#well. with all my belts stuff too.. then with the jacket zipped up it's kinda like

[solradguy]

Spending a lot of time and money to make a custom bright red leather jacket just to be the specialist man in the bakery section of the grocery store was such a great investment. I love my red jacket. Everyone should make their own special jacket

[kate-bishops-waifu]

WLWweek day 3, @rexscanonwife

"After Work."

A/N: Okay this one's really quick and self indulgent. I cannot help wanting Kate to think I'm just the prettiest girl ever. Even if it's not really true, but also what if she was obsessed with me? But also I feel silly now so here is my silly little day 3 fic-

“You’re staring.” Ophelia ever so slightly smudged a bit of eyeliner in the corner of her eye.

“It’s been FORTY minutes,” Kate whined. She was laying on their bed, watching Ophelia in the vanity mirror with her head in her arms.

“Well it wouldn’t have taken forty minutes if you didn’t mess it up,”

Kate pouted.

“Just because it took you two minutes to get ready doesn’t mean I can get ready so fast.”

Kate looked down at her suit and shrugged, kicking her boots in the air.

“Okaaay done,” Ophelia capped her eyeliner, examining her work.

“Finally,” Kate hopped off the bed, running a hand through her hair, and winking at Ophelia in the mirror.

Ophelia hopped out of the chair, ready to run out the door, but Kate caught her. Stepping in Ophelia’s ways she put both hands on her hips, holding her in place so she could take in the loose black dress Ophelia was wearing.

“Hey,” Kate looked down the dress, not a hint of shame in her eyes.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now,” Ophelia giggled. Kate could still make her blush with a glance. Which was a little embarrassing.

For a moment they stood there, Ophelia feeling a bit like a slab of meat.

“Kate.” She had to raise her voice to get her to respond.

“What? Yeah, right, let’s go.” Kate grabbed Ophelia’s hand, marching to the door, “Be good Lucky, I’ll bring you home a slice of pizza,”

‘Kate we really can’t keep-” Ophelia yelped, Kate had swung open the door and standing on the other side looking mildly surprised was Clint.

“Clint! Hi. What- what are you doing here?” Kate leaned a hand on the doorframe, doing her best to be casual.

Clint furrowed his brow, eyeing Ophelia. “That tracker arrow stopped a few hours ago.”

Kate’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Give me two minutes, I’ll get my stuff!” and took off, back up the stairs.

For a moment Ophelia and Clint stood there awkwardly. “You’re fancy,”

Ophelia looked down at herself, “Yes.”

There was a loud thud, making Ophelia jump. She whipped around and there was Kate, zipping up her Hawkeye jacket, balancing her bow and quiver on one arm. “Did you just jump from the loft!”

Kate smiled guiltily, her leather belt in her teeth. Suit zipped, and all her gear balanced in one arm she kissed Ophelia on the mouth and bounded out the door, waving. Clint bade his farewell and followed her.

Ophelia wrapped her arms around her stomach, watching Kate’s overexcited gait as she walked away. She took a deep breath of fresh night air, and closed the door, a smile passing her lips.

Lucky barked, lifting his head from Ophelia’s lap. Ophelia looked up from her book, the door knob turned and she hopped up, dropping the book with little care on the coffee table, running to the door. She caught Kate just as she got through the door, too nervous to jump she wrapped her arms around Kate’s neck, squeezing her tight.

“Heyyyy, sorry, we kinda got caught.”

“What? You got caught, how?”

“My fault, it’s fine. We’re out now, and I think we’ve just about got our guy. Sorry I was gone so long, and. . . missed our dinner.” Kate swallowed, realizing how ridiculous she had been. “I should have said something, at least a little. I mean imagine if the last time you saw me was when I was abandoning a date,” Kate giggled nervously, holding on a little tighter.

Ophelia shook her head in Kate’s neck and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, you’re here, and look mostly intact.”

Kate made a face, “Did you get food?”

Ophelia smiled looking rather smug, “I got your favorite pizza, all your snacks, and that one whine that doesn’t taste awful. Also,” She was barely containing her excitement when she pointed to the couch where she had strung up fairy lights and layed out as many pillows and blankets in a sort of fancy looking pillow fort in front of the tv. “See?” She beamed.

Kate was staring at her, a dopey smile spread across her lips made her look sort of drunk.

“Is it okay? I had this plan B set up, I usually have one when we go out,”

“You’re still in your dress,” Kate said.

Ophelia nodded, “Well, technically I changed last night but, I am.” She fiddled with her fingers a moment, her cheeks turning red, “You look tired, I don’t want to make you, it’s fine if you just want to go to bed, really. We can do this tomorrow night, I just wanted to do something for you.”

“This is so cool,” Kate kissed Ophelia’s cheek, “I’m gonna take a shower so I don’t smell like a dead raccoon, I’ll be fifteen minutes,” she kissed Ophelia’s cheek again, “You’re the coolest,” and ran up stairs, tossing her bow on the table,

“A princess does not place her weapons on the table.” Ophelia did her best impression of a bad Scottish accent.

“Muuuum, it’s just my Booow,” Kate whined as she disappeared into the loft.

Ophelia giggled, and sat down in their little nest, queuing Kate’s favorite film as Lucky settled down next to her.

[squipedmew]

well, since i was at it, I decided to make Vacuo designs for team JNR as well! (Link to my team RWBY designs)

 Here’s some more in depth stuff:

- Jaune, honey, PLEASE pick a consistent aesthetic. I have no idea whether you’re trying to be classic knight, average white boy, or steampunk. Nevertheless, I tried to combine all of those into an outfit. 

- The shoes he’s wearing are sand boots, based off of the sandboots from breath of the wild. (a good chunk of this design is based off of link from botw actually) 

- His cloak is designed to help him shield himself from the sun and sandstorms, but it’s very thin, so as to keep him cool. 

- I’d imagine the bags on his two belts hold those funny little shield grenades in them that he throws during v8 a ton. 

- Other then that, I didn’t feel the need to modify his Atlas design all that much, it’s actually one of my favorites. 

- Nora my beloved! First off, I wanted to keep the bright colors of her Atlas arc outfit, rather than the more muted greys and navies of her Vale and Mistral ones, as well as incorporate the heart symbols back into her outfit. 

- Nora isn’t scared to show off her scars, wearing them as a source of pride. As such, she opted not to wear leggings or anything like that. I did give her legwarmers, mostly because they looked cute. 

- Her jacket is actually fairly puffy, and I’d imagine the collar actually goes up pretty high when it’s zipped up. 

- I also wanted to incorporate the silver in, while keeping it an accent color, so I opted to make only her belt buckle and cuffs around her arms silver, and leave it at that. 

- Gotta say, Ren is actually really hard to design for. His fashion is this strange niche of classic Ninja, street style fashion, casual wear, and warrior fit. It was a lot of fun!

- Ren didn’t want to cut his hair, instead styling it up sort of like his father. He also has his father’s knife strapped around his leg as both a memento and an emergency measure. 

- His legs have some slits cut into the sides for ventilation, and his shoes have silver armor on them to match Nora’s, and to make his landings easier, since he already fights close to the ground anyways. 

- I also added in the pop of pink under his shirt and half sleeves, because I thought it looked cool. 

BONUS: Re-RE-designed Vacuo Weiss!

So this here was the old Vacuo Weiss design, and on further scrutiny, I really don’t like it. The colors are kinda ugly, there’s too much happening on the top with the weird silver and red shoulder pads, and don’t even get me started on the tights. And more then anything, it doesn’t really feel like Weiss. So here’s Weiss’s Vacuo outfit, mark 2!

- I wanted the design to have a lot of white in it, which my first one didn’t, and while I considered putting her hair down like in the first, it really ruined Weiss’s silhouette, so I kept it the way it was. 

- I opted not for sheer leggings this time, since she doesn’t have any in her Atlas design anyways, but tried to make it so her white boots didn’t blend in so much. 

- The original design had WAAAAY too much red in it. Red’s always been an accent color for Weiss, so having it feature prominently kinda ruins it. So I scaled it back a ton, just using it for her earrings, necklace, and boot accents. 

- Her dress is embroidered, as a callback to her Vale design, and the dress has some sheer fabric laced onto it, both for heat reasons and also as fashion. Weiss opted to go shoulder less as opposed to her usual tight crop jacket to try and beat the heat, as well as being a reference to Winter’s Vale design. 

[strawbszz]

i just made up a little fluff fanfic-

the 2 main characters names are Frank Smith (not frank iero- this has nothing to do with mcr i just made this up in my head) and Gia Jones. 2 lovers who met in Boston in school in 10th grade. (also if it has some misspelling i’m dyslexic so it will have some problems-) (ALSO THE TIMELINE IS 2001-2005 so characters will use flip phones, and iPods not iPhones and that stuff) (also i did fail english so thats why sometimes it may not make sense-)

Genre: Romance/fluff (fluff definition if you dont know: Fluff is often used in fandom to characterize any pleasant, feel-good work. It is sometimes described as the opposite of angst. Fluff may lack plot; however, unlike a PWP the focus is not sex, but displays of affection between two or more characters, whether their relationship is romantic or not.) 

word count: 3,282

Chapter count: 3

Frank was laying on his bed staring at the ceiling. doing nothing. his phone goes off. he grabs his phone to see that Gia texted him. he sits up and checks the text. 

“hey Frank! good morning. what you up to?” “nothing. just laying down trying to wake up.” 

Frank is half awake, extremely tired from staying up all night.

 “i stayed up all night watching a movie.” “of course you did you night owl. what were you watching??” “i was just rewatching the IT movie because i got bored.” “i never knew you were such a horror movie fan??” “yeah i especially like the IT movies, they are scary but funny at the same time!” “i have to go now, i got work! bye Frankie!!” “lol bye G.”

Frank gets up and goes downstairs to make some coffee. he sees his roommate Toby chilling on the couch watching tv.

“hey mornin’ Frank! glad to see you’re awake!” Toby chuckles. “well good morning to you too, Toby.” Frank sighs. Frank sits next to Toby with a steaming cup of coffee.

“what we watching today, Toby..?” “just some football.” “ah..” Frank says unamused. 

Frank spills some coffee on his shirt “crap- DANG IT I WANTED TO WEAR THIS SHIRT!!” Toby laughs “SHUSH TOBY!!!” 

Frank goes up to his room and changes his shirt to a reddish blueish black stripe sweater. “really- some coffee got on my jeans..” he says unamused. Frank grabs some jeans with a basic black belt. 

Frank thinks to himself while staring at himself in the mirror “i wonder how Gia is doing..??” 

he grabs his flip phone. you hear the rattling from his charm that Gia got him around a year and a half ago. he starts to text her.

“hey Gia! you still at work?” “hey Frank! no i’m on my lunch break! what are you doing?” 

“i’m just chilling in my room i had to change my outfit because i spilt coffee on it..” “haha of course you did. i remember you did that in class back in 11th grade!” don’t remind me of that Gia.” 

“your silly. oh! my lunch break is over! i have to go! bye Frankie!!!” “bye Gia!”

i love Gia so much. she makes my day so much better when i get to chat with her. i do miss her.

 i kinda don’t remember how she looks now. she told me a week ago that she dyed her hair black! i also dyed my hair black with red tips! 

someone knocks on Franks door. “who is it?” “its just me, hey do you want to get some lunch?? i know you’ve been feeling down but we should go down to that coffee shop and get some food there!” 

“eh.. i’m not feeling that hungry..” “you sure?? you haven’t eaten any food today, you only drank half of your coffee.” 

“i just need to lay down for like 5 minutes.” “okay! Well meet me downstairs when you’re ready!” “okay..” 

he just lays there scrambling in thoughts.  

“what if Gia does not love me anymore.. what if she does not want to see me anymore.. maybe thats why she moved away from Boston to Jersey! wait no no.. am i a bad friend...?” 

a knock comes from Frank’s door. “Frank!! come on! its been 10 minutes!! we need to go eat!!!!” Frank sighs “fine, we can go now.” “sweet!”

Frank grabs his black dirty converse and puts them on. he grabs his dark green zip up hoodie and goes downstairs.

“hey, Toby you probably will need a jacket or hoodie it’s pretty cold outside.” “oh, right.. thanks Frank!” 

Frank and Toby walk outside, Frank looks at the orangey yellowish red leaves falling from the trees. Stepping on the gravel has a nice sound to Frankie. Frank’s favorite seasons is fall and winter, he hates hot weather because it makes him sweaty and gross feeling and he does not have cool clothes for hot weathers.

They get in the car and drive to the coffee shop. “ooh!! i can smell the coffee from here Toby!!!” Frank says in a excited voice. “okay okay.. calm down Frank.” Toby laughs.

“Hi! what can i get you two??” “hi ma’am, i’ll get a BLT and a diet coke.” “okay! and what would you like sir?” “psst!! Frank- the lady asked you what you want!!” Toby whispers to Frank. “i-uhm.. i- i’ll get a croissant and a coffee!” “okay! your drinks will be on the way!” “thanks!”

 Toby smiles at the nice lady. “Frank!! what was that?!” Toby Whispers to Frank. “sorry Toby, i didn’t hear her, i was listening to music on my iPod.” “well next time we order you HAVE to have your headphones out.” “fine fine..” 

“when do you get to see Gia??” “i-uhm.. i don’t know yet..” “oh.. okay” 

“heres your drinks and food! be careful sir this coffee is hot!” she smiles. “thanks ma’am!” they eat there food and drink there drinks.

time has passed and Frank got a text from Gia. Frank smiles in excitement.

“hey Frankie! guess what!” “what?” “i’m moving back to Boston!!” “REALLY?!” “yeah!! maybe we can meet somewhere for dinner to hangout?” “yeah!! i’ll text you where we should go! when are you moving down here??” “Tomorrow!” “oh nice!! i’ll see you then!! bye!” “bye Frankie!!”

Toby snaps his fingers at Frank. “hello! earth to Frankie!!!” “shit man- you scared me! i was just texting Gia!!” “of course you were. what were you chatting about??” Toby Smiles. “she’s moving back down to Boston tomorrow!!” “oh! sweet! i haven’t met her yet!” “yeah she’s really nice! i haven’t seen her in 2 years!! she said she dyed her hair black!” “oh cool, and i guess she hasn’t see your new hair??”

 “yeah! uhm.. what time is it??” “10:36pm.” “well, i should get some sleep.” “yeah, same. goodnight Frank!” “night.”

Frank walks upstairs to his room. he opens his closet and changes into his pajamas. he grabs a dvd of harry potter and puts it in the dvd player and turns on the tv. Frank gets in his bed and presses play on the remote.

“o..kay.. time to watch some harry potter!” 1 hour and a half later Frank’s phone rings. its Gia!! he grabs his phone and clicks answer.

“h-hello??” “hey! Frankie! i just moved in and some of my furniture hasn’t came it yet- can i stay over at your house??” “u-uhhm sure.. sorry you just woke my up..” “sorry i woke you up” Gia giggles. “its okay my address is-” “okay! thanks I will be there in 20 minutes!!” “okay bye..!” “bye Frankie!!” 

Frankie gets out of his bed in excitement and goes downstairs to the little door in the stairs and grabs a deflated air mattress and air pump. he goes upstairs and Toby opens his door to see Frank going to his room.

“h-huh..? w-what are you doing Frank..??” Toby says half awake. “Gia just moved in and she needed some where to sleep because her furniture has not came in yet!” “oh- uhh.. okay.. i’m going back to bed.. night Frank.” “goodnight!”

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

CHAPTER 2!!!! yes i am doing chapters! i thought this was gonna be a one shot but i’m doing chapters! idk how many yet but this is chapter 2!!

Gia’s pov: she opens the door to her house “woah! it’s spacious in here!!” she sets her luggage down and turns on the lights. “right.. the moving truck is coming in 2 days..”

 she grabs her flip phone and calls Frank. “h-hello??” “hey! Frankie! i just moved in and some of my furniture hasn’t came it yet- can i stay over at your house??” “u-uhhm sure.. sorry you just woke my up..” “sorry i woke you up” Gia giggles. “its okay my address is-” “okay! thanks I will be there in 20 minutes!!” “okay bye..!” “bye Frankie!!”

 she gets in her car and drives to Frank’s house and gets out of her car.

 she walks up to his house and rings the door bell. Frank answers in excitement “Hi Gia!!!” Frankie has a big smile. “hey Frank!!!” they share a hug. Gia can feel that Frank is jittery from 2 cups of coffee that day. “aw! i missed you!” “same here!!!” she looks at Frank’s black hair with red tips. “ooh!! you dyed your hair!!” “same with you!! i love yours!” “thanks!!” “you’re still short like i remember!” she giggles. “and you’re still tall.. maybe a little bit taller by an inch..” (there height difference is Gia’s 5′7 and Frank’s 5′5 btw) “well come in Gia!” Gia walks in and sees the living room. “ooh! nice house!” Frank grabs her by the hand and runs upstairs to his room. “let me show you were your gonna be staying!!” “i-uhh- okay!!” Gia’s caught off guard. “well it is my room because my roommate Toby is next door in that other room but theres your air mattress!!” “nice!” Gia looks around. “yeah.. i got dvds for movies, cds for music, books. and yeah!” “oh sweet! well i really tired..” “okay, want an extra blanket?” “oh sure!” “okay well goodnight!” Frank smiles. “night Frankie”

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

Frank’s pov: i wake up to see Gia laying there. So peaceful. So pretty. I just want to kiss her right now. RIGHT! time to get up! Frank hops out of bed trying not to step on Gia and walks downstairs and brews some coffee for him and Gia. Toby walks downstairs to see Frank making some coffee.

“uhh.. morning Frank.” Frank gets spooked a little bit. “JEEZ TOBY!! DON’T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!!” Toby giggles. “sorry- hey uh- who’s that girl sleeping in you’re room on an air mattress..?” “oh! thats Gia! sorry that i could not introduce her to you- she came here at like 2am-” “ah, okay.” 

Gia comes downstairs wearing not many clothes only like a loose t shirt, and nike shorts. Her makeup was smudged. She looked so cute. 

“h-hey! morning G!” Frank smiles and goes over to her and hugs her. “h-hello to you too clingy..” Gia giggles and hugs Frank back. “you doing okay, G?” “y-yeah..! I smell coffee!” Gia smirks at Frank. Frank sighs. “kay, i’ll get you a cup of coffee.” Frank grabs a mug and fills it with some hot coffee. “here you are m’lady.” Frank giggles while handing her the mug of coffee. “thanks you dork” Gia smirks at Frank. Frank grabs himself a mug and fills it with coffee and sits next to Gia.

“so.. what do you wanna do today??” Frank puts his arm slightly around Gia. “hmm.. lets go get lunch later! you pick the place!” “okay!” Frank takes his arm away from her shoulder. he puts his hands in his lap and sits there in silence. “you okay, Frankie..? Got something on your mind..?” “u-uhmm..i know that we haven’t seen each other and i just wanted to ask if its okay if i can..kiss you..?” “i-uhhm.. sure! i-i mean its okay you can if you want. i don’t mind!” “u-uhhmm... okay..!” they both share a soft kiss. “y-you’re really pretty..” “shh.. dork” Gia smiles at frank wrapping her arm around his shoulder and cuddling him. “you’re warm..” Gia smiles as a response. “i love you Frankie..! you’re so sweet.” Gia kisses Frank on the head. 

they just chill on the couch with their half cold coffees and watching boring tv. 

Toby sighs. “i’m going to work you two. i’ll be back at 7:30pm.” “kay.. bye!” 

Frank fell asleep on Gia. Gia grabs from her pocket her iPod and puts her headphones in and turns on some music. Gia checks the time on her flip phone. its 11:23pm. 

Gia rubs Frank’s shoulder. “hey.. wake up sleepy head..” Frank wakes up. he looks very soft and cute. “h-huh.. hey..” “we should get going to lunch! i’ll let you wake up while i get dressed. you need to get dressed too.” “right..! hold on.. it will take me a minute to get up..” “okay! i’ll be upstairs!” “kay..!”

Gia runs upstairs to get ready. Frank sits there for a while to wake up and rubs his eyes and gets up. he walks upstairs. he sees Gia in the bathroom with the door open putting on makeup.

Frank goes behind Gia and raps his arms around her waist to hug her.

“hey my little Cuddle Bug.” Gia smiles and puts her hand on his hands. “i love you...!” “love you too Love Muffin.” Frank has always loved Gia’s little nicknames she gives him. it makes Frank feel safe and happy. “kay.. i gotta get in some real clothes!” “okay!” Gia giggles. 

Frank walks to his room and grabs some baggy cargo pants, a shirt with flowers, and a black hoodie. he grabs his hight-top converse and puts them on.

Gia walks into the doorway. “hey! how do i look?” Gia is wearing black skinny jeans, a nirvana shirt, and a dark green zip-up with black high-top converse. “you look good! ready to go??” “mhm.” “kay! lets go!” Frank smiles.

they go outside to the car and get in and drive to the restaurant. they arrive to the local coffee shop. 

“ooh! this place looks nice!” Gia smiles. “yeah! me and Toby go here sometimes.” 

they go inside and sit down. 

“so hows your day Love..?” Gia grabs his hands to hold hands on the table. “u-uhhmm..” Frank is very flustered right now. “i-it’s good..!” “thats good!” Gia smiles at Frank. Frank is beat red right now. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Gia rubs his hand with her thumb. “i love you Frankie..” “i love you too..!” 

Gia takes her hands away from his when she sees the waitress coming their way. 

“hello! what can i get you two??” “uh.. i’ll get a grilled cheese with a coke..!” “okay! and what can i get you ma’am??” “i’ll get the BLT, with a water.” “okay! your food and drinks will be here soon!” 

Frank and Gia put there feet on each other and just sit there in silence for a second. “wanna go cuddle when we go home Love??” “mhm..!” 

they get there food and drinks and eat and then they pay. they are walking to the car while holding hands.

“you’re my favorite person.” “really...?” Frank sounded kinda surprised. “mhm!” 

they drive home and go upstairs to go lay down. Gia sits on the bed and lays down. them Frank lays on her and they cuddle for a while.

 Frank falls asleep. Gia gets up and puts the covers over Frank’s small thin body. 

she walks downstairs and grabs a soda and walks upstairs to lay back down.

 she sees Frank laying there sobbing a little bit. 

“baby! are you okay??” Gia grabs Frank and cuddles him on the floor. Frank just lays there sobbing a lot now and can’t even get a word out. “baby.. please tell me what happened!..” Frank can’t really get a word out but mumbles “m-my..”

~~~~~~~~TRIGGER WARNING: DE@TH~~~~~~~~~

(Chapter 3)

“m-my dad called me a-and said.. m-my mom is.. dead..” Gia hugs him tightly and tears up a little. “oh my god.. baby.. i’m so sorry..!” “i-it’s not you’re fault, G..” they cuddle there for a sec. “here.. let me go make you some tea, baby..” “mhm..”

Frank sits there in disbelief that his mother is gone now.. he gets up to go to the bathroom and wipes his tears up with a tissue. Gia comes upstairs with some hot tea and sits it on Frank’s nightstand. she goes to hug Frankie from behind. 

“i made your tea, Love.” “thank you Gia..” Gia kisses his shoulder and goes to sit down on his bed. Frank goes and grabs his tea and sips it. 

“mmm..! it’s good..!” Gia smiles at Frank. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 3 months later ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(month: may)

they both go visit Frank’s mother’s grave with flowers in hand. Frank just stares at his mother’s grave for a moment holding back the tears and sits the flowers in front of his mother’s grave and walks over to Gia and they go to the car.

 they just drive home in silence. 

Frank grabs Gia’s iPod from her grove box and turns on some music that you can hear from the headphones. Gia hears the faint sound from the iPod of some nirvana. Gia puts her hand on Frank’s leg and rubs it for a sec before Frank looks at her. 

“what do you want?” Frank sound Irritated at Gia. “nothing! just loving on you.”

 Frank moves his leg and Gia’s hand falls to the seat. Frank holding back the tears and pressing himself against the car door not wanting to talk with Gia at the moment.

“d-did i do something wrong..?” Gia sounds worried. Frank just stays silent for the rest of the drive home.

they get home and Frank gets out of the car immediately and slams the car door shut and stomps into the house while slamming doors. 

Toby looks worried. “y-you okay Frank?-” Frank cuts off Toby. “NOT NOW TOBY!” he yells. Frank stomps upstairs and slams the door. he lays in bed sobbing hard.

Gia walks in the house with a concerned look on her face. “i-is Frank okay, G..?” “i don’t know right now.. i think he’s made at me..” “oh..” Toby mumbles.

Gia goes upstairs and knocks on the door. “Frank? you okay..??” she tries to open the door but it’s locked. “Frank please open the door..” Gia tears up and gets really worried about Frank. 

she starts knocking really hard on the door. “FRANK! OPEN THIS DOOR!!!” she hears Frank sobbing on the other side of the door. “p-please don’t h-hurt me..” 

Gia unlocks the door and busts in to see Frank bawling on the floor. “Frankie!” Gia grabs Frank and hugs his tightly. “did i do something wrong..?” “i-i don’t know..” “I’m sorry if I did..” “mm..” Frank snuggles up to Gia and lays there for a bit while they listen to some music.

Frank is really tired from that crazy day and is still shaking like a child that had coffee for the first time.

“Here.. let’s go to bed Hun..” “mhm..” Gia lays Frank in bed and she gets in bed with him and they fall asleep.

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

Frank wakes up to Gia half way on him being a big spoon. Frank can’t really get up and get coffee or grab his iPod.

“Gia.. can you get off my me..” “mmhhhmm..”

Gia won’t budge. She’s half awake. She has her arm draped over Frank and her leg over his where he is pinned down to the bed.

“Gia.. please get off..” “mmmhhhhmn..” “I need to make coffee babe..” “fineee..”

She gets off of Frank and lays on her back sweating from all the blankets.

Frank puts on some sweat pants so Toby does not see him in his underwear, and walks downstairs.

“Morning Frank.” “Hey Toby.”

Frank is brewing some coffee for him and Gia.

“How’s you and your girl? She gonna live here now or something?” “I.. don’t know yet..” “well if she does she gotta pay rent too.” “I’ll make sure if she does live here.. hey and.. remember to keep it down next time..” “I- uhh- okay.. sorry.”

Frank was embarrassed from what Toby said to him.

Frank grabs 2 mugs and fills them up and brings them upstairs.

“Hey.. I made us coffee if you wanna wake up and not lay there.” “Mmhhhmh.. okay..”

Gia turns over to grab her coffee cup and sits up. She takes a sip from her coffee.

“Mmm.. thanks..” “and uh.. Toby said to keep you it down next time..”

Frank’s face is red from embarrassment.

“O-oh.. uh okay..” “yeah..”

They sit there in silence for a minute.

“Hey.. I’m sorry if that was embarrassing or anything like that!” “No no, your fine!!” “Okay..”

“Hey! Wanna go on a picnic by that lake?” “Sure! I’d love too Frank!” “Okay!”

They get up and grab clothes and go in separate rooms (bathroom and bedroom) and get dressed.

They go downstairs together.

“Hey Toby! We are gonna be gone for a while!” “Kay bye you two!”

They walk to the coffee shop and order to-go sandwiches and go to the lake.

“Okay! We are here!” “Ooo! It looks pretty here!!” “Yep! Here, let’s eat our sandwiches!”

They sit down on the slightly damp grass and eat there sandwiches.

“I love you, Frank!” “Love you too, Gia.”

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

OMGG YESS IM FINISHED WITH IT YAY!! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :D

[hockeysweetheart]

 Okay So This will Be The kisses ( and Talking about it) With Peeta   iOkay I’ll add the Grand total of Kisses here.....  

17 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games  

9 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire 

3 In Mockingjay  ( and Some)  

And I am gonna be super petty Here How many times Did she kiss Gale 5 ONLY 5 TIMES.  ( I had to give him credit with the Kissing her on the cheek) 

 Here is a sort form of the Kisses. 

The Hunger Games 

1. on the cheek when Katniss said two can play at this game 

( These next ones are in the Cave or the Games) 

2. The second Kiss was to shut him up from saying I’m gonna die ( Yes the famous one Haymitch is like come on give me something to work with here) 

3. The third one was in the cave waking Peeta up 

4. The fourth one Katniss said it took a lot Including Kissing to get Peeta to Finish the Broth  ( So guessing more then one Kiss in here but I’ll count only one) 

5.  Peeta Kissed Katniss’s hand. And Katniss is like No more kisses until you eat.

6. So Katniss just Drugged Peeta and Says I wonder how Gale is taking these kisses 2 Seconds later she Kisses Peeta goodbye . In case she doesn’t return. 

7.  Katniss just wants the Games to End and they  Share a kiss.

8 The Kiss  This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.

9. This Kiss Happened After the one that made her wanting more. 

10. This Kiss counts because yes their lips did touch. But its right after Peeta tells the story of him being in love with her forever since Kindergarten then that Kiss is ruined by the food arriving.

11. Katniss is thinking about Gale and kinda moves around in the freaking Sleeping Bag and wakes up Peeta which resolves in a long kiss. 

12.  They Kiss again before leaving the cave to go hunt for Food. 

13. Katniss is kinda being mean to Peeta kinda throwing the Romance out the window but then Realizes this Kisses Peeta and is like okay we can do  what you want��

14.  So this one Katniss kisses Peeta on the forhead because she is happy that she doesn’t have to face Cato Alone 

15.  This one is when they Both said listen  if we both Can’t win we both will die so Peeta gave Katniss a slow kiss. 

16. This Kiss Happened After the games when they reunite again at the  rewatch of the games 

17. During the Final interveiw they share a kiss.

Catching Fire

1. Their First Kiss is for the Cameras.  and Peeta is like I almost thought that kiss was real 

2. They kiss again After Peeta says he will give half of his winnings to District 11 fallen tributes 

3. They kiss a lot on the victory tour.  

4. After Katniss comes Back to her House after being in the woods when they are really forbidden.  She comes back to peacekeepers in her house and with no proof she was in the woods shes safe but she is injured.  And they Share a kiss in front of Everyone when she is making up this lie. 

5.Before the Games Peeta gives Katniss a kiss  ( After they spent the night together and says see you soon)

6. After Peeta is rescued by Finnick He gives Katniss a kiss we got allies 

7.  The Beach scene kiss ( We all know that one) 

8. Peeta Kisses Katniss after he said your gonna be a great mother 

9. The I’ll see you at midnight kiss. The last sane kiss of Peeta before hes taken in by the freaking Capitol

Mockingjay ( Since Peeta And Katniss are A part for half the book and Peeta is trying to kill Katniss they don’t  have as many kisses). 

1. This one I had to add becuase well yeah, When shes rubbing her lips on the pearl it’s like a cool kiss from the giver himself 

2. This kiss was when Peeta was going mad and then Katniss just kissed him thinking that might work which it did because she didn’t want to loose him again 

3. The growing back together kiss ( and some)  

A Grand total of 29 Kisses in the books Series by these two 

Now Bonus ones 

1. Catching Fire  After Peeta’s heart was restarted Katniss Kissed him this was not in the books.   

so grand total is 30 kisses  on all platforms the books and the movies. 

  So since Below is so Long I was feeling real petty and Decited to add Gales Kisses in here too 

1. The surprise Kiss  From Gale That snow knew about 

2. The Kiss after Gale got whipped and hes Basically sleeping

3. They kiss  in Mockingjay when Gale is like you kissed me here I’d have to be dead to forget that 

4. This Kiss Peeta is saved yet Hijacked and Basically Katniss has written off  and They Kiss and then Gale Ruins it

5. After  Leaving the awkward dinner Gale Kisses  Katniss on the Cheek 

Bonus ones 

Catching Fire Movie when they Kiss goodbye when Katniss is going back into the arena, 

So their grand total is 6... 

In the Hunger Games  ( Book) 

Chapter 5   But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.

Chapter 19, 

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back  - " he begins. "Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," I say. "I know. But just in case I don't  - " he tries to continue. "No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," I say, placing my fingers on his lips to quiet him. "But I  - " he insists. Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. This is probably overdue anyway since he's right, we are supposed to be madly in love. It's the first time I've ever kissed a boy, which should make some sort of impression I guess, but all I can register is how unnaturally hot his lips are from the fever. I break away and pull the edge of the sleeping bag up around him. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

A little Later on Chapter 19 

Haymitch couldn't be sending me a clearer message. One kiss equals one pot of broth. I can almost hear his snarl. "You're supposed to be in love, sweetheart. The boy's dying. Give me something I can work with!" And he's right. If I want to keep Peeta alive, I've got to give the audience something more to care about. Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance. Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died. "Peeta!" I say, trying for the special tone that my mother used only with my father. He's dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He's great at this stuff.

Chapter 20. 

Getting the broth into Peeta takes an hour of coaxing, begging, threatening, and yes, kissing, but finally, sip by sip, he empties the pot. I let him drift off to sleep then and attend to my own needs, wolfing down a supper of groosling and roots while I watch the daily report in the sky. No new casualties. Still, Peeta and I have given the audience a fairly interesting day. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow us a peaceful night.

Oh, right, the whole romance thing. I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. Surely not from his father and the witch.  ( Okay) Just in case why This part is isn here He Kissed her hand,  “No more kisses for you until you’ve eaten,” I say.

Chapter 21 ( Because I am being petty I added an extra bit) 

And Gale. I know him. He won’t be shouting and cheering. But he’ll be watching, every moment, every twist and turn, and willing me to come home. I wonder if he’s hoping that Peeta makes it as well. Gale’s not my boyfriend, but would he be, if I opened that door? He talked about us running away together. Was that just a practical calculation of our chances of survival away from the district? Or something more? I wonder what he makes of all this kissing. Through a crack in the rocks, I watch the moon cross the sky. At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn, I begin final preparations. I’m careful to leave Peeta with water and the medical kit right beside him. Nothing else will be of much use if I don’t return, and even these would only prolong his life a short time. After some debate, I strip him of his jacket and zip it on over my own. He doesn’t need it. Not now in the sleeping bag with his fever, and during the day, if I’m not there to remove it, he’ll be roasting in it. My hands are already stiff from cold, so I take Rue’s spare pair of socks, cut holes for my fingers and thumbs, and pull them on. It helps anyway. I fill her small pack with some food, a water bottle, and bandages, tuck the knife in my belt, get my bow and arrows. I’m about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star-crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. Then I squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night.

Chapter 22

  I give him another answer, because it is equally true but can be taken as a brief moment of weakness instead of a terminal one. "I want to go home, Peeta," I say plaintively, like a small child. "You will. I promise," he says, and bends over to give me a kiss. 

Chapter 22 ( The Kiss) 

I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread. “If what, Katniss?” he says softly. I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine. “Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me. This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted. “I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

Chapter 22   ( Okay I had too add in this whole freaking part in) 

"Peeta," I say lightly. "You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" "Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair. it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up," Peeta says. "Your father? Why?" I ask. "He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" Peeta says. "What? You're making that up!" I exclaim. "No, true story," Peeta says. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings. even the birds stop to listen.'" "That's true. They do. I mean, they did," I say. I'm stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it's a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me too much of my father. "So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," Peeta says. "Oh, please," I say, laughing. "No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew  -  just like your mother  -  I was a goner," Peeta says. "Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you." "Without success," I add. "Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," says Peeta. For a moment, I'm almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta's story has a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I did sing the first day of school, although I don't remember the song. And that red plaid dress. there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father's death. It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So, if those details are true. could it all be true? "You have a. remarkable memory," I say haltingly. "I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention." "I am now," I say. "Well, I don't have much competition here," he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can't. It's as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, "Say it! Say it!" I swallow hard and get the words out. "You don't have much competition anywhere." And this time, it's me who leans in. Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside makes us jump. My bow comes up, the arrow ready to fly, but there's no other sound. Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop. Before I can stop him, lie's out in the rain, then handing something in to me. A silver parachute attached to a basket. I rip it open at once and inside there's a feast  -  fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, and best of all, a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer.  

Chapter 23 

The sun eventually rises, its light slipping through the cracks and illuminating Peeta’s face. Who will he transform into if we make it home? This perplexing, good-natured boy who can spin out lies so convincingly the whole of Panem believes him to be hopelessly in love with me, and I’ll admit it, there are moments when he makes me believe it myself? At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. Anything beyond that though. and I feel Gale’s gray eyes watching me watching Peeta, all the way from District 12. Discomfort causes me to move. I scoot over and shake Peeta’s shoulder. His eyes open sleepily and when they focus on me, he pulls me down for a long kiss.

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

Chapter 24

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

By the time we reach our destination, our feet are dragging and the sun sits low on the horizon. We fill up our water bottles and climb the little slope to our den. It’s not much, but out here in the wilderness, it’s the closest thing we have to a home. It will be warmer than a tree, too, because it provides some shelter from the wind that has begun to blow steadily in from the west. I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. So glad that I don’t have to face Cato alone.  

Chapter 26. 

My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you." "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says.

Chapter 27

Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. Then there’s Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms. He staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that’s when I realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane. He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me and all the time I’m thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we’re in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. The audience goes berserk. Whether he knows or not, Peeta is, as usual, playing the crowd exactly right

Finally, Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good-natured shove toward the victor’s chair. Usually, this is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there are two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a plush red velvet couch. A small one, my mother would call it a love seat, I think. I sit so close to Peeta that I’m practically on his lap, but one look from Haymitch tells me it isn’t enough. Kicking off my sandals, I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peeta’s shoulder. His arm goes around me automatically, and I feel like I’m back in the cave, curled up against him, trying to keep warm. His shirt is made of the same yellow material as my dress, but Portia’s put him in long black pants. No sandals, either, but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted on the stage. I wish Cinna had given me a similar outfit, I feel so vulnerable in this flimsy dress. But I guess that was the point.

Chapter 27. 

Things pick up for me once they’ve announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta’s name and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I’ve seemed indifferent to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine, and being very free with my kisses. Objectively, I can see the mutts and Cato’s death are as gruesome as ever, but again, I feel it happens to people I have never met. And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta’s name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it’s my best moment all night.

Behind a cameraman, I see Haymitch give a sort of huff with relief and I know I’ve said the right thing. Caesar pulls out a handkerchief and has to take a moment because he’s so moved. I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

I turn in to him. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh.  

Chapter 27 ( Peeta finds out the truth) ( Okay No Kisses in this part but  This part honestly Just says so much)

When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There’s no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can’t know that the pink-and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I’ve spent gathering them with Gale.

Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.” I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta’s eyes. “What’s he mean?” Peeta asks me. “It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” I blurt out. “What? What are you talking about?” he says. “It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” I say. “Coaching you? But not me,” says Peeta. “He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” I say. “I didn’t know there was anything to get right,” says Peeta. “So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess. back in the arena. that was just some strategy you two worked out.” “No. I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?” I stammer. “But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” says Peeta. I bite my lip. “Katniss?” He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. “It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding onto my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming. “Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.

I know my ears are healed because, even with the rumble of the engine, I can hear every step he takes back to the train. By the time I’ve climbed aboard, Peeta has disappiared into his room for the night. I don’t see him the next morning, either. In fact, the next time he turns up, we’re pulling into District 12. He gives me a nod, his face expressionless. I want to tell him that he’s not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can’t explain how things are with Gale because I don’t know myself. That it’s no good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn’t be fair on my part. So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform’s thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

Catching fire 

Chapter 3

My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta’s direction. Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips - he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg - and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way. 

Chapter 4

Favourite colour

After a while I hear footsteps behind me. It’ll be Haymitch, coming to chew me out. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, but I still don’t want to hear it. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” I warn the clump of weeds by my shoes. “I’ll try to keep it brief.” Peeta takes a seat beside me. “I thought you were Haymitch,” I say. “No, he’s still working on that muffin.” I watch as Peeta positions his artificial leg. “Bad day, huh?” “It’s nothing,” I say. He takes a deep breath. “Look, Katniss, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn’t fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I’m sorry.” His apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Games was something of an act. But I don’t hold that against him. In the arena, I’d played that romance angle for all it was worth. There had been times when I didn’t honestly know how I felt about him. I still don’t, really. “I’m sorry, too,” I say. I’m not sure for what exactly. Maybe because there’s a real chance I’m about to destroy him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don’t want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there’s a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends,” he says. All my friends are probably going to end up dead, but refusing Peeta wouldn’t keep him safe. “Okay,” I say. His offer does make me feel better. Less duplicitous somehow. It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. “So what’s wrong?” he asks. I can’t tell him. I pick at the clump of weeds. “Let’s start with something more basic. Isn’t it strange that I know you’d risk your life to save mine … but I don’t know what your favorite color is?” he says. A smile creeps onto my lips. “Green. What’s yours?” “Orange,” he says. “Orange? Like Effie’s hair?” I say. “A bit more muted,” he says. “More like … sunset.” Sunset. I can see it immediately, the rim of the descending sun, the sky streaked with soft shades of orange. Beautiful. I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. “You know, everyone’s always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven’t seen them,” I say. “Well, I’ve got a whole train car full.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Come on.” It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

Chapter 4

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift … it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all.

Chapter 5

We descend the steps and are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it’s the same. Wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds. Listen to a speech in our honor. Give a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol gave us, never any personal additions now. Sometimes a brief tour: a glimpse of the sea in one district, towering forests in another, ugly factories, fields of wheat, stinking refineries. Dress in evening clothes. Attend dinner. Train. During ceremonies, we are solemn and respectful but always linked together, by our hands, our arms. At dinners, we are borderline delirious in our love for each other. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone. On the train, we are quietly miserable as we try to assess what effect we might be having.

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment. Nothing else happens, but our arrangement quickly becomes a subject of gossip on the train.

Chapter 6 On the way home

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. I turn, being careful not to disturb him, but he’s already awake. “No nightmares,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. “I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” “Well, you slept like you were happy,” he says. “Peeta, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare?” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.”

Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it’s like being hit in the gut. He’s only answering my question honestly. He’s not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I’ve been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don’t know. I only know that for the first time, I feel immoral about him being here in my bed. Which is ironic since we’re officially engaged now. “Be worse when we’re home and I’m sleeping alone again,” he says. That’s right, we’re almost home. 

 Chapter 9     I am being petty yes for this Part...

“I’ve heard worse,” she says . “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it’s been packed in snow coat. Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can’t think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. “He went home when we heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. “Did he get back all right?” I ask. In a blizzard, you can get lost in a matter of yards and wander off course into oblivion. “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. 

Chaper 11  Katniss comes home to a surprise I freaking love this part

By the time I reach my house, my left heel will bear no weight at all. I decide to tell my mother I was trying to mend a leak in the roof of our old house and slid off. As for the missing food, I’ll just be vague about who I handed it out to. I drag myself in the door, all ready to collapse in front of the fire. But instead I get another shock. Two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, are standing in the doorway to our kitchen. The woman remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of surprise on the man’s face. I am unanticipated. They know I was in the woods and should be trapped there now. “Hello,” I say in a neutral voice. My mother appears behind them, but keeps her distance. “Here she is, just in time for dinner,” she says a little too brightly. I’m very late for dinner. I consider removing my boots as I normally would but doubt I can manage it without revealing my injuries. Instead I just pull off my wet hood and shake the snow from my hair. “Can I help you with something?” I ask the Peacekeepers. “Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you,” says the woman. “They’ve been waiting for hours,” my mother adds. They’ve been waiting for me to fail to return. To confirm I got electrocuted by the fence or trapped in the woods so they could take my family in for questioning. “Must be an important message,” I say. “May we ask where you’ve been, Miss Everdeen?” the woman asks. “Easier to ask where I haven’t been,” I say with a sound of exasperation. I cross into the kitchen, forcing myself to use my foot normally even though every step is excruciating. I pass between the Peacekeepers and make it to the table all right. I fling my bag down and turn to Prim, who’s standing stiffly by the hearth. Haymitch and Peeta are there as well, sitting in a pair of matching rockers, playing a game of chess. Were they here by chance or “invited” by the Peacekeepers? Either way, I’m glad to see them. “So where haven’t you been?” says Haymitch in a bored voice. “Well, I haven’t been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim’s goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives,” I say to Prim emphatically. “No, I didn’t,” says Prim. “I told you exactly.” “You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine,” I say. “The east entrance,” Prim corrects me. “You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?’ and you said, 'Yeah,’” I say. “The slag heap next to the east entrance,” says Prim patiently. “No. When did you say that?” I demand. “Last night,” Haymitch chimes in. “It was definitely the east,” adds Peeta. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Peeta and he tries to look contrite. “I’m sorry, but it’s what I’ve been saying. You don’t listen when people talk to you.” “Bet people told you he didn’t live there today and you didn’t listen again,” says Haymitch. “Shut up, Haymitch,” I say, clearly indicating he’s right. Haymitch and Peeta crack up and Prim allows herself a smile. “Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up,” I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they’ve made it this far, Haymitch and Peeta. Nothing throws them. I look at the Peacekeepers. The man’s smiling but the woman is unconvinced. “What’s in the bag?” she asks sharply.

I know she’s hoping for game or wild plants. Something that clearly condemns me. I dump the contents on the table. “See for yourself.”

“Oh, good,” says my mother, examining the cloth. “We’re running low on bandages.”

Peeta comes to the table and opens the candy bag. “Ooh, peppermints,” he says, popping one in his mouth.

“They’re mine.” I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. “None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m hurt. “Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we’re all idiots. How’s that?”

“Better,” I say, and accept his kiss. Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I’m suddenly remembering they’re there. “You have a message for me?”

“From Head Peacekeeper Thread,” says the woman. “He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day.”

“Didn’t it already?” I ask, a little too innocently.

“He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin,” says the woman.

“Thank you. I’ll tell him. I’m sure we’ll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse.” I’m pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction.

The woman’s jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders. She gives me a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

Chapter 11  They all know Katniss is hurt and Peeta is literally the sweetest human out there

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily. “Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion. My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?” “I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now. Having stripped off my sock, my mother’s fingers probe the bones in my left heel and I wince. “There might be a break,” she says. She checks the other foot. “This one seems all right.” She judges my tailbone to be badly bruised. My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there. A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don’t want him to go. In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. For some reason that I can’t quite form, I know I’m not allowed to ask that. “Don’t go yet. Not until I fall asleep,” I say. Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.” I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale. “No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today. I want to tell him about Twill and Bonnie and the uprising and the fantasy of District 13, but it’s not safe to and I can feel myself slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. “Stay with me.” As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back, but I don’t quite catch it.

I’m further reassured when Peeta casually tells me the power is off in sections of the fence because crews are out securing the base of the chain link to the ground. Thread must believe I somehow got under the thing, even with that deadly current running through it. It’s a break for the district, having the Peacekeepers busy doing something besides abusing people. Peeta comes by every day to bring me cheese buns and begins to help me work on the family book. It’s an old thing, made of parchment and leather. Some herbalist on my mother’s side of the family started it ages ago. The book’s composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. My father added a section on edible plants that was my guidebook to keeping us alive after his death. For a long time, I’ve wanted to record my own knowledge in it. Things I learned from experience or from Gale, and then the information I picked up when I was training for the Games. I didn’t because I’m no artist and it’s so crucial that the pictures are drawn in exact detail. That’s where Peeta comes in. Some of the plants he knows already, others we have dried samples of, and others I have to describe. He makes sketches on scrap paper until I’m satisfied they’re right, then I let him draw them in the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant. It’s quiet, absorbing work that helps take my mind off my troubles. I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I’ve seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers’ guns away from me in District 11. I don’t know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don’t notice much because they’re so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they’re a light golden color and so long I don’t see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks. One afternoon Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever done anything normal together.” “Yeah,” I agree. Our whole relationship has been tainted by the Games. Normal was never a part of it. “Nice for a change.” Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television. Usually we only watch when it’s mandatory, because the mixture of propaganda and displays of the Capitol’s power - including clips from seventy-four years of Hunger Games - is so odious. But now I’m looking for something special. The mockingjay that Bonnie and Twill are basing all their hopes on. I know it’s probably foolishness, but if it is, I want to rule it out. And erase the idea of a thriving District 13 from my mind for good.

Chapter 12

Staying quietly in bed is harder after that. I want to be doing something, finding out more about District 13 or helping in the cause to bring down the Capitol. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring me news from town, which is always bad. More people being punished or dropping from starvation.

Chapter 13

“Thanks,” I say. I should go see Peeta now, but I don’t want to. My head’s spinning from the drink, and I’m so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to? No, now I have to go home to face my mother and Prim. As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. “I was wrong. We should have gone when you said,” he whispers. “No,” I say. I’m having trouble focusing, and liquor keeps sloshing out of my bottle and down the back of Gale’s jacket, but he doesn’t seem to care. “It’s not too late,” he says. Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway. We run. They die. And now I’ve got Peeta to protect. End of discussion. “Yeah, it is.” My knees give way and he’s holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

Chapter 14 ( Okay this hug tho)

So I go to bed and, sure enough, within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where that old woman from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even one of the Capitol attendants. I pull on a robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Haymitch is still up. Surely he isn’t asleep. I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Peeta. Beside him on the couch is the box Effie sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus became victor. Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not for long,” I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the old woman transforming into the rodent. “Want to talk about it?” he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven’t even fought yet already haunt me. When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. And why should I? I have said good-bye to Gale. I’ll never see him again, that’s for certain. Nothing I do now can hurt him. He won’t see it or he’ll think I am acting for the cameras. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. “I brought an extra cup,” he says. “Thanks,” I say. “And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice,” he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room. “What’s with him?” I say. “I think he feels bad for us,” says Peeta. “Right,” I say, pouring the milk. “I mean it. I don’t think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in,” says Peeta. “Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions.” “I’m guessing they’ll get over it once the blood starts flowing,” I say flatly. Really, if there’s one thing I don’t have time for, it’s worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. “So, you’re watching all the tapes again?”

“Okay,” Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with the honey and spices, and lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games. After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes. The editors smash cut right into the reapings, where name after name after name is called.  

Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while.

Chapter 17

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair. “I’m sorry if I made things worse,” I say. “No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?” he says. “I don’t know. To show them that I’m more than just a piece in their Games?” I say. He laughs a little, no doubt remembering the night before the Games last year. We were on the roof, neither of us able to sleep. Peeta had said something of the sort then, but I hadn’t understood what he meant. Now I do. “Me, too,” he tells me. “And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it …” “If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say. “It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta. It’s crossed my mind, too. Repeatedly. But while I know I’ll never leave that arena alive, I’m still holding on to the hope that Peeta will. After all, he didn’t pull out those berries, I did. No one has ever doubted that Peeta’s defiance was motivated by love. So maybe President Snow will prefer keeping him alive, crushed and heartbroken, as a living warning to others. “But even if that happens, everyone will know we’ve gone out fighting, right?” Peeta asks. “Everyone will,” I reply. And for the first time, I distance myself from the personal tragedy that has consumed me since they announced the Quell. I remember the old man they shot in District 11, and Bonnie and Twill, and the rumored uprisings. Yes, everyone in the districts will be watching me to see how I handle this death sentence, this final act of President Snow’s dominance. They will be looking for some sign that their battles have not been in vain. If I can make it clear that I’m still defying the Capitol right up to the end, the Capitol will have killed me … but not my spirit. What better way to give hope to the rebels? The beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep Peeta alive at the expense of my own life is itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Capitol’s rules. My private agenda dovetails completely with my public one. And if I really could save Peeta … in terms of a revolution, this would be ideal. Because I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living. But Peeta would be more valuable alive, and tragic, because he will be able to turn his pain into words that will transform people. Peeta would lose it if he knew I was thinking any of this, so I only say, “So what should we do with our last few days?”

“I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta replies.

“Come on, then,” I say, pulling him into my room.

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

“No nightmares,” he says.

“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”

“None. I’d forgotten what a real night’s sleep feels like,” he says.

We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. More high heels and sarcastic comments, I think. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been canceled.

“Really?” says Peeta, taking the note from my hand and examining it. “Do you know what this means? We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”

“It’s too bad we can’t go somewhere,” I say wistfully.

“Who says we can’t?” he asks.

The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. We eat. We lie in the sun. I snap off hanging vines and use my newfound knowledge from training to practice knots and weave nets. Peeta sketches me. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof - one of us throws an apple into it and the other person has to catch it.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots. After a while, his hands go still. “What?” I ask.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out. “Okay.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset. It’s a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol. “I didn’t think you’d want to miss it,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say. Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don’t want to miss any of them.

We don’t go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons us.

“I’m glad. I’m tired of making everyone around me so miserable,” says Peeta. “Everybody crying. Or Haymitch …” He doesn’t need to go on.

We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.

The next morning, we’re roused by my prep team. The sight of Peeta and me sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away. “You remember what Cinna told us,” Venia says fiercely. Octavia nods and goes out sobbing.

Chapter 18 Peeta’s interview

As I pass Peeta, who’s headed for his interview, he doesn’t meet my eyes. I take my seat carefully, but aside from the puffs of smoke here and there, I seem unharmed, so I turn my attention to him. Caesar and Peeta have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta’s confession of love for me, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that’s on everyone’s minds. “So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you’ve been through, you found out about the Quell?” asks Caesar. “I was in shock. I mean, one minute I’m seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next …” Peeta trails off. “You realized there was never going to be a wedding?” asks Caesar gently. Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at tin floor, then finally up at Caesar. “Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?” An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching. “I feel quite certain of it,” says Caesar. “We’re already married,” says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I have to bury my face in the folds of my skirt so they can’t see my confusion. Where on earth is he going with this? “But … how can that be?” asks Caesar. “Oh, it’s not an official marriage. We didn’t go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don’t know what it’s like in the other districts. But there’s this thing we do,” says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting. “Were your families there?” asks Caesar. “No, we didn’t tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss’s mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn’t be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it,” Peeta says. “And to us, we’re more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.” “So this was before the Quell?” says Caesar. “Of course before the Quell. I’m sure we’d never have done it after we knew,” says Peeta, starting to get upset. “But who could’ve seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere - I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?” “You couldn’t, Peeta.” Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. “As you say, no one could’ve. But I have to confess, I’m glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together.” Enormous applause. As if encouraged, I look up from my feathers and let the audience see my tragic smile of thanks. The residual smoke from the feathers has made my eyes teary, which adds a very nice touch. “I’m not glad,” says Peeta. “I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially.” This takes even Caesar aback. “Surely even a brief time is better than no time?” “Maybe I’d think that, too, Caesar,” says Peeta bitterly, “if it weren’t for the baby.” There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can’t ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can’t absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don’t make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn’t it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn’t it? If I hadn’t spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family? Caesar can’t rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his good-bye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar’s lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can’t hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand. How real are the tears? Is this an acknowledgment that he has been stalked by the same fears that I have? That every victor has? Every parent in every district in Panem?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. “There isn’t much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?”

“Nothing,” I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I’m just as glad I didn’t know, didn’t have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

We walk down the hallway. Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the makeup and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him. I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him. Besides, I have a shower in my room. I refuse to let go of his hand. Do we sleep? I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. “See you soon,” he says.

See you soon 

Chapter  19

Finnick has reached Peeta now and is towing him back, one arm across his chest while the other propels them through the water with easy strokes. Peeta rides along without resisting. I don’t know what Finnick said or did that convinced him to put his life in his hands - showed him the bangle, maybe. Or just the sight of me waiting might have been enough. When they reach the sand, I help haul Peeta up onto dry land.

“Hello, again,” he says, and gives me a kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended,” I answer. “Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?” Peeta asks.

“Only Mags, I think,” I say. I nod toward the old woman doggedly making her way toward us.

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

Chapter 19/20  Cpr is a kind of kissing 

I rush over to where he lies, motionless in a web of vines. “Peeta?” There’s a faint smell of singed hair. I call his name again, giving him a little shake, but he’s unresponsive. My fingers fumble across his lips, where there’s no warm breath although moments ago he was panting. I press my ear against his chest, to the spot where I always rest my head, where I know I will hear the strong and steady beat of his heart. Instead, I find silence.

“Peeta!” I scream. I shake him harder, even resort to slapping his face, but it’s no use. His heart has failed. I am slapping emptiness. “Peeta!” Finnick props Mags against a tree and pushes me out of the way. “Let me.” His fingers touch points at Peeta’s neck, run over the bones in his ribs and spine. Then he pinches Peeta’s nostrils shut. “No!” I yell, hurling myself at Finnick, for surely he intends to make certain that Peeta’s dead, to keep any hope of life from returning to him. Finnick’s hand comes up and hits me so hard, so squarely in the chest that I go flying back into a nearby tree trunk. I’m stunned for a moment, by the pain, by trying to regain my wind, as I see Finnick close off Peeta’s nose again. From where I sit, I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I’m stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it’s so bizarre, even for Finnick, that I stay my hand. No, he’s not kissing him. He’s got Peeta’s nose blocked off but his mouth tilted open, and he’s blowing air into his lungs. I can see this, I can actually see Peeta’s chest rising and falling. Then Finnick unzips the top of Peeta’s jumpsuit and begins to pump the spot over his heart with the heels of his hands. Now that I’ve gotten through my shock, I understand what he’s trying to do. Once in a blue moon, I’ve seen my mother try something similar, but not often. If your heart fails in District 12, it’s unlikely your family could get you to my mother in time, anyway. So her usual patients are burned or wounded or ill. Or starving, of course. But Finnick’s world is different. Whatever he’s doing, he’s done it before. There’s a very set rhythm and method. And I find the arrow tip sinking to the ground as I lean in to watch, desperately, for some sign of success. Agonizing minutes drag past as my hopes diminish. Around the time that I’m deciding it’s too late, that Peeta’s dead, moved on, unreachable forever, he gives a small cough and Finnick sits back. I leave my weapons in the dirt as I fling myself at him. “Peeta?” I say softly. I brush the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead, find the pulse drumming against my fingers at his neck. His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet mine. “Careful,” he says weakly. “There’s a force field up ahead.” I laugh, but there are tears running down my cheeks. “Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof,” he says. “I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.” “You were dead! Your heart stopped!” I burst out, before really considering if this is a good idea. I clap my hand over my mouth because I’m starting to make those awful choking sounds that happen when I sob. “Well, it seems to be working now,” he says. “It’s all right, Katniss.” I nod my head but the sounds aren’t stopping. “Katniss?” Now Peeta’s worried about me, which adds to the insanity of it all. “It’s okay. It’s just her hormones,” says Finnick. “From the baby.” I look up and see him, sitting back on his knees but still panting a bit from the climb and the heat and the effort of bringing Peeta back from the dead. “No. It’s not - ” I get out, but I’m cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing that seems only to confirm what Finnick said about the baby. He meets my eyes and I glare at him through my tears. It’s stupid, I know, that his efforts make me so vexed. All I wanted was to keep Peeta alive, and I couldn’t and Finnick could, and I should be nothing but grateful. And I am. But I am also furious because it means that I will never stop owing Finnick Odair. Ever. So how can I kill him in his sleep? I expect to see a smug or sarcastic expression on his face, but his look is strangely quizzical. He glances between Peeta and me, as if trying to figure something out, then gives his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “How are you?” he asks Peeta. “Do you think you can move on?” I notice a gleam of gold on Peeta’s chest. I reach out and retrieve the disk that hangs from a chain around his neck. My mockingjay has been engraved on it. “Is this your token?” I ask. “Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match,” he says. “No, of course I don’t mind.” I force a smile. Peeta showing up in the arena wearing a mockingjay is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it should give a boost to the rebels in the district. On the other, it’s hard to imagine President Snow will overlook it, and that makes the job of keeping Peeta alive harder.

Chapter 24

know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins. "It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers. “You didn’t hear them,” I answer. “I heard Prim. Right in the beginning. But it wasn’t her,” he says. “It was a jabberjay.” “It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it,” I say. “No, that’s what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer’s eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren’t Glimmer’s eyes. And that wasn’t Prim’s voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying,” he says. “No, they were torturing her,” I answer. “She’s probably dead.” “Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta says. “Seven more of us die,” I say hopelessly. “No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. Forces me to make eye contact. “What happens? At the final eight?” I know he’s trying to help me, so I make myself think. “At the final eight?” I repeat. “They interview your family and friends back home.” “That’s right,” says Peeta. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?” “No?” I ask, still unsure. “No. That’s how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?” he asks. I want to believe him. Badly. It’s just … those voices … “First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he continues. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” “You really believe that?” I say. “I really do,” says Peeta. I waver, thinking of how Peeta can make anyone believe anything. I look over at Finnick for confirmation, see he’s fixated on Peeta, his words. “Do you believe it, Finnick?” I ask. “It could be true. I don’t know,” he says. “Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone’s regular voice and make it …” “Oh, yes. It’s not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school,” says Beetee. “Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands,” says Johanna flatly. “Don’t want that, do they?” She throws back her head and shouts, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

THE BEACH SCENE  Chapter 24 if your wondering

Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair. “Katniss,” he says softly, “it’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.” No, I guess there isn’t, but it’s no fun discussing it, either. Well, not for us, anyway. The Capitol viewers will be glued to their sets so they don’t miss one wretched word. “I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well.” Of course, I know this, too. He told Peeta they could keep me alive so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. “So I think we can assume he was lying to one of us.” This gets my attention. A double deal. A double promise. With only Haymitch knowing which one is real. I raise my head, meet Peeta’s eyes. “Why are you saying this now?” “Because I don’t want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there’s no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says. “I would never be happy again.” I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips. “It’s different for you. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who’d make your life worth living.” Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t notice before and the disk pops open. It’s not solid, as I had thought, but a locket. And within the locket are photos. On the right side, my mother and Prim, laughing. And on the left, Gale. Actually smiling. There is nothing in the world that could break me faster at this moment than these three faces. After what I heard this afternoon … it is the perfect weapon. “Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says. My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta’s intention is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I’ll marry him. So Peeta’s giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn’t ever have doubts about it. Everything. That’s what Peeta wants me to take from him. I wait for him to mention the baby, to play to the cameras, but he doesn’t. And that’s how I know that none of this is part of the Games. That he is telling me the truth about what he feels. “No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self-pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. “I do,” I say. “I need you.” He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that’s no good, no good at all, because he’ll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I’ll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. “I can’t sleep anymore,” he says. “One of you should rest.” Only then does he seem to notice our expressions, the way we’re wrapped around each other. “Or both of you. I can watch alone.” Peeta won’t let him, though. “It’s too dangerous,” he says. “I’m not tired. You lie down, Katniss.” I don’t object because I do need to sleep if I’m to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn’t used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that’s never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe

Chapter 25

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments. “Thanks,” I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan. The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it’s like they can read my thoughts. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. “Katniss?” “It worked,” I say. “But not the way I wanted it to,” he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters.

I have the pearl, though, secured in a parachute with the spile and the medicine at my waist. I hope it makes it back to District 12. Surely my mother and Prim will know to return it to Peeta before they bury my body.

Chapter 26  

I don’t like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee’s right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can’t think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it’s Beetee. “It’s okay,” I tell Peeta. “We’ll just drop the coil and come straight back up.” “Not into the lightning zone,” Beetee reminds me. “Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.” I take Peeta’s face in my hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. “Ready?”

Mockingjay .

Chapter 3

I feel around for the parachute and slide my fingers inside until they close around the pearl. I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself.

skim my list. “Gale. I’ll need him with me to do this.” “With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?” Coin asks. She hasn’t said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. “What?” “I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her,” says Plutarch. “Especially since they think she’s pregnant with his child.” “Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?” says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. “For Gale. Will that be sufficient?” “We can always work him in as your cousin,” says Fulvia.

“We’re not cousins,” Gale and I say together.

“Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances’ sake on camera,” says Plutarch. “Off camera, he’s all yours. Anything else?”

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

Dead silence. I feel Gale’s body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn’t sure how he’d respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

“No form of punishment will be inflicted,” I continue. A new thought occurs to me. “The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria.” Frankly, I don’t care about Enobaria, the vicious District 2 tribute. In fact, I dislike her, but it seems wrong to leave her out.

“No,” says Coin flatly.

“Yes,” I shoot back. “It’s not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol’s doing to them?”

“They’ll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit,” she says.

“They’ll be granted immunity!” I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full and resonant. “You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you’ll find yourself another Mockingjay!”

My words hang in the air for a long moment.

Chapter 16

“Always.” In the twilight of morphling, Peeta whispers the word and I go searching for him. It’s a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. I push through cloud banks, follow faint tracks, catch the scent of cinnamon, of dill. Once I feel his hand on my cheek and try to trap it, but it dissolves like mist through my fingers.

I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door. Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He’s got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn’t fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn’t ruled out that he’s in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I’m standing about a yard from the bed. There’s nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak. “Hey.” “Hey,” he responds. It’s like his voice, almost his voice, except there’s something new in it. An edge of suspicion and reproach. “Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me,” I say. “Look at you, for starters.” It’s like he’s waiting for me to transform into a hybrid drooling wolf right before his eyes. He stares so long I find myself casting furtive glances at the one-way glass, hoping for some direction from Haymitch, but my earpiece stays silent. “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” I know he’s been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. “Well, you’ve looked better.” Haymitch’s advice to back off gets muffled by Peeta’s laughter. “And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I’ve been through.” “Yeah. We’ve all been through a lot. And you’re the one who was known for being nice. Not me.” I’m doing everything wrong. I don’t know why I feel so defensive. He’s been tortured! He’s been hijacked! What’s wrong with me? Suddenly, I think I might start screaming at him - I’m not even sure about what - so I decide to get out of there. “Look, I don’t feel so well. Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow.” I’ve just reached the door when his voice stops me. “Katniss. I remember about the bread.” The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games. “They showed you the tape of me talking about it,” I say. “No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn’t the Capitol use it against me?” he asks. “I made it the day you were rescued,” I answer. The pain in my chest wraps around my ribs like a vise. The dancing was a mistake. “So what do you remember?” “You. In the rain,” he says softly. “Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead.” “That’s it. That’s what happened,” I say. “The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn’t know how.” “We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then…for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion.” I nod. He does remember. I have never spoken about that moment aloud. “I must have loved you a lot.” “You did.” My voice catches and I pretend to cough. “And did you love me?” he asks. I keep my eyes on the tiled floor. “Everyone says I did. Everyone says that’s why Snow had you tortured. To break me.” “That’s not an answer,” he tells me. “I don’t know what to think when they show me some of the tapes. In that first arena, it looked like you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers.” “I was trying to kill all of you,” I say. “You had me treed.” “Later, there’s a lot of kissing. Didn’t seem very genuine on your part. Did you like kissing me?” he asks. “Sometimes,” I admit. “You know people are watching us now?” “I know. What about Gale?” he continues. My anger’s returning. I don’t care about his recovery - this isn’t the business of the people behind the glass. “He’s not a bad kisser either,” I say shortly. “And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?” he asks. “No. It wasn’t okay with either of you. But I wasn’t asking your permission,” I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. “Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” Haymitch doesn’t protest when I walk out. Down the hall. Through the beehive of compartments. Find a warm pipe to hide behind in a laundry room. It takes a long time before I get to the bottom of why I’m so upset. When I do, it’s almost too mortifying to admit. All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

Chapter 18 

I consider saying a final good-bye to Peeta, decide it would only be bad for both of us. But I do slip the pearl into the pocket of my uniform. A token of the boy with the bread.

Chapter 19 

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. “These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth.” That seems grossly unfair, and my first impulse is to say something cutting. But I revisit my conversation with Haymitch and try to take the first tentative step in Peeta’s direction. “I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as…an ally.” That’s a good safe word. Empty of any emotional obligation, but nonthreatening. “Ally.” Peeta says the word slowly, tasting it. “Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out.” He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. “The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.” The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. “Your favorite color…it’s green?” “That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And yours is orange.” “Orange?” He seems unconvinced. “Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s what you told me once.” “Oh.” He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. “Thank you.” But more words tumble out. “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

Chapter 21

 Peeta buries his face in his hands for a few moments, then rises to join us. “Should we free his hands?” asks Leeg 1. “No!” Peeta growls at her, drawing his cuffs in close to his body. “No,” I echo. “But I want the key.” Jackson passes it over without a word. I slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl.

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. “You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers. “Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 22

“Leave me,” he whispers. “I can’t hang on.” “Yes. You can!” I tell him. Peeta shakes his head. “I’m losing it. I’ll go mad. Like them.” Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today. It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.” Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to…” I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.” His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs

Chapter 23

I think it’s time I give myself up. When everyone finally awakens, I confess. How I lied about the mission, how I jeopardized everyone in pursuit of revenge. There’s a long silence after I finish. Then Gale says, “Katniss, we all knew you were lying about Coin sending you to assassinate Snow.” “You knew, maybe. The soldiers from Thirteen didn’t,” I reply.

“Do you really think Jackson believed you had orders from Coin?” Cressida asks. “Of course she didn’t. But she trusted Boggs, and he’d clearly wanted you to go on.”

“I never even told Boggs what I planned to do,” I say.

“You told everyone in Command!” Gale says. “It was one of your conditions for being the Mockingjay. 'I kill Snow.’”

Those seem like two disconnected things. Negotiating with Coin for the privilege of executing Snow after the war and this unauthorized flight through the Capitol. “But not like this,” I say. “It’s been a complete disaster.”

“I think it would be considered a highly successful mission,” says Gale. “We’ve infiltrated the enemy camp, showing that the Capitol’s defenses can be breached. We’ve managed to get footage of ourselves all over the Capitol’s news. We’ve thrown the whole city into chaos trying to find us.”

“Trust me, Plutarch’s thrilled,” Cressida adds.

“That’s because Plutarch doesn’t care who dies,” I say. “Not as long as his Games are a success.”

Cressida and Gale go round and round trying to convince me. Pollux nods at their words to back them up. Only Peeta doesn’t offer an opinion.

“What do you think, Peeta?” I finally ask him.

“I think…you still have no idea. The effect you can have.” He slides his cuffs up the support and pushes himself to a sitting position. “None of the people we lost were idiots. They knew what they were doing. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Snow.”

I don’t know why his voice reaches me when no one else’s can. But if he’s right, and I think he is, I owe the others a debt that can only be repaid in one way. I pull my paper map from a pocket in my uniform and spread it out on the floor with new resolve. “Where are we, Cressida?”

Chapter 27

I wake with a start. Pale morning light comes around the edges of the shutters. The scraping of the shovel continues. Still half in the nightmare, I run down the hall, out the front door, and around the side of the house, because now I’m pretty sure I can scream at the dead. When I see him, I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. “You’re back,” I say. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.” He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He’s frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it’s matted into clumps. I feel defensive. “What are you doing?” “I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” he says. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.” I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the wordrose registers. I’m about to yell vicious things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for. I give Peeta a nod of assent and hurry back into the house, locking the door behind me. But the evil thing is inside, not out. Trembling with weakness and anxiety, I run up the stairs. My foot catches on the last step and I crash onto the floor. I force myself to rise and enter my room. The smell’s very faint but still laces the air. It’s there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snow’s greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again. I smash the vase on the floor for good measure.

Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life. I try to follow Dr. Aurelius’s advice, just going through the motions, amazed when one finally has meaning again. I tell him my idea about the book, and a large box of parchment sheets arrives on the next train from the Capitol. I got the idea from our family’s plant book. The place where we recorded those things you cannot trust to memory. The page begins with the person’s picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim’s cheek. My father’s laugh. Peeta’s father with the cookies. The color of Finnick’s eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count. Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor. Additions become smaller. An old memory that surfaces. A late primrose preserved between the pages. Strange bits of happiness, like the photo of Finnick and Annie’s newborn son. We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. Fortunately, the geese can take pretty good care of themselves. We’re not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home. With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again. Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

epilogue

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much. The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

My children, who don’t know they play on a graveyard.

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I’ll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.

I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.

But there are much worse games to play.

And Because I am a super Petty Person Gales   Kisses will be added below 

"If only it were that simple." He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. "Lovely. Your mother made these?" "Peeta." And for the first time, I find I can't hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie. "Peeta. How is the love of your life?" he asks. "Good," I say. "At what point did he realize the exact degree of your indifference?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea. "I'm not indifferent," I say. "But perhaps not as taken with the young man as you would have the country believe," he says. "Who says I'm not?" I say. "I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How's the handsome cousin?" "I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for two of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off. "Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday." If he knows this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ... It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen. After Peeta and I got home from the Games, it was several weeks before I saw Gale alone. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol. Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy. Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games. So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 - workers to the mines, kids to school - resumed its usual pace. I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods. The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket. I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows. I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games. I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink. We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. And by doing so made it clear I was, in fact, mocking the Capitol. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness. "Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now." "I'm only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Peeta, thereby affecting the mood in the districts," he says. "It will be the same on the tour. I'll be in love with him just as I was," I say. "Just as you are," corrects President Snow. "Just as I am," I confirm.

For the first time, I reverse our positions in my head. I imagine watching Gale volunteering to save Rory in the reaping, having him torn from my life, becoming some strange girl's lover to stay alive, and then coming home with her. Living next to her. Promising to marry her. The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. I rest my head forward on the edge of the table, overcome with loathing for myself. Wishing I had died in the arena. Wishing Seneca Crane had blown me to bits the way President Snow said he should have when I held out the berries. The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. Could it be the people in the districts are right? That it was an act of rebellion, even if it was an unconscious one? Because, deep down, I must know it isn't enough to keep myself, or my family, or my friends alive by running away. Even if I could. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't stop people from being hurt the way Gale was today. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.

By the time we reach the town square, afternoon's sinking into evening. I take Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and ask her to film something. The only emotion I can muster is exhaustion. "Peeta, this is your home. None of your family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. And you're calling for a cease-fire?" I look across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you." As we stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asks if either of us has ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulls off his shirt and turns his back to the camera. I stare at the lash marks, and again hear the whistling of the whip, see his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. "I'm done," I announce. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for...my mother." I guess I walked here, but the next thing I'm conscious of is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Suddenly, I remember the rose on my dresser. Was it real? If so, is it still up there? I have to resist the temptation to check. If it's there, it will only frighten me all over again. I hurry with my packing. When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me." So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer. I'm too weary to work through his latest charge. I spend the short ride back to 13 curled up in a seat, trying to ignore Plutarch going on about one of his favorite subjects - weapons mankind no longer has at its disposal. High-flying planes, military satellites, cell disintegrators, drones, biological weapons with expiration dates. Brought down by the destruction of the atmosphere or lack of resources or moral squeamishness. You can hear the regret of a Head Gamemaker who can only dream of such toys, who must make do with hovercraft and land-to-land missiles and plain old guns.

Gale finds me when they arrive late one afternoon. I'm sitting on a log at the edge of my current village, plucking a goose. A dozen or so of the birds are piled at my feet. Great flocks of them have been migrating through here since I've arrived, and the pickings are easy. Without a word, Gale settles beside me and begins to relieve a bird of its feathers. We're through about half when he says, "Any chance we'll get to eat these?" "Yeah. Most go to the camp kitchen, but they expect me to give a couple to whoever I'm staying with tonight," I say. "For keeping me." "Isn't the honor of the thing enough?" he says. "You'd think," I reply. "But word's gotten out that mockingjays are hazardous to your health." We pluck in silence for a while longer. Then he says, "I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass." "What'd you think?" I ask. "Something selfish," says Gale. "That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?" My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. "No. Just the opposite." Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. "I thought...I'll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I'm in." He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me." "The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you," I say. Gale holds my gaze. "If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it." "It is true," I admit. "But so is what you said about Peeta."

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?"

"I don't know," I whisper back.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself.

"How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before.

He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine."

"So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask.

"I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood.

Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?"

"Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says.

I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?"

"No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference."

A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now."

"You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say.

Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things."

I can't help thinking that's directed at me.

Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. "So that's what you're thinking now?" I shrug. "Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he's not seeing you as you really are." He kisses my cheek and goes.

[hobidreams]

Curiosity | JJK {M}

when innocent jungkook comes to you with a not-so-innocent question... you decide it’s easier to just demonstrate.

pairing: switch!jungkook x reader genre: smut words: 3.6k contains: college au, best friend’s brother, oral (m), bondage (m), kinda soft dirty talk/praise, condomless sex, jungkook has a huge dick (of course), he also has a massive crush on you a/n: thank you for the request, anon!

Of one thing you are deadly certain: you should not have left this essay to the last minute. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, tapping out words you hope form sentences coherent enough to net you a decent grade. There’s no other sound save for your occasional grunts of frustration, as your roommate is out on her long-awaited date with a cute lit major (Namjoon, was it?). You’re only a hundred words away from finishing, and you can’t wait to be done with this so you can get started on the million other things on your to-do list.

You’re so focused, you don’t even notice when the lock on your front door turns. You certainly don’t realize someone has slipped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, bright-eyed grin on cute lips. It isn’t until— “Hello?”

“Gah!”

You jolt, leaping back as you grab the weapon nearest to you: a ruler. You point it towards the source of the voice, which reveals itself to not be an axe murderer, but Jungkook, looking amused. “Are you going to measure me?”

“God, Jungkook.” You let the ruler clatter to the table. “You have to stop doing that.”

He plops down onto the couch. “Sorry.” He flashes you an innocent smile that you’re sure has all the girls in his lectures fawning over him. Not that he would know what to do with them. Not this sweet, boyish Jungkook.

“Anyway, your sister isn’t here.”

“I know.” He strips off his jacket, draping it neatly over the back of the sofa. He’s in a plain black tee, looking more handsome than anyone has the right to in such basics.

“Okay then.” You swivel your chair back to your laptop.

Recently, Jungkook’s been hanging out here a lot more often, with or without his sister. You don’t actually mind; you keep to your own devices, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s a good kid, always up for a movie or a talk about anything and everything. Navigating first year at university is always a rough time, so you’re usually happy to help him when you can. But right now… The paper takes absolute priority.

You re-focus and resume the rapid-fire typing, trying to ignore the shuffling you can hear behind you. It gets harder to not notice when Jungkook stands up and pads to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, then the freezer, then pours himself a noisy glass of water. He comes back into the living room with the cup in hand, leaning against the doorframe as he sips. You can feel his eyes on you, no matter how you try to remind yourself that you have to finish this.

To your relief, he eventually gives up and walks to the sofa. But a minute later, he’s back at it again, this time heading to the rack of CDs. You can’t help but track him with your peripheral vision, watching him restlessly fumble around with your collection. The minutes tick by, and to your absolute shock, the words on the document aren’t writing themselves.

In the end, Jungkook does nothing at all except distract you. When he turns from the CDs emptyhanded, you catch his gaze. “Don’t you have papers to write or exams to study for, Jungkook?”

“No, I finished all of my work already. At least, all the important stuff.”

It must run in the family, you think begrudgingly. Lucky them.

“Well—”

“Actually!” Jungkook interrupts you in a voice so loud it scares even himself. He takes a step forward, softening his tone. “Actually. I did have something I wanted to… erm… study. I wanted to ask you about it.” He shoots you the look that you both know you’re weak to. Curse the gods for making him so darn adorable.

It’s not like you’ll get any work done with him around anyway, so you figure answering him just might get him to leave. “Okay. What is it?”

Why does he look so nervous? His fingers knot themselves before he reaches up to touch his hair, smoothing out kinks that aren’t there. He sniffles.

“Jungkook?”

You see his lips move, but you can’t quite hear what he’s saying.

“Pardon?”

“…ndage… Uh, can you… maybe, possibly, please teach me about bondage?”

Nothing on earth could have prepared you for that to come out of his mouth.

You practically fall out of your chair, your jaw slack. “What makes you think I can teach you?” Flustered, that’s the best thing you can come up with.

“You’re more experienced than me.” He walks closer, towering over you. “There’s no one else I can ask. Please.”

You didn’t even know he was experienced at all in the first place! How had you been so mistaken in your impression of him? “Why do you even want to learn?”

“I…” His cheeks slightly flush with color. “I’m just curious. Really curious.”

You take a hand through your hair. “It’s not really something that can be verbally taught.”

“Show me then.”

You can’t help the pulse that runs through you at the dip in his tone, at the stubborn desire that you’ve never taken notice of before. Where has this Jungkook been hiding all this time? His arms are crossed, the veins from training prominent and rippling. They’d feel good wrapped around you. Are you really contemplating this? Hell.

“I… I’ve gotta finish this paper.”

“Take a break.”

“No way. Not unless I get to tie you up.”

“Deal.”

“Thought so. Wait. What?”

“Deal,” he repeats. “Tie me up.”

“Jeon Jungkook.” You stand, trying to stare him down even though he’s taller than you. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You know we can never go back if we do this.”

He nods. Just that simple action sends dangerous tingles from the pit of your stomach, a sensation that lets you know you’re on the cusp of doing something you really shouldn’t be doing. But you’re starting to want to.

Suddenly, he walks away. For a brief moment, you actually find yourself disappointed before you realize he’s just picking up his backpack. A quick zip, and he’s pulling out thin, solid-looking fabric in a dark navy. As he makes his way back to you, he offers a smile, but it no longer looks innocent to you.

Your eyes dart from him to what he holds in his hands, then back to him. You swallow. You’re almost done the essay anyway, right? Snatching the straps from his palm, you stalk into your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you as he follows so obediently.

In the room, you flick the lights on but dim them low. You circle around, tilting your head to look up at the boy you never thought you could ever see in this way. In this light, with that dangerous glint in his eyes, you can’t see him as anything but.

You reach for him, pressing your body flush against him as your lips meet for the first time. He tastes faintly like candy, a sweetness that you recognize as dangerously addicting. He traces your lips with the tip of his tongue, his broad hands sliding up beneath your oversized hoodie to find you’re wearing nothing underneath. Meeting your bare flesh makes him growl with fresh arousal.

“I… I was just studying so I didn’t bother,” you mumble, a lame excuse but to your credit, the firm bulge that’s pressing against you is very distracting.

“Makes things easier.” He smiles as he steps back to tug his tee over his head. It falls to the floor along with his belt, his jeans.

“Impatient?” You ask, raking your eyes down past his sculpted chest, the subtle outline of his abs. The mirth in your eyes dies completely when you take in the prominent, massive outline in his boxer-briefs. Yum. Your own restraint runs empty as you hook your fingers into the waistband, and tug down.

I want that inside me, is your first thought when Jungkook’s cock is freed. The smooth curve that stems from a short tuft of midnight hair leads to a dark-red head, prominent and full. Sparse foreskin just barely covers the ridge that looks like it’ll be merciless. You gulp, steadying yourself. You remind yourself that you’re meant to be in charge here.

“Get on the bed.”

Jungkook obeys, letting his head rest on the multitude of pillows. He licks his lips, managing to make even that simple action ridiculously enticing. Especially now that you know what that tongue is capable of. You advance, sliding the straps between your fingers. You’ve only done this once before so it’s not like you’re particularly well-versed either, but you can’t find it in you to give up this opportunity.

His eyes never leave you as you guide his arms up, looping the fabric around his wrists, careful not to hurt him. “Is that too tight?” You ask, cinching the knot around the poles of your bedframe. You hadn’t considered this to be an advantage of this particular bed before.

“No.”

When you’re satisfied that your ties are secure, your fingers leave his skin much to his chagrin. You circle around to the foot of the bed, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. You consider leaving your clothes on, but they’ll only be a distraction. Especially with the heat and sweat that’s already prickling on your skin.

Off it goes.

Jungkook’s eyes are saucers as he takes in your naked breasts, full and pert. He never could have imagined he would actually be seeing them instead of in his dreams, over and over again until he ruins his pants in his sleep. But now he knows that none of his fantasies can compare to the real thing.

You fight back the giggles at how shell-shocked he looks. It makes you want to take off something else to watch him react. But the only thing that remains… You eye your terry-cloth shorts and can almost hear Jungkook whispering yes.

Fine.

Those go too, leaving you standing in the cheeky black panties fringed with a flirty lace. You take it deliberately slow, strolling to the bed so he can watch how the undies shift with every movement, so he can wonder if you’ll expose what lies beneath by accident. Crawling onto the mattress, you wonder if this is how a predator feels when beholding its prey.

Jungkook shivers when you draw a path up his legs with your fingertips. His first moan is when you flit to his inner thigh, so close to his cock but not quite. You let your nails gently scrape at his skin, drawing closer only to pull away. “Fuck.” The expletive uttered in his once-shy voice is a juxtaposition that drenches you.

You didn’t think anything could top that noise, but then he gasps your name when you finally curl your fingers around his cock. The veins that run along his shaft ripple beneath your thumb, racing with adrenaline as he stiffens even more. It all only crescendos from there.

“Ngh!”

The bedframe rattles violently against the wall as Jungkook tugs against his restraints, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hips buck upwards, trying to force more of himself into the palm that you keep carefully, infuriatingly slack with every stroke. He is the very picture of need with his slightly pouty mouth, effort glistening on his skin in the sparse light. You could definitely get used to a sight like this.

“Shhh, you don’t want the neighbours to hear, do you?” You whisper, amusement thick in your tone.

“Forget them,” Jungkook moans, “just don’t stop.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me commands.”

Each pump is now accompanied by a wet squelching from the pre-cum that only gathers when he’s torturously aroused. How could he not be, when the girl he’s been crushing on for god knows how long is on her knees, bent before him in only her panties? The wicked smirk playing on your lips tempts him more than you could ever know.

God. Jungkook wants to touch you. He would give anything to wrap his fingers around your waist and submerge himself in your pretty cunt. He wants to watch you fall apart at his hands like he is at yours. But you tied these restraints too well.

“You’re so cute like this, Jungkookie,” you tease, “so hard and eager.” He jerks when you push against his frenulum, groans rising in volume when you twist your wrist. “And I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” Drawing closer, you exhale, letting your hot breath dance across his shaft. His cock jerks in response.

“Want a reward?”

A desperate whimper escapes him and the tingles between your thighs practically explode. How can any one man look so delicious when he has no power at all? You want him sliding into you, can practically feel how he would stretch and force you to his shape. He could easily bottom out and then some, with a size like this. You don’t think you’ve ever craved a dick this badly before. But you remind yourself that this is meant to be a lesson for him.

“Yes.” He lifts his hips. “I’ve been good.” He’s using those adorable eyes to his advantage, unleashing them in fervent hope that you’ll cave.

“Mmm.” You let his cock fall against his taut tummy, freed fingers now running up his torso to appreciate how his sculpted body responds to your touch. “I don’t know...”

“Please…”

You kiss along his inner thigh, fighting your own urgency despite the sticky arousal pooling between your legs that you’d rather slather on his shaft. How will react when you take him in your mouth? Will he whimper, or will he groan? You’re having way too much fun with this, but there’s just something about Jungkook that is irresistible.

When you finally lick a trail up the length of his arousal, he bucks. “Ha-aah…!” Your tongue swirls around the head, dripping saliva messily around the head to really give him a show. When you cast your eyes up, he’s struck by how much he wants to shove your head down, to stuff your mischievous mouth until you’re choking on him. You recognize that glimmer in his eyes and find yourself a little relieved he’s tied up at the moment. You can’t have him interrupting you, after all.

Wrapping your lips around him, you start a suction that no man has ever been able to resist. Jungkook is no exception as the bedframe is sent shaking again, especially when he hits the back of your throat. You can hardly keep your jaw open but it’s worth it if you can see him like this. You manage to take almost all of him into you, a hand making up for what’s left.

“I-If you keep doing that, I’ll come,” he stutters when you come up for air, tongue dragging lazily along the ridge.

“Should I let you?”

“No.” He shakes his head for emphasis.

You raise an eyebrow. “No?”

“I… I wanna come inside you instead.”

He already knows you’re on the pill. Cheeky brat. You eye him and he grins, playing innocent, though you both know he’s fooling no one. As much as you want to turn him down for sheer satisfaction, his cock is too convincing. You reach for your panties.

As you peel the ruined fabric away from your soaked cunt, you point a stern finger at Jungkook. “No moving. Or else.”

“Okay.”

He’s holding his breath as he watches you straddle him, shifting into the perfect position that he half-wishes was over his mouth. He hopes there will be time for that later. At least, he’ll be trying his best to make time. For now…

You lower, and the glans parts your folds, sinks inside. “Oh, goooood.” Nothing could have prepared you for this. You are going to be so sore tomorrow, but right now all you want is more. “Why are you so big?” You cling to his sides, focusing on just breathing. Your clit is begging to be touched with each inch that you take.

“You like it that much?” Jungkook sounds proud.

“Maybe.” You can feel him everywhere, the fullness that violates your senses and forces all thought to dissipate. “Just. Maybe.”

When he’s hilted, when your thighs are meeting his and you feel him nudging against your cervix, you have to pause to gather yourself. But that doesn’t last; you can’t resist from sliding yourself along the dick that only seems to get harder inside your heat. He’s watching you, eyes glued to your form as you tremble and shudder, a carnal beauty that he can’t believe is all his, at least for the next few moments.

You were trying to hold back your moans, but they start to drop freely from your lips by the third stroke as you adjust to catch your clit on his pelvic bone. He loves when you grind against him, so blissed out that you’ll do anything if it means you’ll cum. You were right, he thinks, that there would be no going back from this. He already knows he’ll never get enough of how you throw your head back and ride him, thighs slamming into him, cunt impossibly tight and dripping because of him. It almost makes being tied up worth it. Almost.

You’re getting faster. The bed whines under the weight and motion as you swing your gaze up and find him just as drowning in this as you are. His hair is a mess against the pillows, half-obscuring those lust-consumed eyes. No matter how your muscles ache, you can’t stop. Not anymore. Not when pleasure glows white hot in your veins, ready to explode.

So close. You’re so goddamn close—

“Ah, ah, stop, stop.”

Instantly, you halt, frowning as the wisps of climax escape your gasp. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“The ties. It hurts. It really hurts.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry!” With Jungkook still buried inside you, you lean forward. You dig your nails into the knots and hurriedly undo the cloth that binds him. “There. Are you okay?”

The fabric falls onto the pillow and he rolls his wrists a few times, testing out his newfound freedom.

“Jungkook?”

His dark eyes swing up to meet yours. Uh oh.

Everything flips.

Your back hits the mattress. Strong arms wrap around you. Now Jungkook’s the one on top, body heavy, keeping you pinned. He has the audacity to smile before he gives a single pump of his agile hips, a taste of what he’s capable of.

“Did you—Jungkook!” You want to smack him, but any anger that you might have felt is overridden when he kisses you, really kisses you with an urgency that can only come from denial. Your tongues mingle and explore, tasting each other’s need like lovers starved.

“Sorry, but I have to fuck you now,” he breathes against your lips.

Your smart mouth can’t come up with a retort. Not when he’s pumping into you, using that thick cock way too well to stimulate your sweetest spots. Each slippery stroke shoves you closer to the climax that promises to break you. You’re already pulsing, nails scoring scratches on his back while he sucks at your neck, both instinctually trying to stake claim on the best sex you’ve ever had.

At his mercy, all you can do is breathe as he forces your legs back with strong arms hooked under your knees. Now he can go deeper, slam himself against your cervix while you drench him with arousal and fill the room with broken sighs. He wants every bit of his cock soaked in you.

“Baby,” he pants, bangs falling, “I love how wet you are.” Where had that pet name come from? But you’re not so much surprised as you are aroused by this side of Jungkook, carnally grunting as he ruts. “I’m close, fuck.” he spits it out like he doesn’t want this to end, and you know exactly how he feels. He reaches for your clit, haphazardly circling with his fingers and you cinch around him desperately.

Five seconds later, you’re gone.

You’re vaguely aware of the heat he spills into you as you tremble, pulsing and shaking against him as you cry his name. He gives you his deepest strokes yet before he slows, collapsing onto you, exhausted. And in this moment, all you can do is hold on to each other while pleasure rolls and ebbs, and the sparks melt into comfort and satisfaction.

Eventually, the heat is too much to take. “You’re too heavy,” you say, lightly laughing as you shove him off.

He lands facedown on the mattress with an oof. “You didn’t mind it five minutes ago.” When he looks up, rolls over to flash his teeth at you, all smiles again, you know better than to underestimate him. You let him cuddle up, rest his cheek on your arm.

“So, did I sate your curiosity?” You ask sarcastically, pressing a hand to your sweaty chest to find your heart is still racing.

Jungkook tilts his head. His eyes find yours. “Not yet.” He drops a kiss on your skin. “I think we’ll need to do it a few more times.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t quite turn him down as his kisses get deeper, shift over to the soft skin beneath your breast. He licks the curve, nibbles. “Your sister is going to kill me.”

Pushing onto his knees, Jungkook picks up the discarded straps from the pillow. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.” He holds the ties out, and there’s that smirk again. “Now, I think it’s your turn.”

[lebritneeey]

second chance series (prologue)

inspired by don’t wanna cry, lie again and second life & a little idea from reply 1997 and 1988.

genre: romance. fluff, angst pairing: y/n x ??? (svt)

a/n: hi guys! so my imagination started running after listening to dwc, lie again and second life on repeat lmao. i’ve always love reading angsty fics and so i came up with this series based on these three songs! disclaimer!! if there’s any similarity with other fics, it is coincidental, everything written here is based on my idea! no to plagiarism!! also, pics and gifs here are NOT mine! hope you guys enjoy this series i might be posting this on aff too so don’t be alarm if you come across it on aff! enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

What if you could get a second chance at love? What if it was the wrong time but the right person all along? Would you take it? This second chance?   

Meet y/n, a 25 year old girl who had to revisit the city she once loved, Seoul. It was a city filled with both good and bad memories for her. When she left, she swore never to return. But here she is, back in Seoul, hoping to not run into a certain old flame that might reopen old wounds and remind her of how broken hearted she was back then.

prologue | chapter 1

prologue: here goes nothing.

2020, Singapore

Y/n sighed as her best friend, Angel, went on and on about how she disapproves of her decision to visit South Korea after a long time. “I really don’t get it, of all the countries around the world, you chose Seoul?” Angel exclaimed as she helped Y/n pack several of her jackets lying on the bed. 

“I didn’t choose it, it’s where the client is so I got to go there and finish up a couple of meetings. Plus, it’s autumn season now, so the weather is going be quite comfortable and cold.” Y/n took a few pairs of her favorite jeans and packed them inside her luggage. Angel handed her a bag of skincare and makeup, frowning. “Still.. Seoul? I thought you wouldn’t want to be back there after..” Her voice trailed off, afraid to explicitly bring up the past in case it reminded Y/n of some unpleasant memories. 

Y/n slowly zipped up her luggage and brought it down from her bed. She turned to see her best friend giving her a concerned expression. “It’s been three years,” Y/n sat down on her bed, staring at her bottom drawer at her nightstand, “I’ve moved on. Right now, all I care about is going to Seoul and get the meetings done once and for all. I’ll be back home as soon as everything is finished smoothly.” That was what she ever wanted, to complete the task her boss assigned her to do in Seoul and then fly back immediately. But life seemed to have a couple of surprises for her.

///

“So, are you all packed and ready for your flight tomorrow? What time is it?” Y/n’s mother asked as they sat down together for dinner. “Yup. The flight’s at seven in the morning, so I got to be at the airport by four-ish.” Y/n’s father cleared his throat before scooping some dish and placing it on Y/n’s bowl, “and you do not mind going to Korea again? After.. that incident.”

Y/n’s mother jabbed her chopsticks into the fried fish in front of her as she sighed. “Why wouldn’t she mind? It’s not as if she went through something very traumatic isn’t it? Couples break up here and there, you move on and when the right one comes along, you’ll know it.” 

Y/n gave her parents a small smile especially at her mother for being truthfully candid. Her mother isn’t wrong, some relationships end, couples break up and they just moved on. It just so happened Y/n was one of them though her situation was a little uncommon but nevertheless, she has moved on and is happy right now.

///

After double checking everything in her luggage, Y/n settled into her bed, ready to sleep before her trip. She looked to her nightstand drawer and opened it. There lies a metal box. Y/n opened it and smiled at the first thing that she saw. A polaroid photo of her and him. She had whipped cream smeared on her cheeks, that was taken on her birthday a few years ago. Gosh, she looked so young then. Him too. Both were smiling so brightly like a typical couple in love. 

She flipped the polaroid over and behind it was written: 

y/n’s birthday! 사랑해! 

Y/n chuckled as she remembered that day. Oh such simpler times when it was the whole “us against the world” notion. She continued rummaging through the box and found an old concert ticket and poster. 

IDEAL CUT 2018 

‘Ah, this ticket.. Guess I was blessed, not needing to pay for this.’ She thought as she stared at the poster. Thirteen faces staring back at her, but her eyes were just fixed on that one guy. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, but I can’t. I can’t miss you.” 

Y/n sighed as she closed the box, shoved it back to the drawer and went to bed. It’s no point thinking back about the past, she has moved on and it should remain this way.

///

“All passengers departing for Seoul, Incheon, please proceed to gate D twelve for boarding.. I repeat, all..” 

Y/n hugged her parents and Angel as she got ready her passport and boarding pass. “Alright, I got to go. I’ll text all of you when I land okay? I will be back in a few weeks’ time.” Her parents waved her goodbye as they watched y/n walked into the transit area. Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling anxious at the thought of visiting Korea after so long. Seoul was the place where she had a lot of fun and pleasant memories. It was the place where she experienced what love was really like. It was also the place where she did her exchanged program at Yonsei University back in 2017.

Flashback to Dec 2016, Seoul

It was a month to the start of Y/n’s exchange at Yonsei University. She opted for a year-long exchanged in order to earn extra credits rather than earning them through project work. Y/n decided to arrive a month before the exchange program start to settle down and familiarise herself with campus and the city. Back in Singapore, she took it upon herself to learn some basic Korean language after finding a hobby in watching k-dramas. 

Instead of living in a dorm, she opted to rent an apartment just five minutes away from the university. She wasn’t the only tenant of course, housing alongside with her were two other girls from Yonsei as well – Hana and Choyi. Luckily for y/n, both knew how to speak basic English, so language wasn’t a problem.

Hana and Choyi threw y/n a small dinner party in the house on the night of her arrival. “Thank you for helping me unpack all my stuff, I couldn’t have done it without you guys’ help!” Y/n gratefully thanked the two girls as she raised her can of beer. “It’s nothing! We’re just glad to meet a new friend from overseas!” Hana grinned as she slurp her ramen. Choyi nodded, grinning as she chewed on the beef. 

“Oh oh! Music Core is about to start!” Choyi grabbed the remote and switched the tv channel to MBC. “Is your favorite singer performing later?” Y/n chuckled as her eyes turned to the tv. 

“Choyi’s a carat.” Choyi nodded excitedly to Hana’s reply. 

Y/n’s eyes looked at them, confused. “Carrot? The veggie?” Hana burst out laughing while Choyi sighed, “not that carrot. Carat, as in, diamond carat. It’s just our fandom name.” 

“Whose fandom name?” 

“Them.” Y/n looked to the tv screen where Choyi was pointing. 

“They’re called Seventeen.”

On the screen stood what seemed like twelve or thirteen guys standing and dancing alongside fangirls screaming. 

“Oh, I’ve heard of them! Didn’t they have this song called Mansae or something?” Y/n heard about the boygroup before but didn’t really pay attention to it because she wasn’t a fan of k-pop music but k-dramas instead. 

“Omg yes! Are you a carat too?!” Choyi excitedly ask though her eyes were not leaving the tv screen even for a second. “Um, not really. I just heard of them heh.” Y/n gazed back onto the tv screen bringing her attention to that one particular member who caught her eye, oh, that guy is kinda good looking.

///

2020, enroute from Singapore to Seoul

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent towards Incheon International Airport. Please ensure that your seats are upright, tray tables are stowed and..”

Y/n woke up to the landing announcement being made and adjusted her seat upright as she looked out the window. There it was. South Korea, the country filled with both good and bad memories. 

Y/n sighed as she unbuckled her belt and waited for the cabin crew to open the doors. She was to make her journey to Seoul but the mere thought of it made her feel a little anxious. It’s fine right? 

It’s a big city so the chances of bumping into people I know here is small. Very small. She comforted herself as she made her way to immigrations. Here goes nothing.

[axelsagewrites]

Stiles Stilinski*Followed Pt1

Ship(s): Stiles x Fem!Reader

Requested (?): By anonymous 

Can I get a Stiles x reader where the reader is this grunge/punk girl and is kinda intimidating and to everyone (even Derek?) and she finally gets a chance to be alone with Stiles (detention, study hall, etc. your choice) and they realize they have A LOT more in common than they thought?

Warnings?: couple swears, the norm.

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

 (Y/N)  pov

I swear if one more person says I’m scary I’m going to flip out! Okay, maybe that won’t convince them but still. Apparently, I look intimidating. My face is just naturally aggressive for some reason. It's like a curse really.

This was one of the reasons, I think, that my friendship group is only small. Very small, at least in school. while I had friends from middle school and even a couple from freshman year, I hadn’t made any recently in school.

According to my friends, it might have something to do with the dyed hair, sarcastic comments and, resting bitch face. I come from a very sarcastic family and you have to be witty to survive.

While I’m not exactly bullied words like ‘goth’ ‘emo’ and ‘freak’ seem to be used more when I walk in a room. While there isn’t anything wrong with being goth, I’m just sick of being called it. For a time, I just stopped wearing anything with black on it but after coming to school in a white and yellow outfit and still getting called goth I gave up.

So, I’m the grunge kid. The one your parents tell you to cross the street from and that your grandma reminds you how sweet you used to be. And I don’t give a fuck.

But I kinda do. Like while I don’t deal with the awkwardness of introductions and meeting new people it’s because people don’t talk to me. And I wanna talk! I want to make new friends and get out of my shell. Partly because I don’t want to be alone forever and partly because I don’t wanna die alone!

For a while now this school has felt…strange. It started with a dead body being found in the woods and for some reason, my stomach is still in knots. Not to mention the guy they suspected of the murder keeps randomly showing up at school and dragging Scott and Stiles away. While I’m not friends with either I can’t help but be a little worried for them.

As I walk out of school, I prepare for the walk home. Headphones, jacket zipped, and dead face. I might as well live up to expectations. Honesty I’m used to the silent walk home. I live just close enough that I can walk but far enough that it’s a pain in the ass. Occasionally I get lucky and get a ride home, but it’s been a while.

I pass by a car far too nice to be in our parking lot and the man in the car sends chills down my spine. Derek Hale. Why is he here and why does he creep me out? The black Camaro feels like a shadow over the school, a constant reminder that Beacon Hills isn’t that safe after all.

Unlike in a room com when our eyes locked, and I didn’t look away it was because I was scared. But I couldn’t show that. Never.

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

  3rd pov

Derek’s eyes stayed on the unnamed girl as she walked away until he heard his car door open. “Who is she?” he asked as Scott slid into the front seat.

Stiles clambered into the back seat, making Derek internally wince at the mud on his shoes, “Who?” He said loudly as if he was in some TV show.

Derek rolled his eyes and looked at Scott, just hoping someone would be normal. “Um, I’m not sure. She’s from a different middle school. kinda keeps to herself,”

“Is this the scary chick from chemistry?” Stiles's head popped between the two front seats.

“Yup, What’s her name again?” Scott said, flinging his head back. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Really sarcastic, kinda scary, and would probably start a fight. Remind you of anyone?” Stiles looked at Derek.

Derek raised an eyebrow at the boy, “You’re scared of me?” Stiles mumbled something under his breath, “Put your belts on. I don’t need more problems,”

As Derek backed out his parking spot Scott piped up, “Why do you wanna know anyway?”

“Hm? Just wondered. Something about her doesn’t seem quite…right,”

“Like supernatural?” Stiles asked, popping his head through again. “Can’t you use your werewolf smell to tell?” Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. In truth she didn’t have a smell, unlike Stiles where Derek could smell his emotions, she didn’t have anything. Or maybe he just couldn’t tell. Derek didn’t like not knowing.

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

 (Y/N) pov

Another day, same old school stuff. My mum, who used to resent some of the clothes I’d wear, said nothing as I walked out in grey skinny jeans, Star Wars tee, and dark green shirt.

It was winter now and the walks home and to school were getting darker. Last night it felt like someone lingered around every corner, but I was alone. The walk to school was only made better as I knew the sun was rising.

My mum didn’t finish work till 5 but something was telling me I shouldn’t walk home tonight. Instead, I told her I was going to study support and would be finished around 5. Luckily, she offered to swing by after to pick me up meaning I wouldn’t be leaving school till about 5:15.

All the hope of my friends staying with me went out the window. One was sick, one had to leave early for a dentist appointment, and the last didn’t want to stay back that long because she had an online tournament that night. So, I was going to be alone.

Chemistry study support lasted from the end of school, 3:30, till 4:30. What I was going to do after, I don’t know. But alas I took the walk to chemistry after school and figured the school, at least, was safe.

Kinda.

While Mr. Harrison hatted everyone in his class equally, he was still required to do at least one after school study support class. No one ever went. I’d even emailed him the night before to make sure it was still on. He said it was though and even double-checked in chemistry first thing that I was still going, probably wanted to see if he could not go himself. He didn’t linger long though as after asking me Stiles station started smoking and he quickly went to yell at the boy.

both tragically and thankfully I walked to his class after the bell. As expected when I stepped in his class it was empty. Well apart from the man sat at his desk, moodily grading papers. He looked up as I entered, “You came,” his voice was as motioned as always.

“Yup,” I gave an awkward smile. Quickly I went to my sent, pulling out my chemistry stuff. I figured if I was going to be here I might as well study, “Sir can you how I went wrong on this question?”

The eye-roll he barely tried to hide spoke volumes. Alas, he did saunter over to my desk to brutally tell me where I had gone wrong. Just as he finished his spiel the door opened. “You’re late Stiles,” he said, not looking away from my paper.

“Sorry, Sir. Coach- “

“Sit down,” Mr. Harrison sauntered away from my desk over to his. He pulled out two poly pockets filled with sheets and handed Stiles and me a packet. “Study this. I need to go to the photocopier and if a single thing is out of place when I come back, I’ll know who did it,” his stormy gaze was met with two pairs of uncaring teenage eyes before he all but stormed out the class.

As I glanced over the papers, I realised I would rather wait in the parking lot. I couldn’t help chuckling a little before I packed up. Stiles shifted in his seat, “Where are you going?” he stuttered a little.

I looked up from my desk to see him looking at me, but he looked straight down. “Anywhere but here. I came for study support not to proofread a book,”

“You chose to be here?”

“Yeah,” I said with a fake preppy smile, “apparently I really do hate myself,” I walked to the front of the class. “Detention?” he nodded with an awkward smile before sulking in his chair, tapping his pencil. He had the same habit each time he got embarrassed in class which was too often. “What’d you do?”

“Scott put too much of the enzyme in and then there was smoke, but it was only a little. And I got the blame! Because apparently coach wouldn’t miss me at practice,”

“Well that’s bull,” I said. Stiles just kinda nodded and somehow sulked further. “How longs your detention?”

“Till 4 or something. I mean you’ve probably had worse but still,”

I had to try hold in a laugh as I moved to sit on the desk across from Stiles. “Nope.” I chuckled. His eyebrows scrunched and damn his eyes, “I’ve never had detention,”

“Really? I mean no offence but like I just assumed because well you know- “

My sigh cut him off, “I’m what? Scary? Yeah, I get it but I’m not actually a bad person,”

“I never meant that. It's just you are a bit…” he seemed to think, “Intimidating. Like you look important and as if you’ve got somewhere to be and I don’t want to get in your way,”

“The only place I want to be is home,” I said, “At home, alone, watching some geeky movie with popcorn. But alas, here I am,”

Stiles paused, even stopping from tapping his pencil, “Sweet, salted, or butter popcorn?”

I paused for dramatic effect, “microwave popcorn, from the corner shop, butter – but! With sweet popcorn topping from a shaker,”

He groaned, “That sounds amazing,”

“It is,”

We fell back into silence. “If you could movie marathon any series,” Stiles started “What one would you chose?”

“Star Wars. Easy,”

“Really?” he asked, his jaw seemingly hanging off.

“Yeah,” I grinned, moving my plaid shirt out of the way to show the death star on my tee. Though I had worn it so often the print had faded, “what did you expect?”

“Some horror film or something. I didn’t expect you to be- “

“A massive geek?” Stiles laughed and a bubble formed in my chest, “Same question. What movie series? And what snacks?”

Somehow this turned into a 20-minute convo on movies before Harrison came back. “You’re still here?” he asked. “You know what just go. I’ve got better things to do than babysit two teenagers,” he didn’t have to tell us twice and we bolted for the door before he could change his mind.

“I can’t believe I chose to go there,” I laughed as we walked through the corridor.

“I know,” Stiles laugh was becoming a favourite sound of mine, “I mean maybe it’s a good thing. Now I know you’re not scary. And someone who finally loves Star Wars,”

“If you ever want to geek out?” I said, opening my arms as he opened the door to the outside “I’m down to talk Star Wars,”

The parking lot was desolate apart from 3 cars; Stiles, Mr. Harrisons, and some other car in the back corner of the lot. Stiles nodded to the car “Is that yours?”

“I don’t have a car,” I said, my eyes stuck on the car for some reason. I didn’t want to look away.

Stiles brought me back to reality “How are you getting home?”

I forced my eyes away and back towards the boy in front of me, “Um my mum said she'd pick me up after work,”

“When is she coming?” he asked, checking the time on his phone.

“like…5:20?” I said.

His eyes went wide, “So you’re just gonna sit here for over an hour?” I shrugged. He glanced at the blue truck, “Do you want a lift?”

“Um, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to- “

“It's fine yeah. I mean unless you don’t want to then I get it but um… I don’t mind.”

Silence. The blush on his checks made mine flare-up. “Hum, that would be great. I’ll text my mum then,”

“Its no problem. Where about do you stay?” when I told him something seemed to dawn on him, “you only live like 5 minutes from me,”

“Yeah you pass me in your truck every morning,” I said as I clambered into the passenger seat. “Nice car,”

“Thanks,” a goofy smile stretched his face, proud of himself. I couldn’t help smiling a little.

While the conversation was awkward and clunky it was honestly better than I had had with my friends at lunch. As we were driving, I got the same feeling I got last night. I kept glancing in the wing mirror. “Are you okay?” Stiles asked.

“That car,” I said, “in the wing mirror,” I saw him glance at it in the rear-view mirror. His eyes went back to the road but jumped back to the car almost instantly, “Is that from school?”

“Maybe they're going the same way?” he said.

“Why didn’t we notice them leave though?”

Stiles's eyes went back to the road, “I’ve got an idea,” he said as he put on his indicator. One left turn, then a right, then a left. the car was still there, “It following us,”

“But- “

“One's an incident, twos a coincidence, threes a pattern,” he reached into his pocket and handed me his phone, “text Scott,”

“Why Scott? Isn’t your dad the sheriff?” Stiles said nothing. Glancing at him, then the car, then the phone. I opened the phone and went to contacts, “Do you want him on speaker?”

“Don’t call!” Stiles looked at me quickly before putting his eyes on the road, “You need to trust me on this one. Text him. Tell him I’m going to Derek’s and to meet me there,”

“Like Derek hale? The murder?”

Stiles glanced at me, “I may not like the guy but believe it or not he’s one of the good guys. Kind of. Just trust me. Please?”

I nodded and opened Scott’s contact as I saw the car follow us around another corner.

[whatarubberchicken]

Marichat May 19

(The Lost Episodes continue! This one I stopped writing because I wasn’t sure if it counted. I’ve decided it counts.)

I Made You a Mask

Chat Noir landed on Marinette’s bed and looked around quickly.

Deserted. Perfect.

His ring gave another frantic beep. He took a deep breath and allowed the transformation to drop. Plagg flew up to his face, unamused.

“Your house is literally a block away,” the kwami reminded him.

Adrien looked away. “It’s a big block,” he reasoned. “I didn’t know if I’d make it on time.”

“Uh huh. And the idea of seeing your girlfriend again—”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“—instead of being chewed out by your father for not practicing your piano again… was just a happy coincidence?” Plagg said, giving him a sideways stare.

“You got it!” Adrien said cheerfully, shooting his kwami some finger guns. He flopped back onto the bed, relaxing for a moment and letting the familiar scent of this place wash over him. His eyes happened to fall on the pictures Marinette had. “I don’t know why he even bothers to have me play anymore,” he muttered, frowning at the Gabriel ads. “It’s not like he ever comes to my recitals.”

There was a bang down below, and Adrien sat up straight, looking down in horror as Marinette came up into her room.

He dove under the blankets.

“Plagg,” he hissed, “claws—”

“Cheese, kid,” Plagg deadpanned, reminding Adrien that they’d used Cataclysm in the battle they’d just gotten back from. Adrien dug around in his jacket. Blast. He was all out of his emergency supply!

“Chat, is that you?” Marinette called.

Adrien winced. “Um, yeah!”

“You sound weird. Is everything okay?”

Crap. Crap. Crap! Her voice was getting closer! “Everything’s fine!”

“You’d better not have my yarn collection under there with you,” she warned. Judging from her voice, she was on the stairs to her bed, if not closer.

“Nope! Just me!” he said, trying to laugh. He felt the blanket move. “No, don’t!” he yelped, pulling the covers tighter around himself.

“I knew it!” Marinette cried, exasperation running through her voice as she pulled on the blanket again. “You do have something you’re not supposed to! What is it? My yarn? My diary? I swear to God, if you’re trying to read my diary, Chat—"

“I’m not!” he yowled, perfectly aware that his bad track record was not working in his favor as she tugged harder. “I’m—”

His throat closed on the words. His mind spun. If he told her he wasn’t transformed right now, what would she do?! Would she still pull the covers off?! Her best friend was Alya; surely she’d want to know who he was too, right?!

And when she found out who he really was… ohhhh, she’d hate him!!

Panicked, he could only squeak and growl as they continued to fight over the blankets. It was turning into an all-out wrestling match! He had to think of something! Something to distract her! Something! ANYTHING!

Marinette, realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to pull the blankets up, suddenly switched tactics and dove underneath them.

With him.

“Gotcha, kit—!”

Adrien panicked and pounced, throwing her down onto the bed. Then, before she could look up at him, one of his hands quickly covered her eyes while the other pinned her hands above her head.

Crap! She was still trying to fight him!!

“Don’t you dare tickle me, you—!"

With one part of his brain in full panic mode (DISTRACT HER! DISTRACT HER! DISTRACT HER!!) and the other trying to find a way to keep her immobile (HOLY CRAP, SHE’S STRONG! WHY IS FIGHTING SO HARD?!) he did the first thing that came to mind.

He covered her lips with his.

Marinette froze beneath him.

And he froze above her. Knowing perfectly well how bad this looked.

Here he was—without his catsuit—pinning his classmate to her bed—kissing her on the mouth—both of them breathing heavily—please nobody come through that door, this looks really bad—and… OH MAN, HOW LONG HAD HE BEEN KISSING HER NOW?!

He quickly broke the kiss, shifting his weight so he could get up off her. He still didn’t dare take his hand away from her eyes.

“You,” Marinette gasped, freeing one arm and trying to force his hand away from her face, “have about two seconds to explain yourself before I knee you below the belt, buster!”

“Sorry,” he panted, his face now brighter than Ladybug’s costume. “I just—”

“Chat,” she said, her voice suddenly calm. “Are your hands touching me?” Her own fingers were tracing the skin of his hand as he continued to pin her down.

“I can explain—”

“Not your gloves?”

“Umm…”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, going limp beneath him. “You’re not transformed right now, are you.”

“Please don’t peek,” he begged. “I just… kinda panicked.”

“I’ll say,” she muttered. “Let me go, please. I promise I won’t peek.” He hesitated, wondering if Plagg would be able to suddenly, miraculously transform him right now. “Chat, I’m serious. I don’t want to know your identity. I even made you a mask for this very situation.”

He blinked. “Really?!” he asked incredulously, finally sitting up.

True to her word, Marinette’s eyes remained closed.

“Yes, really, you silly cat,” she teased, still not moving. “Now, go hide under my blankets again so I can grab it for you.”

He obeyed, feeling a bit foolish. And now that his mind was clear, he wanted to kick himself. Of course he could trust Marinette! Why had he ever doubted her?! He’d even offered to reveal himself before, and she’d turned him down! Geez, he got stupid when he panicked! A few moments later, he heard, “Hand out, kitty!” and stuck his hand out to feel her press a small mask into it.

Relief washed over him as he put it on. She truly was super-amazing. He poked his head out of the blanket, but kept it wrapped around himself.

“Thanks, princess,” he chirped, trying to get some the Chat Noir swagger back into his voice. She’d said he sounded funny earlier… it was probably the lack of magic.

“What are you still doing in that blanket?” she asked, looking amused.

“I’m a purrito.”

“Chat…”

“You might recognize my clothes,” he explained with a wry grin. Gabriel exclusives… he’d be surprised if she didn’t recognize them, actually. Especially with her attention to detail.

To his surprise, she groaned and hit her head with her hand. “Did you basically just tell me I know you as a civilian?” she asked, sounding exasperated again.

He swallowed. Oops.

“I umm… I can neither confirm nor deny that you and I could have, but maybe haven’t, though it’s not for certain, possibly have not seen each other sometime throughout the day,” he said, giving her an innocent grin.

She gave him a deadpan stare. “So… yes, then.”

He licked his lips nervously. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, princess,” he reminded her.

She shook her head at him and turned away to go back down the stairs. “Where’s your kwami? Let’s fill him up so you can get your dirty shoes off my bed.”

“My shoes aren’t—! Wait,” Adrien said, staring at her. “How do you know what a kwami is?”

She went pale.

“Ah-Alya?!” she laughed nervously. “She—uh, posted an exclusive interview about Rena Rouge last month!”

“Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t see that one. And I have the Ladyblog as my homepage.”

“Oh? Really? Maybe she forgot to post it, silly girl!” Marinette said, smiling a bit too widely to be believable. “She sometimes lets me look at stuff before she posts it, so that must be where I saw it, yeah!” She laughed again. Adrien scowled. While it was (sorta) believable… why was she acting so nervous?

“Well, I’ll go get you some cheese!” she said, taking off downstairs again.

And how had she known Plagg liked cheese?? His kwami floated up beside him, grinning. Adrien narrowed his eyes. Before he could say anything, Plagg made a motion like he was zipping his lips shut and dove after Marinette.

“Hey, Princess! You got any camembert?!”

And Adrien was left alone with his spinning thoughts.

...WaRC

[doctortdesigns]

Looks like we are starting to hit the season of fall fashions!  Simplicity has just announced their Pre-Fall collection, and I’ll be posting about Butterick’s Early Fall collection tomorrow as well!  Fall fashions tend to be my favorite, but, if I’m being honest, I’m not the most excited with these new releases.  Perhaps my feelings will change as I write this review (as they sometimes do), but as of right now, I’m holding out for the August Burda before I get really excited about fall fashions this year.  Regardless, there is a lot to look at in this release, so let’s get started:

  8686 – 1940s Vintage dress.  I tend to like 40s fashions, but this is one of those styles that really is too cute/sweet/girly for me to picture myself wearing.  I think the vintage lovers will enjoy this dress – it has lots of great features and style lines, but I think this is also one of those styles that looks distinctly vintage, and isn’t necessarily as translatable to someone who enjoys doing a “sneaky vintage” modern wardrobe.

  8687 – This shirt dress, on the other hand, feel very modern.  Also perhaps slightly scandalous?  I definitely get a “wearing my man’s oversized shirt as a robe after I get out of bed” vibe from this.  Not that there is anything wrong with that.  But I think it may limit the versatility of this as a wardrobe piece.  I do like the asymmetric hem and the wrap style, but, there is definitely a vibe I get from this piece that I don’t know if I’d be comfortable wearing in public.  Maybe a belt would change that feel for me?  Styling could change this look a lot I think…  Feel free to completely disagree with me in the comments on this one – I feel like this could be a super popular design, since it is one of the more unique looks in this release.

  8688 – This dress has some nice options, between the sleeve styles and the skirt styles.  I don’t know that I need to add it to my collection – I’ve got some knit dress patterns from back when I very first started sewing that are pretty similar – but I like this dress.  Looks like it would be great as an outfit base for those fall days when you need to transition between layers and no layers.

  8689 – This style of tunic really isn’t anything new, but I do think Simplicity did a nice job of styling and presentation.  Another pass for me, but I would be excited to see other sewing bloggers make this one up.

  8690 – Mimi G. Style.  I’m going to say that this dress looks adorable on Mimi!  But, again, this is a case where I know it isn’t something I’d wear myself, so it’s going to be a pass from a personal standpoint.  It is super cute though – the proportions of the sleeves are great in relation to the whole dress.

  8691 – Sew Chic dress.  This is clearly a vintage inspired look.  I like it, especially the short sleeved version, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got several vintage re-releases that are quite similar.  Another style that I find to be cute, but not special enough to warrant a spot in the stash.

  8692 – 1950s Vintage blouse pattern.  I do like the shape of these blouses: fitted, but not overly so.  I’m not a big fan of zippers on the back of a top, but for views A-C it is pretty unavoidable with such a high neckline.

  8693 – This asymmetric top looks like a button front shirt got halfway put on backwards to me.  I do like the simpler versions (as a one-shoulder 80s-inspired sweater I’m all about this pattern!), but I’m really not a fan of the view that Simplicity used for the model photo – it just looks ill fitting and sloppy.

  8694 – At this point there really is nothing left to say about these loose tops with sleeve details, except, look, another one!  This one does have dolman sleeves, so I guess that’s a new-ish variation to this style?  Really, though, at this point there are so many, just pick one.

  8695 – 1930s Vintage sleeve patterns.  Do I want this to use on modern sewing pattern?  No.  Do I want this for part of my costume/cosplay pattern stash so I can study the drafting on these sleeve variants?  You better believe it.

  8696 – I prefer my cardigans with less volume and more length, but this does look rather cozy.

  8697 – The square boyfriend blazer really isn’t a look that works for me, so I’ll avoid this pattern for myself, but I do like the single and double breasted options here, as well as the collar variants.

  8698 – I know it’s a drawstring pant, but it’s a drawstring pant with stripes and pockets and I like it.

  8699 – I also rather like this skirt as well.  I think I perhaps already have more than enough wrap pencil skirts in my Burda stash, but this one pattern seems to have a lot of variety, even though the pattern tweaks are pretty minimal between views.

  8700 – Pattern Hacking.  I’ve been thinking I want a more casual jacket for fall, but something about the proportions of this one just aren’t doing it for me.

  8701 – Pattern Hacking.  Somehow switching out pockets doesn’t seem like much of a “hack,” but what do I know?  I do like the silhouette and overall look of these, but, again, very similar to other styles I’ve got in the stash already.

  8702 – Mimi G. Style.  This tracksuit is pretty cute and very 80s.  I’s not be interested in the drop-crotch pants at all, but I do like the jacket, and the slim-legged pants are cute for a fall work-out look.

  8703 – This was a pattern that initially I just skipped over (it’s a plain yellow top and leggings), but, actually, those other tops with the stomach gathers are pretty cute!  I don’t know if this will make it onto my wishlist, but it is a definite maybe.

  8704 – Love these pull over tops!  The raglan sleeve and length look great for exercising is colder weather.  Plus, lots of cool pockets for exercising with devices.

  8705 – This man’s version somehow doesn’t read as exciting as the woman’s pattern, but the sleeve pouch for a phone or iPod is pretty great.

8706 – Baby Gear.  Not much to say about baby clothes, but the layers look practical.

8707 – I’ve been toying with the idea of a lace cardigan for a while, and this is exactly what I wanted.  Love this!  Totally going into my stash until I can locate the perfect lace fabric for this endeavor.

8708 – These girls dress are pretty generic, but also pretty cute for fall.

  8709 – Gertrude Made bags.  I don’t love the aesthetic of the bags in the photos, but from the line drawing, these are totally bags I would use.  I do wish it was drafted for a zip closure, but I suppose that is something one could find a way to add?

  8710 – These large travel duffle bags are also not depicted in a color scheme I’d enjoy, but I do love how practical the bags are, plus they fit over the handle of a rolly suitcase!  So cleaver.  I’d be curious to see how the inside is drafted (pockets???), but I think this might be on my list, since it seems my travel schedule is upping in the next year or so.

  8711 – Madalynne.  The bra does not look supportive enough for anyone outside of the A/B range, and why would you want to add butt ruffles to your underwear?  I mean, really?  At least from the standpoint of wearing underwear under clothes in any case.  I was going to ponder the butt ruffle as an analog to a tail feather and the implications that could have in mating rituals, but I shall refrain.

  8712 – Aprons.  Pretty simple, not too exciting, but could be good if you want to make a “mommy and me” sort of look.  The aprons loop pretty practical, if not overly embellished – nice pockets and full coverage.

  8713 -Hats!  These are actually pretty cool, and really practical styles for costuming.  Love how much variety comes in a single pattern too.

  8714 – Love the historical doll clothes.  So cute.

  8715 – Ok, I want, nay, NEED this dragon in my life!  How stinking cute is this?  And, I mean, let’s be real – I need at least three of them.  That’s right – NEED.

  8716 –  These bears are cute, but they aren’t dragons.

  8717 – More aprons.  I find the other style to be more pragmatic.

  8718 – I’m sure the internet will tell me if I’m wrong, but I really feel like this is supposed to be a Rey/Daenerys mash up of costume pieces?  Lots of great pieces in here for the cosplayers out there.

  8719 – I’m less excited by this… I don’t know what to call it?  Generic sexy fantasy style pattern?  I feel like all of these pieces have been recombined from pre-existing patterns.

  8720 – Good job on picking up that it is the 25th anniversary of Hocus Pocus!  I’m not even sure Disney has grasped that yet…  I’ve not seen crazy heavy advertising about re-release special editions or anything.  In regards to the pattern, I do wish these Sanderson sisters were a bit more detailed in the designs, but, bravo to Simplicity for winning at the cultural relevance game.

  8721 – One should never pass by a good cape pattern.  The hood shape looks really great, and the cape is nice and full.

  8722 – Once again, I’m sure the internet will inform me, but I’m not quite sure which franchise Simplicity is referencing here?  There are certainly shows I watch where jumpsuits are “the look” but this pattern is much baggier and less fitted than the styles used in those shows.  The tan one is a very Ghostbusters vibe, but I’m not sure if that is the reference I’m supposed to be picking up on here?

  8724 – Kids Star Wars/Superhero costumes.  Really versatile, and really cute.

  8725 – Nice to see Ariel added to the Disney Princess lineup.

  8726 – Super generic kids costumes.

  8727 – More generic kids costumes.

  8728 – Cool way to do a mermaid tail in this pattern.

  8729 – Kids capes, because, capes!

  5628 – Jiffy pattern re-release.  This literally is a piece of fabric folded in half, with two partial seams, and a neck opening.  Pass.

  9192 – Men’s vintage ties are kinda cool.  Not the massively wide one, but the skinny tie or bow tie could be useful.

And that’s it!  On the whole my top picks for this release really are in the craft/costume/cosplay realm.  Not too much new or exciting in the main release.  There is a lot of stuff I found “cute” but not much I felt needed to be added to the collection.  What do you all think?  See anything that is going to kick-start your fall sewing?  Or are we waiting for the bigger releases coming later next month?  Feel free to discuss in the comments!

Simplicity Patterns Pre-Fall 2018 #sewing #patterns #Simplicity #SimplicityPatterns #prefall #fallsewing Looks like we are starting to hit the season of fall fashions!  Simplicity has just announced their…

[i-also-miss-our-talks]

Headcannon where Davey takes you home for Christmas for the first time and you meet the whole fam (minus Les)?

Holy fuck this is long and I don’t know if its actually good but I hope you like it! Let me know if you don’t, though, and I’ll rewrite it!

WC: 2,294 

Warning: Swearing, Pretty sure that’s it

Masterlist

so Davey

sweet boy

met you the first year of college

you two were in the library at the same time to get the same book

and yadda, yadda, yadda, hugs, kisses, confessions, you two start dating

yay!

you have been dating for about two years and now it’s the holidays

yay! x 2

and unfortunately, you weren’t able to go home for christmas because it’s a lot of money and you’re a college student so you don’t have money

aw

but Davey said you could come home with him for christmas

yay! x3

so after your last exam, you pack up your stuff in Davey’s car and ride with him to his house (were gonna say it’s the 22nd for story reasons)

his house is about four hours away from the college so you guys made a playlist and belted out the songs for the whole ride

(of course Davey tried to be a show off and riff everything but holy fuck was he good at it)

by the time you guys got to his house, it was pitch black a snowing heavily

you two grab your luggage and laugh as you try not to slip on the ice running up to the door

Les is the one who answers the door and gasps

“Davey!”

he lunges at his brother for a hug but ends up throwing both of them into the snow behind him

you smile and take pictures of the brotherly reunion

then Les and Davey get up and help take the bags inside

“mom! dad! David and Y/N are here!”

you take of your shoes next to Davey’s and follow him to the kitchen where his folks are

you’ve met them before so you give them hugs and such before heading up to Daveys room

when you two got there, Davey blushed and rubbed the back of his neck

“do you wanna just share the bed?”

you smile and nod

then the next day comes because im too lazy to write the rest of the night

so the next day is the 23rd and the day before the rest of the family comes so you guys start getting stuff ready

Les and Davey set up the tree and stockings and decorate the tree

his dad goes outside to put up lights

and you and his mom bake cookies for all his family members

and you’re all wearing christmas hats because wearing christmas hats while decorating is mandatory

his mom told you stories from when Davey was little during christmas while you two mixed the batter

like one time before Les was born (they’re about nine years apart) Davey went sledding with his dad but he went down the hill too fast and basically flew down it. he ended up getting the front of the sled stuck in a snow drift and he went flying and smacked into a tree trunk and that’s the story of how Davey lost both of his front teeth

another time there was a girl he liked freshman year of high school and he wanted to get her a present so he got her this really pretty (and expensive) necklace while he was out buying a little harmonica for Les cause the little five-year-old saw a kid in a commercial playing one so he really wanted one. so Davey bought both of them and went home a wrapped them both in the same wrapping paper. But the necklace and the harmonica were both in a long rectangle box so the next day at school he accidentally gave the girl the harmonica

while the cookies were in the oven, you and his mom joined the bros in putting up other stuff around the house

you and Les went around the house to put up little stacks of presents

when you came back Davey asked you to help him put something up

you nodded, of course, and followed him

he brought you to the front door and pulled the mistletoe out from behind his back

you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted it above your heads

you were about to kiss Davey when his dad opened the door

Davey blushed deeply

“d-dad!”

he laughed

“sorry, Dave. but i need your help”

Davey sighed and handed you the mistletoe before grabbing his coat and boots to follow his dad outside with

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek to give him a smile before he closed the door

a few hours later, Davey came back inside shivering and covered in snow from helping outside

you helped him take his jacket and boots off and led him to the couch in the living room, cuddling next to him to warm him up

Davey wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead

you two fell asleep all cuddled up like that

aww!

cuties!

his mom snapped a photo and texted it to you after posting it on her Facebook with the hashtag #mysleepingbabies

Daveys mom is actually the real MVP

Les politely woke you two up for dinner by throwing a snowball at Daveys face

he chased Les around the house while you go with his mom to get pizza

when you come back, Davey opens the front door for you two

he takes the pizza out of your hands and shyly kisses you

you’re like “?” until he points to the mistletoe he hung above the front door

you roll your eyes but cant help and giggle at his dorkiness

Davey kisses his moms cheek too before bringing the food to the kitchen

your boy is so sweet

love him forever pls

now

the next day

christmas eve

family christmas

you got dressed in nice jeans and a cute red sweater with a santa hat to top it off

Davey matches you with jeans and a nice christmas sweater

before going downstairs, he just holds you for a bit on his bed

“Y/N, listen. my family can get…weird”

“Davey, im sure it’ll be fine”

“they’re not like mom or dad or Les. they’re…well..you’ll see. but if you ever feel like it’s too much let me know and we can just come back up here and cuddle”

you laugh and give him a quick peck

“only if you do the same”

your boyfriend nods and grabs your hand, leading you downstairs

Les is dressed nice too

and guess what?

guess

fucking

what?

Les and Davey are wearing matching sweaters

and his mom and dad are wearing matching sweaters

turns out the whole family had matching sweaters

they’re the best family tbh

then little Les hands you a present and tells you to open it

you do as you’re told and gasp because holy crap its the same sweater they’re all wearing

“you better hurry and put it on before the rest of the family gets here” their mom says

you start to tear up because oh my gosh you’re a part of their family they got you a sweater to match them oh my gosh

you quickly run upstairs and change before coming down and hugging Davey

“did you know about this?”

he nodded

“of course i did. my mom came up with it though”

then zip zap zoo the rest of the family is in the Jacobs household

we’re talking cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, even grunckles and grants

its a lot of people

and they all love you

they keep teasing Davey like

“how’d you snag her you nerd?” cousin Frank

“blink twice if he paid you to date him” uncle Thomas

“why don’t ya ditch the bookworm and hang with a real man?” Race

“Race, what the hell are you doing here? get out,” Davey said and pushed him out the door

the party was great and everyone was so nice

his grandma loved your hair and how when Davey looked at you his eyes would almost sparkle. she told you that her mother told her her husbands eyes sparkled like that when they were still dating and that’s how she knew he was the one

you secretly told her later that you knew Davey was the one a year ago when he called you beautiful after your phone went off at three in the morning when he slept over in your dorm. the light from your phone screen had shown off your messy hair, gunk in the cracks of your eyes, and the slight drool crust on the corner of your lips. but Davey woke up with you and as soon as he saw you in the light, he called you beautiful. that’s why you knew he meant it

Davey’s uncle was a bit weird, though

not uncle Thomas

uncle Logan

he would just stand in the corner of the room and watch the party from afar

he never spoke unless spoken too

he had like twenty handfuls of pretzels, but half a glass of water

yeah

weirdo

kinda gave you the creeps

but anyway

Davey did get a bit jealous when a few of his cousins started hitting on you, but you just simply took him to the mistletoe every time and that seemed to make him feel better

then it was dinner time

you sat in-between Davey and Les and across from Race and Albert

“how do you keep getting into my house? get out of here!”

after chasing off Race and Albert, you ended up sitting across from his Aunt Judy and Grandma

during dinner, Davey held your hand under the table

aww

he’s so sweet

you helped Les and his mom clean the table while Davey went to go do something

you didn’t know what it was. all he told you was that it was “a family tradition”

so you didn’t ask questions

after dishes, you followed Les to Davey where he sat at a piano

(holy crap this is getting long. i’ll try to speed things up)

you sat next to Davey on the bench and smiled as he began to play classic christmas songs

his whole family sang together in pretty much perfect harmony and you were just amazed

like wow not only is Davey the most amazing singer ever but he comes from a family of amazing singers like wtf i don’t think that’s fair

but yeah

so after all the songs, everything was calming down when everyone gathered around the tree to open presents

everyone apologized that they didn’t get you a gift cause they didn’t know you were coming, but you said it was fine and helped Davey open his

afterwards, Davey took you to his room while everyone messed with their new gifts

he sat with you on his bed and pulled out a small box from under his bed

“here. i was gonna wait till tomorrow, but i felt bad for you not getting anything just now”

you smiled and kissed his cheek

“its not a harmonica, is it?”

Davey blushed

“y-you know about that?! how?!”

you laughed and ignored his question by opening the gift

your heart almost stopped at the sight

“Davey…”

your boyfriend took the ring out of the box and held your hand

WHOA



CHILL GUYS



ITS JUST A PROMISE RING



DAVEY WOULDN’T PROPOSE AFTER ONLY TWO YEARS

Y’ALL GOOD?

“Y/N, i want to make a promise. i want to promise that i’ll always love you and care for you and help you no matter what. i know we’ve only been together for two years but i just know you’re the one”

you put a hand over your mouth to quiet your sobs

“so, Y/N, can i give you this ring as a promise that one day i can replace it with something permanent? something that’s us and only us?”

(okay. listen. deh is amaze so deal with the reference)

you nodded and let him slip the ring onto your finger

he’s crying too as he pulls you in for a deep kiss

when you two part, you lay down on the bed with him, resting your head on his chest

you two didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep without leaving cookies for Santa

(how dare u)

the next morning you were woken up by Les jumping onto Davey’s gut and screaming “IT’S CHRISTMAS” into your ears

Davey groaned in pain as you got up and changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt before heading downstairs

you smiled as Les smiled at what Santa had brought

he immediately tore open his gifts once his mom and dad had sat on the couch with coffee

you sat on the ground with your back against the wall and watched Les show off his gifts

Davey came down a few minutes later in PJ pants and a t-shirt, clutching his stomach as he sat next to you

you leaned into his side and he wrapped his arm around you

omg

guys

you two are so cute

i can’t with you guys

Les put yours and Daveys presents in front of you so you could open them

you smiled and handed Davey the present that was from you

“Merry Christmas, babe. hope you like it”

inside was a pair of new tap shoes cause the ones he currently has will be busted the next time he tries to do a shuffle

Davey gasps

“Y/N these are exquisite! they must’ve cost a fortune!”

(tap shoes are expensive as hell, man)

you just shrugged

Davey hugged you tightly and kissed your temple

“i love you”

you giggled and hugged him back

“i love you too”

christmas is the best

especially when your boyfriend is Davey Jacobs and you get to celebrate with his whole family

the fucking finally end

[striptaese]

A sober fanaccount of SWCV HK: 

We were at the venue at 10.30am which turned out to be a good thing. Merch booth opened at 12, and when we were there, the line was about 4 rows strong. By the time 12pm comes around, that queue has increased to about 4 times the length. My friend stood in the queue while I went looking for fansite giveaways of slogans, fans, headbands, etc. It took a surprising long time to get the stuff because so many fan sites were giving stuff out. By the time 11.55am came around, I ran back to the merch booth, and I was still not done getting the fansite giveaways. The merch booth line took forever to move. We were about at the 3rd row in the queue of maybe 10m long, and it took us till 1.10pm to finally get our stuff. 

We then went to collect our official slogan and fan for the support event, together with some small cute cards. Only standing tickets had to personally collect them. Those with seated tickets had their stuff already on their seats for them. We went back to the fansite give away area and… it was raining. Of course, rainee has brought the rain again. Nonetheless, we collected more stuff, and by 2.20pm or so, we decided to go as the standing waiting area was already open. We bought a subway sandwich each (I still have the cookie, I forgot about it) and sat at the waiting area. By then, our feet were already starting to hurt since we’ve been standing for some 4-5 hours already, so the break was great. I packed all my stuff neatly, and then we waited. Originally, the admission was supposed to start at 4, but people were coming in late and they kept dragging it back (which to be honest isn’t too fair for those of us who came early because those who were late were meant to go at the back of everyone else but instead they get to follow their original standing queue and head to the front instead). Admission for the first block started at close to 4.30pm.

Our queue number wasn’t too good, so we decided to hang around the back of the pit instead where the carts would come around after. They played the coexatrium video intermittently, and everytime a SHINee member comes up, everyone screams LOL. Runaway, the song that was played before the official start of the con, had literally 3 glitches where the song just stopped for a few moments. I was actually worried that the sounds for the performance would have issues after that, but it all turned out fine.

Key seemed to have had some issues with his mic at the start though. He kept adjusting something on his back and he literally just walked off the stage mid song, then came out moments later. The next song was slightly delayed, like few moments of silence, then when the lights were on and the music started, Key was not on stage with them (my heart ;;;) but he walked back out on stage before the lyrics started and all was fine. 

 When Onew introduced himself, he did it in Korean. Then, Taemin looked at him then seemed to have a short conversation with him off mic like hyung, you forgot, you need to add something else, and eventually Onew introduces himself in mandarin as well and the maknae is pacified. 

 Taemin was being super extra. He kept teasing the fans, leaning over, taking off his jacket, and squating at the edge of the stage, doing body waves etc. He was so soft and was just a happy beb uwu 

 Taemin came out late for rdd because he had to change after sayonara hitori and it seemed like he had some issues with his in ears too. When he came out running mid song, the red hoodie he was wearing just wouldn’t zip up. (He was basically bare all the way down to the bottom of his ribs. He tried several times to zip it back up until finally during Minho’s solo dance and the lights were off him, he must have pulled it up. When the lights came back on, the zipper was finally zipped to cover his chest. *cue me pointing and laughing as he struggles with the zipper* 

 Onew’s vocals for Please Don’t Go was especially strong that night??? At one point he was belting so hard I just dropped my jaw and went ‘Woah…’ all wide eyed. 

 Also, the Keymera power is real. He changed gazes with the cameras the moment they switched like how even. 

 Taemin removed his entire mic pack and inears towards the end of everybody, and threw it to the side

 Shawols started chanting for SHINee (encore) before they were even off the stage 😂😂😂. They ended everybody in the front stage, and had to walk to the back. So when we started chanting for SHINee, they were still walking on stage. When they went in, we starting singing happy birthday. 

 When they saw the banner event for an encore, Jinki bowed to us.

Story time of how yours truly lost both her lightsticks she literally just bought from the merch the very same morning.

So… the carts during So Amazing… yea… Minho came by us first, then Jongyu came next. Key and Taemin came from the other side. I looked into a video I took on my phone. I still had my lightsticks when Jongyu were approaching. Somewhere between that and TaeKey leaving, both the lightsticks are gone from my hands and I didn’t even notice to be honest. I just… went back to my spot and continued cheering like crazy until one Shawol from behind tapped my shoulder and passed a lightstick to me and I was like OH WHERE DID YOU GO?! Then I realized my second lightstick wasn’t there as well, so I walked back to where I was when the carts were passing, and another Shawol passed me my other lightstick. I have magic hands too, what are lightsticks when SHINee is like 2 meters in front of you. (I feel kinda bad, I’m such a nuisance to the other Shawols 🙈🙈🙈) 

When we sang happy birthday again to them whilst they were on stage, Jonghyun guided us to end off like a music teacher once again. 

[reekierevelator]

Through Binoculars

A low pale sun lit the undersides of white clouds, turning them pink as they stretched themselves slowly across the gradually darkening sky.

It was a calm and peaceful environment. Sam could even ignore the cold of the concrete bench as she continued to stare through binoculars, transfixed by the playful antics of individual curlews and oyster catchers as they went about their job of finding food in the shallow pools some fifty metres away.  

The enclosed concrete hide was built like the machine-gun emplacements seen in war movies. Sam’s binoculars were pointed out through the gap in the concrete wall which serves as a window. It crossed her mind how odd it was that she was now twenty years old and yet this was the first time she had had the urge to visit the Musselburgh lagoons.  Watching the birds was much more relaxing than she had expected.  

And today she knew she needed quiet and calm, time to reflect.  Her mother had suggested bird-watching as a way of de-stressing through communing with nature. And now she was so wrapped up in her observations that she didn’t hear them until they were quite close; rasping laughter and loud conversation.

She turned to see the two young men enter the hide.  Finding her the young men halted for a moment and stared. Sam stared back.  

They were casually dressed, trainers and wool hats, padded jackets over tracksuits. The smaller one raised a long roll-up to his lips and inhaled deeply. The sweet smell of cannabis spread through the hide.  Swinging by their sides they each held a giant brown plastic bottle. Sam read the large writing on the gaudy label:  White Lightning Cider.

‘Want a drink?’ asked the taller and stouter of the two men, thrusting his bottle out towards her.

‘No thanks,’ she replied cautiously.

‘Nice coat.  Loadsa pockets,’ the smaller weasel-faced man commented. ‘Looks good. Cost a bit, eh?’

Sam didn’t know how to reply.  She remembered her mother insisting she take the lined, waxed jacket, her own jacket, that morning as she set off, saying ‘You’ll need to watch you don’t catch a cold.’

She shrugged.

‘Whit ye up tae then, honey?’ the tall one asked.

‘Watching the waders.  Plenty of curlews.  Oyster catchers too.  There’s enough space in the hide if you’re planning to watch too.’

The smaller one snorted, said ‘Give us your binocs then dear.’

Sam had already begun to lift the binoculars strap over her head when she had second thoughts.  

‘No, I’m sorry.  These binoculars are special, to me at least, and I don’t really want anyone else using them.’

The response was a terse ‘Give us the fuckin binocs, and then fuck off.’

Sam was shaken, but she stirred.  ‘I think it might be better if you two were the ones to leave,’ she said.

The tall one grinned malevolently. ‘This wee bitch is looking for trouble Meggsy.’  He unscrewed the top of his bottle and took a long slug.

Meggsy, the smaller one, put his bottle down on the concrete shelf under the viewing gap and sparks flew as he briskly handed the spliff to the other man saying ‘She’s pure asking for it Hendo, and I’m the man to give her some.’

He lunged at Sam, grabbing her arm with one hand and pulling at the top of her coat with the other.  But his face expressed sudden shock and pain as Sam’s knee connected forcefully with his groin. His hands went limp, vainly trying to clutch the injured area, and he staggered backwards.

As Meggsy lay writhing on the rough concrete floor Hendo’s eyes widened. He gaped, revealing some stained and some missing teeth before laughing a croaky laugh .  He put the bottle to his mouth and swallowed another long draught.  ‘Gonnae sort her out are you? That’ll be right. Yer a fuckin numpty Meggsy.’  He giggled. ‘Ye’ve had some knock-backs fae the lassies right enough, but that takes the abernethy does it no, eh?  This one needs a real man.’ He put the bottle on the ground and slipped his right hand inside his jacket. He drew it out slowly. In the dimming light the blade glittered like the moon.  He held the knife loosely in front of him, drawing on the joint as he casually strolled over to Sam.

Sam pulled down the zip of her waxed coat to reveal a thick-ribbed khaki pullover scrunched up round the waist by a heavy brown leather belt with a holster attached.  

Hendo hesitated.  ‘Whit, army is it; ome kinda fucken squaddie lassie?’ he asked himself aloud. ‘Bluffin though, intit eh?  No allowed tae be cairryin on the street. That no right?’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ Sam replied as she swiftly drew the service revolver from its holster.

Meggsy saw it too and was already struggling to his feet, trying to hobble towards the entrance.  All the confidence drained from Hendo’s face and the roll-up fell from his hand as he too tried to back slowly away.

‘No, don’t leave yet boys.  You haven’t finished your cider.   Look, here’s what we’ll do, eh?  First, drop the knife.  Make that knives.  Fling across yours too Meggsy, or whatever your name is.  Careful, that’s the way.’  She picked them up and tossed the knives out the viewing gap. ‘Now boys, take off your clothes.’

Meggsy and Hendo exchanged horrified glances. When Meggsy seemed reluctant to comply she pointed the gun at his forehead.  ‘See boys, I should be on sick leave just now, sort of post-traumatic stress ‘n that.  The captain was blown up.  It was a gun emplacement, kinda just like this pill-box we’re in now.  That’s his field glasses I’m using.  I’ve been prescribed peace and quiet boys.  The doc was quite insistent.  Said it’s dead easy to go off the rails when your head’s not in the right place.  Go a bit mental like.  Have a really bad reaction to people. Start imagining people are Taleban, or ISIS, or Boko Haram, or schemie wide-boys that need their dicks cut off.  See what I’m saying boys?  Not my problem if something quite nasty happens here.

Meggsy and Hendo were trembling violently, more from fear than from the cold, as they sat in their underpants while Sam instructed them on removing the laces from their trainers before tying each other’s ankles tightly together.  Then Hendo had to tie Meggsy’s arms behind his back before she finally did the same to Hendo. Then she tied socks round their mouths, pushed them back to back and tied them together using their own tracksuit trousers. Finished, she picked up the remains of the spliff and took a few calming puffs before she started her walk home. She made the anonymous phone call to the police station on the way.

‘Did you see anything interesting Samantha?’ her mother asked when she arrived back.

‘Curlews and Oyster catchers.  Oh, and a couple of local tits.  Dad’s old army revolver is such a comfort though.

‘Well, it’s always something to remember the Captain by I suppose, that and his field glasses.’

‘Yes, I try to remember all the things Dad told me, the practical stuff as well as proper behaviour. His binoculars really help me to see things clearly.’

Her mother’s face was drawn and grey. ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? Three months today since we got the news. Then the funeral.’  Grief made creases round her mouth and tears were not too far away. ‘It’s going to take us a long time to get over it.  All the same you shouldn’t really take the gun outdoors Sam.  People might think it’s loaded.’