#but it didn’t even start to scratch the fixation I’m going through

[corseque]

I want to grow an enormous amount of strawberries so badly it is causing me physical pain. I need a strawberry plant that I can endlessly clone into infinite strawberries right now as soon as possible

[lex-the-flex]

Nightly Misery

Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: In the wake of another major nightmare, Logan is always grateful to have you by his side.

Word Count: 578

Warning(s): SLIGHT ANGST, MEGA FLUFF, mentions of PTSD, established relationship, brief descriptions of injuries, the reader being a sweetheart, and Logan being protective.

A/N: Welp, my hyper fixation for Hugh Jackman has come back. …As did my love for Wolverine. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Rustling in the softness of your shared bed, Logan’s warmth poured over every square inch over the quaint space. Shifting endlessly underneath the thin bedding, a thick layer of sweat covers his skin and the sheets that surround him. The faint sound of crickets beyond the windows do their best to provide some sense of comfort, but it seems that nothing’s working. Not even the faint beams of moonlight could calm the man’s restlessness.

“Logan, Logan…” You speak quietly.

Gently rubbing Logan’s shoulders, he continues to heavily toss and turn in his sleep. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples just as his mumbling grows louder.

“No… NO!” He shouts.

Suddenly, Logan’s body jolts awake, and he sits up. Yelling from his dream, he gasps for air before ultimately gaining his bearings.

He’s here, in the large comfortable master bedroom that he calls home. Logan’s chest rises and falls and his breathing returns to normal as his hazel eyes scan the dark room. Finding that everything is in its proper place, his light orbs find yours opposite him.

“Baby?” He whispers in the dark.

Silently reaching for you, the sight of his bone claws cause a gasp to leave his chapped lips. Retracting the claws, his brief moment of pain subsides, and a minuscule ring of tears begin to form in his eyes.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay, you just had a bad dream, Logan.” You say before traveling to the bathroom.

Retuning moments later, you join Logan’s side, and wipe the sweat from his face with a damp washcloth. Exhaling at the cool cloth, Logan wraps his arms around your waist.

“That’s nice.” He chuckles.

“I thought it might help. You’ve been doing this too much.” You reply with a smile.

“Can’t help it, bub. The wars, I- I can’t. They still…” Logan tries to explain, but fails silent.

“Hey, it’s alright. Don’t let them control you. You’ve done so well lately, don’t let this be the end of all the progress you’ve made.” You say, running your fingers through Logan’s thick dark hair.

Calming stroking his scruff, Logan’s eyelids grow heavy from your soothing touch. However, your therapeutic abilities only work for a short while before his eyes make contact with a series of three small scars on the base of your forearm.

“Jesus Christ. Y/N, I…” Logan begins, but you cut him off.

“I’m fine, babe. It’s just a scratch. I promise, you didn’t mean it.” You explain, stroking his cheeks.

Pulling you into him, Logan lays down with you in his arms. Letting go of a sigh of relief, you can feel Logan’s muscles start to relax beneath your fingertips. Turning to face you, Logan cradles you in his muscular arms, pulling you closer to his broad chest. Placing a soft kiss to your forehead, Logan's fingers lightly grip the hem of your sleep shirt, fearful of hurting you over again.

Facing you, his eyes grow weary whilst he touches the tip of your nose with his own. Tangling your hair in his fingers, he inhales deeply, longing for the taste of your scent on his tongue.

"I know I don't say this often, but I'm so grateful to have you in my life, Y/N. Not just here, in Canada, in our own private life. But you make me realize the true importance that life isn't always so bad." He vows through whispers with a rare, yet happy smile taking over his lips.

tagging ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

[keery0s]

pretty boy

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

prompt: steve isn’t used to the reader’s compliments

warnings: smut (18+) • masturbation (m) • handjob • sub steve (kinda) • friends to lovers sorta

word count: 1.4k

notes: this is kinda rushed srry

You can’t help but giggle as Steve struts out of the dressing room, his ego much larger than you anticipated. You had dragged Steve to the mall, convincing him a new wardrobe would finally get him the girlfriend he’s been so desperately searching for. You didn’t mean to make fun of his stride but you always saw right through the facade. The man was much dorkier than he looked, his ineptness masked by beauty.

“I knew you were fucking with me!” He pouts as he struggles to tug the denim vest from his shoulders.

“Steeeeve I’m sorry!” you laugh as you spring to your feet, trying to get the garment back onto him. “It looks good!” You truly meant it, though the smirk across your face didn’t help him believe that.

“The constant tormenting really isn’t good for this friendship.” He quips.

“I mean it Steve! You look pretty.” you smile, patting him on the shoulder before sitting back down. Steve scratches his head, confusion now replacing his previous annoyance.

“What?”

He raises a brow at you as he places his hands on his hips.

“What do you mean pretty?”

“You stupid, Harrington?

He met your gaze with a puzzled expression, not quite used to your compliments. Steve had been called many things but pretty was not one of them until now. He felt a little strange, a flutter in his stomach growing as he sat down.

“Pretty like….a girl, pretty?”

“If you wanna take it that way Steve! Now are you gonna buy that or what?” You sigh, sick of his fixation on a single word. He huffs, taking the vest to the register before making his way out of the store.

“Whatever…”

-

Steve gulps as you start your car. For some reason he felt a little weird about you driving him home, mind still stuck on that one word. Your mutual silence and hum of the car’s engine filled the air with an unspoken tension. He felt uneasy, not wanting to look you in the eye as you nudged his arm.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” you question, slightly alarmed by his silence. You knew how much he loved to run that mouth of his.

“I just…” his voice trails off, "what did you mean by pretty?” he glances at you before placing his eyes back on the road.

“Jesus you're still thinking about that!?” you laugh, “You must’ve liked it huh?” you tease.

“N-No!” he protests, voice shaking with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if he even believed that answer himself, face heating up as he fidgets with his fingers in his lap.

“You like it when I call you pretty, Steve?” you prod at him, amused by his nervous state.

“S-Shut up…” He breathes, face going red as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch in his jeans as he replayed your words in his head. He wasn’t used to your praise, your dynamic usually consisting of playful insults and teasing. He wasn’t sure if you actually meant the compliment, but he certainly enjoyed hearing it come out of your mouth regardless. He was thankful you weren't onto him, not noticing the bulge quickly starting to form in his pants. He lets out a shaky breath as you pull up to his house, placing his hand over his crotch to conceal his unwanted excitement.

“Can I hang out for a little? We can watch a movie or something.” you suggest as he unfastens his seatbelt.

“Nope! I’ve got an early shift at work tomorrow.” he lies, blinking nervously.

You barely have a chance to say goodbye before he slams the passenger door closed and heads for his front door, clearly in a hurry to get home. Weird.

-

Steve pants as he struggles to get out of his clothes fast enough, kicking off his shoes while simultaneously unbuttoning his pants and yanking them down his legs. He gets his shirt stuck over his head, falling to his bed blindly before successfully getting it off and throwing it across the room. He felt guilty, cock aching at the thought of you. He didn’t know why one stupid word got him so worked up. It felt so good hearing you say it…he wanted more. What else could you call him? Maybe you could touch him too, make him feel good. He finally wraps a hand around his cock, grunting as he squeezes himself. He moans your name, too caught up in his own thoughts to hear his door open.

“Steve you left your-” you gasp as you see him leaned against his headboard, dick in hand.

“What the fuck?!” He yells, throwing his blanket over his lower half. His face goes red….did you hear him?

“I- Um-” he stutters.

You toss his forgotten vest on the floor, squinting as you think about what you had just heard.

“Did you….say my name?”

“What?! No! That’s so weird that you would say that!” he scoffs. What a shitty liar. You walk over to his bed, sitting beside him. You watch as his chest rises and falls, breathing heavy from his alone time being cut short.

“It’s okay if you did Steve. It’s fine.” you reassure him. You had a strong feeling you caused this.

“Why?” he whispers as he holds his head down, struggling to make eye contact.

“Is it because of earlier?” you ask, grabbing his chin to make him look at you. A blush spreads across his face as his eyes focus on your lips. He nods,

“Yeah.” he breathes, voice quiet and cautious. he sucks in a sharp breath as you press a hand against his chest

“Tell me what you want Steve…” you whisper. You watch closely as he leans into your touch, desperate and docile. He wasn’t used to being asked what he wanted. He wasn’t used to someone being so gentle with him. He was completely in the palm of your hand.

“You want someone to take care of you Stevie?” you ask, caressing his cheek. He leans in to kiss you but you back away, leaving him unsure of what to do next.

“Lay down.” you instruct.

He leans back, head resting against his pillows as he looks up at you. His lashes flutter as his breathing quickens with anticipation. He had never really thought about you this way, but it all seemed to happen so naturally. You pull the blanket from off of him, marveling at his size as a grin tugs at your lips. You go to wrap a hand around his twitching cock, precum beading at the head. As he feels your touch, his hips immediately buck up into your grasp, a whine falling from his lips.

“Such a pretty cock, Stevie…” you tease, making his eyes squeeze shut in response to the adored word. He writhes against the bed as you stroke him slowly, back slightly arching as he tries to drive himself deeper into your hand.

“Feels good huh?” you ask. He nods in response, letting out a choked moan as he tries to speak.

“Use your words Steve.”

“Yeah…feels so good.” he breathes as he grips the bedsheets.

“Look at me.” you demand, grabbing his face with your free hand. His eyes open slowly, tears welling up in them as the pleasure grows overwhelming. You pump him faster as your eyes meet with his, a cry coming from him loudly.

“Do you wanna cum?” you ask as you wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Please–p-please” he begs, his release approaching quickly with each word from you.

“You wanna cum Steve?” you repeat in a whisper, stroking him faster as he struggles to thrust up into your hand. He’s almost over the edge, cock pulsating from his near climax. You take your hand in his as you continue to jerk him off with the other. He squeezes desperately as he finally hears it,

“Cum for me Stevie.” you plead, grip around his length tightening as he bucks into your hand one last time. His body goes tense with pleasure as the bliss of his orgasm washes over him, a cry escaping his lips. You wipe up the rest of his cum on your hand with your fingers, licking them clean as he watches you in awe. He pants as he stares at you, in shock of what had just transpired.

“Thank you…” he manages as he runs a shaky hand through his hair.

“You’re welcome, pretty boy.”

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Did it hurt?

Requested: Yes [Can I please please please get König with a very flirty reader? Like, big boy is blushing all over but still flirting back like he's got nothing to lose, getting close and showing off those muscles like nobody's business. Until reader tells him that if he's planning on sleeping in his own bed he better shut up, and he just grins wildly and keeps going. Please, I'm willing to beg]

Warnings: None

A/N: Yes, hello, I know I’ve been quiet for a while now. Between health problems, hyper fixations, and the death of a cat I loved dearly, let’s just say I’ve been having a tough time lately. But I’m back! Hopefully I’ll get back to regularly posting soon.

Pretty.

It had all started by you calling him pretty. It was meant to be joking, as you had never actually seen his face, but that genuinely surprised and bashful look in his eyes prevented you from taking it back. His hands fidgeting in front of him as you tried to find the words to apologize for perhaps making him uncomfortable or awkward when he suddenly spoke.

“Tat es weh, als du vom Himmel gefallen bist?” He asked in his native tongue, scratching at his cheek through the thick fabric of his mask, his eyes meeting yours, and you could just barely make out the fact that his pupils were blown wide when he looked at you.

“What?” You asked dumbly. Even if ypu understood German, you were too dumbfounded by his sudden words that you didn’t even understand what he said.

“Tat es weh, als du vom Himmel gefallen bist?” He asks again, leaning in, invading your personal space so he could get a closer look at your eyes. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

A shocked laugh left you, but you regretted it when you saw his head lower a bit, averting his eyes from your face. He thought you were laughing at him.

“Sorry, but I crawled my way up from hell.” You tell him, giving a wink when he seems to straighten, his body signaling that he’s nervous yet excited as he fidgets with his thick gloves, picking at the frayed seams of them.

“Explains why you’re so hot.” He says, his voice dropping a few octaves, a pleasant rumble in your ears. “Speaking of heat, is it hot in here or is it just you?”

That one earned him another chuckle and you could tell he was smiling now by the way the creases around his eyes crinkled, almost making it look like he was squinting.

“I think it’s actually just you.” You tell him, boldly poking the center of his chest, not expecting him to scoop up your hand with his own, gently cradling it as he brings it up to where his lips should be, kissing your knuckles through the fabric of his mask.

“No, it’s definitely you.” He says, pleased by the way you start to crumble at the edges, becoming a bit flustered by his words. It was all so cheesy but…..you kinda liked it when it was coming from him.

“Listen here, big guy. If you’re planning on sleeping alone tonight then you better stop now.” You playfully warn, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the way his eyes widen and narrow, a determination setting in them as he reaches out to brush his hand along yours, linking your pinkies on top of the bar.

“It’s cold out tonight, maybe we should huddle together to keep warm.” He practically purrs, leaning in closer, amused when you push at his face, then tug him outside by the hood of his jacket.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

thinking about pornstar Eddie tonight...

Thinking about how he needs to show up to work presentable, a clean slate....and you're just really bratty for some reason and leave the biggest hickey on his neck...

Hmmm.....yeah

omg he would definitely punish you for that!

imagine he comes home from a shoot, and you have a plan while he goes to take a shower. you’re feeling particularly bratty, and you know already that he has to go back to work tomorrow. you were fine with what he did for a living, but sometimes you just wanted to mark your territory on him. you were in one of those moods tonight, and a smirk played across your lips as you thought about everything you were going to do.

he comes out of the shower, toweling at his long hair, and grinning as he notices your smirk. “what’s that look for, baby?”

“oh, nothing,” you say, sitting up on the bed and beckoning him to come closer. “come here. i’ve missed you all day.”

“you just missed my dick,” he says, placing your hand on it as you palm him. “mmm, and i missed you touching me.”

“i missed YOU,” you say, sitting up on your knees on the bed so that you could kiss him. “i really, really did.”

“i missed you a lot, too,” he says, groaning as you start kissing his neck. “thought about you all day.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, reaching down to squeeze his balls as you sucked a spot on his neck. “even while you were balls deep in someone else?”

“not balls deep,” he said, moaning before tilting his head back. “be careful doing that, baby.”

“why?” you ask, playing innocent as you keep sucking on his skin.

“no hickeys,” he says, his lashes fluttering as you continue to work on him. “y/n, i’m serious.”

“oops,” you say, drawing back and hiding your smirk as you see a large hickey beginning to form. “my bad.”

“you fucking didn’t,” eddie nearly growls, stepping back to look in the vanity mirror. “fuck! the director is going to pitch a fit!”

“oh, who cares,” you say, removing your clothes and biting your lip. “you’re really too fixated on what others think of you.”

“this is part of my job, you brat!” he says, coming over to the bed and pushing you onto it. “it’s going to ruin the shoot!”

“well, maybe you could ruin ME instead,” you offer, pulling him fully on top of you and leaning up for a hard kiss. “ever think of that?”

“trust me, i fucking plan on it now,” he says with a growl, starting to kiss roughly over your neck. “gonna mark you up, too.”

“you better,” you say, moaning as he sucks a big hickey on your sweet spot. “oh, fuck…”

“gonna teach you that your actions have fucking consequences,” he says, moving down to suck on your nipples. he littered your breasts with hickeys beforehand, his grip on you tight. “fucking brat.”

“oh, eddie,” you moan, tugging his hair as hard as you can as he bites your nipple. he swirls his pierced tongue around it, his eyes fixated on you through his lashes & hair. “fuck, please…”

“you’re going to be begging for mercy by the time I’m done with you,” he says, making his way between your legs next.

he wasn’t wrong. he ate you out over, and over, and over, not stopping until you were sobbing from being overstimulated. then he fucked you, first while standing at the edge of the bed, then again from behind as he left large red handprints on your ass, then again in missionary. you scratched his back up, making him bleed, marking him up further. that prompted him to stop and cuff you, where he coaxed another two orgasms out of you. you fell back, exhausted, but he still wasn’t done with you.

“on your knees,” he ordered as he released you from the cuffs. “you’re going to clean yourself off of my dick, and you’re going to take every single inch that I give you.”

——————-

mini taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @trashmouth-richie @sunkillerdreamer @keikoraven @eiightysixbaby

[badasmuse]

“Three Weeks”

Kim Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), penetration, language, lowercase intended, kinda sub!seungmin, whiny!seungmin, dickhead!seungmin

Summary: seungmin has been ignoring you for three weeks and you’re over it

a/n: i know i primarily write for bada but i also have a hyper fixation on seungmin and simon dominic so once in awhile i’ll drop something about them and some others too🤸🏽

three weeks. it’s been three weeks since your best friend confessed his feelings towards you and three weeks since he’s ghosted you. so much for having feelings for you.

you’ve done everything. called, texted, called his friends, you even showed up at his dance practice but he hid somewhere in the building and you’re just too lazy to look around (and you’ve gotten lost in there before. you don’t need it happening again.)

it’s becoming unbearable. you haven’t seen him in so long it hurts. you immediately grab your phone dialing chris’ number.

“hey y/n!” he exclaims.

“is seungmin around?” you ask sadly.

his once happy tone turned sad, “he’s at the dorms. y/n are you okay?”

you open your mouth to respond to his question but close it, opting with an, “can i go over there?”

“yeah should i let him-“ you cut him off.

“no please. thanks chris love you, muah.” you blow a kiss through the phone and hang up.

grabbing your shoes and keys, you hop in your car and drive over the the dorms. you throw on a mask and put on a hat before running into the building and running up the stairs to the door. you pound on it anxiously.

“dammit jeongin you just left- oh…” seungmin opened the door, he thought it was the beloved maknae but it was in fact not. instead it was you. you angrily push him back into the dorm before shutting and locking the door.

“what the hell seungmin?” you say. “it’s been three fucking weeks. why are you avoiding me?”

he doesn’t respond, walking to the couch instead.

“kim seungmin i know you hear me.” you follow, your voice cracking.

“you should go home y/n.” he mumbles as he starts scrolling on his phone.

you snatch it, putting it out of reach. when he tries going for it you push him back on the couch, climbing on his lap and pinning his arms to his side.

his eyes widen, “y/n get up.” he says,

“just listen to me!” you squirm, struggling to hold him down. “i just want you to know i like you too! i didn’t want to tell you over the phone this has to be said in person.”

“y/n you have to get up.” he says, ignoring everything you said.

but it’s too late.

you open your mouth to yell at him but then you feel it. he’s hard and you feel it pressing against your ass. he blushes and you let go of his wrists. “i’m… sorry.”

“can you just get up and go home so i can take care of this?” he mumbles.

your hands trail down his chest, dipping under his shirt to scratch at his abs lightly. “let me take care of it.” you say softly.

“why would y-you do that?” he asks jerking when your nails drag across his lower stomach.

“because i like you too seungmin. i’ve always thought about this..” you whisper in his ear, pulling his sweats down. “i wish you would’ve let me talk instead of ignoring me for three fucking weeks.” you stand up to take your bottoms off and climb back on him. you waste no time sinking onto his dick, trying not to make noise.

him, on the other hand, was a moaning, whimpering mess. “fuck you feel so good.” he whines.

his hands caress your waist as you bounce on him, hands tangled in his hair. you let out little moans in his ear, loving the way his dick hit your spot perfectly.

“shit y/n stop clenching i’m gonna cum.” he whimpers.

you stop clenching, in fact you stop moving all together. “apologize.” you whisper, “apologize or you can’t cum.”

seungmin throws his head back, “please y/n i’m so close.”

“say you’re sorry. sorry for ignoring me. sorry for being mean.” you pick up your pace again, bouncing on his dick like you’re a basketball being dribbled down the court by steph curry.

“fuck i’m sorry!!” he moans out. “i’m sorry baby. fuck i’m cumming!” he pulls you down flush against his pelvis as he fills you up, the feeling making you cum on him with a loud moan.

you both pant, holding each other close. your legs quiver against his hips. he grabs the blanket on the back of the couch wrapping it around you both after laying down with him still inside you.

it was quiet. you both enjoyed the comfortable silence.

until,

“god did you have to fuck on the couch? it’s bad enough i had to hear your.” lino says walking back to his room.

“oh yeah, lino’s here.” seungmin says.

“seungmin!”

[gardenofnoah]

i’m sick and daydreaming

“what’s wrong with you?”

you groan, pressing your head back into the pillow. you’d dragged it into the living room to make yourself a makeshift bed on the couch while you waited for bakugou to get home.

“don’t feel good,” you mumble quietly. your eyes are closed, but you can feel him glaring at you from his spot near the door.

a second passes and you flinch when you feel a rough hand press into your forehead—then both cheeks, your temples, your neck. you’d smile at his doting if you didn’t feel so awful.

“what doesn’t feel good?”

“stomach hurts…my head too. feel really tired.”

“fuckin’ idiot,” he snaps, but there’s no heat to it as he brushes your hair out of your face that’s just a little sweaty, “what’d you stay up for me for then?”

you shrug, keeping your eyes closed at the feeling of his fingers scratching your scalp. “missed you.”

he pauses at that, sucking in a breath. the sentiment always, always disarmed him. he couldn’t help but love the way you needed him so earnestly, even if he hated that you’d kept yourself up despite being sick.

you feel a dip in the couch, and it’s your only warning before he’s hoisting you up off of it. the sudden elevation makes your stomach churn and you whimper, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. he presses a kiss to your hair.

“sorry,” you feel his breath over your face, “just a second.”

to your surprise, he walks past your bedroom and takes you to the bathroom, setting you on the toilet seat. he motions for you to raise your arms, pulling your shirt over your head. you shiver from the cold air, but continue to allow him to undress you. he pulls a towel from under the sink and wraps you in it.

bakugou keeps a warm hand wrapped around your foot while he reaches over to turn on the faucet. he sticks a hand in the tub to make sure the temperature is right—he pulls it from the water and lets it close around your other ankle.

“too hot?”

you sniff, eyes closing at the warmth spreading over your skin. you have a feeling it’s not the virus circulating through you right now—not with the way you’re so fixated on how he has stopped time for you. you shake your head.

he helps you stand and steadies you as you lower yourself into the water. you let out a pleased little sigh, and you don’t miss the way the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit.

he tells you to tip your head back, and you feel a rush of warmth over your scalp. it takes you a moment to realize what’s happening.

“are you washing my hair?”

he pauses, going a little red. you see him bristle a bit.

“the fuck’s it look like?” he mumbles, and you swear he’s almost pouting.

it makes you smile, and you spare his pride. you close your eyes and do as he asked.

he’s muttering to himself in half hearted annoyance as he dumps another cup of water over your head again, his other hand reaching to your hairline to shield your eyes. you bite your cheek to fight the grin that is already there.

you found out bakugou’s propensity toward domesticity early on in your relationship. you also found out his tendency to be embarrassed when you commented on it, so you tried to keep it to a minimum when you reveled in the way that he cared for you.

you feel his fingers start to scrub your scalp and it pulls a small sound from deep in your chest, leaning into his touch. you open your eyes and turn your head to look at him.

“the fuck are you doin’? close your ey—“

“love you,” you whisper quietly, and you don’t miss the way he buckles under the weight of the words, however minutely.

“shut up,” he murmurs, grabbing you under your jaw to gently turn your head away from him so he can continue. his touch lingers there for a beat too long, fingers running along the sharpness of the bone before he’s scrubbing your scalp again.

you allow a small smile to stretch along your face and your eyes drift closed again. it’s silent between you—expansive and comfortable as he rinses the soap from your hair.

you don’t know how much time has passed when he hauls you from the tub, making sure you can stand upright before wrapping you back up in your towel. he keeps an arm around you as you both walk back to your bedroom. he sets you on the bed while he busies himself with finding a suitable pair of pajamas.

he doesn’t let you dress yourself, either, and you have to hold back the giggle at how he babies you. you let him, though, because you know this is how he shows you that he loves you. the words are hard, but what he can do for you comes as natural to him as breathing.

when you’re dressed, he strips down to his briefs and maneuvers you down underneath the covers. he follows you, pulling you into his body. it’s the warmest you’ve felt all day, and his arms wrap around you tighter when you press into him. you rest your head against his sternum and breathe him in as best you can through your clogged nose.

“do you need to eat?” you ask, suddenly remembering that he’s just gotten home from working all day.

“later,” you feel it rumble through his chest, and he doesn’t leave any room for your protests, cradling your head and pressing a soft kiss to the top of it, “go to sleep.”

you grumble a little despite his firmness and you feel him grin into your hair. his fingers trail softly over your spine and you feel yourself doing what he said, drifting off quickly.

you’re fortunate enough to hear the whispered “i love you” right before sleep claims you.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

[sugurumybeloved]

⤷ I can be better.

masterlist! | previous post!

synopsis: coming to Yuji's with a broken heart, he definitely changes your mind on dating again.

pairings: yuji itadori x reader ! :D

warnings: um not that I know of 🐥.

Tears stream down your face as you run through the neighborhood. Some  drivers honk at you rudely and you trip a couple times but you made it to his house. Your balled up fist knocked harshly at the door as you waited for Yuji to answer.

When the door opened, your eyes fixated on him. His hair was a messy mop of pink strands. He looked down at you with heavy eyelids and a confused smile.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He asked confused, leaning on the door.

“Just open the door, please.”

Yuji wasn’t good with reading cues, or understanding cues. Being the sunshine person he is, he accepted, letting you in.

“So, uhm, what’s wrong?”

A low, shaky breath draws from your lips as you blink back more tears. Yuji hesitates to ask again, stepping back from you.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

His shoulders started to slouch as he looked for ways to help you. You did just walk in his house without saying what’s wrong anyway.

“Y/N, come.” He calls you over gently. You walk over to him, where he pats the seat of the couch next to him. You sit, leaning on the back of it. He noticed how your normal bubbly demeanor was gone and you seemed distressed. His lanky fingers outstretched to your hand, covering it.

“If you’re worried to tell me, it’s fine. But I’d like to know before you leave, please?”

You feel a burning sensation in your eyes as you blink fast again. You hate when people can see you like this, but what’s the point of coming over and not talking?

The pink haired boy waits patiently as you sit there, watching you.

“So, uhm, remember when we went out with (boyfriends name)?”

He nods, with a smile on his face. “Yeah! The guy who paid for all our stuff from the mall, right?” 

“Yeah, he-“  “And I remember that photo he showed us of you!” He rambled on, almost like he couldn’t stop. “It was so adorable-“

“He cheated on me.”

Yuji was stuck between silence and words, his expression too difficult to read. He wanted to say something so bad, but he was too shocked. Soon, he felt Sukuna switch in, those familiar black lines fading in his face. 

“He did what?”  Sukuna’s menacing voice sent shivers down your spine. Him and Yuji were very distinctive now.

“Yeah, and he told me he didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it? Obviously he did. His loyalty is as shallow as his morals.”

 You giggle a bit, your hand covering your mouth.

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny, brat.”

“I thought it was!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking down at his nails. He looks back at you with a grin.

“Are you going to be like those other amusing humans and get revenge?”

“No, I think I’ll just be on my own for a while.”

Something sparks in Yuji, as there’s an abrupt switch. He pants, wiping his forehead. 

“You said you’ll be single for a while?”

“Yeah, why?”

You see him suddenly smile, him scooting closer to you.

“How about you give me a try?”

Your eyes widen and you deeply blush. His eyes search yours again, waiting patiently for your response.

“Is that a yes?” He says, his thoughts almost contradicting him. Even with his smile, he hopes that you say yes.

“Well, I’m not saying no, but don’t you think it’s too soon-“

Yuji’s rosy pink lips smash onto yours, cutting you off. The kiss feels so rushed, but so right. There’s a sense of euphoria in the air as you return his kiss. His fingers find their way in the nape of your neck, traveling to your hair. Your hands cup his face, the pad of your thumbs on his plump cheeks. After about a minute or two, you both part away, breaking for air. Your lips tingle, still feeling the remnants of his pair. As you look at him, his signature smile returns, shyly scratching his forehead. 

“Can we kiss again?”

~

[BONUS!]

Sukuna sits with his leg crossed in his chair, listening to the scene unfold from Yuji’s head.

“Ah, two brats falling in love.”

dt list: @1-800reki @ashlovelys @crowatemitsuri @psuedosugu @starykari @pinkbowwhitebow @kitkat-moon @ilovelinkk @stillnotherapy @suguvanilla @istanstraykidss @zellons @misthashiragf @mjustag1rl @stantengenandhisflashywives :3

works by sugurumybeloved©.

[bomber-grl]

Playing w/Sages hair hc

Pairing(s): Sage Lesath x Gn!Reader

Sage has always been the teasing and joking type

Even little moves made on your part are made into dirty jokes and whether or not you buy into them- well let’s not go into that

In the rare occasion that sage invites you to sleep with him, just to share the bed, he swears.

Well you can’t really argue, especially since he didn’t try to imply anything dirty

The two of you ended up in bed and how didn’t seem to matter.

The two of you were just cuddling, you guess everyone needs a little love once in a while so you obliged.

Your eyes couldn’t help but hyper fixate on sages white hair- it looked unbearably soft

Sage seemed to have noticed and guides your hand towards his head to rest there.

“Uhhh are you sure it’s fine?” You asked as if your flinching didn’t ask that nonverbally

“I’m fine, it’s fine. I want you to” Sage makes an emphasis of this by keeping your hand tangled in his hair, but he moves away.

“You know what?” his sudden movement already got you sitting upright so he moved so his head would lay on your lap.

“There, touch me all you want” he adds with a bit of a flirtatious tone.

You can instantly feel his eyes on you, expecting you to play with his hair- even more- his ears

“Hey” he draws you out of your thoughts “I wouldn’t have.. I wouldn’t given you permission if I didn’t trust you,ok? Loosen up” he shoots you the best look he could but you still don’t miss how his eyes soften.

You let out a small “ok” and first run your hands through his hair.

You begin untangling it almost- but with how soft his hair is there isn’t much to brush through.

You absentmindedly start playing with his ears but once you notice you almost pull back-

That’s before you feel a deep purr resonate from his chest, you even felt it before you heard it.

This really gave you the confidence and so you continued with what you had been doing.

You reached and scratched behind his ear but Sage reached up and grabbed your wrist-

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-“ Sage brought a finger to your lips and let out a laugh.

“It’s fine, really.” He sighed “just keep touching me, ok?” He sounded like his usual self but the way his voice sounded so on edge- it’s almost like he was on the verge of crying.

You smiled and traced his face, he leaned in and playfully bit at your palm but smoothed over it and kissed it back to “health”

You let out a laugh, as did he, but ultimately returned to your previous place.

Your hands smoothed over his ears and continued playing with his hair with your other hand.

His head leaned in impossibly close each time to the point he was flush against your hand.

“Sage, I’m trying to play with your hair” you said, almost in a whiney tone.

He laughed “just, come here ok?” He pulls you closer and rest his forehead against yours.

There was a small period where neither of you spoke but Sage ultimately leaned in and kissed you, his fangs lightly grazing against your bottom lip.

You let out a small laugh at that and he surprisingly picked you up so that you’d both be laying down.

All that could be heard was silence and your breath but you ultimately leaned into sage and whispered “thank you”

Sage leaned back to look at you “what for?” He tried making it flirtatious.

“For letting me, yknow “ you motioned vaguely at his ears.

“Of course I would, it’s you”

[simp-is-here]

Reaching For Hope: Dazai Osamu x FemReader

Warning: HEAVY ANGST, before story miscarriage, self harm, ptsd, struggling to cope, probably ooc Dazai, hope at the end, if there’s anymore please let me know

Summary: After the two of you go through a devastating loss Dazai tries his hardest to try to bring you back and see you smile again

(A/n: I am terribly sorry for anyone who has ever gone through this, and I’m sorry if I trigger or make anyone upset with my writing. I hope I didn’t inaccurately write this, I’m very sorry if I did and will do better in the future)

No matter how much he reaches out to you, there was always something that pulled you back.

He sat beside your chair, telling you about his day. But just like before you only stared out the window blankly, not even your breaths broke the silence of the room. Your hand was loosely laying in the hold of his grip, not even a twitch of acknowledgment.

“-And then he asked why I wasn’t done my paperwork.” He chuckled glanced back towards you, the slightest bit of hope that you’d laugh at the story like you used too.

The hope was once again crushed by your distanced gaze towards the window. You had been like this since you found out, your words stopped, and even when you did look at someone it was as though you were looking through them.

A soft knock on the door disturbed the silence, a nurse held a clipboard to her chest and walked a couple steps into the doorway.

“Mr. Dazai, I’m very sorry but it’s time for her to sleep.” She told him, putting the clipboard down and making her way over to you

You stood with her help, as though you were a ragdoll. The covers were draped over your body before the nurse made her way back to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dazai told you, kissing the wedding band on your hand before exiting the room.

After the nurse closed the door he stopped her before she could continue her rounds.

“When can I take her home?” He asked her, he had been asking this question for what felt like months

“Soon, we just need to make sure she’s not a danger to herself.” The nurses calm tone made his frustration build

He tried his best not to squeeze her arm, with a quick recovery he let her go. Waving her goodbye as he goes to leave.

“But…”

He turned at her words, wanting. no. needing some good news.

“If you get permission from the doctor you can take her out for a little bit. Some familiar faces might cause a reaction. Just remember to keep an eye on her, and make sure she has paper or plastic stuff so she doesn’t see herself.” She informed him, patting his shoulder before continuing with her rounds

••••

“Atsushi hasn’t stopped asking about you. Everyday I come into work he asks me how you are before anything else.” Dazai says as he teases the white haired boy in front of him

“Hey! It’s not everyday.” Atsushi replies, his cheeks warming a bit

“It might as well be, it’s like your new routine.” Dazai comments, hoping to get at least a look of amusement from you

“He’s right, you do.” Kyouka said bluntly

“Huh!? Well, maybe I ask a lot.” Atsushi scratches his head with an awkward smile on his face

You haven’t replied to anyone yet, your gaze was fixated on the bun that was on your plate.

“Dazai!” Kunikida’s voice echoed a bit

“Hey Kunikida. Come to join the party?” Dazai asked with a fun wave

He came up to the brunette and started shaking him by his collar, steam practically coming out of his ears.

“Don’t think you can get away with leaving all your work unfinished! I came into the office only to find all of your work on my desk!!”

The violent shaking caused your coffee to fall over, ruining your untouched meal and spilling onto your lap.

“Are you alright!? Here let me clean it up.” Atsushi panicked, wiping the coffee with thin napkins so it doesn’t spill anywhere else

Kyouka took the plate and the coffee cup, and went off to find a place to toss it out.

“Hey, uh. I’m out of napkins. Does anyone know where they have more?” The white haired boy asked holding the soggy paper in his hands

“Well don’t just hold those, throw them out before you make an even bigger mess.” Kunikida told him, letting go of Dazai to find more napkins

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this Dazai.” He quickly scolded once again

Dazai held up his hands plastering a smile onto his face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When he turned back to face you, you were gone from your seat. He looked around but couldn’t find you.

“How much coffee was in that-“ the blonde got cut off by the look on Dazai’s face

“What’s-“

A crash alerted everyone’s attention to the bathroom, fear overtook Dazai as the crashes continued.

‘So she doesn’t see herself’

‘So she doesn’t see herself’

‘So she doesn’t see herself’

He slammed the door open only to see you repeatedly slamming your arms into the mirror, tears flowing down your blank face.

“Y/N!” He called, going over to you, trying to pry your hands away from the broken mirror

You yanked your hands back and kept slamming them into the shards, blood seeping from your skin and onto the counter.

“Stop!” He managed to turn your body away from the mirror but was greeting by the harsh slap of your hand

He froze in place, the sting still lingering on his cheek. Slowly he turned his head back to you, the blank look in your eyes was replaced with regret and guilt, your mouth opened no words came out.

He guided your head to his shoulder and held you close as your sobs left your gasping into his coat. He followed you to the floor when your knees gave out, he caught sight of the paramedic in the doorway ready to take you back to the hospital. He raised your head from his shoulder and wiped your tears away.

“We’re gonna get up, okay?” He told you, your nod in response would have made him overjoyed if not for the circumstances

He got you up and led you to the ambulance, blocking your view of everyone’s pity filled expressions, it would only send you further down this road of madness.

The pain he felt as he was washing your blood off his hands, your home felt so empty without you there.

He wants so desperately to reach out to you again, but he’s losing hope.

••••

Time after that incident merged together, he had been allowed to see you again 2 weeks ago, the routine of visiting everyday came back.

Everytime he was there you were in your usual spot staring out the window, but now that the blank look was gone he was finally able to recognize the emotions hidden in your eyes.

Longing

When you went to bed he looked out the window from your chair and knew what you were staring at, behind a couple of trees was the park that the two of you met at, back when everything was simple and sweet.

With permission from the doctor he walked you to the park, revealing where you were visiting as though you had been wearing a blindfold. He sat you down at the base of one of the trees, the stars twinkling above you.

“Now, I know I’ve never told you this but, I’d been watching you for a bit before we met.” He admitted, raising his bandage covered arm to point at an area

“You would always be right there, you’d be reading, painting, bird watching, everything you did was always in that spot.” He placed his hand back down beside yours

“Then finally I actually met you, do you remember how clumsy you were? I was reading when I suddenly got run into by this girl in the most wild looking shirt ever she dropped paint all over my shoes. What was it again that I compared your shirt to?” He asked himself, trying to remember

A hand placed itself on his, interlocking the fingers.

“A carpet.” You said

He turned to you in shock, when he looked at you finally you were looking back at him. The corners of your mouth twitching a bit.

“Yeah.” He said breathlessly

He rubbed your hand with his thumb and smiled to himself.

“I liked those shoes too.”

The snort you let out was like music to his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from letting a tear fall at the sight of your smile, no matter how small I was, it was still your smile.

You placed your head on his shoulder, fiddling with his fingers. His soft lips kissed your head, speaking silent words that had finally grown loud enough for you to hear.

Your words spoke back as you kissed the ring on his finger, locking your fingers together again once you set your hands back down.

He didn’t need to reach out to you anymore, you were finally here with him.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

(Please do not post my work anywhere else without mentioning that it’s written by me)

Thank you for reading. If you have any requests just send them to me and I’ll try to write them to the best of my ability

And remember you are a fantabulous human being and that is my opinion to which you can not change my opinion so better just accept that you’re an amazing person who is doing a fantastic job. Keep up the great work. Have a good day or night or whatever you’re reading this at

Request

[blackleatherjacketz]

Forbidden Fruit: Chapter 3

Jack Russell x Female Reader

Summary: Jack saves you from a vicious vampire attack and you discover you might be more entangled than you thought.

This Chapter: Your friend comes to check on you and immediately recognizes Jack, helping you fill in some of the missing parts of your memory.

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Kissing, Hand Holding, Face Holding, Jealousy, Memory Loss, Cats, Coffee, Domestic Jack, Fluff

Word Count: 2.2k+

Tags: @letsby @skittle479 @bullet-prooflove @acutecupidity

Read the rest of the story HERE

“Uhura doesn’t really like anyone,” you tell Jack as you watch your cat mark him affectionately, brushing her fur against him as she weaves her way in between his ankles. You’ve always had to warn people of her skittish nature before having anyone over, telling them not to take it personally if she ran away from them or hid in another room, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with Jack. “I’m surprised she’s warmed up to you so quickly.”

“Maybe she’s just a good judge of character.” He bends down and scratches behind her ears, grinning and cooing as she slowly closes her eyes and purrs in response.

“Maybe.” You stare at the image of him petting your cat, this gorgeous man standing in the middle of your kitchen as if it’s some sort of still photograph perfectly framed and hanging on your wall, but something’s missing. Something’s not right here, there’s a sort of… missing puzzle piece leaving the picture incomplete as it nags at the back of your mind. Unable to come up with a solution, you decide to shrug it off for now and make a pot of coffee to help kickstart your neurons and put the pieces back together.

Pulling the can of coffee grounds down from your cabinet, you pour the last remaining scoops into a fresh filter, the comforting smell of a thousand mornings before this filling your nostrils and wrapping itself around you in a feigned sense of safety. “I’m starting to remember Alan… Alistair, I mean.”

“Yeah?” You hear him groan in exhaustion as he stands up from his hunched position. “Anything useful? Do you remember how you got there?”

You ponder over your dream as Jack walks over to you, instinctively opening up the cabinet door and pulling out two of your favorite mugs. He sets them down next to the coffee pot in front of you as you wonder how much of the dream is worth telling him; if it’s worth divulging all the explicit and gory details, or even how the dream made you feel.

That was between you and God.

“I think we were involved for a few weeks.” You shut the lid to the coffee maker and press start, slowly turning around to face him.

“Oh.” A deep melancholy weighs down his features as he looks at you, the solitary word hanging heavily in the air between you until he finds the capacity to speak again. “By involved, you mean,” he swallows hard, spinning your Bob Ross mug around until it faces him. “Romantically?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but feel guilty somehow after you answer him, his solemn reaction more visceral than you had expected. Didn’t he want you to remember what happened? Wasn’t he trying to help you figure out what’s been going on?

“Okay,” he whispers softly, keeping his eyes fixated on the mug. “That’s okay.” He runs his hand through his hair again, his lips curling into a frown as he nods in a forced display of understanding. “That’s okay.”

KNOCK KNOCK

“Are you expecting someone?” He blinks a few dozen times as you both look toward the door, welcoming the change of subject as the piping hot liquid sputters the last of the coffee into the dingey glass pot. “Remember not to invite anyone in.”

“I won’t,” you reassure him with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it before walking into the hallway. “I’m just going to see who it is.”

You open the door to find your friend Andrea, the look of judgment on her face signaling that you’ve done something to make her extremely upset. That look was usually reserved for management behind their backs or patients who tried to swing at her for no reason, but today she’s giving it to you.

“Are you kidding me?” She practically yells, exasperated as the door swings open on its hinges. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours now, and you’ve been here this whole time?”

Oh no. You forgot to call into work tonight. Shit.

“I’m so sorry, I lost my phone somehow last night, and I couldn’t…” you stutter.

“We’re already short staffed, and you pull this? Now?” Her eyes dart from your face down to your neck, clocking the dried bandage you’d all but forgotten. “And what the hell is that? Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

You touch the gauze and tape that cling to your skin as you scramble to get a word in edgewise, wondering what you could possibly say to her that would make any sense. “Oh, umm… Uhura scratched me when I picked her up the wrong way,” you lie, hoping to God that your actions, or lack thereof, hadn’t cost you your job.

“Uh-huh.” She looks behind you and spots Jack, lowering her voice to a whisper as she steps in closer to you. “And why is he here? I thought you weren’t going to see him anymore.”

“Anymore?” You question, glancing back at him as he sips his coffee at the table. “I just met him last night.”

“Sure you did, and I’m George Washington.” She rolls her eyes and leans against the doorway, the severity of her tone lightening up a bit. “Look, I get it. If you want to play hookie just so you can get some ass, that’s fine by me, but at least call off ahead of time so the rest of us don’t have to suffer.” She raises her eyebrows a few times and looks back over at him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry, are you saying that Jack and I were seeing each other?” All of the sudden that missing puzzle piece from before is starting to make a lot more sense, even if it raises more questions.

“You’re kidding, right? He’s the only patient you ever dated,” she explains, her expression telling you that this is more than old news. “But you texted me a few weeks ago saying that it was over, not to ask about him anymore. I thought that was a little weird, that maybe you’d want to talk about it in person, but you never brought him up again. So I figured you’d moved on, but… you’re a big girl and you can make your own decisions.”

“He was a patient?”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” She feels your forehead and peels your eyelids open, blinding you with her cellphone’s flashlight. “Or have a stroke?” She moves the light from side to side as she stares intently at your face. “Who’s the president?”

“Stop it,” you close your eyes instinctively and push her away, laughing as she turns her flashlight off and puts it back into her pocket. “I’m fine, I swear. I just need to rest."

“Too much to drink last night, huh?” She ventures a guess, her shoulders dropping in a relaxed posture. “I told you to stay away from those Long Island iced teas, you know how they sneak up on you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You decide that a wild bender is a much more believable story than being bitten by a vampire and getting rescued by a man you don’t even remember dating. If Alistair had erased your memory of him temporarily, who's to say that he couldn’t have erased more than that? “Guess I’ll never learn, huh?” You chide, feeding into her story.

“Yeah, I guess not.” She sighs as the two of you stare at each other in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before she eventually gives up with a shrug of her shoulders. “Well, I can tell that you don’t want to talk about anything else, so I won’t pry anymore. I’m just glad that you’re okay. Promise me you’ll get a new phone tomorrow after the two of you are done having makeup sex?”

“I promise.” You lie again as she hugs you, trying not to imagine how good the sex with Jack might be as she wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“I’ll tell Martha that you’re sick and couldn’t pick up the phone.” She releases you from her embrace and steps back from the door, shooting one more look at Jack before giving you a mischievous wink. “Goodnight,” she sings.

“Goodnight.”

“You weren’t gonna tell me?” You fold your arms across your chest as you walk back into the kitchen, your tone forcing Jack to set his coffee down.

“I didn’t want to scare you.” He puts his hands up, palms facing you in defense.

“Scare me? Jack, look around, I think we’re way past being scared at this point. I just need someone, I need you to be honest with me.”

He sighs and presses his lips together, inhaling dramatically as if to summon up the courage to tell you whatever truth is about to leave his lips. “When you didn’t recognize me last night, I thought you’d eventually come around in the car or after you woke up today, but when you didn’t…” he trails off as his eyes begin to water. “I couldn’t bring myself to… I didn’t want to burden you with anything else.”

“Burden me?” You uncross your arms and let them rest at your side. “What are you talking about? Jack, just tell me what’s going on!”

“Alright,” he pauses, standing up from his seat at your table. “We’re together, you and I,” he finally admits, each word seeming to pain him to say out loud. He walks toward you slowly, every step practiced with care as he gets closer to you with his version of the truth. “You took care of me after I had a rough few nights at the hospital, and we connected after your shift.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.” You try to remain skeptical as he approaches you, his reaction to your relationship with Alistair making more sense by the minute.

“Well, it didn’t exactly happen overnight,” he explains, testing the waters with another step closer.

“I doubt it would, I don’t date patients.”

“I know, you’ve told me about a dozen times,” he laughs.

“I did?” Maybe you are being a bit defensive. After all, both he and Andrea’s stories seem to match up even though they have no real reason to.

“You did,” he nods, cautiously taking your hands in his before smoothing his thumbs over the grooves of your palms. “I took you out for coffee a few times, sometimes even at the hospital’s cafeteria if you had time for a break.” His face no longer seems to carry the heavy burden of worry from before, his features now softened with a rosy shade of hope as it gets closer to yours. “When we first met you used to put one cream and two sugars in it, then you cut out the sugar for a few weeks, and now you just drink it black.”

“That’s right.” You allow him to keep touching you, this new knowledge both calming and alarming you at the same time, his hands the only thing keeping you steady.

“Then one day you let me take you to dinner. And then eventually you let me cook for you, right here in this kitchen,” he smiles, looking to the side as he recalls that blissfully specific memory. “And we stayed up all night watching reruns of Svengoolie until you fell asleep.”

“I do love Svengoolie,” you relent, a genuine smile finally creping the skin around your eyes. You try to imagine what a life would be like with him in this picturesque setting he’s described for you, and can’t help but wonder how many times you’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

“I know."

“How long have we been together?” You place your palm on his cheek, hoping it will spark something deep within your memory, but all it does is bring him closer.

“A year.” He lets you touch him, his lips parting as your thumb brushes a single tear away from his cheek. “Give or take."

“A year?” You barely manage to whisper, smiling as he lets go of your other hand to gently cradle your face. “A whole year? How can that be true? I don’t have any pictures of you or text messages or anything…”

“You have a scar on your left knee from when you fell off your bicycle as a kid.” He points to your leg with a nod of his chin. “It was the Fourth of July and you were only eleven years old when you tried to ride a tandem bike all by yourself. It was too heavy and when you turned in the sand, you fell down, scraping your knee miles away from your grandmother’s lake cottage.”

Oh my God, how else could he have known that? You’ve never told anyone else that story before, not even Andrea or any of your other close friends. Maybe he is telling the truth, after all.

“You cry when you’re angry,” he continues, weaving his fingers into your hairline. “You shut down when you’re sad, and when you're happy, your eyes light up like nothing else I’ve ever seen.”

You stare at him in awe, adoring the golden brown in his eyes as it fades to a light green around the edges as you nod silently, trying to take this all in. Suddenly you feel your lips pressing against his, soft and delicate as they cushion your timid kiss, parting only to give you a small taste of the life he’s described to you. That oddly familiar warmth surrounds you again, spreading through your lips and down into your core as his fingers press gently into your scalp, holding you close.

“Okay,” you whisper with a reluctant break of the kiss, finally believing his story with all of your being. “Where the hell have you been?”

[delicatekissez]

I Bet On Losing Dogs. | EVERLARK

All three parts of my completed fic, I Bet On Losing Dogs.

Originally posted on Ao3, check it out Here.

Please lemme know what you think!! .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 

Part One.

I bet on losing dogs I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place By the ring.

My fingers tap a nonsensical pattern on the side of the window, I’m sure I’m irritating every stuck-up doctor in this room but I don’t care, they can’t shout at or chastise the girl with the bruises around her neck. The girl who, no doubt, looks more like a thin ghost of a person than a sixteen-year-old.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Haymitch asks. It’s still a shock to see him sober, to see his coal, Seam eyes unclouded. Sober Haymitch is sharp, and not quite as willing to mock me as drunk Haymitch is, and I’m starting to get really sick of the way his eyes keep darting to me from across the room. I don’t want his sympathy. 

“He will wake up any moment now. It’s just taking longer since we had to increase the dosage of the relaxer after his last episode,” the doctor answers, not once looking up from his clipboard, scratching at his stubble as he writes down some more medical mumbo-jumbo. 

I’m not supposed to be here, there’s no doubt that several people would freak out if they knew that Haymitch had lied about Coin authorising this visit.

But I needed to see him again, maybe because I thought that the rabid dog that had greeted me with it’s hands around my neck had just been all a bad dream, and my sunshine boy, the boy who smelt like bread and looked like summer, was going to be in here, ready to mock me for falling for this horrendous new prank. 

Got you good, didn’t I sweetheart? He would say, and he would grin at me and I would scowl at him, just like it was supposed to be.

But as I watch him through the one-sided glass, I realise just how naive a hope that was, there was no prank, there is no sunshine boy anymore. There is just this… thing. Even in his sleep, he looks different, gaunt and somehow still angry as he lies on his back, shackles tight at his sides. 

It’s been over a week since he had choked me, but the bruises are still here. And the feeling of his clammy hands squeezing the life out of me lingers on my skin. I suddenly forgot why I had requested this at all, why would I want to see that thing? This isn’t my Peeta. 

“Haymitch I think this is a—”  

My sentence is interrupted by a flurry of activity as Peeta wakes up, sitting up abruptly in the bed, his wails louder than I have ever heard them to be.

“Let me out! She’s going to kill you all!” the rabid dog screams, banging its wrists on the shackles. It’s strange, I think to myself. For something to look exactly like my beautiful Peeta, but be so utterly different.

“I think he’s talking about you sweetheart,” Haymitch quips dryly, stepping out of the way so that a doctor can open the door to calm Peeta. 

I don’t have it within me to bother with a snide remark back, my eyes fixated on how the doctor approaches him like he’s a wild horse to be tamed, her arms raised in defence as she shushes him, her crackly voice sounding through the speakers in the room.

“It’s okay Peeta, everything’s okay,” the doctor soothes, pressing a finger to Peeta’s wrist. She’s holding a syringe behind her back, just in case the rabid dog bites. 

“Nothings okay if she’s here. Katniss is going to hurt us, the Capitol sent her to hurt us!”

His voice is like venom, spitting out the words. His blue eyes are dark, unhinged. His voice, something that could spin out stories like silk — is now used only to tell everybody what he thinks of me, and I can’t stand it.

“Girl, are you okay?” Haymitch asks, and suddenly he is next to me, startling me immensely. 

I jump and step a few paces back, not unlike a wild animal myself. “He sounds the same,” I say, my voice cracking. Technically I’m supposed to still be on vocal rest but I’ve given that up. I don’t know why this is what I say, but I am startled by the fact he sounds like he always has, his usual distinctive boyish drawl which used to be reserved for joking is now used to scream obscenities about me.

Haymitch just nods, not bothering to stand any closer. He drags a shaky hand through his long dark hair, looking like he wants to say something I’m not going to like. 

“Maybe today isn’t—” “I need to talk to him,” I reiterate, my gaze unwavering on his face. Haymitch looks somewhat yellow, and I realise probably for the first time in years, he has shaved neatly and without cutting himself. 

“Just… just prepare yourself.” 

I don’t want to have to prepare myself. I want to be able to walk into a room and open my eyes and see those light, cerulean ones staring back at me. I want to be able to walk into that room and see Peeta’s easy smile, I want him to open his arms and tease me for not brushing my hair. I want him to laugh with me over how silly the clothes are and how bland the food is.

“You have five minutes, Soldier Everdeen,” the woman tells me, placing the syringe back on the table. She had managed to calm him down with her words enough so that I could see him. I don’t know whether to be grateful or not. 

“Stand three paces back, and try not to talk about anything too taxing,” the male doctor adds, finally drawing his ruddy eyes from the clipboard. 

I don’t acknowledge their instructions, but I look to Haymitch for a moment, seeing my own worry reflected in his eyes. Slowly, he gives me a nod and I let my hand grip the door, opening it and entering the room.

The lights are bright, twinged with green. It smells like antibacterial spray and mint. No wonder Peeta can’t sleep here, there’s not a single window for him to crack open. He can never sleep well if the window isn’t open.

“You,” the rabid dog spits, his dark eyes trained on me. He is oddly still, but his eyes are entirely focused on my movements. It’s all so unlike how he used to watch me, he used to look at me like I was something to be admired. Now I am watched like an enemy.

I remain silent as I walk in, suddenly self-conscious of my ill-fitting District Thirteen uniform, my knotted hair and my shallow skin. I have never felt insecure around Peeta before — his eyes used to strengthen me, but now they make me want to hide under a table.

“Can I ask you something, Mutt?” He asks, calculating and sly. 

“Only if I can do the same,” I answer, my hands are restless, and I want to badly bite my nails down to the quick, I want to do anything but stand here.

“Why would I ever be in love with a measly thing like you?” The dog asks, a brow raised at me. His curls are flat, almost mousy brown with sweat. I wonder for a moment if they are cleaning them properly, the way he likes to — by lathering the soap up and letting the conditioner soak in. 

“I don’t know — but you were,” I answer, determined not to cry, determined not to blink. This fact, I am confident in, Peeta used to love me. I wanted to close my eyes and relive the memory, but the rabid dog speaks. drawing my attention.

“I was?” he repeats, drifting off in a line of thought, his eyes turning glassy. My eyes flicker to his leg, why haven’t they removed his prosthetic? Don’t they know that he sleeps better with it off?

“Ask me your question then,” he spits out suddenly, exasperated by me already. I shift from foot to foot. 

“Do you remember… everything?” I ask, my voice trembling.

I can’t say what truly I mean here, not with the nosy doctors craning their necks as we speak. I’m beginning to think they are no better than the Capitolites, watching me and Peeta perform, their attention glued to our every move.

Peeta looks puzzled, his sceptical brows dropping as he scans my face. I blush deeply, the heat on my cheeks obvious to anyone looking, and his face softens. It only lasts a moment, less than a millisecond, but I see it, the true blue of his eyes.

“You’re talking about how we fucked on the train, aren’t you, Mutt?” An evil, cunning grin takes over his bruised face.

I wince, not from embarrassment but from the clinical way he’s talking about our nights together. Those nights that were meant only for us, nights spent desperate, afraid, and so in love.

“You are, you’re talking about how you fucked me, deep and good. And then proceeded to ignore me in the daytime. Of course I remember those, Mutt. Those are the memories they didn’t want me to forget,” he clarifies, loving the way I am frozen to my spot, a stray tear escaping from my eye. 

My throat closes, and the shame burns from within. Somewhat from my embarrassment of him saying this in front of Haymitch, but also from the fact he said it exactly how it was, that's what I did, I fucked him and then acted like it didn’t happen.  

“Thanks for your time, Soldier Mellark,” I say dryly, wiping the tears and squaring my shoulders, walking out of the room.

“Mutt! Enemy! Someone stop her before she kills us all!” 

His screams are somewhat muted once I shut the door to the room, everybody's eyes fixated on me as I lean against the door, my face emotionless. 

Haymitch approaches me, his own face long and much too serious.

I step away from the door as I watch the doctor from earlier prepare her syringe. I almost wish she would stab me instead, maybe knocking me out for a few hours would help me try and convince myself that this whole terrible interaction was just a dream.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to your room,” Haymitch says, his voice stern as he takes my shoulders, guiding me out of the doctor’s room. I’m crying, and they are silent fat tears. I hate crying, especially in front of this new severe, sober Haymitch. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have done that,” Haymitch mutters under his breath as he walks me through the long corridors, the tears won’t stop, no matter how many times I wipe them away they return, fatter and wetter than ever.

Other than the occasional sniffle, I am silent on the way back to my room. I want to scream.

I want to punch, kick and wail, and I really wish that Haymitch had some moonshine on him right now. 

It hits me all at once, the fact that he will never be the same. 

I will never see my boy with the bread again. I will never be able to tell him how much I love him. I will never be able to let him know how sorry I am for never being brave enough to tell him that before.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 

He’s leaning over me, his arms pinned on either side of my shoulders. His eyes are closed but I want to see open them so badly.

“Peeta, what are you thinking?” I ask, my voice is quiet and I’m panting. 

Peeta chuckles and groans slightly, “I’m thinking about anything else right now, so that this doesn’t end too prematurely.” 

He exaggerates his point as he fully deepens inside of me, and my eyes pop out of my head. This is the second time we’ve done this, and I’m still not used to the way he feels as he fills me. 

I can’t help but grin as I watch Peeta’s face melt into that of pure pleasure. I lean over and kiss his forearm that rests beside me, his chest is glistening with sweat and if I could, I would lick every last drop off with my tongue. 

“Katniss oh my… Sorry sweetheart, it’s just that you’re s-so tight,” Peeta moans, dropping his forehead and resting it against my own. I laugh and kiss his sweaty cheek, the skin salty and tempting. 

“Are you hurting?” He asks, pulling away and looking into my eyes. Last night I had bled all over Peeta’s bed, meaning that we had to sneak over to my chamber half-naked in the middle of the night so we could sleep. I was selfishly glad in that moment that Avoxes couldn’t speak, because we were screwed if they could tell anyone what we were up to. 

“No, it’s okay, you can move,” I say, the burning has subsided somewhat, and I’m amazed that Peeta has been able to keep himself so still, when I can tell all he wants to do is move. 

He considers me for a moment before moving, checking my eyes to see if I’m telling the truth. The feeling of him filling me over and over again is unlike anything else I’ve ever felt, and It’s significantly better tonight. 

Peeta’s moans are low and plentiful, and I close my ears and commit these sounds to memory, mainly for when we’re back in the Victors Village, so that I can add to my repertoire of Peeta-related thoughts whenever I’m alone and touching myself.

“So good Peeta, faster,” I panted, gripping his back and trailing my manicured fingers over it. I wish I could mark him, but there would be too many questions from both of our prep teams, so I am cautious not to make a single identifiable scratch.

The pace quickens and my stomach burns, that familiar building sensation is a lot stronger than the night before, and I manage to match Peeta’s pace, crashing my hips with his, wanting to feel some friction on that little nub between my legs.

It’s perfect as we move, with just my high-pitched, involuntary moans and his grunts filling the room. And all I can think about is how I never want this to end.

I’m building up to my release when Peeta stiffens, and his body shakes, I feel that burst of heat as he fills me. 

“Fuck. Sorry Katniss,” he moans loudly as he comes, sinking on top of me and breathing in deeply. He lasted about twice the amount of time compared to the night before, and I had truly enjoyed it, so all I could do was kiss the top of his head and bury my fingers in his soft curls, whispering sweet nothings as he comes down from his high.

“That's okay baby,” I whispered, a nickname so tender that I would ever only dare to use it in moments such as these. Moments where it seem as if the world was just made up of Peeta and I. 

“My baby,” I repeat as Peeta slumps against me, softening inside of me and humming as I push his sweaty hair out of his face. 

After a few minutes, Peeta finds the strength to move over, pulling out of me as he does so. I throb slightly at the loss of him, but I turn over immediately, watching his face in the glow of the moonlight from the window beside my bed.

Outside the window was just a blur of trees as the train whizzes by, and I mourn the loss of our bliss for a moment as I remember that we were destined to be pretend lovers for the rest of our lives. 

Peeta leans on his side, looking at me as I think. The touch of his hand on my shoulder is enough to bring me away from my thoughts of President Snow, blood and the feeling of dread.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry you didn’t…” Peeta says, his voice is small and even though the room was dark, I could tell that he was blushing.

“That’s okay, I still enjoyed it,” I said, a blush of my own springing to my cheeks. How could I ever break this boy's heart? How could I ever tell him that I can’t love him?

Who knows what Snow would do to him if he knew that what I feel for Peeta is real.

So when I snuggle further into Peeta’s chest, I hear him sigh contentedly. I pretend not to hear it when he kisses the top of my head, and whispers in my ear;

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.” 

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 

“Fine,” I say, “Send me to Two.” 

I march away from Plutarch, from everyone in this godforsaken place, because they don’t understand. I can’t be here. I can’t be in a place where the boy I love doesn’t know me, doesn’t love me back.

I’m weak. I bet on Peeta, I bet that he would be the same boy as he was in the Quell. I bet that he would return from the Capitol and take me in his arms and fuck me and love me and call me his. I’m just an idiot girl who bet on the wrong, rabid dog.

So I need to get out of here, and I need to go to District Two. 

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down I'll be there on their side I'm losing by their side… 

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 

Part Two.

My baby, my baby You're my baby, say it to me.

Sharing a room with Johanna Mason is harder than I thought it would be. 

At least in District Two there had been the chance for some fresh air and hunting, but being back in Thirteen has been nothing but confusing.

Training with Johanna and being outside is a chance at fresh air but a hard-fought one. Plus, rooming with her is getting to be more irritating than helpful at this point.

Like now, as she lies awake, humming a tune so incessant that I can’t even think — let alone sleep.

“Do you have to do that?” I snap, finally losing my patience. 

Johanna smirks and the orange glow from the lamp that separates our beds illuminates her gaunt features. “It’s the national anthem for Panem dear Brainless, I have to show my patriotism wherever I can.”   

I growl and try to scooch down in my rickety bed, burrowing my head under the thin blanket to try and block out the sound. To my dismay, Johanna has found amusement in my reaction, and as a result she starts to sing the words of the song aloud.

“Gem of Panem, mighty city, through the ages you shine anew-w-w-w!” Johanna sings, her scratchy, off-key version of the cursed song seeps into my ears, and I snap.

“I can’t do this, I’m going for a walk,” I say, throwing the duvet off my body and slipping on my hunting boots. I must look quite the sight in my long grey nightgown and big boots, but I could care less. 

“Just don’t get caught Brainless!” Johanna calls after me as I slam our room door shut, huffing as I do so. 

My rage brought me to the end of the hallway. It was lit with the same dim orange lights that were present in our room, giving the place an creepy atmosphere.

The sounds of me stomping down the hall and the whirring of some sort of machinery in the walls were all that filled my ears, and I swore internally at District Thirteen and all of its fucking practicality. 

I march for a minute or two longer, holding my arms crossed to avoid the chill in the air. I haven’t even spared a thought about the night guards that were posted around the place, making sure the District was safe at night.

District Thirteen heavily frowns upon anyone wandering about at such an hour, so I presume that the guards are more to keep us in rather than to keep the Capitol out. 

Before I can even register what I’m doing, I find myself at the hospital ward. The shiny metal reflecting from the sign snaps me out of my grumpy stupor. 

Why have I brought myself to the hospital? I hate it here. After waking up from my sleep-syrup Morphling fever dream where I thought, idiotically, that Peeta was holding me, I haven’t been back here. I even made my mother dress my gunshot wound in my bedroom. 

But I knew why I was here, why my legs had subconsciously walked me here. Peeta.

I wrinkled my nose at the sight of the entrance doors, the antiseptic smell was overwhelming. I haven’t even seen Peeta since he’d told me that he remembered about that night with the bread, and again, called me ugly and plain.

I was still staring nonsensically at the doors to the hospital when I heard an echoey laugh. A low male one at that. Footsteps followed and quiet chatter. The night guards, I realised, and my heart immediately started racing.   

I did not need any more shit from Coin, or Haymitch or even fucking Plutarch, so as I saw the light of their flashlights I thought fast, and scurried through the hospital doors and into the ward, hiding behind the first corner I could find.

My bare arms were covered with goosebumps as I heard the voices get louder, the two men approaching where I was standing. 

“Did you see that door close?” one of them asked, his voice reflecting a familiar District Twelve twang. 

“It’s probably just Mellark again, Heavensbee told us to just leave him alone when he’s wandering about — could be dangerous.” 

My breathing is laboured as I listen, Peeta? Are they talking about Peeta wandering around the District at night?   

“Yeah, yeah, he’s probably just off to the Everdeen’s floor again, let’s leave it,” the District Twelve one affirmed, and the two men turned around, talking about something so boring I don’t even care to listen.

Everdeen’s floor? Not only is Peeta allowed out of his room at night but he… Comes up to my floor? God, what is Plutarch thinking letting him do that?

“You’re lucky they didn’t see you. Those two would sell their soul for some entertainment at night.” I freeze as I hear the voice, the familiar voice of a boy who I used to know filling the quiet of the night.

I stopped breathing as I burrowed more into my corner, trying to see in the dark where he could possibly be. 

“No point in hiding Mutt, I’ve already seen you. Now come out,” Peeta says, his voice thick and more demanding than I’ve ever known him to be. I curse myself as my cheeks break out in a hot flush. 

He’s getting better — physically at least, he sounds stronger. I haven't seen him in quite a few weeks. He’s clearly still brainwashed though, my Peeta would never demand anything of me, ever. 

Frustratingly, I find myself peering around the corner of where I am hiding, and I see him — dressed in sleep shorts and a grey District Thirteen t-shirt. He’s sitting on a hard plastic chair, and the glow of the orange cancels out the bruises on his face.

His leg is stretched out, the titanium shining. He’s leaning forward like he’d had his head in his hands before I’d come in. He looks a lot healthier, and more like my version of Peeta. How I didn’t notice him sitting there before was beyond me. 

“I won’t attack you Mutt,” he adds, leaning back, his head back on the concrete of the wall. He’s sitting outside of his room, and I wonder if he’s as cold as I am. 

Slowly I creep from my corner, standing cautiously three metres from him — as if the doctor with the clipboard was standing near us, instructing me what to do.

“I don’t sleep anymore, and apparently walking is good for me… so they turn a blind eye to my night-time adventures.” 

I shift from foot to foot, the leather of my boots is rubbing against my heel, and I’m sure I’ll have a blister by morning.

“I can’t sleep either,” I mumble, I hate how much of a pull I still feel to him, how much I still feel the urge to wrap my arms around him, tug my fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“Dreaming of Hawthorne, no doubt,” he chides, looking up at me, those dark eyes scanning me from my oversized boots to my messy braid. I blush even more. 

“Don’t worry Mutt, I’ve still got these pretty bracelets, I couldn’t even hurt you if I wanted to.”

“Do you?” I test, “Want to hurt me?” 

He puzzles at me, and his hands are rubbing his thighs as he scans my face.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, it’s less cocky and more shy. A tone more familiar. 

I look down at the linoleum floor, I pine for him even now. The sound of him was so close to what it used to be I could almost imagine him breaking out into a toe-curling smile. 

“I keep on painting you,” he sighs and tugs a hand through his short hair. I catch the action in my peripheral and again, it’s so familiar that it hurts. 

“I paint you like you are in my dreams, evil and seducing and wanting me dead,” he elaborates, and I lift my head, only to see that his eyes are screwed shut. 

“I paint you naked, laying across the picnic blanket after that day on the rooftop,” another long sigh, “I paint you in the Games, wild and afraid.” I swallow, my throat dry and forming a lump. 

“I paint you, and I can only paint you ,” he sighs, and his eyes meet mine. I step forward, watching as his eyes widen. He reminds me of a deer in the District Twelve woods, the ones so afraid to die, not like the unbothered ones of Thirteen.  

I don’t know what to do, I feel like I’m grieving. Grieving for my boy, grieving for the damaged one that sits before me now.

“W-when you go to bed tonight, take off your leg, you’ll sleep better,” I blurt out, my gaze fixated on the latches that separate his real thigh from the metal of the prosthetic. 

Peeta furrows his brows, looking down at the leg like he never even realised he could do that.

“How do I even…” he asks, and I breathe in, stepping slowly towards him. I look at his cuffs, and his wrists around them are red and inflamed. He must be digging them into his flesh on purpose. 

I’m closer than I’ve been to him for weeks, close enough that when I kneel in front of his leg I can smell his familiar scent, a scent so uniquely Peeta that it dazes me for a moment.

He looks down at me expectantly and I gesture over the latch on the left side, cautious not to touch him and push my luck.

“You just pull the latch on each side and pull it off gently. You have to do it when you’re already in bed though, because you can’t walk once it’s off,” I explain, pointing to the latches on either side of the leg. His eyes are following me, his lips slightly parted.

“How do you know this?” he asks, his hands tracing the latches gently. His voice is shy again, and he sounds younger than he is.

“I’ve done it — before. For you,” I say, blushing again as I remember the circumstances of doing this for him.  

I expect him to reply with some sort of quip, maybe a harsh comment about me being a common Seam slut, or that I was the spawn of Satan, hellbent on destroying him. 

“Thanks Kat,” he whispers, and my head snaps up. His eyes are blue, and his hand is trembling. It’s like he’s come up to the surface, and I hold my breath, watching as his eyes darken once again, and he disappears again.

We’re both quiet for a moment as I stand up, stepping back as I watch his expression change. He starts to shake, and his legs are spasming. I think he’s beginning to have an episode.

“Get. Out.” he spits suddenly, holding his head in his hands.

“Peeta—” I say, quiet and desperate. 

“Get out!” he screams, loud enough for anyone around to hear. 

I scramble back, determined to leave now. Peeta digs his wrists into the cuffs and groans. Everything in my body is telling me not to leave but I have to, he’s warning me. About himself, so I sneak one last tortured look at him and escape from the hospital ward, sneaking back to my room as fast as I can.

Thankfully Johanna is sound asleep as I slip back into the room, removing my boots and tucking myself up in bed, willing myself not to cry as I shut my eyes and think only of Peeta.  

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says, and my stomach flips in that familiar, welcome way.

I’m blushing, and wishing that I could have the luxury of telling him that we’ll live together forever. But instead of spouting such deceiving, naive promises, I just settle on a simple; “Okay.” 

“Then you’ll allow it?” 

“I’ll allow it,” I say, and I kiss his hand, the one that’s wrapped around me. His eyes are so blue, and I take my time as I stare into them. When I’m about to die in that Arena, the last thing I want to remember is the colour of his eyes, and how a small ring of yellow wraps the blue iris’. Quite like how the sun reflects on the ocean during the sunset. 

“What?” he asks as he notices me staring, dragging a hand through my hair, the gesture is so soothing, and I don’t regret for one second for letting him mess my hair up. 

“Just thinking…” I say, adopting my best effort at a teasing tone. “About last night.” 

His pale, freckled Merchant skin bursts into a wonderful, decadent blush. I smile and settle my head further into his lap, dragging a finger from his bicep to his hand. 

The night before we had shared my bed yet again, despite the many protests from Effie about ‘etiquette’ and ‘saving ourselves’. 

It had been at dinner when Peeta had scoffed in Effie’s face, telling her that it was too late for that. I cringe as I remember how Haymitch had spat out his wine, and Effie’s jaw had practically dropped to the floor.

That had silenced Effie as I followed Peeta to my room, making sure that the door was locked before I got down on my knees, taking his length in my mouth for the first time. 

“Do you remember what I promised you?” Peeta asked, his hand moving from my hair to my cheek, bringing me back to the present, back to the rooftop. 

I nodded, remembering how he’d looked after he’d come, his shy smile and his promise of returning the favour for me.

“Maybe,” I answered, squeezing my legs together slightly as I imagined Peeta between my legs. 

I could feel Peeta hardening underneath my head — it seemed like I wasn’t the only one imagining that.

“Peeta… I don’t think we can do this up here,” I breathed out as I sat up, shifting to sit in his lap. I had no idea how little or many cameras were up in this place.

Peeta grinned and leaned forward, stealing a kiss from me. “I don’t care Kat. I’m going to be dead in a matter of days. And I want to die having been a man who has tasted you.” 

My gasp is audible, and I can’t help myself as I cup his face, pulling him towards me and kissing him with such a ferocity that I hadn’t before. I couldn’t handle him and his words. I wanted to scream that I’ll be the one to die in a few days, not him. But this was futile, and his lips tasted too good to pull away.

His hands twisted around my waist, and I extracted a low moan from him as I flicked my tongue along his bottom lip, tasting the inside of his mouth. My hands ended up in his hair, as they always did, and I tugged at the strands, wanting to hear him make those soft sounds again and again until the day I die.

His hands became bolder, skimming the hem of my top and escaping up the fabric. His big hands felt so good on my back as he explored all of my skin like it was the first time he’d done it. 

I couldn’t stop myself as I ground into his jean-covered hardness, my clit throbbing for attention as he cupped my breast, his big hand covering it over my thin bra, eliciting my own moans from my lips. 

“Peeta I w-want,” I moan embarrassingly loudly, grinding down on him once more, feeling his erection hot and heavy between my legs. 

“What do you want?” He asks as he pulls my shirt up, and I raise my arms so that the now offensive garment can be removed. I’m uncaring of the chill in the air, or of how feral I must look, half-naked and begging for more.

As Peeta pulls away, admiring me in my shabby District Twelve bra that I had chosen to wear today instead of the Capitol contraptions. I squirm under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed over how plain I must look to him. 

“No, none of that,” Peeta says, picking up my chin and forcing me to look at him, “you’re so beautiful Katniss. My imagination did not do you justice.” He’s grinning, and he leans forward to kiss my erect nipples, and I giggle from the pleasant sensation. 

“Now ask me what you want me to do to you. And I will do it.” 

I bite my lip and huff. I’m not used to asking anybody for anything, but Peeta has always made me break all of the rules that I made for myself. 

“Can you… taste me ?” I ask, mimicking what he’d said to me moments before.

Peeta practically growled as he grabbed me, whipping off my bra and his own shirt, kissing me with a newfound passion. I giggle again as he lays me gently down on my back, kissing down my neck and breasts.

“No marks remember. I do not need my prep team asking questions,” I say as he sucks on a spot that connects my neck to my shoulder. He’d discovered just how much I liked being kissed here a couple of nights ago, and he hadn’t left it alone since. 

“You’re no fun,” he huffed, pulling his lips away and focusing on my breasts, suckling and nipping at them wonderfully. He seemed to be obsessed with them, and I remember the look of pure awe he had given me when I had taken my top off for him for the first time.

I moaned and squirmed as I felt my clit throb, it was begging to be touched. I could feel just how wet I was as I pressed my legs together, hoping that Peeta would get the hint of where exactly I needed him to be.

“Shush baby, I’ll get there,” Peeta says as he looks up at me. He’s slotted perfectly between my legs and I flush at him returning the nickname I can only call him in our most intimate moments.

I whimper once more and unbutton my pants, deciding to take action some  myself. Peeta tuts disapprovingly as he pulls his lips from my chest, but he helps me peel off the pants from my legs, his hand running up the smooth, hairless legs that the prep team have insisted on me having.

I’m left in my underwear, and again it is my usual, plain District Twelve attire, and I cringe as Peeta’s finger swipes the outside of the material, where he can surely feel just how much he has affected me.

Peeta smiles in wonder as he cups my mound, making me wriggle to try and gain some much-needed friction. 

“I’ll never get used to how wet you are,” Peeta whispers, leaning down and breathing a deep, hot breath over my underwear-covered pussy.

“Peeta,” I whine, unashamed and getting more desperate as each moment passes. 

Peeta just kisses my inner thighs, the soft untouched skin is sensitive and I find it hard to keep my legs open. 

“Peeta,” I moan again, and Peeta looks up at me, his hair messy, his eyes wild.

“Ask me Katniss. Ask me what you want,” Peeta says as he kisses my inner thigh once more — and I’m so desperate I don’t even hesitate in begging.

“Please Peeta just taste me already,” I beg, and Peeta closes his eyes as I speak, soaking up my words.

I hesitate for a moment as he stops, a small beautiful smile plastered on his face. After this quiet lull, Peeta reaches for the band of my underwear and tugs them down, revealing my centre and the small thatch of hair that the prep team let me keep. 

I watch so closely that I fear that if I look away from Peeta I will wake up, and it will just be another one of my dirty dreams. But as Peeta groans, leaning down and literally breathing the scent of my sex in, I can’t help but moan and close my eyes in pleasure.

“Katniss you are truly unreal,” Peeta moans, and I don’t even have a moment to mentally debate this before his tongue is on my clit.

I moan loudly, way too loudly by anyone's standards, as Peeta attacks my clit. He suckles and licks and even bites my small bundle of nerves. I am so tightly coiled that I feel like sobbing as my orgasm builds.

I feel Peeta’s fingers swipe along my folds, gathering my wetness before entering me. He pushes them in and out of me as he sucks on my clit, and my eyes roll to the back of my head involuntarily — and my head drops down to the picnic blanket.

 I focus on the sensations acutely, on the feeling of Peeta so attentively sucking and licking me, on his little words of praise between nuzzling my sex and kissing me. The feeling of his fingers plunging in and out of me over and over again was too much for me to bear.

I’m close, and I know I am, so I moan louder, desperate to crash and achieve that relief that I have been waiting so long for.

“Cum for me Katniss,” Peeta says as he pulls himself from my clit, his fingers still unrelenting. The sound of his voice, thick and sexy is what does it, and I finally snap, coming all over Peeta Mellark's face. 

I’m instantly boneless, and my hips drop against the picnic blanket. The feeling of pure satisfaction is one I am not used to at all, and I open my eyes to see Peeta hovering over me, a small, loving smile on his face.

“T-thank you.” I manage to choke out, throwing my hands around his neck and kissing him, finding it strangely arousing that I could taste myself on his lips.

Peeta kisses me with intent, and he sinks against me, only then do I feel or notice the wet patch at the front of his jeans.

“Peeta did you…” I ask, pulling his lips from his and looking down at his hips. I was fully ready to return the favour to him. And even to an extent, I had been excited to do it again.

Peeta flushed crimson, a shade so dark I was afraid he was going to pass out.

“S-sorry it’s just you were so, and I couldn’t…” He explained, his voice timid, and I growled, kissing him passionately as I imagined him losing it over merely giving me oral.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” I whisper into his ear, my hand stroking the soft hair at the base of his neck, twirling the small curls with my finger. 

Peeta visibly relaxed, kissing me. I let him place a blanket over our mostly naked bodies. And I allowed myself the luxury of burrowing into his arms so that we could watch the sunset together.

I’m glad my back is pressed up against Peeta's chest, meaning that he can’t see my eyes tear up as I think of how little sunsets I have left, and how little time I have to spend with my sunshine boy.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。

The Capitol is somehow colder than District Thirteen. I wrap myself tighter into my thick jacket and hope that the chill I feel will go away as I rub my hands together. 

“You don’t have to be on watch you know,” Boggs reaffirms, staring down at me with a sceptical stare, his eyes flickering from me to Peeta, who was sitting motionless across from me, staring blankly at the sky above us.

“I know,” I say, trying my best to force a smile, “But I want to. Get some rest Boggs.” 

Peeta looks over at me as I say this, his weak eyes are no longer dark, instead now replaced with an inherent sadness. This made it so I couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds at a time without my throat closing up. 

“Okay, any issues, any of you — don’t be afraid to wake me,” Boggs repeats, both to me and Jackson, but he knows that the point is useless now, it’s so drilled into us now.

Boggs finally gives up, sighing and returning to his tent, and I watch him flop down onto his sleeping bag. I wonder who he was before all of this, has he always pictured himself as a commander? Or when he was little did he wish to be something or someone else?

Peeta is knotting and unknotting Finnick's rope, and I watch him carefully from the corner of my eye as he starts to get more and more agitated, tugging at the rope like it is a snake that needs to be strangled. He wants to say something, and I let him.

“These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not.” 

Peeta sighs and drops the rope, looking down at it in his lap for a moment before he continues, “Back and forth. Back and forth.” 

I have no idea how to reply. I think of our interaction in the hospital ward that night, how he had come back to me for a mere moment, the blue of his eyes unclouded and the darkness disappearing. 

“I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me,” I answer honestly, and I manage to pry my eyes from my twitching hands, looking up at him, “After that I always thought of you as… an ally.” 

Ally. Ally. I curse myself for my stupidity. What an idiotic word to use. He was so much more than that to me. 

I think over Haymitch’s sentiment to me, what would Peeta do if our roles were reversed?  

I pine for the reality in which the Capitol had picked me up in the Quell. Peeta would’ve made a much better figurehead. And he would’ve stayed untouched. 

I could’ve handled whatever they would’ve thrown at me in the Capitol because I would’ve known that he was safe, that's all that would’ve mattered to me.

I think about Peeta and the way he used to have with words. I think about his tongue and how hot it used to be against my skin. Ally? Peeta would’ve never merely called me an ally. 

“Ally,” Peeta repeats, his eyes boring into mine. His hair has almost fully grown back, now thick and curly enough that I could’ve run my fingers through it. Long enough to hold onto. 

“Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. Ally.” He lists all of the words off with a nervous stammer, and even now he is still better at expressing himself than I have ever been.

“I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try and figure you out.” He picks up the rope again, his shaking hands slowly winding it into knot after knot. “The problem is, Kat, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.” 

I look away from him, stealing a glance at Jackson, who I have forgotten is sitting right opposite me. She is watching the scene silently, her hands busy picking at the skin of her thumb.

“Then you should ask, Peeta. That’s what Annie does.” Finnick's voice rises from the shadows, and I freeze, having had no idea that he had been awake this entire time. 

I watch as Peeta nods, dragging a hand through his hair, trying to get it out of his eyes. I want to tuck a loose tendril behind his ear, just like I used to do. 

“Ask who?” He asks, looking over to Finnick with his sad, pale blue eyes. “Who can I trust?” 

I pang once again. A reality where Peeta doesn’t trust me is one that I’m not used to living in. Jackson eyes me and Peeta from opposite, stopping her fidgeting as she speaks up. “Well, us for starters. We’re your squad.” 

Peeta’s gaze is directed to Jackson, his eyes narrowing as the rope twists in his fingers. “You’re my guards.” he speaks with a small, unamused scoff.

“That too, but you saved a lot of lives in Thirteen. It’s not the kind of thing we forget,” Jackson replies, and her tightlipped smile is the biggest one I have ever seen from her.

I blink in wonder at Jackson, grateful to her for saying this. I had somehow forgotten this myself, how Peeta had saved me, again — even when he wasn’t even sure if I was alive or dead in Thirteen.

The group falls into a stagnant silence, the sounds of the snoring from the others and the rustling of the rope filling our ears as I fight an internal battle. All I want to do is hug Peeta, to discover if his arms wrap around me like they used to. 

I want to ask him what he remembers from those nights on the train and after. I want to know if he remembers the bliss that was our final day on that rooftop. I want, I want and I want. 

Peeta suddenly drops the rope again, his nose wrinkling with effort as he turns to me. “Your favourite colour… it’s green?” 

His voice is so small, so small and so familiar. 

“That’s right.” I can’t stop it when my gaze meets his, and I want him to remember so badly. “And yours is orange.” 

“Orange?” 

“Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say, and the memories flood in. Of him and me, sweaty and spent and laying in my bed, his hands drawing shapes in my naked skin. I flush all over and add, “at least that’s what you told me once.” 

He looks at me for a moment, his eyes flicker down, staring at my chest before looking back in my eyes again. And I know that even if it’s hazy — he's remembering exactly what I look like with no clothes on.

The tips of his ears turn pink, and he picks up the rope again, focusing on it a bit too closely. “Thank you.” 

And because I’m an idiot. And I’ve been a complete idiot this entire time — from the day that I never took the chance to thank him for the bread, to the day where I pretended to be asleep, instead of telling him how much I loved him back. 

Because of this, I cannot stop myself as I lean towards him, my voice shaky and quiet, spilling to him exactly what I’m thinking.

“You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. Your skin tastes like the sunset. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” 

Peeta’s eyes widen, and I freeze. Acutely aware of the fact that Jackson, Finnick and probably Gale heard me spill out this frantic confession.

His skin tastes like the sunset?  Who have I become to even confess that aloud?

“Y-you…” Peeta begins, dropping his head to his legs, looking so tired and so confused. 

“You can’t just. You…” His voice is weak and my confidence is shattered, my eyes fill with tears and I ache to lick my wounds in private.

“Goodnight, Soldier Mellark,” I say, rising from my seat and diving into my tent, crying those silent, wet tears as I think of my baby. My boy who is so close yet so far away all at the same time. 

 Baby, my baby Tell your baby that I'm your baby

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 

Part Three.

I bet on losing dogs I always want you when I'm finally fine How you'd be over me looking in my eyes when I come.

I’ve hated being below ground for as long as I can remember. Our class trips to the mines left me nervous and sweaty, even before my father died. My time in Thirteen had been tainted by the fact that there’d been so many layers of thick concrete between me and the earth.

Now in the Capitol, where we are being forced to hide and navigate the underground tunnels like a group of disease-ridden rats. Being here in these tunnels is only driving me more and more to the brink of pure insanity. 

My only solace during this time was my hidden mantra. To kill Snow. To watch him bleed and fade away slowly and painfully. For Rue, for Thresh, for Cinna, and Darius. For Peeta. 

For how he has irrevocably and permanently changed my Peeta.

I was born to breathe the fresh air, to feel the earth on my feet. No wonder Pollux was reliving his trauma of being trapped here, I couldn’t think of anything worse. The last day has been a truly hectic one, with Boggs, poor Boggs, having his legs blown clean off. And now Mitchell — having been shoved into a deadly pod by a hijacked, rabid Peeta. 

Nobody seems to blame Peeta, and Finnick spent a good deal of time pleading his case, but I know that Peeta blames himself immensely, and as I think of this. Of how he is punishing himself, it reminds me of the old Peeta, the one who took every single death so personally. I still remember the terror on his face when I told him that Foxface was his kill. 

I’m on my night watch, and I’m now forcing myself to eat some of the canned potato and bean stew. It’s somehow both incredibly wet and oddly dry. I swallow chunk after chunk and imagine it’s anything else. Pollux is one of my main concerns. I hate watching how much the tunnels affect him, he’s been rocking himself for about five minutes now.

“Would you like to check out some stuff on the Holo with me?” I ask him, lightly tapping him on the shoulder so he will know that I’m talking to him. He opens his eyes, and the worry in them reminds me of myself. No doubt I have looked this feral several times in the past year. 

I hold out the Holo, and he takes it. He seems to know how to work it at least a little bit better than me, and I ache to be able to talk to him about this, to have him explain to me how it all functions. 

Jackson, the only other person who also probably knows how to work the Holo, is currently not speaking to me, she was clearly not happy with Boggs’ decision to leave the crazy, revenge-driven seventeen-year-old in charge of their most valued navigation system.

To Pollux’s credit, he shows me the best he can, and we discover more and more traps closer to the centre of the Capitol. It’s all so overwhelming, how big these tunnels truly are — that I give up after ten minutes of doing this. I hand Pollux the device, leaving him to his mappings, glad that it seems to provide a decent enough distraction for him.

I lean against the damp wall and survey the crew, most of these people I barely know, and most of them will not make it out of these tunnels alive. 

I can’t help it, but my eyes are drawn almost instantly to Peeta. He’s lying down on the wet floor, his head resting by my feet. I sneak a look at his raw wrists, if I could’ve let myself, I could rub them and soothe his pain. But I hold back, he doesn’t love like that anymore, and that would be inappropriate.

He looks pained, his blonde brows furrowed. He’s looking down at his wrists with concentration. A wave of concern fills me as I watch him, the ever-present need to protect him is still there, even after everything.

“Have you eaten?” I ask and watch as he snaps out of his stupor, bending his head to look at me.

He looks soft, his blue eyes sad again. And he shakes his head to indicate he hasn’t. I presume he has been punishing himself too much to even consider his hunger.

I sigh and shake my head back, indicating to him my disapproval of this. I reach for a can of chicken and rice soup. I consider it for a moment before removing the lid myself. I don’t fully trust this self-punishing Peeta not to take extreme actions with a sharp piece of metal.

I nudge him slightly with my foot and shake the can, and he sits up, his wrists still together. I watch him silently wince as they rub against the cuffs. I hand him the can and watch him practically chug it. I blame myself for not considering his hunger sooner. 

As he eats, I think about Snow again, about all of the things he has taken and all of the people I will miss. A tall, red-headed boy with a cheeky smile and a ragged Peacekeeper uniform comes to mind.

“Peeta,” I say and his gaze switches to me, putting down the empty tin on the floor.

“When you asked about what happened to Darius and Lavinia, and Boggs told you it was real, you said you thought so. Because there was nothing shiny about it… What did you mean?” 

Peeta looks at me with some shock, clearly, he hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. Or maybe he hadn’t expected me to listen so attentively to his conversation.

“Oh. I don’t know exactly how to explain it,” he tells me, bending his head back down and digging his wrist slightly into the cuff. “In the beginning, everything was just complete confusion. Now I can sort certain things out. I think there’s a pattern emerging.” 

He sighs and I know he aches to run his hands through his dishevelled curls, but as he strains his hands up in the cuffs, I can see that he knows he won’t be able to reach. 

“The memories they altered with the tracker jacker venom have this… strange quality about them. Like, like they’re too intense or the images aren’t stable.” he continues, shutting his eyes to try and picture them.

“You remember what it was like when we were stung?” he asks, opening his eyes and meeting mine. They are less sad now, and more determined. 

“Trees shattered. There were giant coloured butterflies. I feel in a pit of orange bubbles,” I laugh emptily, fidgeting with my braid. “Shiny orange bubbles.”

He laughs with me and meets my eyes again. “Right. But nothing about Darius or Lavina was like that. I don’t think they’d given me any venom yet,” he says with a shake of his head. 

I nod and consider him for a moment, and wonder if he hates me for forcing him to talk about his worst memories, “Well, that’s good isn’t it? If you can separate the two, then you can figure out what's true.” 

He shakes his head again, a coy smirk on his face, “Yes, I guess. But if I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can’t grow wings,” he says, his dry sarcasm returning after such a long time.

“Real or not real?” he asks, and I entertain him even though I know he knows the answer.

“Real,” I say. “But people don’t need wings to survive.” 

He nods and shifts, turning to face me. He looks suddenly severe as he gazes into my face. He’s trying to solve me like a puzzle again.

“Mockingjays do.” he says, picking up the soup can and handing it to me. Our hands brush and I feel what I’ve always felt with Peeta, that little spark of excitement whenever his skin brushes against mine. 

My breath halters, and as I pick up the can I look into his eyes, the purple rings from lack of sleep remind me that he should be resting. “There’s still time, you should sleep.” 

He doesn’t agree, or argue but lies back down slowly. He’s closer to my feet now, and I want to be able to lie down with him. For him to wrap those arms around me and tell me that it’s all okay. That everything’s going to be okay.

As I watch him watch me, I suddenly can’t help myself, and I reach down slowly. Moving so gently, treating him like that wild, skittish animal again. I press my cold hand to his forehead,  gently brushing back the stray curls that have fallen over his face. He freezes, closing his eyes for a moment and I stop my hand for a moment.

But he opens his eyes again, and they are unclouded and as blue as ever. I start to breathe easily again and move my hand gently. The endearment of the baby rests just behind my lips, and I watch as Peeta’s cheeks flush. 

In a moment of pure weakness, my fingers brush from his forehead to his cheek, feeling his still soft skin that is tainted by some blonde stubble, and I smile as my fingers find his lips. I press my finger to the contours of his bottom lip, and he kisses my finger lightly.

As I pull away, my stomach flips and that wonderful feeling of fire igniting returns for the first time in forever. He opens his eyes and questions me.

“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real?” 

“Real,” I say instantly, pausing before I finally say exactly what I’m thinking for once. 

“Because that's what you and I do. Protect one another.” 

He nods and closes his eyes, and I sit back, pressing the finger he’d kissed to my lips, placing my kiss in its place. 

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。

As I look out into the blue of the water that laps around the Cornucopia, and I think of my lake in District Twelve. 

The lake was the closest thing I ever got to a beach like this. The grainy sand in the Arena is no match for the soft mossy banks and mud that line my lake in Twelve. As I look into what seems like endless miles of water, I think of how my lake could probably fit about ten times into the ocean that surrounds the Cornucopia. 

I look to my right, studying Peeta’s profile for a long moment. He’s attentively watching the jungle behind us, and I know I should be watching the water ahead just in case any Careers intend to make their move, but I can’t bring myself to tear away my gaze from his face. 

He’s sunburnt, and the few freckles that he has have sprung to life, tracing his jawline like delicate kisses from the sun. I know that on the other side of his face, there are the faint remains of the blisters from the gas, but as I look at him from this angle, I can just imagine that this is what he looks like after a sunny day at the lake.

We’ve never spoken about what we’ve done together. How we’ve made love on the train, in our rooms at the training centre and on the rooftop. But now I ache to be able to talk freely about it, to know what he thinks about it, and if he can feel those same sparks that I do.

Our hips are pressed against each other, the damp sticky suits we are wearing rub together and just the feeling of this familiar pressure of his body on mine soothes me.

As I watch Peeta, a small smile appears on his face, and he turns to me, his eyes squinting slightly due to the low sun that frames the sky of the Arena. For once, I don’t tear my gaze away from him, instead, I mirror his shy smile with my own. 

He looks pleased with this, and the sight is so warming that I can’t help myself as I lean my head on his shoulder, indulgently breathing in the salty scent of his skin. 

Even though the Arena is the last place I will ever be alive, I can’t entirely hate it. The presence of the Capitol and all of the cameras allows me to touch Peeta freely. There is a certain amount of freedom in kissing and accepting Peeta’s kisses. And this time around, it doesn’t feel so fake. 

As Peeta grasps my hands, intertwining his fingers with mine, I sigh into his shoulder, gently kissing the skin that the wetsuit doesn’t cover. He shivers slightly, and I close my eyes and think of what he looks like when he comes, the way his eyes roll back, the way his mouth parts slowly. 

I feel my core throb at these thoughts, feeling so suddenly ashamed of thinking of such things when I’m on the verge of death. When my only thoughts should be on protecting Peeta, not making love to him.

“Katniss,” Peeta whispers softly, his voice thick and deep. It reminds me immediately of how he sounds at night, how he sounds when his head is between my thighs.

“It’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.” I tense, and breathe out slowly, raising my head to look up at him. His hair has gone spectacularly blonde in the sun, his curls slightly sweaty with perspiration. I sigh and think of the cameras. Oh, how I wish for even a moment alone with Peeta without the blasted cameras. And I just know that this will be a scene that the entirety of Panem will be tuned into.

I look desperately into Peeta's eyes, and he continues, “I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well.” 

I know this, and he knows I know this, and I curse Haymitch and pray that he keeps my promise. Because I am ready to die so that Peeta can live. I have prepared myself for this inevitably.

He sighs, and drags his free hand through those sun-bleached curls, “So, I think we can assume he was lying to one of us.” 

“Why are you saying this now?” I ask him, and I grip his hand tighter, worried that he’s going to let it go.

“Because I don’t want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die and I live, there’s no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says, sealing these words with another kiss atop my head, and my heart pangs as I try and remember every detail of his face. 

“I would never be happy again,” he finalises as he pulls his lips from my head. “It’s different for you. I'm not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who’d make your life worth living.” 

I open my mouth to protest as Peeta lets go of my hand, reaching to take his necklace, his gold token from his neck. I let my mouth close as I watched him hold out the necklace, his thumb stroking the Mockingjay symbol engraved on the gold. I think he’s reminding me of my duty to the people of Panem, and I want to sneer.

But I see just how wrong I was as his thumb finds a small latch, and he pops open the necklace, I feel like an idiot before for not knowing that it was a locket.

He places the locket carefully in my hands and my thumbs graze the pictures. On one side is my mother and Prim, a rare photo that I captured one day on my father's old camera. And on the other Gale, my pretend cousin. The picture is also one I took, and Gale is smiling softly.

My chest constricts, and I blame myself for thinking that Peeta would ever go along with my plan, for thinking that Peeta. Kind, generous, loving Peeta, would never not sacrifice himself for one second.

“Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says, and the small mournful smile on his face is what makes me tear up. 

He taps the photo of Gale one last time, and I know exactly what he is trying to say. Pick Gale, marry Gale. He can be your family, your future one day. I imagine my life, sharing my life with Gale and all of his fury, but it doesn’t feel right. 

“No one really needs me,” Peeta says, and there is no self-pity in his voice. No indication of any bitterness, and I know that Peeta means this — which is what makes it hurt all the more.

I try to imagine my life without Peeta, without him a couple of houses down from mine. I try to picture returning home without him. I imagine living in Victor's Village without him. 

A life without Peeta is one without laughter, without cheese buns and paintings. Without safety and solace. 

Nobody else knows me as well as he does, I realise. 

I watch him as he watches me, how could he think like this? How dare he think that nobody needs him? I need him. I need his arms and his kisses and everything else. I need him to make fun of Haymitch with me. I need him to give my little sister flowers he’s picked from his garden. I need his bread, and his warmth, and his kindness. 

I realise how broken I will be if I live without Peeta, and I need him to know this.

“I do,” I say with a sudden seriousness, “I need you.” 

Peeta sighs and looks down at the sand, his eyes are welling with tears and I reach out and brush a curl from his face. 

“I need you Peeta, more than you could ever know. And I’m sorry I’ve never said that before,” I add, unable to keep myself from doing so. He needs to know before he does something ridiculous like sacrificing himself for me.

The look in his eyes is unlike anything I’ve seen before as he looks up at me. The blue of them has darkened slightly, and as my hand cups his check, he raises his own hand and places it over mine, sighing as he closes his eyes and leans against my touch. 

“I love you Katniss. Please let me do this,” he begs, opening his eyes. Love. That's what I see tucked away in his blue iris’.

I have no idea how to reply, I wish that I could express myself as easily as Peeta does, but all I can do is just lean forward and capture my lips with his. I want to show him with my kiss how much I truly care for him. 

In last year's Games, the kisses I gave Peeta had been shy and close-mouthed, merely just a duty I was fulfilling to survive. But now, as Peeta sighs against my lips, and his big hands find their way into my hair, undoing my braid to allow my dark hair to cascade down my back, I know that this is different.

Some part of me knows that my mother and Prim must be watching and that I have to rein myself in. But another part of me wants this, I’ve missed our nights together, tangled up between Capitol bedsheets.

I deepen the kiss almost instantly, my tongue winding around Peetas with practice and precision. He groans softly against my lips, and I can’t stop my hands from tugging at his hair, the curls are still so delightfully soft. 

I try to compare the way I feel with Peeta with anything else, but I fall short. Nobody has made me feel this way before, no kiss has ever compared. Gale’s kiss in the woods was short, but nothing compared to Peeta’s. He had demanded a kiss from me, whereas Peeta always allowed me to take the lead, and I always showed him with my tongue where exactly I wanted him to be.

“Katniss,” Peeta groans against my lips, and I pull away, just enough so that I can rest my forehead on his. I’m shamefully wet, and the familiar throb of arousal has reared its unwelcome head again.

I gasp as his hands skim my sides, running his fingers up and down the sensitive skin. I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s hard, and I’m glad that he’s positioned himself so that I’m the only one who can see.

“If we were alone, I would take you in my mouth,” I whisper in his ear, quiet enough that nobody, including those fucking cameras, can hear me.

“Kat…” Peeta sighs, and I watch him twitch under the thin fabric of his wetsuit.

“I wouldn’t let you come though, you could only do that once you're inside me,” I continue, the cloud of arousal is making me dizzy. This is crazy, what I’m doing is insane.

“Katniss you’re going to kill me,” Peeta whines as I lick the shell of his ear, unable to stop myself. 

“You make me so hard Katniss,” Peeta whispers back, his hands gripping my waist possessively as I pull my mouth away from his ear. I grin and kiss his lips innocently, my hands thrown around his neck.

We spend some more time kissing, and Peeta's hands keep roaming across my back. We both ache for him to be able to grasp my breasts. I moan as I push my hard nipples into his chest. I’ve somehow ended up in his lap, my hands back in his hair as he kisses me. 

Without warning, the crack of the lightning storm stops our wandering hands. We both jump as we watch the bolt hit the tree, and I jerk out of Peeta's lap suddenly. He shifts uncomfortably in the sand as he tries to hide his erection, and I am thankful that my own hunger is not as visible as Peeta's.

The lightning wakes Finnick up from his fitful sleep, and he jolts awake with a sharp gasp. Peeta slowly removes his hands from me as Finnick gets up and approaches us.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” he says, his nose scrunched as he watches the water. “One of you should rest.” 

My hands are still gripping Peeta’s neck, and Finnick notices this with a small victorious grin. “Or both of you. I can watch alone.” 

I wish for the luxury of being able to sleep in Peeta’s arms, but I know that he will not accept this. “It’s too dangerous,” Peeta insists, and I let go of him, snapping out of the dreamlike state the arousal has taken me to. 

“I’m not tired. You lie down Katniss,” Peeta says, sitting up stiffly on his prosthetic and grabbing my hand, leading me over to the area where the others are sleeping. 

He has the locket in his hand and he wraps it around my neck, patting it down with a determined look. A look that tells me that he hasn’t changed his mind.

I sit down on the makeshift bed and watch as Peeta hovers over me, planting a kiss on my hair and placing a hand on my stomach. I remember then that I’m supposed to be pregnant, and I try to make my face react as he does this.

“You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says and he kisses me. I watch him walk back over and sit with Finnick. And I allow myself to dream of a place where there are no Games, where I can tell Peeta that I love him. 

A place where his baby can grow and love and learn without fear.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。

The crowds cheer. The sounds of their screaming remind me of being in a fire chariot, of grasping onto Peeta’s hand and holding on for dear life. However, the crowds don’t cheer for me anymore, they cheer for my bow. They cheer for Snow’s death.

I’m numb as I walk the path, my Mockingjay outfit is loose on my skinny frame. My body is woefully out of practice. Prim has been dead for weeks, and I feel like a part of me has died alongside her.

I reach the mark on the ground that indicates where I am supposed to stand, and I receive another cheer as I reach into my quiver and retrieve the single arrow that rests there.

My grip on the arrow loosens as they bring out the former President Snow, and the voices shriek and wail as he’s tied to a post. His frail, old body is manoeuvred roughly by the guards, and I stand and observe him for a moment. How could a man so small cause so much pain and suffering?

He’s a mere ten yards away from me, and Coin speaks on the platform above, her hair is shiny, and her uniform is pressed neatly. I feel ill as I reminisce on Snow’s words to me earlier.

“Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.” 

Bile rises in my throat as I secure the arrow. I’ve done this exact motion so many times that my arms are carried by pure muscle memory. My eyes are sharp as I stare defiantly into the President's eyes, the dried blood around his mouth frames his smirking lips. He knows. 

He always knows, and I have no idea how exactly he knows what I plan to do. I think of my mission ever since I lost Peeta in the Quell. Kill Snow, take back the pain. 

As I stretch the bow, I feel the skin grafts from my burns stretch unnaturally on my shoulders, the permanent reminders of the fire that took away Prim. That turned me into this Fire Mutt. 

Snow laughs, and I wish I could hear it, but the cheers and excited roars of the crowd overpower it. 

I stretch further and shift my arrow upwards, to the direct path to President Coin’s heart, and I release the string. I blink and the arrow is lodged into her skin, and she collapses from the platform, lifeless and dead. 

I breathe out for the first time in seventeen years.

Snow’s laughter reaches my ears then, it’s loud and crackly and I stand stunned as spurts of blood escape his mouth. The crowds stream into the area, blocking the bloody President from my view and leaving me with the harsh reality of what I’ve just done. 

I breathe shakily and mentally check off step one of my plan. Grey uniformed guards approach me and I think of what's to come. Trials and executions, the sight of my mother, alone without me or Prim. 

I see the guards getting closer and I drop my bow, determined to make the second part of my plan come to fruition. 

“Good night,” I whisper into the screams, and I suddenly wish that there was someone around to hear me.

I raise my left arm, determined to rip that little pill of death from my sleeve. I won’t even know I’m gone before it passes my lips. I won’t know any more pain or love or loss. Only nothing. As my mouth travels to the pill I am startled to find that my teeth sink into soft flesh. I throw my head back and my eyes meet blue. So impossibly blue. 

Peeta looks betrayed, and his hand, which is bloody from my mark — is firmly positioned over the night lock pill. Unmoving.

“Let me go!” I snarl, attempting to wrestle from out of his grasp, but Peeta is strong. He always has been, and not just physically. 

“I can’t,” he says desperately, securing his fingers even tighter against me. I thrash and scream until the guards come over and take me away. 

Peeta and I watch as the little violet pill flies free from my pocket, getting crushed underneath the boot of one of the grey guards. I’m suddenly quiet as I watch the powder dissipate, and watch the relief fill Peeta's eyes. 

I can’t. 

It rings over and over again in my ears. I never even considered Peeta. He surely would’ve been better off without me. He doesn’t need me anymore. He doesn’t love me as he once did.

As I thrash and kick and bite I realise I am being sedated by a large needle. As the world fades to black I am overcome with memories of blue eyes and dead children. Of fire and my little sister’s last word.

Katniss…

………

“Katniss?” 

I’m awake. Drenched in sweat and kicking off cotton bedsheets.

“Katniss, it was just a nightmare, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Peeta soothes, and his arms are around me again, his fingers smoothing my drenched brow. We’re in our bed, and once I realise this I calm down. I stop thrashing and I stop biting.

“S-sorry,” I say, my throat is scratchy from screaming. Peeta shushes my apologies, and I lean against his chest, revelling in the bare skin that meets my cheek. He’s only just allowed himself to sleep shirtless, and every time I remember it my cheeks heat wonderfully.

“Which one was it?” He asks, his hands curl around my sides, his thumb running over the burn on my arm.

“Coin’s assassination,” I answer, shuddering as I remember my dream of reliving that cursed day. The day when I finally ended the Hunger Games. It has been over four years since that day yet it is still as fresh in my memory as ever. 

Peeta kisses the top of my head and hums in response. My heart is still thumping, I can practically feel the taste of his blood on my tongue from where I bit him that day.

I grasp his hand and hold it in front of me. Peeta’s hands are so much bigger than mine, his long fingers are now used to hold mine. He lets me skim the callouses from years of baking. He lets me trace the burns that roughen his skin.

“I never thanked you,” I whisper, kissing his fingers one by one. “For saving me that day.”

Peeta’s hand stills, and he turns, his eyes meeting mine.

“That’s what we do, Kat. We protect each other,” he answers, leaning forward and capturing his lips with mine.

Our comfort within each other had been hard fought. After that day, the one that repeats in my dreams and haunts my sleep. I was shipped to District Twelve and left to rot. And that I did, for months I rotted as Greasy Sae watched over me, and then one day Peeta was there.

Peeta had come back and had planted a garden.

I didn’t know what to say to him for weeks, but I let Greasy Sae brush and untangle my hair. Let her cut my feral nails and bathe me. 

Every morning Peeta would arrive with bread, and every morning I would stare at him, until one morning I spoke, and once I did, I never wanted to stop.

Years later we still have nightmares. Peeta’s episodes are few and far between, and I try my best not to lose myself in the madness.

One day, a simple normal day; we were sitting in the back room of the rebuilt bakery, and I looked at Peeta, and I knew. The boy who tasted like sunsets and looked like home had never disappeared, he had always been there, and he had always loved me.

So I kissed him. Deep and long. 

The next night when we had tentatively made love for the first time since before the Quell, he asked. “You love me. Real or not real?” 

I didn’t even hesitate as I answered, “Real.”

Now, as we lie together in our bed, in our house. I relish the fact that he can hold me on nights like these. 

“I couldn’t let you die that day, not after everything,” Peeta continued once our lips pulled apart.

I leaned my forehead on his and inhaled deeply, somehow expecting to smell blood or roses or the smoke from the fire. Instead, I smelt cinnamon and dill, and the sunset. 

“Thank you.” 

I kiss Peeta once again, and my fingers wind around the back of his head and into his curls. I know him inside and out. I know that he’s going to groan and buck his hips as I kiss down his neck. I know that he’s going to come in my mouth when he grips my hair and rolls his eyes back.

I know that every night, without fail — he will let me take his prosthesis off, he will let me undo the latches and kiss the stump left behind. I know that the first thing he will do when he wakes up is kiss me. 

Most importantly, I know that when he’s ready, and when he asks me to be his wife. When he asks me to toast with him, I know I will say yes.

Because I was wrong, I didn’t bet on the wrong dog. I bet on the man who will love me and plant me a garden when I’m upset. 

I bet on Peeta Mellark, the boy with the scars that match mine but a smile that dazzles me every single time I look at it.

I bet on the love of my life.

I'll be there on their side I'm losing by their side.. Will you let me, baby, lose On losing dogs…

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。.❀。

Please lemme know if you liked this!

Feel free to drop me a message, prompt, request here at any time. And check out my Ao3 (under @/delicatekisses)

Xoxo.

[of-canes-and-manes]

04: A Reminder to Slow Down

Tim had just recovered from an abscess on the back of one of his legs only to get another, this one on his side. I had already walked around his stall and the perimeter of his turn out, and there were a total of four screws in two different locations that he must have been getting caught on. My dad had a plan to remove those screws, and in the meantime, it was up to me to continue hot packing Tim’s abscess twice a day.

This was a simple enough procedure; I filled up a clean bucket with the hottest water I could get from the tap, tossed in a clean washcloth, and brought it down to the barn, where I held the washcloth against the abscess until it cooled, refreshing the washcloth as needed until the water in the bucket was no longer hot. All in all it was a twenty minute task, and what is a mere twenty minutes in the grand scheme of things?

Unfortunately, I’ve also been having an increase in health issues myself. My urological symptoms have been worsening just in time for my new urology office to reschedule my urgent appointment out another five weeks and then stop returning my calls altogether; I’ve started dropping things and having more stiffness in my wrists and fingers than usual; I now need to be reminded of things I had been told only hours before; words have become elusive, especially when I’m speaking aloud. I had been on the phone all day every work day for almost three months, between waiting on hold and waiting for offices to call me back.

Taking twenty minutes every morning and evening to hot pack Tim for another week straight just seemed like the worst way to spend my time, especially with how limited my energy had been. There was just too much to do.

On this particular day, I was especially frustrated with how long every single task was taking. I’ve come to learn that when I take my time I’m capable of more tasks than when I rush, and yet I rush anyway, trying to do everything as fast as I can in the hopes that I’ll actually finish the work I need to do. This day was no different. I just wanted to get down to the barn, hot pack Tim’s abscess, and get back to the house so that I could return to my housework and phone calls. I didn’t want to spend any more time or energy than necessary in the barn, even if my fixation happened to be the horses.

Tim must have sensed my frustration, because he walked away from me every time I tried to press the washcloth to his side despite the flake of hay I had given him. He was usually content to stand still while I did the hot packing as long as he had hay to munch on, and I had made it a point to get the hay before I tried to do anything else. But after several long minutes of him continuing to move away from me, I had no choice but to put down the washcloth and take a break.

I leaned against the jam of his stall doorway, and finally he stood still. After watching me for a moment, he put his head down to grab some hay. Then he lifted his head to watch me again, and I felt compelled to explain myself to him.

I told Tim about how I couldn’t keep up with all the phone calls from various doctors offices, and how worried I was about the new symptoms I was experiencing. I told him how much I was struggling to finish everything I had to do on a daily basis, and how I couldn’t keep up with my housework and my hobbies and my research. I apologized to him for how I had been rushing through his hot packing lately, and promised I would try not to do that anymore. And Tim didn’t interrupt once; he just listened to me until I had said everything.

When I finished, Tim raised his head and put his nose to my chest, searching for a treat. I didn’t have any treats, but I scratched his nose and thanked him for listening to me. He pushed his nose into my hand a few times before going back to his hay, and all at once my frustration evaporated.

After I had rested enough, I went back to the bucket and grabbed the washcloth. This time when I pressed it against his side, Tim didn’t move away from me. He looked back a few times, sure, but he otherwise he was content to be cared for while he ate away.

The hot packing still took as long as it always did, but this time I was able to focus on the heat of the washcloth and the warmth of Tim’s body underneath, and by the time the water in the bucket had cooled, I still wasn’t ready to go back into the house. Instead I lingered in Tim’s stall, sitting on an overturned bucket and watching him eat. It had been my intention to spend more time with Tim like that on a daily basis, but somehow it always fell to the wayside with how busy I was; I was lucky that Tim still didn’t mind my presence despite how inconsistently I was able to be with him, and I was lucky that he still was just as patient with me as he was at the beginning.

Once I was recovered from the hot packing, I grabbed the brushes and brushed him throughly before sitting down again to take another break. By then Tim had finished his hay, and it was with great regret that I had to tell him I was already finished brushing him despite his nudging the brush in my hands. He tried to follow me right out the stall when I left to go brush the others in the barn. But for better or worse, it was time for me to get back to the real world, and I put away the brush, gave Tim and the others a treat each, and slowly made the trek up the hill to the house.

The fatigue that had been plaguing me for days had lifted by the time I finished taking off my boots. I was able to finish my phone calls, and I took my time going through them, resting in between each one. I did not finish my housework, but rather than that bothering me relentlessly, it was a relief to rest for the remainder of the day, at least until I had to head down to the barn again to hot pack Tim’s side that evening .

I’ve known, logically, for a year now that slowing down and taking my time is the only surefire way for me to accomplish my tasks, and yet I consistently forget it time and time again. It would seem I need to be reminded on a regular basis, reminded that life is more than rushing from task to task until I burn out on a monthly basis. I’m incredibly grateful for Tim’s calm presence in my life, and for his easy going nature serving as that reminder of what I need to function at my best.

May you find peace in your day.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

projection fic<3

“Nicholas?” Milligan asked, worry flooding his voice. “Nicholas— oh, oh sweetheart. It’s alright. I’m here.” 

He was curled up on top of his bed, shaking and writhing in pain. His breathing was short and rapid and his eyes were clenched shut. His fists were clenched around the corners of a blanket. He seemed to be squeezing with a death grip. 

“I’m right here,” Milligan repeated. He sat beside Nicholas and began rubbing his back. His big, strong hand stroked up and down Nicholas’s spine, trying his best to soothe him as he trembled beneath the touch. Nicholas made a low whining sound and shuddered even more powerfully. He turned to look at Milligan with wide, fearful eyes.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Milligan asked. Nicholas nodded tersely. Milligan scooped him into his arms, letting him rest his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms securely around his waist. He kept rubbing circles, providing deep, grounding pressure.

“I know you don’t feel safe right now,” he whispered. “But I promise I’ve got you. This will pass. You will feel better.”

They sat like that for a while as Nicholas’s attack ran its course. Milligan felt him becoming heavier, his body going limp and exhausted against him. His breathing steadied somewhat. Milligan encouraged him, praising him for every deep breath, assuring him that he was safe, he was held, he was doing so good. Milligan pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

Somewhat settled, Nicholas sighed, pain and distress still rushing through his brain, if only more slowly. He felt empty. Like he couldn’t formulate any thoughts. If his brain were to latch onto anything, it would no doubt be the trigger of his panic, and so Nicholas kept his internal monologue fixated on the smell of Milligan’s body and the feeling of his hand stroking his curls. He was there. He was holding him. Nicholas wasn’t alone.

“What can I do to help you?” Milligan asked. Nicholas frowned. He wasn’t sure.

“This helps…” he whispered, his voice raspy and tired. Milligan smiled sadly.

“What about a drink of water? Or— hmm, have you had breakfast?” 

Nicholas made another vague whining noise. Milligan interpreted this as a “no”. He gave Nicholas’s scalp another affectionate scratch, then sat them both up slightly. 

“Why don’t you rest on the couch, and I’ll ask Number Two to make crepes?” he suggested. Nicholas nodded. Milligan helped him up, making sure he was steady on his feet, then walked him down the hall and towards the living room. Nicholas didn’t seem too wobbly, but he did complain of dizziness as soon as they sat down. Milligan frowned.

“Rest and food will help,” he said. “But we’ll keep an eye on you.”

Nicholas was an enthusiastic eater of the crepes, which cheered both Milligan and Number Two. When he started talking about needing to visit the pharmacy, the others immediately shot down his suggestion of taking the bus.

“I will go,” Rhonda said. “Uh uh— no complaints. You need to rest and take care of yourself.”

It was a testament to how bad he felt that Nicholas offered no further argument. With some more shaky breaths, he settled into the couch, reaching for the TV remote to turn on his favorite movie. He watched with glazed eyes until he began blinking heavily, letting his head fall back against the couch cushion like his strings had been cut. Milligan pulled him into his side and guided his head to rest in his lap.

“This is better for your neck,” he murmured. Nicholas smiled. A few minutes more and his breath evened out, exhausted and weak and safe.

[scarletshnoz]

Sally XL (2/5)

Sally posed around in the mirror, frowning and cringing all the while.

'I look like I've put on ten pounds! I've never had bloating this bad… Though I guess I've never really gotten it from eating… Sonic was right though, that salad wasn't even that big…

She scratched her head through her amber locks.

...maybe I'm allergic to something they put in it?'

The princess wandered back onto her couch, noting the alien feeling of the softness covering her butt squashing up against the cushion and flattening. She debated going to see Dr. Quack for some allergy tests as she'd realized she'd actually never had that done before. In her teenage years she'd obviously had neither the time nor resources when fighting to save Mobius from the original Ivo and when having limited rations to survive on allergens weren’t really something that crossed her mind… not that the veggies they had to farm would have been anyway. Though, she didn't feel anything other than puffy. No sore throat, eyes, migraine, lightheadedness … still though, if there was some oil or sauce or pesticide out there that would make her inflate this much whenever she accidentally ate it then maybe she'd best know to avoid it. She would swing by the Tommy Turtle memorial hospital, but… not until tomorrow. She'd rather not leave the castle or even her room until this went back down. The only times Sally ever covered up were when a mission meant she’d need protection from the elements or for special occasions where a dress was expected, she knew she didn’t have any casual baggy clothing that could conceal this.

She stayed seated on her sofa, unsure of what to do with the rest of her evening. She did notice she was hungry, which made sense she supposed… it may have been due to a sudden drop in her blood sugar but it was most likely that it was just because Sally usually ate dinner around this time. She realized deep down that she was overreacting but she didn't want anyone to see her like this. While she knew dinners with the rest of her family were soon going to become a special event again as she had returned to active duty she didn't want to take the chance of any of them noticing and commenting. She decided she would order delivery from somewhere, though most places that did delivery didn't have the healthiest selections and apparently even the healthiest now risked upsetting her stomach to the point where the bloating looked like she had doubled her body fat percentage.

'I'm pretty sure it's an allergy thing, but if not I'm going to have to start asking Sonic if I can pick the restaurants more often.’

If not for some sort of food intolerance this bloating must somehow be the lone work of the overabundance of balsamic in her meal this afternoon, she had already noted that the lack of restraint with portions spread even into the salad.

‘After his guilt tripping today I’m sure that’ll be a fun conversation…’

Sally rolled her eyes as she thought.

It seems even the healthiest options in New Mobotropolis’s back water establishments were still somewhat rigged. Speaking of… she felt quite greasy, uncomfortably so.

'I'll take a quick bath before the food gets here.'

She planned, she would just be ordering another salad and she had grown very familiar and attached to the options at Uncle Chuck's at this point.

She called in.

"Uncle Chuck's, what can we get you?"

The robotic voice of Sonic's father Jules rang through Sally's pointed ear.

"Hey Jules! Just a large caesar salad please, to the castle obviously. "

"Sally? It's delivery? You know you can always stop by."

The robian offered warmly.

"Oh, um sorry. Think I'm spending the night in..."

She answered awkwardly, realizing she probably should have come up with an actual excuse to avoid looking rude to her boyfriend's father and family friend.

"Alright hon, well we won't have any trouble finding the address."

"Well I should hope not."

The chipmunk bantered back.

Sally took a quick glance down at herself, fixating on how her boobs were now peeking out farther than the distance where her chin was resting as her neck bent downward. Her breasts ends were nearly where her nose was now on the x axis.

‘Maybe I’m actually eating too many greens…’

She begrudgingly pondered to herself before realizing Mr.Hedgehog would be hanging up now and quickly blurting out-

“Sorry, actually could I get a tuna salad instead?”

She said far more awkwardly than she intended.

“Oh, sure hon. Expect it in fifteen, take care dear."”

Jules said, knowing her well enough to know the crack in her voice was a little unusual but thought nothing of it. He hung up.

About ten minutes later Jules approached the table seating his wife and son. After the near apocalypse of the metal virus and with another commercial-like few months without a looming threat his father had noticed Sonic spending a lot more time with the family. He would savour it, knowing said months were probably nearing their end.

"A large tuna salad for a…

He jokingly pretended to squint his artificial eyes at the order.

...Sally Acorn, figured you'd want to be a delivery boy again for this one."

Sonic smiled.

"Meh, I guess I could for old times sake. I'm surprised she didn't do take-out though."

"I told her we'd be happy to see her."

Jules cleared himself.

"She must be busy with royal affairs, so I should be back pretty quick."

He looked to his mother, whom he had just been in the middle of a conversation with. Before grabbing the paper bag containing the salad and speeding off out the door.

With his super speed Sonic ran straight up the castle walls and vaulted over the rail of the princess’s balcony.

He knocked on the glass doors with a smile.

Sally stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around her brick red hair. Her eyes widened at the sight of Sonic eagerly waiting for her to open the door as he often did.

‘Of course.’

She moaned

‘Why did I have to order from chucks?’

The princess mentally smacked herself.

“Long time no see princess”

The blue one greeted as she opened the door.

“Since when are you doing deliveries again?”

She asked, frowning.

“I’m not, just happened to be at unc’s when you ordered. Why, not happy to see me?”

He joked.

Sally struggled to find an excuse that Sonic wouldn’t immediately realize was a lie. The fact that she had just clearly gotten out of the bath meant she couldn’t pretend she was up to something urgent.

"I'm uh… actually not feeling well now."

She answered, figuring the classic would serve her best. She tried to rush him back out onto the balcony before they broke eye contact. Obviously out of everyone Sonic would be the first to notice any changes in her body, she needed him out asap.

"And I didn't want to get anybody sick, including you… so 'git!"

She took the bag and began pushing Sonic back out onto the balcony. Only for her to almost fall forward as he whipped around behind her in the blink of an eye.

"Aw don't sweat it Sal, it's kinda my job to be here for you."

He waved, guiding her by her shoulders back onto her sofa.

She groaned, there was nothing she could do now. Sonic was as stubborn as she was and the more she insisted he leave the more suspicious she'd look.

She sat her large salad bowl on her lap, hoping that would be enough cover her puffiness. Apparently the warm water had done nothing to soothe the bloating, she still felt her thin new airbags need to deflate on impact of the cushion.

Sonic took her feet in his hands, rubbing them thoroughly. Sally cringed as he advanced to her calves, worried he'd notice the extra softness.

"Anything else I can get you Sal? Ginger soda or something'?"

"Just some warm water."

She answered with a faint smile. Despite their bickering he was a great boyfriend when he wasn’t actively trying to annoy her, which made her feel guilty to lie to him… even over something so trivial.

Within a millisecond he was back with the mug and a tv tray.

"Do the folks know you're sick?"

He asked before rubbing her shoulders.

"No, whenever I'm sick daddy acts like I have something terminal. I don't need to waste Dr.Quacks time when I know it's just a cold or a flu."

She explained, pulling from truth to aid her lie. Sally's face then contorted into a crooked smile as she let out a satisfied sigh, Sonic’s massage had reached her scalp and temples while she enjoyed her salad. She was royalty, she could have people pamper her like this any time but she would feel bad abusing her status like that. If it was just Sonic however she didn't feel so bad…

'I should pretend to be sick more often.'

She thought to herself, the temporary guilt of her lie had faded when Sonic got a knot out of her back.

Sonic had brought a puke bucket and some acetaminophen over to Sally (although she said she had already taken some), before seating himself next to her as they briefly watched some cheesy romcom.

Sally had finished her dinner and he'd soon be offering to throw the garbage out for her, she devised a way to get Sonic to leave without having to remove the large paper bowl from her lap. She immediately pretended to doze off like she'd had hours ago, letting her head slump to her shoulder.

Sonic looked at the 'slumbering' princess. Something hadn't seemed right since he'd arrived, Sally was acting funny.

Regardless he still had an obligation to be a good partner. He took the garbage from out of her lap, to which Sally cursed under her breath. He went to pick her up but paused for a moment, something seemed a little different about Sally… her body? Yeah, her body seemed different somehow. Sonic’s brain was already running through the possibilities to explain the weird differences in Sally’s behaviour, if this was an imposter then that would explain the indiscernible difference in her body type. Sonic squinted to Sally’s discomfort, then he realized. The princess’ near anorexic build had filed out a little bit, less boney and softer around the edges.

‘Bloating maybe? Nah, it’s not the end of the month yet...’

Sonic found it hard to believe that Sally of all people could’ve put on a few.

But as he reached for her he confirmed that she was softer to the touch. He lifted her into his arms and noted she was the littlest bit heavier.

'Must've been why she didn't want me seeing her.'

He rolled his eyes, having thought something was actually wrong. Her putting on a few was karmic as far as he was concerned. Apparently she had struggled to notice it as well, otherwise their lunch date would have been in jeopardy earlier today.

Sonic chuckled, maybe she did already know then…

‘Maybe she was projecting.”

The hedgehog sniggered.

It would make sense given she had spent the past few months with little exercise in recovery.

Sally continued cursing internally as Sonic brought her to her bed, laying her down and planting a kiss on her cheek. He paused for a moment, Sally didn’t quite have her usual flowery scent. Definitely still smelled nice though… kind of like… chili???

‘No way.’

He thought to himself. An intense hunger pain interrupted his confusion. His stomach had not calmed down over the evening, despite the fact that he ran back to his family's restaurant to pick himself up some chilidogs and let his mother know that he would be taking care of Sally the rest of the evening. It still felt as though he’d eaten next to nothing today. Sonic did notice the taste of tuna was stronger in his mouth than it ought to have been from just the single bite his girlfriend let him have. He looked to the ring, still planted on Sally’s petite (by mobian standards) finger. He then looked to his own. He developed a theory, it was kind of ridiculous but Sonic had encountered stranger things of a similar nature. He took off back to his house. Currently unoccupied, he could pull a bunch of the Hedgehog’s snack foods from their cupboard without further questions from his parents. He rushed back up through the balcony doors, with almost more junk food than he could carry. Sonic knew the proposition would sound ridiculous and he would likely end up hurting Sally’s feelings by pointing out her slight gain if he were wrong (which would not quite be funny enough to die over). Though, on second thought… No, he would still have to test this without her permission.

Luckily for him whilst pretending to sleep Sally had actually slipped off for real in her continued lethargy.

Sonic took out a package of chocolate chip cookies and scarfed the thirty-plus sugary treats down, he noted that the emptiness of his stomach still felt not even the slightest bit better. There seemed to be no effect on the princess so he continued his little experiment. Sonic opened a container of leftover pizza he'd had in the fridge and plowed through the five slices. Sonic continued through more of the foods he had happened to have quick access to. After gobbling down a couple hot pockets and a few slices of cheesecake Sally’s middle seemed to be jutting out more than it had when he'd first laid her down. He pressed his hand against his resting girlfriend's tummy. His hand sunk only the slighted bit before pressing against a buoyant, stuffed stomach. Sonic's eyes were now glued to the princess's middle. Further inspecting he quickly wolfed down more of his pile, with each pretzel, sponge cake and chip bag he watched in amazement as her stomach would suddenly press outward more and more. It continued reaching out farther and farther from her pelvis. Sonic stopped, satisfied and astonished. He had definitely packed her more than he needed to but he had to make sure he wasn't just imagining things. Sally's tummy looked like someone had inflated it with a pump. Sonic took his own ring off and looked at what remained of his mountains of snacks. He quickly shovelled them down his throat and by the time he was through it all it had felt like he'd actually eaten something.

"Oooho, finallyyyy."

He moaned in relief. It hadn't been his usual portion size but it felt good to have something in his stomach, that plus the tuna salad Sally had apparently eaten for him was at least enough to quell the aching.

"So the rings swap our stomachs."

Sonic pondered in a whisper.

'And apparently our metabolisms too. If Sally could take in all the food I ate today and still be hungry enough for dinner she must've digested it as fast as I would’ve, which explains where the extra padding came from.'

The hedgehog deduced.

'I could probably burn all that off for her and I wouldn't have to feel bad about feeding her junk food, a straight twenty minutes of just running past the sound barrier would be more than overkill.-

-but…”

He grinned mischievously.

“If it can be fixed so easily, might as well have some fun with it first.'

He loomed over the slumbering chipmunk in the moonlight, placing his hand on her belly. It felt like an overinflated basketball.

“Let's see how quick she is to laugh when it's her with the 'potbelly'.”

He snickered, putting his ring back on so Sally's body would take the calories more efficiently. He noticed her brows were cringed as she slept, she was likely uncomfortable with her stomach so tight. He grazed his hand smoothly across her underbelly, caressing it to relieve some of the pressure. He had to rub gently so as to not wake her, but after a solid minute he noticed she was sleeping more peacefully.

Adorable little hiccups began escaping her, Sonic smiled warmly down at her before closing the balcony doors behind him. He would be making sure to have a late night snack tonight.

___

Sunlight peeked through the princess' thin blinds and rested on her beautiful face. She slowly came to, tossing her forearm over her face to give her eyes some shade. When she became conscious enough she flopped her arm back onto the mattress, revealing her annoyed expression. She couldn't believe she had accidentally fallen asleep twice, she had practically lost half her day yesterday. The only solace was that hopefully her bloating had gone down. She sat herself up but was immediately stopped by a strange discomfort in her middle.

Her heart sank and her eyes widened as she looked down, her stomach was scrunching. One hand slapped over her mouth as she gasped, the other poking her new slight underbelly, it bulged out with fat compressed from the folding of her abdomen. With the way it curved back down into her abdominal wall just above her crotch it wouldn't be unfair to say it looked like the beginnings of a roll. She began tracing fingers through this surreal new shallow fold… it looked like a crack in her middle. Evidently this new discomfort was the sensation of her body rubbing against itself. Springing upright evenly redistributed this alien fat through her center, killing the fold… yet it came right back each time she manically hunched back over.

She leaped out of her bed and sprinted to her bathroom mirror, confirming her fears. Yesterday's bloating looked as though it had doubled. Well, it was obvious now that it wasn't bloating…

"I'm getting fatter."

She said faintly in disbelief, leaning over the sink as her big blue eyes stared into her reflection.

Her stomach now had a slight outward arc and sucking in only gave more prominence to that little underbelly. It required more effort for her fingertips to reach the stiffness of a rib, any sense of muscle definition had been lost completely as her thighs and upper arms were now noticeably swollen. Her collarbones were still visible between her broadened shoulders but just barely and only closest to where they met. Her upper arms looked thicker as well with a layer of creamy 'unsculpted muscle' covering her triceps. The itchy panic-inducing feeling of folding plagued her sides as she bent from left to right as her now pronounced love handles squished up against the puffiness arcing over her rib/sternum line and the bottoms of her armpits. Her almost nonexistent chest had blown up like water balloons, going up a cup size at the very least. Each breast had expanded into teardrop-esque shapes. She could even feel the tip of her tail poking out atop a higher spot on her back than usual, she swiveled around to confirm her inflated butt cheeks had sent it upward to a different angle. The inward dent of her glutes had been filled in and forgotten as well, the result of countless workouts gone just like that. She didn't seem to be overweight, however she was now at the high edge of the average weight range… a day ago she was dangerously close to underweight. In silence… Unable to process what had happened to her she hopped her now athletically thick body slightly in the air, with less jiggling than she would've expected aside from her bust. The cellulite clung as densely as it could to the muscle it now surrounded, she at least wasn't flabby. She looked and felt like a girl who had the respectable workout regime that she did, if just kept eating one too many cupcakes. That realization had understandably done little to calm the poor girl down; however. She needed a scale. Hunched over she began ravaging through the drawers of her bathroom, cringing at both the continuous scrunching of her stomach and how far she could feel her derriere sticking out behind her. Every towel, razor and shampoo bottle had been knocked over before she focused back in and smacked herself harder than she'd intended. The scale was behind the toilet.

She stepped on it, dreading the result. The digital numbers read.

'141 mlb'

Twenty seven pounds. Twenty seven mobian pounds higher than what she weighed last time she had checked.. and presumably what she had weighed less than twenty four hours ago. It was obvious what was causing this, it was the only possible explanation. She chastised herself for chalking it up to mere bloating before.

Sally gripped the ring on her right pinky with her left hand, expecting it to slide off seamlessly. Instead it instantly snagged against the flesh on her finger above.

"You've got to be kidding me…"

She huffed under her breath, apparently even her fingers were thicker now than when they were when she had first dawned this stupid golden band.

She yanked as hard as she could, ignoring the pain but the ring only dug more and more into the meat on her finger. If she pulled any more she'd suffer a dislocation or even fillet her poor digit.

She realized she needed to either call for help or leave her living quarters looking like this to search for some lubricant and pliers herself.

She immediately began debating between reaching Bunnie or Nicole. Then she realized-

"Sonic!"

He was wearing the same ring, she chastised herself for not immediately worrying for his well being. He could be suffering the same effect, his 'fast metabolism' would likely not protect him from apparently magic carbs. She had to get a hold of him first, this was her fault after all.

_______

Sonic laid back against his bed, relaxed and reading a comic book.

His ear perked at the sound of his communicator beeping.

*Bpp bpp bpp!*

He took a wild guess who was calling and why.

"Sonic, the rings!"

Sally's panicked voice shouted.

"What about 'em?"

He feigned ignorance, his voice sounded completely innocent.

"I-I… what do you mean what about them!?"

The princess sounded completely baffled.

"Take yours off, come over."

She ordered, he noticed her voice was shaky.

"On my way."

He responded.

Within a minute Sonic paced through the already open doors of her balcony.

"Sal?"

He asked, peeking in, ready to take a look at his own handiwork. Sally was leaning against the back of her couch frowning.

She gestured to herself as if to say 'well..?'

She didn't want Sonic to see her like this, but with the chance that he too may have been affected she had to bare it. False alarm though, he seemed the exact same.

Sally however looked, if Sonic had to describe it: broader.

"Huh."

"Yeah, huh!"

The princess panicked. She winced as Sonic poked her middle.

"I thought the same thing was happening to you!"

The princess threw her arms out.

"Huh? Oh nah, I already figured these out."

He held his ring out in the palm of his hand.

"Come again?"

Sally cocked an eyebrow, why was he being so nonchalant?

"Yeah it's weird, when we're both wearing them it's like we switch guts. If I eat something it ends up in your stomach and you digest it quick, like if you had my stomach. I was starving yesterday and I couldn't figure out why."

He chuckled.

'Well, at least that means I won't be getting any bigger…'

She thought.

...She thought.

She had hoped merely taking the ring off would reverse her gain but that seemed pretty unlikely now.

"Okay. So you just have to put the ring back on and not eat anything for a couple days, with your metabolism this should melt off me."

She planned, calming down somewhat as she rubbed her temples.

"Oh, yeah! I was just going to run around a bunch and see if that worked."

"We can try that too!"

She smiled awkwardly.

Sonic’s already unusually coy expression deeppend. He leaned in to Sally's surprise, his nose touching hers. He smiled.

"On one condition."

"What!?"

She was taken back by that.

"We have a proper date at Uncle Chuck's. No healthy options, you're going to actually try the juicy stuff. The stuff people actually come for."

He said as authoritatively as he was physically capable of.

Sally's brows were pressed against each other and her mouth was agape.

"You're gonna finally experience the fun of pigging out a little, no reason not to now. Calories aren't a sweat anymore if we can just put these on and I can take them off for you."

He crossed his arms, still grinning.

"Are you serious!?"

She asked at a rather high volume, partially due to laughter… partially due to legitimate rage.

"Well if not, I could just keep my ring on twenty four seven. I'm guessing you can't get yours off or you'd've done it already…

He pointed to her thickened digit.

...so maybe you could see what it's like to really be chunky since you thought it was hi-larious with me."

He crossed his arms in victory.

Sally couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Sonic, you literally can't get away with this. Do you really want to have to explain to our families and our friends what you're doing? They're already going to notice, look at me!"

Sonic's smile deepened, making Sally even more uncomfortable. It was clear to the princess that he knew something she didn't.

"Hey. You, me and a large basket full of chilidogs… that's all it'll take to stop this."

He declared smugly before flipping off the balcony.

Sally ran to the guard rail.

"I'll dump you!"

Sonic merely laughed as he took off below.

Sally frowned, he'd called her bluff. Fine, two could play it that way.

She tossed on her sky blue boots and vest, both were squeezing her now. Her top was cutting off circulation from her armpits to her triceps as the jacket's arm holes were shaped to suit a thin woman. Sally’s boots had one problem spot as well, the band squeezed the upper calves and the bottom of her thighs… no discomfort anywhere else yet. Wanting as few people as she knew to see her, Sally took the same path to ground level as Sonic did. She jumped off the balcony and did a parkour roll as she landed on the cobblestone trails of New Mobotropolis. She noted the minor discomfort she would usually feel in her back and shoulder when landing from such a height had disappeared thanks to the extra cushion, though she had plummeted a little harder than she was accustomed to with the extra weight. Her knees had taken a bit of strain from the start of her landing, it was a further reminder that if Sonic wasn't just pulling her leg such feats would soon become impossible to her. The princess' eyes darted about as she power walked through the crisp morning air. She kept tugging her vest forward in the hopes of covering herself a little, though there was more of her to cover now and the piece was revealing to begin with. She found herself surprised at the lack of reactions from the citizens she passed. She was expecting some pointing and whispering amongst onlookers or at worst pictures being taken but she saw nothing of the sort.

'Maybe it isn't as noticeable as I thought.'

She hoped, continuing her quick strut.

Luckily she didn't bump into anyone she knew on her way down to the Hedgehog's house.

She knocked on the door and was met by Bernadette.

"Morning princess! What's up?"

She smiled, friendly as ever.

"Oh, just wanted to talk to you and Sonic about something."

She smirked.

She further opened the door, welcoming her inside.

"Maurice! I think you're in trouble!"

Bernadette called, her smile having deepened.

"Doubt it!"

He responded, stepping out of his room looking even more cocky than usual.

"No, you are."

Sally threatened with her arms crossed.

"What did he do?"

Bernie asked, her tone belied a healthy mixture of amusement and annoyance.

What else was she to feel watching her son and his long time girlfriend squabble in their twenties the exact same way they had when they were five. You'd think after all the trauma they'd suffered together over the years they'd be more understanding with one another, more mature. Nope.

"Notice anything different about me?"

The princess gestured to herself.

Bernie just stared at her with a blank expression.

"It's okay, you're not going to hurt my feelings."

She assured, but still Bernadette said nothing.

"...You're going to have to help me here honey."

The elder hedgehog frowned.

Sally laughed awkwardly again.

"No really, it's fine!"

The chipmunk reassured, tossing her hands up.

Bernadette merely shrugged.

'Is it seriously not that noticeable!?'

Sally had to ask herself. She was flabbergasted.

'It's almost thirty pounds!'

She continued internally.

"He was already asking me if you looked funny in his pictures of you, but I have no idea what you two are seeing."

She admitted. Sally: now pretty confused herself, swiveled her head back to Sonic.

"Well Sal… want to explain it to her?"

Sally huffed. If her growth somehow wasn't noticeable to anyone else then she would simply have to wait until it became… more noticeable.

"Or do you agree to my terms?"

He pressed coyly.

Bernie stood up wandering off to the living room.

"Alright I'm tapping out, you two are beyond me. Maurice, whatever you're doing stop it."

"Wanna try someone else?"

He leaned against the wall in a b-boy pose, clearly happy with himself.

"Bunnie will notice."

Sally threatened.

"Bunnie would think it's as funny as I do."

She folded, that was probably true.

"Fine Sonic, keep it going! Make it bad enough so that she'll notice."

Sally pointed to the rug room.

Sonic placed his head in his hand.

"This isn't the stalemate you think it is."

He cooed ominously.

"So, unc's at six?"

He offered.

"Ugh!"

Sally turned out the door.

"Taking that as a no!"

He called down the road.

___

Sally had arrived back in her room, she'd been lucky enough that only some guards had seen her. Not her parents, not her brother. She sat back on her couch pouting, further annoyed by the reappearance of the scrunching sensation. Days like today when her schedule wasn't booked up and there was no disaster to attend to were usually made busy through exercising and training.

"I guess there's no point in doing it now."

She realized as she growled.

She watched TV simply waiting to feel herself get fatter so she could go show everyone to tell on Sonic. While she knew Bunnie and Amy would be no help Antoine, Tails and Rotor would come to her aid since Sonic’s folks would be spending the rest of their day at the restaurant. She didn’t want to stroll into a densely crowded space looking like a whale. However, the mere folding of her middle and molding of her rear was doing nothing but making the squirming and sighing princess restless. The feeling of butterflies wouldn't go away, how could they with her impending doom? Maybe she didn't have to wait, maybe she didn't have to give Sonic the privilege of seeing her with a full spare tire. She knew other speedsters and other mobians with abilities that could possibly reverse Sally's expansion if given the ring. Maybe if she could get Sonic's ring out of his hands she could fix this without his blessing.

Sally quickly tossed a blanket over herself before calling-

"Nicole!"

Suddenly a green frame appeared before the princess and a dark brown lynx girl materialized onto it.

"Mhm?"

She smiled.

"I need you to do me a favor, can you keep an eye on Sonic?"

Nicole looked concerned.

"Oh, is something wrong?"

"He's just messing with me, he has a little ring that he knows I need. If he leaves it vulnerable let me know."

"Oookay?"

She cocked an eyebrow but she was smiling again.

"Don't ask."

Sally frowned, knowing Nicole was going to want more context.

"Okay."

Nicole didn’t press, she simply gave a thumbs up before dispersing into green pixels. Her consciousness returned to monitoring the kingdom.

Sally sighed as she tossed the blanket off, if she were to go with her plan B where she didn't have to humiliate herself to get Sonic yelled at then she was going to need to go back out at some point to take it from him. The longer this went on the more likely she was to be seen, and she still had to worry about getting bigger.

Sally browsed her wardrobe, frowning as it was only now she wished she covered up more frequently. If Bernadette genuinely hadn't noticed her new softness while it was all out there then maybe she could effectively hide it from everyone with the right clothing.

Unfortunately nearly her entire selection was comprised of similar blue vests and combat boots, aside from pajamas and nice 'princesses-y' dresses for special occasions. It was also now that she wished she had been more fashionable in general, more patterned or stylish clothes could help distract from this excess weight yet all she had was plain and practical. She didn't need to hide her body when she was hot and her natural beauty meant no fancy accessories were required to add to it. Her dark red locks, sad blue eyes and most importantly her toned body compensated for her complete lack of fashion sense.

'Ugh.'

She held her head, she needed to calm down a little. She was acting as if she would never be her old size again when in the worst case scenario, Sonic would just thin her back down whenever he stopped getting amusement out of this… which would be after maybe a few weeks...

Sally shut her dresser doors with a huff. Any of those clothes were going to be a little snug on her as she was already, and she was likely going to graduate from a medium to a large within the afternoon anyway if her other half had anything to say about it. Sally couldn’t feel it but she was sure hundreds of calories were already being pumped into her as she sat about here, being converted to fat at super speed.

The princess laid out her yoga mat, she could at least maintain her flexibility without having to worry about her boyfriend undoing her hard work.

She descended into splits, exhaling as she tried to relax a little.

"Sally-girl!"

A raspy, high-pitched southern accent called to her from behind her bedroom door. Sally's calm was instantly destroyed, she didn't want anymore people seeing her like this than was necessary and Bunnie was most likely to pick up on her expansion after Sonic. Instantly, before Sally could make it to her blanket a blonde rabbit simply strolled in towing some chicken noodle soup.

"Hi… Bunnie."

The princess greeted her best friend in an uncharacteristically awkward tone of voice.

"Hey hon, Sonic told me you were sick. Figured I could whip you up some broth."

'Of course he did…'

She muttered under her breath.

"Oh, you didn't have to Bun."

She smiled, taking the bowl and holding it up to her midriff.

"Yeah.. but 'ah never get to cook anything fer you, also 'ah just wanted to see how you were. You doin' yoga?"

She asked, slightly confused.

"Oh yeah, thought maybe it'd help me feel better. Didn't work."

Sally responded, reaching for the blanket on the sofa. Bunnie cocked an eyebrow at the strange uncertainty in Sally's answer. She knew her best friend and very rarely if ever did she come off as anything but confident, it was especially odd given that it was such a simple question.

Bunnie frowned.

"Sally-girl... yer not really sick, are you?"

"I-

Sally cut herself off, realizing how foolish it would be to try to continue to lie.

no…"

Maybe she would be going with plan A after all... Sally sat the soup down, revealing more of her middle.

"Obviously you can tell right?"

Sally waved hands to herself.

"Uhm…

The southern belle wiggled her index finger in front of her mouth.

Sally's mouth dropped and her eyes widened, Bunnie seriously looked confused.

"Bunnie!?"

Sally cried, completely offended.

"Wut!?"

The rabbit shouted defensively and in utter confusion. She put her hand to her head.

"Did you guys just always think I was fat!?"

Sally threw her hands out.

Bunnie paused, looking Sally over and trying to think of what exactly she was supposed to say.

"Sally girl, you know 'ah would be the first to tell you if you were putting on a few. But you look the exact same t'uh me."

Bunnie mustered as sincere a look as she could as she placed a hand on the chipmunks shoulder. Sally squinted, then her eyes widened again.

"Bunnie, you're actually serious aren't you?"

"Sheesh hon, what'd you go up by? Two pounds?"

Bunnie joked.

"I think you need your eyes checked. "

Sally responded bitterly.

"Well erm, Sally… maybe it's that yer just now noticing but you've always been a little bit broader than Amy and 'ah."

"What!? No I wasn't!? I was the skinniest!"

She yelled in utter shock at what was coming out of her best friend's mouth.

"Sal…"

Mrs.D'coolette merely smirked.

"You're helping Sonic aren't you?"

Sally accused as she leant in.

"I promise I'll eat your soup if you stop playing along."

Sally's voice sounded almost unhinged, Bunnie had seemed genuine but there was no possible explanation she of all people could have believed what she was saying.

Bunnie threw her hands up defensively.

"Sally-girl... yer freaking me out now."

"I was the maid of honour at your wedding! You know my dress size!"

"Yeah, you're a ten?"

Bunnie answered, now concerned for Sally’s mental health.

"I'm a two! I-

Sally was about to shout, insulted again before she paused… her expression went blank.

"Wait… Nicole!"

The holo-Lynx reappeared.

"Aren't I supposed to be spying on Sonic?"

Nicole chuckled (unlike Knuckles).

"What are y'all spying on sugah-hog for!?"

Bunnie asked.

"What was my weight the last time I had you run diagnostics on me?"

Sally questioned, completely ignoring Bunnie's own confusion for the moment.

“...”

"One hundred forty five pounds."

She replied nonchalantly.

"I'm gonna kill him."

Sally rubbed her temples.

[b-and-entity]

B held up each pack of gummy bears, trying to see which one had the most white bears in it. It was a task that could take a while for them, but was absolutely necessary. In the end they found one with quite a few white bears and a good amount of red ones and put it in their cart, very satisfied. “Babe, do you want any snacks?” They turned around only to find themself in an empty aisle. They scanned it from one end to the other, but their lover was gone. A mother walked briskly past the end of the aisle, dragging her crying child along. Another person followed, almost jogging towards the exit of the store. B felt their stomach drop ever so slightly. They took a deep breath before pushing their cart towards the place they were all running from.

Several people hurried past them, one even grabbed their cart and warned them that some freak was disrupting the store. B simply excused themselves and headed towards the aisle said ‘freak’ was in. Aisle 15. The stench of blood and abandoned hospital instantly hit B as they turned the corner. Black liquid seeped down the sunken lines between floor tiles. B saw the tall black figure, long limbs contorted into an unsettling pose. Almost as if its spine had broken and its upper body was now hanging helplessly while its limbs tried to keep it standing. “You need to leave the store right now” an employee stood close to it, poking the entity with his mop “you are scaring the other customers”. The entity stared directly at the employee, moaning in response. The sound was horrid and inhuman, lathered in pain. It tried to bat away the mop with its long bony fingers. They twitched uncontrollably. The pasta and flour on the shelf shook as its fingers graced them. “You should probably leave, this one is completely out of control” another employee warned B as she tried to mop up the black liquid. “No, that’s my partner” B said gently, fixated on the scene in front of them. They let go of their cart and walked towards the creature. The black liquid made their shoes stick to the floor and every step became an effort. The creature let out another horrible moan as it swatted at the employee hitting it. Its flailing arms nearly hit B. The employee trying to scare off the figure looked at B with an angry expression. “Don’t get any closer, you’ll make it worse” “No. You’re making it worse, stop hitting it” B fought their way through the sticky liquid. They almost lost their balance when they lifted their foot and was pulled back down by the black ooze. The creature did another accidental swing at them, and this time B had no time to react. They fell to the floor, trying to cushion the fall with their hands. The black, sticky liquid was cold and covered their fingers. Finally the entity turned to look at B. Its eyes widened when it saw them on the floor, trying to get free off the liquid. The entity stumbled towards them, upper body flailing helplessly. It fell to its knees and wrapped its long, bony arms around B, screeching helplessly as it did so. B looked up at it to find piercing eyes staring them down. It was terrifying, yet B sensed it was out of concern. “I know you didn’t mean to, it’s okay” B put their hands on its cold cheeks “can you help me up?” The creature grabbed B, it accidentally scratched them, but helped them stand. “We should clean this mess huh?” B said softly. The creature swayed quietly next to them for a bit then moaned. B looked at its contorted back. It looked painful “lean on me for support” B said and let the large entity put its weight on them. It was heavy, cold and wet. They looked to the employees who looked on in terror “I’m sorry, we’ll leave now” B started walking. The weight of the creature slowed them, but the black liquid was less sticky now. It slowly flowed back into the entity’s body. With every step, the creature hanging on the back of B seemed to get lighter. It went from being cold and wet against to warm and dry again. “If you want, you can go to the car, I’ll pay for our groceries” B handed it the car keys and watched as long, yet human fingers took the keys out of their hand. “B… Hershey's, please?” “Hershey's chocolate? Okay" “Thank you” a gentle kiss was pressed to their cheek before their lover slouched out of the store, head down as to avoid people’s stares. B smiled a bit and made their way back to the snack aisle. They picked out three different chocolate bars. It didn’t take long before they were back in the car with their love whose face was buried in up-giving hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you” Black tears streamed past pale hands. “It’s okay, you didn’t mean to, are you okay?” “No” “That’s okay too, let’s go home, I’ll run you a bath” They placed a hand on their lover’s thigh and backed out of the parking lot.