitting between Katniss and Chaff, around the middle of the table, trapped between the raucous group of victors who laughed hard and talked even louder and the elderly one that had somehow gravitated together.

He ate his share of meat with a pointed look for Katniss and a comment about how she could report to her boyfriend that he was following instructions but, above all, he observed.

Age wasn’t really a factor, here, he figured.

Mags was by far the oldest of them all but Woof wasn’t far behind and, if Four’s victor eyes were sharp, Woof seemed completely lost, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing there. Leo Jammer, Five’s male victor, around eighty years old, had an intermittent tremor in his right hand that would prevent him from using any sort of heavy weapon, the man could barely hold his fork. Haymitch was very careful about hiding his own shaking fingers although he was certain Chaff noticed – Venus, a black man strong as an ox who was in his early sixties and who had won for Nine years earlier, clearly noticed too.

Haymitch hoped the bloodbath would take care of him. The man was calm under pressure and knew how to use his brain. It made for the most dangerous adversaries.

Wiress was nervous, looking on the verge of a panic attack. He didn’t give her ten minutes after the launch to crack. He wondered how many of them would die because of their own inner demons. Beetee wasn’t to be dismissed though. Three’s victor was talkative and friendly as usual but Haymitch knew that he would stop at nothing to protect his… Girlfriend seemed too ridiculous a term and lover felt out of place… There was no question Beetee loved Wiress though.

Brutus was a colossus. He would be tough to take down in a hand to hand fight. But he also tended to rush into things with brute force rather than to think and that was something Haymitch could deal with.

Enobaria… Enobaria was the nasty kind of crazy. He was ready to bet she was dying to use her fangs to rip someone’s throat and repeat her first performance in her Games. That was the sort of things sponsors would love. She would make a show and thus she would be prone to dramatic kills. Her ego might be a key into defeating her.

Cashmere and Gloss would be a hard team to beat. They knew each other, were trained to fight together and operated as if they were one mind in two bodies. If Gloss put his hands on a sword, it would be difficult to pry it away from his fingers. And if the siblings grabbed knives… Well… He and Katniss better practice ducking. Threaten one and the other would fold though.

Finnick… He didn’t really want to linger on Finnick’s strengths and weaknesses. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. The boy would never let Mags down. And Mags… Mags was old and weakened but Haymitch would never make the mistake of not considering her to be dangerous. She had more than fifty years of experience on Hunger Games on her side.

“Do you ever talk or do you just sulk?” Johanna called out to Katniss.

“I don’t know. Do you always take off your clothes everywhere or is it just because you’re scared that’s the only way you’re going to get any attention?” the girl retorted, triggering quite a few laughs around the table.

“You think I’ll get attention when I slit your throat?” Jo sneered.

“Easy, Mason.” Enobaria cut in before it could escalate. “Keep that for the arena.”

“Fuck off, Golding.” Seven’s victor spat.

Enobaria snarled a little, showing off her flashy fangs.

The good mood had vanished. He wasn’t sure who suggested they went back to training but it was unanimously accepted.

“Nice job.” he muttered to Katniss as they left the room. “I told you we weren’t looking for allies, not that we needed enemies.”

“I hate her.” she grumbled back.

“And now she made you a target.” he snapped. “Try to think a little.”

Katniss stormed away with a scowl on her face and a hard glare.

“Ah, kids…” Chaff snorted, catching up with him. “So ungrateful.”

“She’s a brat.” he confirmed.  

“You didn’t taste the wine.” Eleven’s victor observed. “Too bad. It was a good one.”

“We’re on a diet.” he shrugged. “You don’t know the boy. He’s a tyrant. The mentor’s title got to his head.”

His best friend tossed him a look but humored him by switching topic. “How about we get out of here? We’ve got a whole week of pointless training ahead and I’d like a private word.”

He glanced at the exits. There were no more Peacekeepers than usual and he was pretty sure nobody would try to stop them if they walked out. Either the Capitol was very confident that they would behave or the lack of security was meant to make them feel meaningless. Some of the victors hadn’t even bothered showing up at all.

He opened his mouth to agree when a gasp stopped him. Everyone was gathering toward the archery station with murmurs of admiration or shock. He and Chaff wandered closer. He was smirking well before he caught sight of Katniss.

He had never seen her shoot, he realized, not really.

She was actually having fun.

The archery instructor kept increasing the difficulty level but Katniss never missed anything. Arrows darted, too fast to be counted, her fingers flying between the bow and the quiver at her back. She was so focused he didn’t think she even realized she had such a large audience.

Once the quiver was empty, the instructor switched the simulation off and she turned to leave… Only to remain frozen in shock when she saw that everyone had been watching her. She recovered quickly enough though. She shot one look at Mason and walked past the others to another work station.

The victors weren’t the only ones staring.

The Gamemakers were too.

“She’s something.” Chaff commented with some regret.

The same regret that was now written all over Heavensbee’s face.

She could have been the Mockingjay, Haymitch knew that deep to his bones. She could have been Panem’s salvation.

Now she was just another victor toy for them to play with.

“Let’s go.” Haymitch snorted.

He didn’t want to remain there, under those people’s scrutiny any minute longer.

The fact that he and Chaff had no trouble leaving the training area or even accessing the penthouse’s roof cemented his idea that Snow was sending them all a message. They weren’t enough of a threat for the Capitol to bother with extra security measures. They were tributes just like any other year. Small, weak, insignificant, and already dead.

Haymitch welcomed the fresh air but he winced when Chaff fished a flask from his back pocket. Eleven’s victor didn’t offer him any though, maybe because his friend knew he would have a hard time saying no.

“So… What the fuck happened?” Chaff asked, deadly serious for once.

Haymitch leaned against the low wall, watching the city. “What do you know?”

“After the Tour and that stunt your boy pulled, they increased the numbers of Peacekeepers. Raids, flogging, execution….” Eleven’s victor scoffed. “All my rebel contacts got killed like the Peacekeepers knew who they were looking for. I’m sure they had the names. It was… bad, yeah. People rioted. I tried to talk them out of it. Too early. We didn’t have the numbers or the power.” He shook his head. “Peacekeepers got it under wrap, more people died… It calmed down after a couple of months. Still couldn’t get in touch with anyone. I’ve been watching Capitol channels, trying to figure out… something. Then the story about Cinna hit the news… I figured we’d been sold. The Quell thing kinda made that obvious. And since Heavensbee’s still around…”

“Thirteen.” he scowled. “That’s who sold us out. Well… Plutarch might have ratted his contacts out, yeah, but… Thirteen’s the real traitor.”

Chaff took a mouthful of his flask and then abruptly tossed it in a move of anger, kicking the wall for good measure. Haymitch snatched the flask from the air when it rebounded on the force field down below and handed it back.

“Piece of shit.” his best friend muttered.

“Don’t know what Coin sold her soul for.” Haymitch shrugged. “Lands probably. Some kind of agreement for her people. I’m betting Thirteen got their own independent District in the wilderness, far away from us. Finnick might have heard chatter. Not sure it matters much now. We’re screwed.”

Chaff chuckled bitterly and rubbed his face with his good hand. “Call me a fool but I was still hoping there was a plan in place.” Eleven’s victor took a deep breath, meeting Haymitch’s eyes. “So, that’s it, then. We’re gonna die.”

“Truth be told, I’ve spent the last six months waiting for it to happen.” he snorted. “When Cinna told me…” He waved his hand, dismissing his own point. “Doesn’t matter.”

“How bad was it in Twelve?” Chaff asked.

“Bad.” he confirmed. “But not as bad as in Eleven, sounds like.”

“The scars on your back…” his friend frowned. “What did they get you for?” Haymitch sighed and explained the whole thing, how he had claimed guardianship over Katniss to spare her, avoiding Chaff’s eyes when he was done. The other victor’s face was closed off. “You’re gonna die for that girl.”

It wasn’t a question, merely an observation.

“Worse things to die for.” he mumbled, keeping his gaze firmly averted.

“I guess.” Chaff snorted. “Wish I could say the same thing.”

“You might win yet.” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can outlive most of you, yeah.” Eleven’s victor offered, more seriously than he had expected. “Dying like that…” His friend scowled. “Thought that was behind me.”

“Didn’t we all…” he sighed.

“You’re doing okay with… You know.” His friend made a face.

“Dying?” he deadpanned. There were so many things he wasn’t okay with…

“Not what I was gonna say but, sure…” the other victor chuckled. “Let’s go with that.”

“Wish I could do it with some nice moonshine.” he admitted. Not that he could afford that. Not if he wanted to protect Katniss like she ought to be. Peeta was right.

Chaff nodded thoughtfully, kicking a pebble. He was mulling something over but Haymitch didn’t try to force it out of him. He felt a bit strange standing there with his best friend. They had never had many secrets for each other. Chaff had been in the rebellion for years, longer than Haymitch who had been considered a liability until not long ago, but that was business, not personal. Even Effie… Haymitch had always made a point of denying it but Chaff knew and Haymitch knew he knew so it wasn’t really a secret, more like a guarantee.

Now though…

Now every word needed to be weighted because… They weren’t on the same side anymore, wouldn’t be very soon at least.

“Had some flashbacks.” his friend confessed eventually. “Nightmares are back. You?”

“Yeah.” he confirmed.

What was the point of lying? He was pretty sure they weren’t the only ones. Two’s victors were eager for a fight and for glory but the others… Cashmere and Gloss weren’t as bothered probably. Careers didn’t have the same mindset. It was what had come after the arena that had disturbed them. Depending on previous experience, some might do better than others in there but… he was certain they would all freak out at one point or another.

His best friend nodded, relaxing a little as if he had felt the need to hear he wasn’t alone in that.

They remained silent for a while, locked in their own head.

Half the content of the flask had spilled when Chaff had tossed it but there was still enough left that the victor could take another long gulp. “I’ve got a sister, you know. Nephews.”

He didn’t need the reminder. Chaff had always talked his ear off about Fay although Haymitch had, obviously, never met her. He felt like he knew the woman and her kids.

He heard what Chaff wasn’t saying in that almost apologetic tone, though. He had a family and that family needed him alive. The pension, the house in the Village… It would all disappear if  Chaff died in the Quell.

He owed it to them to try and win that thing.

“See? Always told you. Having no one makes this kind of things easier.” he replied, as lightly as he could.

He didn’t fool anyone.

“Nice bangle.” Eleven’s victor remarked, seemingly out of the blue.

Haymitch knew better.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out whom the bangle was from.

“Don’t start with that.” he warned.

He wasn’t in the mood to hear about Chaff’s disapproval regarding his not-so-secret affair with Effie. His best friend didn’t like her, loathed her even, and it was perfectly mutual. They usually made an effort when he was around but there was no love lost between them and if Effie was tactful enough not to meddle, Chaff had never been shy about warning him against his stupidity. Fucking a Capitol was okay, fucking an escort was even better but caring about them? Caring about them wasn’t done. Never mind when it was more than that.

“Yeah, about that…” Eleven’s victor drawled out, wrinkling his nose as if saying whatever he was about to say was paining him. “Maybe I was wrong.”

He scoffed. “What?”

“Look… It was still pretty stupid to go and get enamored of an escort…” Chaff argued. “But… Given how things are turning out… I’m glad you got that. I’m glad you’ve got her now.”

It sounded genuine enough that he relaxed.  

“She’s not the worst, you know.” he muttered awkwardly, turning the bangle around his wrist.

“An escort and a victor…” Chaff sighed. “It was always heartbreak in the making, man. I was just looking out for you. That’s what friends do.”

Haymitch nodded and cleared his throat, the conversation a bit too serious to his tastes. “So what do you think they’ve got in store for us?”

“Something Quell worthy, I guess.” Eleven’s victor chuckled, bringing his flask to his mouth and wincing when he found it empty. He pocketed it and leaned against the roof’s edge, dark eyes staring down at the tiny ants partying in the streets rather than at him. “We’re not gonna kill each other, Haymitch. We cross paths, we walk away. Simple as that.”

He wasn’t surprised Chaff wasn’t proposing an outright alliance.

For an alliance to take place, there would have to be trust first.

There would be no trust possible in the arena, only objectives and ways to accomplish them.