#anyway i really hope they didn't take my reaction badly because i didn't comment on that and just moved on to saying hi

[drysauce]

im still thinking about how yesterday when my cousin and her roommate/bestie came to visit and hang out she introduced her as her girlfriend and i was incredibly surprised not really because they're dating but mainly because i didn't expect that i'm not the only non-straight person in this family lmao

[dross-the-fish]

I see weird takes in fandoms all the time and never really feel the need to comment but there is one that crops up every now and again that rubs me the wrong way. The idea that Christine somehow deserves Erik's reaction when she takes off his mask or even that she's shallow, cruel, or somehow the abusive one in their dynamic. It's not a prevalent take, at least not like it was back in 2012 when I first joined the phandom, I don't think, but it lends itself to the completely backwards idea that Christine is somehow wrong for not immediately accepting Erik.

People who think that Christine is the problem here really don't grasp how utterly destroyed her reality was the moment the mask came off. A reality that Erik had built for her with his whole "Angel of Music" ruse. I kind of wish these people would put themselves in her shoes for a moment. Imagine someone grieving the loss of a beloved parent and suddenly a "guardian angel" shows up allegedly sent by that parent to watch over them. Wouldn't anyone be thrilled that their parent some how exists and is able to send an envoy to communicate with them? Especially if they were young, I can easily see how someone consumed by grief would latch on to that. It wouldn't take much for this new entity to become a source of comfort and security, something they grow to love and trust as a connection to the only family they had.

Now imagine one day they find out that it was all a lie. Their parent is just gone, has been the whole time, they never sent any angel, there's no hope or evidence that some part of them ever had the ability to reach out. All of that comfort and safety is just gone. It was never there. For Christine there's a stranger here named Erik who may very well be dangerous and who definitely doesn't have entirely parental feelings towards her. I can't view this as anything but terrifying and it's difficult for me to envision a version of Christine that wouldn't feel like her father had just died all over again.

I also believe that Erik knows this and on some level regrets it throughout the book, culminating in him letting Christine go in the end. I can even buy that his intentions to be Christine's "Angel" weren't initially malicious but by the time he realized it could only end badly he was already in too deep. Erik made some really poor choices and the sad reality is that he probably didn't think he had any choices to begin with. This doesn't mean he gets a pass but it does highlight how tragic the story is and I think he is deserving of some sympathy for his circumstances. I just don't think that it's Christine's obligation to give it to him and her showing him grace and offering a gesture of love at the end is incredibly generous of her. I think when that subset of the fandom that is critical of Christine insist that she should have just accepted Erik they are really downplaying how meaningful her actions are. Erik cause a lot of harm, more harm to her than to anyone else (with the exception of the people he outright killed) and her forgiveness and compassion meant as much to him as it did because he's aware that he hadn't earned that from her. That is why it is meaningful that she kissed him, cried with him and he let her go. Because it broke the cycle. To show him kindness at a time when he least deserved it is real mercy and he understood that. Anyway, I think that's enough serious fandom talk from this fish, back to my drabbles and doodles.

[frenchfrywrites]

Trey attempts (and fails) to make a delivery

MINORS DNI

warnings: amab gn top dom beastman reader, sub bottom trans trey clover, meet and fuck, cunnilingus, knotting, implied scent kink, safe sex :)

Usually Trey's parents make his younger siblings make deliveries. Usually the deliveries are made in the morning. Usually he doesn't have to go through the deep, dark woods outside of the Queendom of Roses.

Trey sighs, refusing to get worked up over the less than ideal conditions he has to work with right now. Twilight came quicker than expected and he weighs the pros and cons of heading back and redoing the order tomorrow. How badly can someone want one measly tart anyways?

It's not that Trey is scared, but if he breaks a leg tripping over something in the dark he will be beyond pissed. 

Something moves out of the corner of his eyes. A deer. Probably. 

Trey pauses for only a moment then continues on his way, there's all sorts of things in the woods, he does not need to work himself up over nothing.

It's quiet (or as quiet as the woods get (not very)) for a while, and then there's rustling and something in the corner of his vision again. 

A deer, Trey tells himself. 

He slows down regardless, hoping that he doesn’t scare whatever is out there. There’s more rustling, more movement, and then-

"You smell good," the voice is low and far too close for comfort. Trey whips his head around and comes face to face with the hottest beastman he's ever laid eyes on. You're looking at him hungrily and Trey can't deny how flustered it makes him. Instead of showing that, he gives you a pleased smile.

"Thank you, it's probably the tart," he gestures to his basket. You shake your head,

"Dunno about that," Trey brushes off your comment, and continues walking. You catch up, "what are you doing out here all alone," you ask him curiously. 

"Making a delivery," you snort out a laugh and Trey quirks a brow.

"Sorry, I kinda expected you to say you were off to grandmother's house or something." Again he smiles. You introduce yourself and Trey does the same. You talk a bit, and though he didn't mind being alone, he can't deny that he likes your company.

"I can't believe your parents made you come out here alone. Aren't you scared?" You tease, lowering your voice an octave to try and get a reaction. Trey can't help but grin at that. 

"Of what? You? Hardly," Trey takes even more delight in the way you grumble. 

"Well…” you get close again, and Trey feels a shiver go down his spine. “You must be getting cold though, right?" Trey furrows his brows and- oh. He realizes where this might be going. 

"Hmm, you know you're right," he holds back the urge to laugh when your ears perk up and your face brightens. "I think I am getting cold."

"Oh my house is really close by if you want to come warm up," you offer, and yeah Trey knew this was coming (he can’t deny how delighted it makes him).

"Sure," and with his consent, off you go into the woods. Trey follows, as he highly doubts that you'll murder him, but even if you try anything he's pretty powerful with his magic now. 

The place you bring him to is cute and quaint, a sweet cabin that makes him feel domestic. 

"You live here all alone?" Trey asks, setting his basket down on the table. That tart is not getting delivered tonight.

"Yeah, it's alright most of the time," you're lighting a fire. Trey's a little surprised you're putting so much effort into making him warm. "Are you hungry?" You ask, standing and dusting your hands off on your pants. Trey shakes his head as he sits on the fluffy rug you have in front of the fireplace. He ate before leaving.

You join him on the floor, your thigh pressed against his. You yawn and wrap your arm around his shoulders. Trey thinks your sincerity surrounding the cliche is adorable. He turns to face you, his heart pounding in his body feeling aflame- and not because of the roaring fire. He decides that he doesn't want to dance around this any longer. 

"Will you kiss me?" Your ears perk up again, your eyes widening. You don't hesitate though. Gently you bring a hand up to cup his cheek- your claws are sharp but you're being so careful with him. Trey flutters his eyes shut, leaning in. He can hear your tail swishing with how excited you are.

When your lips meet Trey feels a spark shoot through his body.

He thinks you're a good kisser, if not a little clumsy. He presses into you enthusiastically, making sure you're aware of how much he wants you. 

"You smell so good," you mumble against his lips, then pull them with your canines. Trey whimpers, and whimpers again when you slip your tongue into his mouth. His hands wrap around you, pulling you on top of him.

You kiss him until he's breathless, pulling all sorts of noises from him. Trey whines when you pull away, though he's pleased again when you kiss down his jaw and scrape those teeth against his neck. 

You lick and suck there, your ears tickling him. Trey can feel himself getting more and more aroused. He's certainly getting warmed up to say the least.

"I'm hot," Trey mumbles, opening his eyes to find that his glasses have fogged a bit. You huff against his skin, causing Trey to shudder. 

"Yeah you are," he laughs at your remark. 

"I mean-" he flushes, "can I take my clothes off?"

"Yeah, yes, I'll uh," you back up, giving him room, "can I take off mine too?" Trey nods, thoroughly supporting the idea of you getting undressed. 

He makes quick work of stripping himself of his clothes, leaving himself in his underwear and binder. Trey watches you eagerly as you undress. You make his mouth water, and his loins ache.

Once your clothes are off you take in the sight of Trey, licking your lips as you do. He remembers how hungry you looked when you first saw him. 

"Can I eat you out?" You ask, voice rumbly and rough. It makes Trey wetter than he'd like to admit. 

"Please," he begs, spreading his legs for you. Trey sucks in a breath as you make yourself comfortable there. You press your nose against his panties and inhale deeply, 

“Trey,” you groan, licking the wet spot that’s quickly growing on the front. “You taste as good as you smell,” you growl, clawing at his underwear. You remove them from his long, slender legs and feel yourself salivate at the sight of him. 

Trey keens when you slide your tongue from his hole to his clit. With fervor you lick and suck him clean, then bury your tongue inside of his hole. Trey’s thighs quake and tremble each time your nose nuzzles against his clit, or your sharp teeth scrape against him. He reaches down, scratching behind your ears, pressing your head into his pussy.

You move upwards, sucking at his clit and Trey wails, knocking his head back against the floor. 

He moans your name, jerking his hips against your mouth, “more, please,” he begs, breathless and wanton. Your cock throbs at the sound of him, and when you glance upwards he looks divine.

“Can,” you move enough away from him to mutter, “can I use my fingers?” Trey nods,

“Please,” and you don’t hesitate to add two fingers. Trey flutters around you, letting out choked moans. You stretch and thrust them, continuing to suck and lick at his clit. Your cock is leaking pre- all hard and pressed against your underwear. 

“Fuck me, please, please, fuck me,” he whines, rutting against you. You pull off, your nose and chin drenched in his wetness. 

“Are you serious?” you ask, your fingers still inside his hot, wet sex. Trey blinks at you, his glasses in disarray. 

“Uh, yes, please,” imagining you inside of him makes Trey clench around you, “if you have a condom,” he adds. Safety first. You nod, 

“Yes,” you slowly pull your fingers out, “in my room, should we-” Trey nods, so you scramble to your feet and hoist him up. He lets out a soft, “oh,” sound, wrapping his arms around you, clinging to you as you bring him to your room. 

You place him gently on your bed, kissing him before you rush off to grab some lube and a condom. Trey takes this moment to remove his binder, which has been digging into his skin a bit. When he’s done you hop on the bed, and he smiles fondly at you, watching your tail wagging happily behind you. 

“Do you,” Trey starts, spreading his legs again for you, “have a knot?” he asks, hoping he’s masking the desire out of his voice. You set the lube next to him, 

“Um, yes? Is that okay?” you ask nervously. Trey, delighted, nods his head and pulls you close. 

“Yes, that’s perfect,” you grin, pulling off your underwear to reveal your hard, wet cock. Trey moans at the sight of you- he could vaguely sense the shape of you through the tent in your underwear but seeing you fully exposed is entirely different. 

“Good,” you tear open the condom with your teeth, and that makes Trey unreasonably horny. He watches with bated breath as you roll it onto yourself then coat your cock with lube. “I’m going to try to stretch you just a little bit more,” you tell him, lubing up your fingers. Trey groans,

“No, please, just-” you press into him and curl them, cutting him off. Just to make sure he’s ready for you, you scissor your fingers for a moment. You kiss that cute little clover on his cheek and when you pull back you slip out your fingers.

“Ready?” Trey nods, so hard you think his glasses might fall off- and briefly you wonder if you can fuck him so hard that that happens.

“Please, I’m begging you,” he pleads, wrapping his arms around you and clinging. 

“Okay baby, hold tight,” you line your cock up with his pussy, rubbing your head against him. 

“Pl-oh!” you pop your head in, cutting him off. Trey lets out a pleased moan, wrapping his legs around your waist as you sink into him. 

You go slow and sweet, despite how badly you want to snap your hips into him. “Doing okay pretty boy?” you ask, gently rubbing his hips. Trey hums, 

“Yeah, you feel so good,” he flutters around you, making you groan, “you’re big,” he huffs, unwrapping an arm to adjust his glasses. 

“You’re doing so well,” you kiss his neck, “you’re taking me so well sweetheart,” Trey blushes. “Oh?” you push in a bit more, “you like that?” he looks away. 

“Aw,” you coo, finally pressed wholly inside of him. You pause to let him adjust, “you feel so good around me. Perfect,” Trey whines, “like you were made for me sweet-” 

“Just fuck me, please,” he cuts your praise off. You huff out a laugh, drag your hips back and thrust deeply into him. Trey’s eyes roll back into his skull, and you keep up your pace. Eventually his eyes flutter shut and he lets out soft moans with each thrust. 

Trey squeezes around you, and when you let a hand come down to play with his clit his back arches as he clenches like a vice around you. He’s so wet and hot and tight around you that you can feel your composure slipping; Your groans start to sound more like growls, Trey’s hands claw at your back, all of it makes you feel more animalistic than ever. 

“I want to- ah, cum,” Trey moans.

“Yeah? Hah, wanna cum on my cock Trey?” you stroke his clit faster and he wails, “I’m close too sweetheart, want me to knot you?” Trey nods,

“Oh yes, please, cum in me, hah,” he groans your name, “please- oh, knot me, I’m going to cum, I ah-” and then he does, and thank god he does because you come quick after him, pounding him as you fill the condom. 

Trey comes quietly, with heavy panting and a clenched up body. If you were thinking more coherent thoughts, you'd wonder if your knot would fit with how tight he gets around you. Except you’re not thinking coherently, you’re mostly just thinking about fucking Trey full of a litter. 

Your knot inflates after you both come down from your highs, and Trey winces. 

“M’sorry,” you kiss that cute clover again, “relax baby, just try to relax I know you can take it,” Trey hums.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he reassures, “just hurt a bit at first. I’m okay,” he smiles, scritching behind your ears. You return his smile, your tail wagging happily. 

“Good. We’re going to be here for a while,” Trey nods understandably. You rub his hips gently, avoiding eye contact, “um, you’re invited to spend the night,” you tell him, feeling a bit nervous. “I could uh- we can get breakfast in the morning, my treat,” you give him a sheepish smile. 

Trey hums, thinking about it for a moment, “yeah, I’d like that,” he laughs when your ears perk up and you beam at him. “I’ll have to text my family when your knot deflates, let them know about the tart,” you nod, nuzzling into his neck blissfully. 

“Mmm that tart,” your stomach growls. 

Trey laughs, “with the way you ate me I’m surprised you’re hungry at all.” You nip his neck gently.

“Maybe I'm craving dessert is all,” you mumble playfully, hoping Trey catches your drift. The man laughs,

“We’ll see about that after your knot deflates,” he pulls you in for a kiss. You sure hope he lets you eat him out again; he’s the best thing you’ve ever smelt or tasted and you’ve got him here all night long.

[repo-net]

Alright, these are far from all the thoughts I have right now regarding Nagisa's interactions and I'm probably going to follow up on this another day, just not today, but I needed to get this out of my system first because it is rotting my brain and I gotta rant this out. Do note that I'm only basing this off of the video I saw earlier, and judging by the comments on that post, there's probably at least one more interaction out there I haven't seen, so take this with some open-mindedness that I could change my opinion in the future. Anyways.

I'll start with what I think are the missed opportunities first and foremost; I think there really should've been more interactions that involved him and another Warrior one-on-one. Yes, of course exists the ones that he has with Monaca, but come on, that's Monaca Towa we're talking about, of course he'll get solo interactions with her.

Heck, I wish he got more interactions with the other UDG characters in general. I'm a little sad he didn't talk with neither Komaru, nor Toko, nor Hiroko :(

I also do wish the interactions themselves were a little longer, but that's just me being nitpicky at this point, it was still a fun experience overall and I have a bunch of things I want to disect.

First off, my god, he's still got this catlike attitude where he acts like he doesn't regard you, and yet if you look into his reactions deeply enough, it's clear he wants people to love and respect him.

I found the moment with Shirokuma in particular where he starts praising how Nagisa must be the anchor in the group in terms of studies and Nagisa with a smile goes: "Oh, so you do understand me." a pretty stand-out one in that department, what a nerd lmao

Secondly, his childish behaviors are definitely still present in this game and I'm happy about that. As mature and advanced thinking he is compared to the other kids and some of the other characters in this game, his interactions with Masaru/Jataro, along with being a sucker for sweets shows that he's still a kid underneath all that cold exterior he shows and I think it's adorable.

I also really, really enjoyed that conversation he had at the end with Ryoma and Maki. By extension, we can throw Kurokuma in there too. It's clear that just like in Ultra Despair Girls, the "ideal" or the "paradise" he wants clash against Monaca's, who is the one person he absolutely does not want to upset.

Of course, because this is a summer AU and he doesn't find out that their ideals are different via a kiss scene, he doesn't take it as badly as he does in UDG, but the conflict of interests is still present in him and I enjoy that a lot. One of my favorite things about Nagisa is his internal conflict between picking what his ideal paradise is and what the person he admires and cherishes most; Monaca's ideal paradise is.

I also think it's cute that Nagisa encouraged Kazuichi to keep hanging out with Jataro. He seems to acknowledge that he and the other Warriors of Hope have a hard time talking to art boy because of his behavior and their conflicting hobbies/interests. The side of Nagisa that looks out for all of his friends shows there and I love that.

Overall, aside from wishing there was more content, I can't say I'm really angry with what I got. He's a little bit of a shitter from time to time with his adult hating from time to time but it's not like he wasn't prone to being that in UDG anyways lol.

I'll make separate posts eventually detailing some of my more favorite interactions, which include the Kiyotaka and Mondo ones, and maybe I'll throw in the conversations with Monaca at the beach and the bonfire.

That's all for now. Expect shitty memes, and more writing that'll be based off of these interactions in the future. I also expect an increase in the fanart and fanfic department, get to work, you goshdarn sagelovers 🗿

[katnissmellarkkk]

Gravity

Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.

Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.

Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖

/

A couple months later.

We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.

I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.

I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.

But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.

I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.

I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.

But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.

Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.

Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.

My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.

I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.

All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.

Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.

But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.

Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised—in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.

Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.

Well, some of my nightmares, that is.

After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.

I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.

The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.

And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.

At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.

Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.

But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.

Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.

Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.

But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.

He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.

I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.

By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.

And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.

The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.

When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."

I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"

Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."

The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.

Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.

The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.

All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.

It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.

There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.

Of course though, it's not my arena.

It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.

It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.

I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.

At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.

I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"

Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."

There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.

"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.

The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."

And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.

The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.

As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.

His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.

Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.

"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.

Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.

I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.

I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.

Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.

To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.

Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.

He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.

//

A couple weeks later.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.

It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.

But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.

The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.

Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.

Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.

Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.

Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.

Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.

Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.

Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.

"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.

"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.

Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.

Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."

Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."

I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.

And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."

"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."

His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."

Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."

I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.

Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.

Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.

Peeta has a type of friend.

"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."

Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."

"I've never even heard that name before."

"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.

I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."

"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."

"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.

"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"

"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.

Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.

He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.

I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.

That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.

"No, I don't want to take it without-"

"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.

Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."

Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.

Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."

I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.

But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.

Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.

I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.

It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"

There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.

"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."

"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.

Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.

The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"

I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.

He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.

It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.

It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.

Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.

"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.

His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.

"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."

I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.

My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.

My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.

And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.

//

Four days later.

The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.

But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.

Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"

I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.

"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.

I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.

There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.

But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.

I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.

But really, does anything?

These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.

No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.

Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.

Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.

They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.

I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.

"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"

I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.

"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.

Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.

"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.

"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."

Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."

I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.

Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."

I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.

I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.

Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.

"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."

His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.

"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."

I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.

Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.

"What?"

"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.

I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.

But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"

"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."

Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.

Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.

I still failed to protect her.

Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.

"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"

He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."

Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?

Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.

He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."

I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."

"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."

I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.

Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.

To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.

And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.

He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.

"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.

"Always."

[0o0ychan0o0]

Tw: Blood, Injuries, Gore (?)

---

"Hah, I didn't think you could be anymore of a coward Panpam, but harming a woman who can't even fight back? Are you trying to compensate for your uselessness? Or is it because you are so weak that this is the only solution for you to even land a hit on someone?" Lexi taunted all the while smirking smugly at the reactions the agent was making, then the glint in her eyes became more dangerous and the smirk sharpened into something savage "But let me say something to you Spandam, I. Would. Be. Damn. To let a weakling such as you even touch me."

The man sweated nervously under her predatory gaze, a look of hunger and bloodthirsty for vengeance. But, he resonate, she was a lowly criminal chained right now, just a useless wench bounded in Kairoseki who couldn't do anything if he was to act, he was the great leader of the CP9, nothing could come into his way!

And yet he couldn't move, couldn't even dare to lay a hand on her or Nico Robin (as long as the Demon Child is in the wench's sight at least) because all instincts were screaming, screeching at him to stay the fuck away from that beast, because here even being so badly injured, even chained in unbreakable restrain, she was the predator, and he? Just a insect in her path.

"I-I'll remember this insult Untamed Beast Lexi! Y-You're g-going to regret having o-opposed me!" Spandam whimpered pathetically.

The look he received after saying that would forever haunt him.

.

Hello hello! How ya'll guys? It has been a while heh? Well I've been a little busy (reading fanfics, writing fanfics and watching anime mainly mind you) and frankly lazy as hell to do some real drawing (maybe I should just post these sketches instead of just disappearing?).

But anyway, I've made this drawing while re-watching the Enies Lobby arc (One Piece brain rot here) and a scenario made way into my brain so I decided to incorporate my OC into this, really I hate Spandam and I needed someone to put him back to his place, and so here we are!

Anyway hope y'all liked the drawing and short scenario (can I call it like that?), if it's the case please like, share and comment!

Take care 💜

[foxymoxynoona]

Hi, me again 😶

I appreciate the lengthy answer you gave my ask. (I obviously can't read the tone through text, but you didn't seem as annoyed as i thought you might be(?) so that's a lowkey win for me actually explaining why i sent the first ask(?) Lol)

Also yeah, no, i wasn't 'cockblocked'. Amended isn't a fic i go to for that kind of instant gratification :) Out of all four, it was the only one i actually wanted to read at first (only followed by TL, but not soon after) And it wasn't for the sex, I read the tags.

With that out of the way,

I tried thoroughly answering your answer (lol) but I kept running in circles and not being able to properly articulate what I'm thinking, so I'm just going to write a shorter version :)

I think it does eventually come down to what you said about Amended being intended more for readers who personally relate than for those who don't.

While I've obviously had certain negative life experiences, i doubt they can be seen as traumatic. Or if they can, they're nowhere near Isabella's level. I suppose i've also had different coping mechanisms than her so that's probably another one of the reasons I didn't think all of her reactions were justified. It's all a question of whether it made sense to me or not. Did jk's behavior look faultless to me? No. But I could understand jk's p.o.v more than hers, even if he was wrong in some of his assumptions and didn't voice them calmly. Sometimes I wish they could read each other's minds..

I did, however, understand the analogies you made and they did give me a better understanding of why she acts the way she does.

Honestly I was surprised there even was another sex scene in this chapter. Thought they'd talk about it properly before attempting again. But noPe :) I'm rather apprehensive about the date and how Jungkook's.. "plans" are going to go, considering everything..

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

I do appreciate you truthfully picturing the process of her overcoming parts of her past trauma and learning that it's okay to trust someone again. It's just quite difficult to grasp the depth and gravity of her trauma from an.. "outsider" 's perspective 😅

-👀

Hello again 👀!

First, I do want to apologize that my joke about being cockblocked sounds like it landed poorly. I had not read your initial comment as being very serious (since it just said you were annoyed with Isabella) so I responded in what I understand the tone to be. I'm sorry I misunderstood that initial ask!

Second of all, I'm not annoyed! I find and hope all these discussions are actually useful for anyone reading. Mental health is a big, huge aspect of life that I just feel like is so poorly represented or discussed. I have had serious anxiety all my life (without even knowing it! I thought that's just how everyone's brain worked!) but when I had my first major depressive episode, I remember after I was out of it being like: holy shit. I did not understand what depression was before this! Even now, it's hard for me to fully recall how utterly potato I was because it seems impossible that I was that way but I was! Our brains map the world and our place in it, and it can be challenging to get into the head of someone whose brain functions very differently than our own. So that's all to say, I think talking about these things is valuable to broaden our own understanding of ourselves and the people around us who navigate the world differently than we may.

One thing I think is worth pointing out in this story too that hasn't actually come up tonight: JK in this story also has trauma. And he also went through a period of deep pain that caused him to isolate himself and hurt the people around him badly. And his traumas still influence how he behaves. Isabella is his first "real" relationship. Remember how hurt Miranda was when he committed to her without committing to her?? And then didn't tell her he'd fucking gotten MARRIED? We just are seeing JK further along in his healing journey because he has been in a safe, loving, supportive place for far longer than Isabella has, and he always had family love and support, even at his worst (in high school when he really hurt Isabella). Isabella didn't have that. She has been alone and is now having to learn how to function without being in survival mode all the time. It may be worth everyone remembering that this isn't a story where JK stumbled into what is definitely a relationship with someone only starting to process intense trauma. He went into this eyes wide open, and with his own experience helping him understand the fear, and the loneliness. He's not actually a saint, he's just been through something similar and he understands (at least a little) and he loves her.

As for coping mechanisms, that's another good point: they're different for everyone and just like love languages, we can most easily understand behavior similar to our own. I love learning more about the way people work, and I hope my stories can help readers learn more beyond their own experiences or patterns as well, like how to recognize other love languages or coping or defense mechanisms.

Jimin actually called JK out on one of his this chapter: "you'll have sex with her before you love her because you're confident about sex." Is it worth thinking how different this story might be if Jungkook had been honest with Isabella at any point in their relationship about the love and guilt and regret he has from how he treated her when they were younger? Maybe not, but maybe!

And finally, as for sex: I had actually expected a lot of people to be upset about them having sex before they'd resolved more, haha. Because it's totally fair to theorize they jumped the gun getting physical! But they did it! Because they're horny for each other! It was a big step forward though before they were really ready to talk about some of the Big Feelings that might come up for either of them. They are a couple that tends to take a big leap and then scramble to figure out wtf they just did

Anyway, hope all this gives some more food for thought!

[purple-cat-demon]

Familial Warmth 3: A Friendship Blooms

Word count: 1,546

Highschool AU

TW: fighting, injury mention

So the story that I thought was gonna be a sorta one shot turned into a multi part story (with a final fourth part in the writing stages). Thank you all for sticking with this series, it makes me happy and keeps me writing~ I hope you all enjoy this third installment!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day at school.

Hazel wandered the halls, looking for a certain school delinquent. She found him outside, actually up in the ginkgo tree adjacent to the music room window. He was wrapping his left wrist up; bandaids adorned his face and right arm. He looked rather dazed as he subconsciously wrapped the wrist, not noticing Hazel standing below him.

“Senpai?”

He damn near fell out of the tree at the sudden call from below. Hazel’s heart stopped for a moment until Gavin got his balance straight again. After seeing it was Hazel who called him, he decided to hop down from his perch anyway.

“What’s up,” he asked, dusting himself off.

Hazel blushed at the sight; the poor boy was injured and she wanted to reach out and help him.

“What happened to you??”

Gavin blinked in confusion, as if the injuries didn’t exist; after all, it was such a normal occurrence for him.

“Oh, these? Uh, just...a fight…,” his voice trailed off.

Hazel let out an exasperated sigh.

“Senpai…”

“You can call me Gavin if you want. I don’t really like the whole ‘senpai’ formality.”

“Are you sure? You are two grades above me.”

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head; the tips of his ears were tinged a light pink.

“Did...you want to ask me something?”

Hazel blinked out of her awkward stupor.

“Oh, yeah. About yesterday actually, um…,” she floundered, “uh, I’m happy I found you again~”

Her sweet smile shot right through Gavin’s heart, causing him to blush a beet red. How badly he wanted to hug her at that moment but feared the stares and potential trouble he’d cause her.

“Wanna walk home after school together?”

This question stunned the poor boy even further but he managed to eek out a ‘yes.’

“Great! My last class is in the Music Room, and it lets out at 3:30pm”

The school bell rang just as Gavin was about to respond. Hazel ran off towards the Science Building with a wave back to Gavin. He waved back and headed towards the Math Building.

The rest of the school day seemed to drag on until 2:30pm when Gavin’s last class finally let out. He wandered over to the Music Room and saw Hazel at the piano through the classroom window in the hall. Through the open door, he heard a new piece of music she was practicing; still in the beginning stages judging by the few mistakes she made. As he sat down, he started reminiscing of the first time they talked to each other in that very hallway just a few months ago. Though instead of falling asleep like last time, Gavin pulled out a textbook to do some studying; after all, his graduation exams were coming soon enough.

When Gavin glanced at the hallway clock, it read 3:24pm, so he started to pack up his textbooks. Hazel walked up to him just as he was getting up from his spot. Her bright smile greeted him as their eyes met.

“Ready, Senp-uh, Gavin?”

He chuckled at her correction.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said with a small smile.

He trailed a little far behind her to avoid suspicious glances; once they got out of sight of the school, Gavin sped up and walked alongside Hazel.

“Afraid of what people might say?”

“Y-yeah, the last thing i want to do is cause you trouble because of me…”

Hazel tossed a look of concern at him; a sadness welled up in her heart. ‘He’s really not all what they say he is. Maybe I just don’t see it,’ she mused. She changed the subject to a, hopefully, better topic.

“Hey, so you’re graduating soon, huh? That’s gotta be exciting, yeah?”

“Hm, I guess,” was his response. Not quite the reaction Hazel was hoping for, so she prodded a little more.

“What are you doing after graduation?”

“I… don’t really know yet…,” he unconsciously rubbed his injured cheek and continued on, “I have a couple of options but… I can’t decide yet.”

“Ah, I see.” 

“What about you?”

“Um, I’m hoping to get my grades up more by that time and then go to a university after graduation. My dad wants me to take over his production company eventually, so there’s that too.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out,” he commented wryly. She caught on to his wry attitude.

“Well, that doesn’t mean it’ll all go according to plan either. A lot can happen between now and then.”

Gavin kicked a stone out of his pathway on the sidewalk. 

“True.”

Before they knew it, they were already at Hazel’s place.

“Well, here’s my stop,” she hastily scribbled down her cell number and gave it to him, “text or call me when you get home. I know you don’t live too far from here but I wanna know you got home safely~”

Gavin’s cheeks tinged a light pink as he gingerly took the piece of paper from her. 

“I will, thank you.”

“Great! See you tomorrow!” Hazel waved him goodbye as she bounded up the pathway to the front door. After making sure she was safely inside, Gavin walked on towards his place, feeling wholly content.

He got home, to an empty house, and promptly texted her like she wanted him to. She didn’t respond right away so he assumed she was either doing homework or having dinner. About fifteen minutes later, she responded with a ‘thank you’ and ‘see you tomorrow.’ He smiled at the text; this gave him a little more incentive to go to school more. He made some semblance of dinner and then went back to studying.

The next day, Gavin was surprised to see both Hazel and Minor waiting for him at the school gate. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see both of them. All three walked in together, earning them a few glares from fellow students. One male student, from the same grade as Gavin, brazenly walked up to the trio.

“What’s this? The delinquent has his eyes on the popular girl, huh? Like she would be willing to be seen with the likes of you,” he sneered.

Gavin glared back at the boy, keeping his fists at bay. Minor went to intervene but Hazel was quicker.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are? Leave us alone!”

The boy grabbed Hazel’s wrist roughly and pulled her toward him. Gavin snapped, and his fist went flying into the boy’s cheek. Minor held Gavin back to prevent any further altercations. Just then, a teacher came running up, it was Mr. Keller. 

“What’s going on here?”

Hazel stepped forward, rubbing her wrist, to explain the situation to Mr. Keller. He nodded, then came to a decision,

“Okay, all four of you come with me.”

Gavin shrank back a little and even Minor hesitated for a bit. Hazel and the boy walked behind Mr. Keller, with Hazel giving the boy annoyed glares.

In the end, Gavin and the boy both received detention, to which Hazel was thankful it wasn’t a more severe punishment. Gavin ended up serving his detention on that Friday after school. He was able to get more studying done during his detention time, so a silver lining for him at least. What he was not expecting was his two friends waiting patiently outside the detention hall. Both hugged him, with Minor practically sobbing.

“Knock it off Minor, it’s not like I haven’t had detention before!"

“Yes but this is the first time getting detention for Hazel’s sake!”

A furiously blushing Gavin socked Minor in the arm while an equally blushing Hazel just giggled at their banter. When the trio got to the school gate, Minor headed off towards his house.

“See you two Monday~,” he called back to them. They waved in return.

Hazel turned to Gavin, “Shall we?”

Gavin backed away a little.

“This is exactly what I didn't want to happen…”

“But I didn’t get into trouble, and honestly, I feel horrible that you got in trouble in the first place.”

“Yeah, but that guy wouldn’t have even said anything if it weren’t fo-“

“That guy has given me trouble before but Minor would stick up for me then. Not gonna lie, it was kinda nice to see you punch him.”

Gavin cleared his throat, her reassuring smile calmed him down a bit.

“So can we walk home together? I-i like you… a-and i like walking together like this.”

His balance nearly betrayed him at her sudden confession. ‘S-she likes me??’ It took all his energy to not float away and scare the poor girl. Hazel waved her hand in front of the stunned boy.

“Uh, Gavin? You okay?”

He blinked out of his stupor, his face as red as a tomato. 

“Y-yeah, I-I’m good,” he stammered as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off, Hazel snorted as he walked away. She smiled, in spite of the premonition she had last night; a heavily injured Gavin and another man, both in uniforms of some sort. Gavin looked a little older and with pierced ears, still handsome as ever despite his injuries. Whatever this premonition was, it seemed far off in the future. 

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

House, M.D. Fanfic (8/?)

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to leave a note on my story. I hope you continue to enjoy my kind of rewrite and/or additions to certain episodes! As always, I don't own House. If I did, Lisa Edelstein would have gotten the respect she deserved contact wise for a season 8.

As stated in previous chapters, the story follows the big picture laid out on the show, but with my own take on things. This chapter starts with Cuddy's struggle to keep it a secret from House about his previous diagnosis being correct. I should say that I REALLY don't care much for early season 3 Wilson, and I'm going to do my best not to let that affect the storytelling. This chapter is longer... lots of story development to get through.

Thanks to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie on Tumblr for reading my ideas and providing positive feedback! Anything in the way of feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

xxxxx

She was definitely not comfortable lying to House about this. He deserved to know he was right. She didn't know why Wilson suddenly thought he needed to teach House a lesson on humility and make her a party to it. "I have to tell him. I see him every day. I..."

"Everybody lies."

Wilson's words echo through her head that night as her head lay on his shoulder, her fingers tracing lines across his chest. "You were right."

He turned his head slightly to see her better. "I'm right about a lot of things. You're going to have to be a little more specific."

She pushed up slightly on her elbow, the sheet sliding down her chest a bit. "Your patient. In the wheelchair," she started.

He smiled slowly. "You gave him the shot."

She sighed, dropping her head back to his shoulder. "I gave him the shot."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. Because you see things the rest of us don't see. Because as infuriating as it is, you're never wrong about the medicine."

He smiled smugly. "I was right."

"Yes," she sighed, rubbing her face. "You're always right. The man stood up from his wheelchair and hugged his son."

"You weren't going to tell me..."

She looked up at him then. "Wilson thought it was a bad idea..."

"Wilson would think this is a bad idea too. That mean you're going to stop sleeping with me to get pregnant?"

"No, of course not..."

"Then why are you suddenly listening to him?"

She was quiet a moment. "You like the high. The night you showed up outside my window with your diagnosis, you were higher than I've ever seen you on Vicodin. We just worry about you."

"And yet you told me anyway," he pointed out, shifting to get up and grab his boxer briefs. He needed to walk. He needed to think.

She made a grab for his shirt and slipped it on. There was an argument brewing. "You're an addict, House. You're always looking for a fix. If it's not Vicodin, it's a medical mystery that only you can solve. If you don't have the puzzle, you get your high in my bed. Its all just a fix for you."

"That's what you think this is? That's all you think you are? A fix because I don't use Vicodin anymore and you told me no at work?" He spun around to face her. The look in her eyes said it all... she did think that's all she was to him. "I'm going home," he started pulling on his clothes.

"House, that's not what I said..."

"You said enough. I got my 'fix.' Keep the shirt." He headed for the front door.

"House!" She called after him. But it was too late as she heard the front door slam. She sighed and for back into bed. She should have said something. She should have told him him she knew she wasn't just a fix...because she did know. This had been going on for months... it was way past just sleeping together to get a fix or to get pregnant.

Her hand moved over the place he'd occupied in her bed not even ten minutes before. How had this even spiraled out of control that quickly? Sliding closer to his pillow, she inhaled his scent. She could hear his bike engine revving as he tore down the street, and she knew sleep was not going to come easy now in her empty bed.

xxxxx

"How's the leg?" she asked cautiously as she opened his door. She wasn't going to push too much since they were at work, but she was trying to judge his mood. Especially since he hadn't bothered to tell her that his leg was starting to hurt again.

He looked up from his desk and saw her entering his office. "My leg is fine."

"You're limping. Cameron thinks it's because we lied to you. We both know that I already told you, so that's not it. Is it because we had a fight?"

"Your breasts are different," he studied her closely, completely ignoring her attempt to talk about him.

She continued unfazed. "Wilson thinks I haven't told you, and that I'm feeling guilty and want to coddle you."

He shook his head. "You're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant. How badly does your leg hurt?"

"Your breasts are firmer. As someone who had intimate knowledge with the girls, I would know," he stated. "You're pregnant."

"It's called an underwire. Tell me about your damn leg." She was not going to let him deflect by turning the tables on her.

"My leg is fine."

"Let me do a scan on your brain. If the Ketamine is wearing off..."

"Let me do a pregnancy test." They each wanted to test the other. Fair was fair, after all.

"House, I'm not pregnant!" she dropped her voice at the end, not wanting that word to escape the walls of his office.

"You've been taking fertility drugs. You've been getting laid on a regular basis, without protection. Your breasts have enlarged. You're doing crazy things, because I can't think of any other reason why you would ever listen to Wilson about lying to me. You're pregnant."

"You're not always right, you know."

"Actually I am. You said so yourself. I'm never wrong about the medicine. But you and Wilson would just have me think I'm wrong. You'd rather have me doubt myself and lie to me about it than tell me the truth and prove I'm right," he said lowly, massaging his thigh.

"House, let me look at your leg."

"My leg is fine!" After a moment, he dropped his head slightly. "Don't you think if I thought the treatment wasn't working that I'd do something to try to fix it?"

She sighed softly. "If it gets worse, call me." She knew she wasn't getting anywhere with him then, so pushing further was futile. He was still pissed at her for not telling him he was right. She was pissed at herself for going against her better judgement on this and actually listening to Wilson.

xxxxx

He hated that he'd had to grab his cane. He hated that he had taken the pills. He hated that he was now standing on her front porch, leaning against his cane, knocking on her door.

"Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?"

She wasn't surprised to see him, not really. Not after the way they left things. She was, however, surprised to see him with his cane. "Why do you keep insisting I'm pregnant?" She moved to let him in.

"Why do you keep insisting you're not?" He studied her. That had, afterall, been the purpose of them sleeping together to begin with. She had been very actively trying to get pregnant. So why was she now suddenly opposed to taking a pregnancy test to try to confirm it when he suspected it?

"You're walking with your cane. That means the Ketamine wore off." Now she was deflecting.

"Or it just means I need my next fix. That's what you and Wilson expect of me anyway, right? No puzzle to take my mind off it. Time to give sex a whirl."

She crossed her arms. "That's why you're here?"

"Why not? You have been so eager to welcome me into your bed. Figure I'll get high on endorphins from mind blowing sex and walk out of here without my cane," he said sarcastically. He caught the hurt look on her face at his comment and looked away.

"Call one of your hookers if you want mind blowing sex. I'm not in the mood," she turned to walk away.

"Hookers can do the distraction. They can't do the mind blowing sex. They don't do what you do..." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He'd crossed a line with that last insult, and he knew it. He'd tried to hurt her with it... knew just what button to push to get the desired reaction. "I took the Vicodin. My leg hurts," he admitted quietly.

She took a step closer then, resting a hand on his arm. "We can figure something out."

He shook his head. "Nope. Tried Ketamine. It didn't work. House the cripple is back for good," he told her simply. He'd gotten a beautiful glimpse into a pain free life, had allowed himself to hope, only to have it yanked away. "Probably for the best. I do my best work this way. Less likely to screw up diagnosing patients when I'm in pain. More likely to be an insensitive ass, but less likely to miss something and screw up the medicine."

"House..."

"Are. You. Pregnant?" his voice low, his eyes dark as he closed down any chance of continuing to talk about himself.

"No," she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms once more.

"Take a test?"

"No. It's not time y..."

"Then how do you know?" He interrupted her, moving closer.

"It's too early to..."

"Better to have another go then. Just to make sure it takes," he murmured lowly, pulling her against him in a kiss then. He was ready to lose himself in her and the way she could make him forget everything else.

At first she was going to push him away, but after a moment, her body melted against his, not bothering to stop him as he pushed her shirt up and over her head. He was in pain. He needed the distraction. Maybe she did too. Maybe she needed the high of sex with him even more than he did. Biting his lower lip as she deepened the kiss, she shoved him back against the wall hard.

He growled when his back hit the wall, his eyes darkening with lust, fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her roughly against him. His mouth moved to her neck, biting her pulse point hard and causing her to hiss, before soothing the spot with his tongue. She'd have to cover that with makeup tomorrow.

Her hands started pulling at his clothes as they worked their way to her bedroom. He closed the door with her body, pushing her back against it as his hands slid to her thighs and lifted her up, using the door to support the added weight so it didn't mess with his leg.

xxxxx

They finally both fell into her bed, breathless and in better moods. "Does that count as makeup sex? Or is that still angry sex?" He asked a moment later.

She lifted her head and couldn't help but smile slightly. "Shut up, House."

"I just need to know if I'm going to be expected to go another round for makeup sex, or if that was already covered..."

She grabbed her pillow from where it had landed on the floor earlier and smacked him lightly with it before shifting to get more comfortable in bed. "Shut up, House." But she did giggle softly to take the bite out of her words. She wasn't mad anymore. He didn't seem to be either. "Go to sleep."

[helloalycia]

got you back // daisy johnson

summary: after Afterlife blew up, literally, you were taken by the enemy and experimented on. However, after managing to escape, you found yourself on the run and on the verge of dying. That is until Daisy, the girl you thought you'd never see again, finds you.

warning/s: minor violence?

author’s note: In this imagine, your character is supposed to be like how Lincoln was, Jemma isn't taken by the monolith and Daisy wants to help bring the inhumans together

          I could feel the shopkeeper's eyes trained on me as I searched the medicine aisle for the strongest painkillers they had. In any other circumstance, I probably would have been invisible and overlooked, but the fact that I was sweating and looked a sickly green colour drew all attention on me. The dark hoodie I was wearing probably also didn't help with me looking like I was about to rob someone.

         "Excuse me, miss," the shopkeeper behind the till called, and I bit my tongue to stop myself from snapping. "Are you feeling alright?"

         I cleared my throat to rid any soreness and faced the woman, offering a forced smile. "Uh, yeah, I'm doing good. Thanks."

         I looked back to the shelves and attempted to ignore the sharp pain in my stomach. I knew that even the strongest painkillers I could find wouldn't make me feel better, but it was worth a shot. I had no other choice.

         "Miss, I can call an ambulance if you-"

         "No ambulance," I pleaded, instantly facing her direction and outstretching my hand, but I didn't expect the charity box full of money next to her till to fly backwards and smash against the wall, making all the pennies clash against the floor.

         The woman let out a screech as she ducked when the box hit the wall, and my eyes widened as I lowered my hand. The woman looked to me with a frightened expression and I knew she was about to grab her phone and call the police. That would be the expected reaction. So, I didn't waste a second as I ran out of the corner store, as fast as I could.

         I didn't dare look back, but I could hear the woman shouting something from the front of her store. That didn't go so well with the police car parked out front. After putting two and two together, the police officers dropped their coffees and sprinted right after me.

         "Shit," I cursed as I pushed myself to run faster.

         The unbearable amount of pain I felt inside of my body was indescribable and I felt tears escaping my eyes as I tried to push it away. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the police officers nearing me. I rounded the corner of an alleyway and used my gravity manipulation powers to drop some crates leaning unstably against a wall. The crash behind me was promising as I managed to slip out of the alleyway and away from their line of sight.

         Unfortunately for me though, using my powers even the slightest bit, intentionally and unintentionally exerted a lot of energy from my already weakening self, so I found my eyesight blurring together, causing me to tumble about and run straight into another figure. The other person caught me and I grunted with pain as I clutched my gut to try to ease the sharpening pain.

         "Y/N!"

         I recognised the voice that called my name and looked up, only to gasp as I saw Skye. She was holding me upright and had a frantic expression on her face. She immediately pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, earning a loud moan of pain from me. She gasped as she pulled away, her brown eyes filled with worry. Now she must have noticed my sick-looking self, but before she could say anything, we both heard something.

         "Over here!"

         One of the police officers called out, and I assumed that they had made it past the crates. They were so close.

         Skye seemed to know what to do as she momentarily pushed her own feelings aside as she said, "Come on, we need to get out of here."

         She led me to a S.H.I.E.L.D. van parked up nearby, but by then, I was long out of it. I so badly wanted to say something – anything – to Skye. I hadn't seen her since Afterlife was destroyed and I never thought I would see her again. This was a miracle.

         "Y/N, come on," she began to say, trying to help me into the back of the van, but it was too late because I was soon met with darkness.

***

         My eyes blinking open felt like I was trying to lift a ton of bricks, and when they did finally open, I had to shut them again because of the bright white lights shining above me.

         "Good to see you're awake," a voice said gently.

         I only knew of one person with a British accent and my presumption was confirmed as to who it was when I saw Jemma Simmons sat at a monitor to my right. She gave a small smile when I looked her way, but I didn't know what to do. I had never really properly been introduced to the fellow agent, as we had met under difficult circumstances when Afterlife was destroyed. So this was definitely odd, though I trusted her if Skye did.

         "You've been unconscious for almost a day now," she told me, standing up and making her way to my bedside. I noticed the heart monitor beside her and soon realised that many wires were attached to my body. "It's better if I get Daisy before discussing anything further."

         I furrowed my eyebrows. "Daisy?"

         Jemma came to realisation of something before correcting herself. "It's better if I let Daisy explain. Daisy is Skye."

         I nodded and she smiled gratefully before leaving the room. It didn't take long for somebody to return because I could hear Skye, uh, Daisy, complaining from down the corridor, and it instantly made me smile.

"Are you kidding me? I sit with her all day and the one time I go to pee, she wakes up? That's totally unfair and–"

         "Sorry I woke up at such an inconvenient time for you," I cut her off as she entered my room, my voice croaking and sore because of my dry throat.

         I immediately felt happier when she walked in, even if there were tears coming from her eyes. She was here, after so long, and God I couldn't feel anymore blessed.

         "You're such an asshole," she got out before racing towards me and embracing me in a tight hug.

         I appreciated her warmth and closeness, having forgotten what that felt like for a while now. Smiling into the hug, I pulled her closer when she tried to move away. I heard her laugh as she held me longer, and it sent a blissful feeling in my stomach.

         "Sorry, I just really missed you," I apologised lamely when we finally separated. I noticed her hair was shorter now. It suited her.  

         She kept ahold of my hand as she smiled through her teary eyes. "Don't be sorry. I didn't– I'm glad I found you."

         I heard Jemma come through the doorway and when she saw the two of us, she sighed in relief. "Good to see the two of you reunited."

         Skye hadn't stopped grinning since she saw me, and a chuckle escaped her lips as she looked from Jemma back down to me. Maybe it was the bright light that shone above her head, but she truly looked like an angel.

         "I heard you go by Daisy now," I hinted, wondering what that was about.

         "Yeah," she confirmed, a sad smile on her lips. "My dad... he, erm..."

         "I get it," I cut her off, squeezing her hand. "It suits you. Though, may take some getting used to. And your hair looks especially beautiful cut shorter."

         Her contagious laughter filled my ears and I couldn't help but grin at the sound. A short silence settled between us before I saw her smile fade away.

         "...I was looking everywhere for you," she admitted, her glassy eyes never leaving mine as she spoke. "When Afterlife was destroyed, I thought-" she paused, a frown on her lips, and I squeezed her hand again, for reassurance. A reminder that I was still here. Because of her. "The facial recognition software got a hit on you at the store yesterday and I couldn't believe it. I came as soon as I could."

         "Good thing you did," I attempted to lighten the mood, and it worked because her frown lifted into a small smile. "Thank you. I didn't think I would see you again."

         "You couldn't get rid of me even if you wanted to," she teased, earning a short laugh from me. Her expression however, soon turned serious as she feared asking, "What happened? I looked everywhere for you. I didn't stop looking, but you weren't there. I'm sorry."

         "Don't blame yourself for not finding me sooner," I tried to reassure her, though it didn't do much because I could see the guilt reflecting in her eyes. Daisy cared about everybody and would always blame herself for things that she couldn't control. I lifted our intertwined hands and left a gentle kiss on hers. "You wouldn't have been able to find me anyway."

         Her eyebrows knitted together, but before I could further elaborate, my face twisted in pain again. The pain inside was stronger this time, eliciting a groan from myself.

         "Y/N, are you okay?" Daisy asked, her eyes widening as she looked about helplessly.

         Jemma came to my other side, glancing at me worriedly before looking at the monitors next to me. My pain soon subsided and I nodded, hoping to make them feel better.

         "Now is probably time to tell us what's going on with you, Y/N," Jemma commented, before giving me an encouraging look. "If you're up to it." I nodded and she continued, saying, "I did some x-rays and took some blood samples, and well, it seems there's something inside of you and in your blood stream. I've never seen anything like it..."

         I took a deep breath before speaking. "After Afterlife was destroyed, I had nowhere to go. I tried to escape with some other Inhumans, but a few of us were taken. By Hydra, I think, but I can't be sure."

         The two agents shared a look, of which I couldn't understand very well, but I knew it was nothing good.

         "The others were-" I paused and closed my eyes, trying to refrain from crying at the thought of losing my friends again. I blinked my eyes open again, only to see Daisy watching me with a soft gaze. "They didn't make it. I was the last to be experimented on, but I left before they could, well, you know..."

         My eyes flickered downwards as I fought against the flashbacks that were threatening to return. I never thought I would escape from that wretched place. I never thought I would hear from Daisy again. She was the only person I had left, and I thought I had lost her for good.

         "What did they do to you, Y/N? I know it's hard, but we need to know if we're to help," Daisy said, and I knew she hated to push me, but she had no choice but to.

         I nodded slowly. "Well, from what I could gather, they wanted to see if they could reverse the process of terrigenesis. I think they wanted to understand how I got my powers, and maybe recreate it. But they couldn't do it and now I'm stuck with something inside of me that I feel is killing me. I only got out because someone on the inside helped me. My powers are... faulty, I guess. They work at random times, when I don't want them to. And when I use them, I feel like I'm going to be sick."

         I finally looked up, seeing Daisy watching me with pity in her eyes. I sighed and looked to Jemma, who was pretty much looking the same, though I could see her brain running at a million miles per hour.

         "You can help her, right, Jemma?" Daisy asked her friend, a pleading look in her eyes. "You can get this thing out of her, right?"

         Jemma looked helpless as she looked between Daisy and I. I knew it was probably impossible for her to help me and I wanted to save her the trouble from admitting that.

         "Daisy," I began, resting a hand on her arm, causing her to look my way. "It's-"

         "No," she cut me off, shaking her head before looking to Jemma. "You can help her, right?"

         Jemma let out a shaky breath. "Daisy, I don't know. I can try, but it will require lots of samples and tests. I need to understand what's going on here-"

         "That's fine," Daisy confirmed, nodding her head. She looked to me. "You're alright with that, right?"

         I shrugged loosely. "I guess, but-"

         “Good! See? She's fine with it," Daisy cut me off again, looking to Jemma again. "Just, please. Make her better."

         Jemma nodded her head, a sad smile on her lips. "I'll see what I can do. But for now. Y/N should get some rest."

         She fluffed my pillows and adjusted my blankets in a comfortable fashion before giving me a toothless smile and leaving. I appreciated her generosity so much. I may actually get better, and that was hard to come to terms with.

         "You didn't have to do that," I said as soon as Jemma left, meeting Daisy's gaze. "If she can't help me, you would have gotten your hopes up for no reason."

         Daisy shook her head. "Don't say that. Jemma is the smartest person I know. If anyone can help you, it's her. You deserve that. You helped me at Afterlife, so now it's my turn."

         I was ready to argue, but Daisy shook her head. "No more talking. You heard Simmons. You need to get some rest. I'll visit you when you wake up."

         I nodded, knowing it was no use. And my tiredness was catching up with me, so I gave in and smiled Daisy's way before closing my eyes. I felt her leave a kiss on my forehead before she left, and I felt butterflies in my stomach as I drifted into my first peaceful slumber in a long time.

***

         The following few days were filled with blood samples, DNA samples, x-rays, and everything and anything else that required poking and prodding at me. I was extremely grateful for all of the effort both Fitz and Simmons were putting in to help me, but that didn't make the needles any more bearable.

         Daisy did, however. She came to stay with me every morning and left every night. I didn't want to worry her, but I did feel myself growing weaker and I wasn't sure how long I had left, so I was making the most of these times with Daisy. She brightened my days.

         "I spy something beginning with D," Daisy said, a childish grin on her lips.

         I quirked an eyebrow as I smiled with amusement. "Are you kidding me?"

         "Clue: she is the best person one can ever meet," she added, smiling adorably.

         I put my hand on my chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, Doctor Simmons?"

         Daisy feigned offence and playfully smacked me on the arm. Meanwhile, Simmons, who was on the other side of the room, was laughing hysterically to herself. I chuckled as the biochemist patted me on the leg before leaving Daisy and I alone.

         "I hate you," Daisy mumbled.

         I smiled teasingly. "Love you, too, Daisy." There was a short silence, before I said, "The last time I saw you, Daisy, you were having troubles with your powers. How are things now?"

         Excitement washed over her expression as she looked to me eagerly. "It's going really well, Y/N. Thanks to you and my friends, I've really gained control over everything. I know they aren't a curse now..."

         I bit my lip to contain my happiness for her. "Daisy, that is absolutely amazing. I'm so proud of you."

         I rested my hand on hers, which took her by surprise for a split second before she widened her smile and enlaced our fingers properly. My heart was bursting at the contact and I honestly wouldn't have had it any other way.

         God, I was going to miss this. Miss her. I felt like I was saying goodbye and I didn't like it. I felt a fear that I had only felt when I was with my capturers. What if I never see Daisy again? I wasn't ready to leave. I wanted to do so many things. Live my life. Be with Daisy... I would never suck it up and tell her how I felt and I would never be able to take her out on a first date. I was going. Dying.

         "Y/N, what is it? What's the matter?"

         I blinked to clear the blurriness from my eyes. I didn't even notice the tears building up there until one of them rolled down my cheeks, causing Daisy to grow concerned and wipe it away. I hated to see her like that.

         "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

         "No, what is it? Please, I want to help," she almost begged, a frown on her lips.

         I tried to laugh, to lighten the tension and make myself look less miserable. But I think that only made it worse. I tried wiping away at ongoing tears to distract myself from having to meet Daisy's darkening eyes.

         "I'm scared," I admitted, my voice weak and trembling with a fear I had been trying so desperately to internalise. "I'm scared that Fitz and Simmons won't be able to help me. I'm scared that I'm losing precious time. I'm scared that I'm dying..."

         I forced my eyes closed, as if it would make me invisible to the fragile girl before me. I didn't want to make this any harder on her. She had done so much and I wasn't helping.

         "No, don't say that," she said, and I opened my eyes when I felt her shuffle forward and cup my face with her hand. "I don't believe that one bit, Y/N. Fitz and Simmons are the smartest people I know and–"

         "And I'm not doubting that," I cut her off, sniffling shortly afterwards. I was still to afraid to meet her gaze, but I could feel it burning through me. "But what if that isn't enough? I might not make it, Daisy... I don't want– I don't want to die..."

         I inhaled a sharp breath and finally looked up, only to burst into tears immediately. All I remembered was Daisy embracing me in a hug, her arms soft and warm and comfortable. Her hands holding me securely, stroking my hair comfortingly. Her voice whispering in my ear that I would be okay. She would make sure of that.

         I had no choice but to believe she was right as I sobbed into her shoulder.

***

         "...you don't have to do it if you don't want to, Y/N, remember that," Jemma added onto the end of her short list of precautions. She was explaining the procedure of the surgery that was about to take place. It was now or never.

         "The alternative is death, right?" I joked, hoping to lighten the mood, but neither Jemma nor Daisy laughed and I was left struggling to breathe because of how weak I felt.

         "Y/N, this is serious," Daisy reminded me as if I didn't already know. I glanced at her and saw that she was just as scared as I was. I was glad she was here though.

         "I know, sorry," I apologised, meeting her gaze before looking back to Jemma. "What are the side effects of this again? I should probably prepare myself."

         Jemma seemed hesitant. "Well... not much of a side effect, but I can't use anaesthetic during the procedure as it may react with what they've put inside of you. It's running through your bloodstream and I'm not sure what could happen."

         "Awesome...," I mumbled.

         "Side effects will definitely include immediate withdrawal symptoms as your body has been depending on this chemical in your body for a while now," she explained simply, and I could see her concern despite how much she tried to hide it. "The biggest risk of this is that there'll be a 50 percent chance of you having powers after this."

         I released a deep breath as I looked up to the ceiling. Wow. Okay. No powers? I should've been happy, I guess. When I first got my powers, I tried to find a cure for it. As if being inhuman was a disease. But now I'd grown used to them. They were apart of me. Could I really be the same without my powers?

         "Even if you have no powers, we can still help you, Y/N," Daisy said, pulling me from my thoughts. I felt her hand lace through mine and looked towards her. She was smiling kindly. "I've got your back through it all."

         I returned the smile and nodded my head. I would be okay, no matter what. I just had to focus on surviving through this surgery. I could do that.

         I looked to Jemma. "I'm ready, doc."

         Jemma seemed confident as she nodded her head, which definitely made me feel better. "Alright. I recommend distracting yourself, but do as you wish."

         I nodded and tried to steady my breathing and ignore her zooming around for tools and such. She'd already cleared space for me and her assistants were doing everything they could to make sure the monitors were working and the wires were connected to me right. My shirt was off and there was a dotted line drawn on my torso where I would be cut open. God, I needed to distract myself. Fast.

         "Hey, I got you," Daisy's voice rang clear despite the sound of busy doctors and nurses around me. I looked to her and focused her and only her. Everything else was background noise.

         "Thanks for being here," I said before I couldn't speak anymore.

         "I'll always be here, whenever you need it," she promised, bringing my hand to her lips and planting a gentle kiss on it. "Always."

         "Yes, I need it now," Jemma's voice broke through the barrier I had built, and I tried to push it out as I focused on Daisy.

         "When we get out of here, I'm finally gonna take you out to get something to eat," Daisy commented, and I knew what she was doing. "Maybe we can make a day of it, y'know? Hit up a theme park. Go on some roller coasters. Haunted house, maybe? Ooh, a water park! It would be awe–"

         I scrunched my face in pain as I felt the scalpel cutting through my skin. I tried so hard to ignore the feeling, but god, it was sharp and long and I felt like it was lasting forever.

         "I can't wait for you to properly meet everyone," Daisy grabbed my attention again, and as much as she wanted to react to Jemma's steady hand, she held back. "Coulson already loves you. I know you've met him before, but it isn't the same under life-threatening situations. May is awesome. You'll love her. They're my family."

         I wanted to respond and tell her I was happy for her. Glad she felt at home with her S.H.I.E.L.D family. But no words came out, only tears.

         Daisy bit her lip to stop it from trembling and her eyes darted between Jemma, who I could see in my peripheral vision, and me.

         "I started helping new Inhumans since you've been gone," she tried her hardest to continue. "They're new, like I was when you found me. I guess I'm doing okay helping them out, but I'm sure you would've done a much better job. You're good at stuff like that."

         I squeezed Daisy's hand, hoping she knew I was listening and cared. She smiled sadly at me as I kept a strong grip on her hand, needing to take my pain out somewhere.

         "Got it," I heard Jemma say. "It's right here."

         I spared a glance her way and saw she was staring at my stomach, which was now cut open.

         "Y/N, love, I've found the source of the chemical they've put inside of you, but it's going to hurt when I remove it," she warned me, sharing a look with Daisy at the same time.

         "Mhm," was all I could respond, my insides feeling like they were on fire.

         "You're going to feel a strike of pain for only a moment, then this will be over, okay?"

         I gulped down the lump in my throat and found myself gripping Daisy's hand. "Yeah. Just do it."

         "Daisy, distract her again, this won't be pretty..." I heard Jemma mutter, probably thinking I wouldn't hear.

         "This is distraction enough, doc," I joked, though it probably sounded terrible with my state currently.

         Jemma forced a smile before looking to Daisy. They exchanged glances before I saw the hacker look down to me with a determined look on her face. I hoped I would make it past this so I could tell her how beautiful she looked today.

         "You're fine, Y/N," she told me, and I almost believed it. She looked up to Jemma and said, "She's fine. She's got this."

         Jemma nodded and began to grab the tools necessary to remove whatever was inside of me.

         "Look at me, Y/N," Daisy called over, and I met her dark eyes to see them glistening with tears. "You're the strongest person I know. If anybody can handle this, it's you."

         I wanted to reply, but I couldn't.

         "You know why we became friends? Because you're understanding. You listened to everything I had to say and tried to understand, even if you couldn't. It's hard to find that in a person." She smiled and leaned closer, probably to prevent me from turning to look at Jemma.

         "I'm not letting you go from here when we're done," she said seriously. "You make me better. You helped me a lot and I want to do the same for you. You've been through a lot and now it's my turn to understand. I'll listen to everything you have to say."

         "Three," I heard Jemma say, but it was mere background noise. I was too entranced by Daisy and her words.

         "We've been friends for a while now and you're my family, I don't know if you know that." She chuckled dryly. "But I guess I've kind of developed feelings for you."

         "Two."

         "I don't want to mess up any more of my chances with you," she said, licking her lips. "I can't lose you again. I need you to know how I feel about you."

         "One."

         "So, I'm just going to show you, Y/N. And I can only hope you feel the same. Or at least don't hate me after I do what I'm gonna do."

         As the pain from the extraction took its toll, my eyes widened, but I couldn't exactly react because Daisy had already moved forward and pressed her lips against mine. My mind was confused with the overwhelming pain from my stomach and the passion coming from Daisy's kiss.

         I couldn't even acknowledge what was happening because the pain had left soon enough, and Daisy was now sitting beside me as normal, her face flustered and eyes cast down to meet mine.

         "She's losing blood, come on," Jemma shouted, but it was distant.

         I saw Daisy looking ahead, worry in her eyes. She dropped my hand and began to shout things across the room, but I couldn't understand what. My eyes were fuzzy now, with tears and darkness, and I couldn't focus on the brunette before me. I felt dizzy, like the room was spinning.

         I didn't understand what had happened and I didn't get to because I was unconscious in no time.

***

         Beep. Beep. Beep.

         My eyes flickered open and blinked several times as they adjusted to the bright white light above me. It didn't take long for me to realise where I was and remember all that happened. The surgery. S.H.I.E.L.D. Daisy kissing me.

         "Hey, you're finally awake."

         I tilted my head to the left, seeing Daisy sat on a chair. The same chair she'd been sat on the last few days as she cured my boredom. She looked tired. Her hair was in a messy bun and her leather jacket was strewn on the back of her chair. Still, she looked beautiful.

         "Hey," I barely got out, before a series of coughs rattled my body. I flinched as I moved too harshly for my stomach. I noticed it was bandaged up now.

         "Here, have this," Daisy suggested, already helping me drink some water.

         I kindly accepted and appreciated the cold water soothing my throat. She set the glass down on the bedside table, and I saw a vase filled with flowers there. Along with a 'get well soon' card. I smiled at the thought immediately, before looking back to Daisy.

         "How are you feeling?" she asked, resting a hand on my arm. "Everything went well, so you just need to rest for now."

         I felt relief at the sound of my surgery being successful. "I'm good. Just sore, but I don't feel like I'm dying which is good."

         As much as she hated my dark humour, I saw a smile erupt on the hacker's face, causing me to do the same.

         "Thank you for being here with me," I said, moving my arm from beneath her hand and instead taking her hand in mine. "Throughout the surgery and now."

         At the mention of the surgery, I saw her cheeks dust with pink. She obviously recalled the kiss, as did I. Which reminded me...

         "I have feelings for you too," I came right out and admitted, taking her by surprise. "I have done for a while now... And I enjoyed your kiss. I honestly thought that was it in that surgery, but I wouldn't have minded if it meant I could kiss you at least once."

         Daisy's eyes softened and a toothless smile appeared on her lips.

         "Well, there's no need to worry about that because you're alive and not going anywhere, right?" She quirked an eyebrow teasingly.

         I chuckled and nodded my head. "Of course, Daisy. Everything went fine and..." My voice trailed off and my smile turned into a frown as I recalled something.

"What's the matter?" Daisy asked, her eyes glazing over with concern.

I breathed out slowly. "My powers... do I still have them?"

         From the look on Daisy's face, I could tell she wasn't sure. I wasn't either. Would I have felt the difference without them? Because I wasn't sure how I felt right now.

         "Help me up, please," I said, and she did as I asked, though with hesitance.

         "Y/N, maybe trying them out now isn't the best–"

         "I have to," I said, looking to her with pleading eyes. "They're my powers, Daisy. If they're gone..."

         She nodded and squeezed my hand reassuringly before letting go. I took a deep breath before focusing on the vase of flowers beside my bed. My power didn't require much effort before, so I merely flicked my finger and willed gravity to do as I wished.

         At first, nothing happened, and I felt a worry building inside as I feared this was it. Daisy was staring at me, furrowing her eyebrows with concern. I wasn't sure it was helping.

         Suddenly, though, I felt the familiar tug in my stomach and a single daisy lifted from the vase and floated in the air. Daisy grinned, as did I.

         "You still have them!" she yelled, excitedly, staring at the flower in bewilderment. "Y/N!"

         I willed the flower to appear in front of Daisy and she looked up from it with a confused smile.

         "For you," I said, smiling at her.

         She pursed her lips, trying to contain her smile, and accepted the daisy gratefully. "Thank you."

         I couldn't have felt anymore happier as I realised I had my powers. And I had her back. And we were both safe and away from the bad guys.

         "No, thank you."