#with more belts wrapped around his legs in various places

[im-no-jedi]

how is it that I find Hunter’s season 2 armor his most attractive look??

the man stripped down to his dadgum blacks in the first episode. his civvie outfit shows his bare arms. the og armor very much defines his ridiculously cinched waist.

but no, the man puts on more mismatched clothes and accessories and suddenly I’m like this:

[jjunieworld]

BLACK STOCKINGS ˒˒ 강태현

it's a very delicate game of cat and mouse that you and taehyun play. he pretends that he calls you into his office to assign you more paperwork, and you pretend that you don't test the limits of how short your skirt can be until he notices the lace of your thigh-high stockings peeking out.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ kang taehyun x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ smut, coworkers to ???, office au

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ boss!taehyun, assistant!reader, taehyun kindaa takes advantage of his position, unprotected sex (don’t!), creampie, office sex, a hint of mean dom!taehyun, some manhandling, name calling (slut)

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ saw an edit and i just had to make a little (or not so little) drabble inspired by it lmao… i hope you enjoy! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 1k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

a sly smile played on your face as your boss, mr. kang taehyun, called you to his office. you had walked into the building with a less than appropriate outfit—button down shirt unbuttoned just enough to show your cleavage and skirt short enough that if you were to bend over you would see the lace of your thigh-high black stockings.

you were purposefully trying to catch his attention, and it seemed like your efforts had worked. the two of you had been sleeping together for months now, and day by day you got more and more bolder. you grabbed the folder full of paperwork you were meant to give him and knocked on his office door. you heard a “come in!” from the other side of the door and pushed it open.

“close the door behind you and take a seat,” taehyun said without looking up from the papers he was writing on. you glanced around his office, particularly at the closed blinds on the glass that separated his office from the rest of the building, and walked towards his desk. you dropped the folder on top of the paper he was writing on and sat on the edge of his desk, your crossed legs making your skirt raise so that the lace was even more on display.

you leaned towards him slightly, same sly smile on your face, “you have a meeting in an hour with the shareholders.” taehyun’s eyes trailed up your figure slowly, stopping for a moment at your stockings and the sliver of your thighs that were exposed. when his eyes finally met yours, they were lust filled. a smirk crept onto his face and he laughed dryly.

“cancel it,” he stated and leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you. “tell them i’ll be busy.”

your eyebrows rose and you tutted, “they won’t be too happy about that…” from the look on taehyun’s face you could tell he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. he pushed his chair away from his desk and patted his lap. shaking your head and rolling your eyes, you got off of his desk, the “clack!” of your heels sounding through the room as you rounded it.

placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. taehyun’s hands came to rest on your ass and his dark hair fell into his eyes as he looked at you. “you think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” he asked you lowly, his jaw grinding slightly. you laughed at him.

“you know what? i do!” you smiled as you grinded down onto him, pretending that you were adjusting how you were sitting. his eyes squeezed shut for a moment and his grip on your ass tightened. “but you’re the boss, what do you think?” you added, voice coming close to his ear teasingly.

taehyun hummed, saying nothing as he stared at you for a minute. he then stood from his chair with you wrapped around his waist and pushed you down onto his desk. papers flew off his desk and various pens and books toppled to the ground as you grabbed onto the edge of the desk for support. taehyun’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands at the sides of your head to pin you to the desk.

you wrapped your legs around his waist tighter and snaked your arms around his neck to pull him closer. he moved to push your skirt up and to unbuckle his belt. “i think…” taehyun trailed off at the shell of your ear. he pushed your soaked panties to the side. “…that you’re a naughty slut,” he finished, his fingertips trailing up your thighs and hooking onto the lace of your stockings.

taehyun moved your legs so that they were now resting on his shoulders. you chuckled at him, the laugh lasting no more than a second until you were gasping and gripping his shirt from the way his large cock was stretching you out suddenly. taehyun held your hands above your head on his desk as he pushed in and out of you at a rapid pace.

shallow moans escaped your mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut from the pleasure. the desk shook underneath the two of you, no doubt knocking more things off. “what possessed you to come into the office like this?” taehyun asked lowly, pulling you off the desk. his lips met yours briefly before your back arched and you broke away from him.

“t-this,” you stuttered, looking at him and managing a grin. taehyun shook his head, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards, and pulled you off the desk. he spun you around and then bent you over it, pushing one of your legs up onto the desk. taehyun slid inside you, the new angle making you cry out.

soon, you felt the knot inside you get tighter and tighter until the rope snapped completely and creamy white spilled out of you. you whimpered, head falling into your arms weakly when taehyun’s pace didn’t slow in the slightest. you knew he wasn’t going to stop until he came too.

“shh,” taehyun cooed in your ear as he wrapped his big arms around your waist and pressed you back into him. his skin slapped lewdly against yours and wet squelching sounds filled his office. if you hadn’t just cum, it would’ve turned you on more. “shh, my pretty slut. you don’t want the rest of the building to hear you, do you?”

taehyun’s cock twitched inside you and just as quick you were being filled to the brim with ropes of cum. taehyun moaned loudly and pressed his forehead to your back, lazily stroking into you as he chased his high. the two of you were breathing heavily when he finally pulled his softened cock out of you.

you turned around, a proud smile creeping onto your face, and kissed him deeply. his mouth was stained pink from your red lipstick, which was no doubt smeared. you fixed your panties and skirt, your face scrunching up slightly.

taehyun’s hands found your hips and pulled you towards him, “i should make you walk around with my cum dripping down your thighs.” you just laughed at him.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @yeonjunsfox @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @jeonghaniehaee 

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ]

[likedovesinthewindd]

Hey mate

I was wondering if I could get a Hobie brown x reader where Hobie decided to visit his s/o at their apartment and finds them sing/dancing along to one of his band's songs

Everything else is up to you

Thanks mate

this is so cute

hobie brown x reader

Hobie wasn't the type of guy to announce his arrival. He enjoyed the impromptu visits to your apartment after he had finished his patrol, plus he loved scaring the shit out of you every now and then as well.

He used your fire escape to slip into your bedroom quietly. He was a little suprised to not find you there, considering you're already in bed this time of the night. He could hear you moving around in the kitchen, the open and shut of various cupboards and drawers and the sizzle of a pan.

He could smell it too, all the divine spices' aroma filling his nose and making his mouth water. He followed the smell, nose in the air like cartoon, till he found you in the kitchen, chopping up a bell pepper.

You hadn't noticed him yet, your back facing him as he quietly stood in the small hallway observing you. You were singing along to a song playing softly on your phone, belting along to some parts and then humming where you didn't know the words. He let out a quiet snicker at your singing, and at the way your body absent-mindedly moved along with the music.

The audio sounded awful though, scratchy and filled with a cacophony of background noise, like it was recorded on video rather than playing from whatever app. It was then that he realized what song it was; his band's song. It was a video you had taken at one of their performances, one of many you've attended.

At some point you peered at your phone, watching on the wobbly image of Hobie and his bandmates on stage. You couldn't help the smile appearing on your face, still singing along passionately. Towards the end of the video, when they finish their performance, you could be heard cheering loudly, screaming your lungs out excitedly.

Hobie couldn't help but laugh at your enthusiasm, and the sound prompted you to turn around quickly, the knife in a death grip and ready to swing if necessary. You calmed down considerably once you realized it was just Hobie, placing the knife on the tabletop and giving him a stern look.

"Why don't you ever use the door like a normal person?" you asked, not realizing how mean you really sounded. He only smirked, moving closer to you. "Nothing normal 'bout me," he said, as he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in his warmth and comforting scent. You hummed in agreement before pulling away.

"Why were you spying on me, bee?" you asked returning to the half cut bell pepper. "Couldn't interrupt your little performance now could I?" he replied smugly, his back against the table's edge as he watched you intently. "Didn't know you were such a big fan, babe," he continued, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, although you felt a bit embarrassed being caught.

"They're my favorite band," you said nodding your head to where your phone still displayed the paused video. "The guitarist is a real jerk though," you added, your snark being deflated with the small smile that appeared on your face. "I dunno," he shrugged, "I've heard he's pretty cool, quite a looker too." You hummed sarcastically, taking the chopped peppers and throwing them into the pan.

"Are you hungry?" you asked and he gave you a slow nod, moving over to the small living area and throwing himself onto the couch, his long legs having over the edge of the armrest.

"Food'll be ready in about half an hour," you said and his head rose from the couch pillow as you moved to pick up the extra pillows he dropped onto the floor. "More than enough time to give me another performance, yeah?" He barely got the sentence out before you threw the pillow at his stupidly smug and pretty face.

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

I'm Here

[Pairings]: FBI Agent!Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

[Summary]: Sam overworks herself at the agency and you're always there to help her.

[Warnings]: blood, corpses, swearing (?), my writing

A/N: Well, I don't know what this is. It's shit but I'll post it anyway. So sorry for not being active!

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

“Agent Carpenter! Watch out!”

Agent Reyes shouts out to Sam, his gun held high as he fires towards the person in the ski mask behind Sam. Sam spins around, her eyes wide and breath heavy as she aims and shoots the person. The person’s body hits the ground with a thud and Sam lets out a relieved breath. Agent Reyes or, as his friends call him, Mark runs up to Sam and breathes heavily.

“Shit. You okay?” Mark asks, putting his gun away under his belt. A little bit of blood has coated his brown blazer by a wound on his side.

“Yeah.” Sam breathes out as she pushes her hair out of her face, sweat droplets littering her forehead. 

Mark nods and looks around at the multiple corpses of the murderer’s sidekicks. “Great job, Partner” Mark chuckles dryly.

Sam rolls her eyes and puts her gun back in its holder before adjusting her vest and turning around to walk back to her car when she hears sirens. “Not yet, Reyes. We haven’t catched him yet.” Sam opens the door of her Grey and White Dodge Charger. She starts the car and rolls down the passenger side’s window to look at Mark who’s standing not far from the car with furrowed eyebrows. “I have somewhere I need to be. You’ll take care of the press.”

Mark scoffs when he sees Sam’s smirk “Oh come on!” He shouts but Sam just laughs and drives away.”Fuck You!” He groans as the police cars and various numbers of vans from different TV News channels  arrive at the scene.

— —

“Baby? Tara? You guys here?” Sam shouts out when she returns home, hanging her coat up before taking her combat boots off .

As soon as you hear your girlfriend's voice, you throw your uno cards at Tara and bolt out of the dining room, running to Sam and jumping into her arms.

“Oh thank god you’re okay!” You exclaim as Sam catches you and wraps her arms around you tightly.

Sam chuckles and buries her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. “Of course, baby.”

Tara quietly pads into the room and smiles at the two of you before slapping your back gently. “Hey, come on. She’s my sister who’s just looked death in the eye today, my turn.” She huffs.

Sam gently puts you down and places a chaste kiss on your lips before turning to Tara and wrapping her arms around her.. “Oh don’t exaggerate, Tar. I did not look death in the eye.” 

You giggle before turning around and walking to the dining room, resulting in both the sisters following after you. “I made dinner, ‘cause the twins were here earlier and they were complaining about how they can’t eat normal food in their dorms…” You explain, pointing to the pot of food on the stove.

Sam nods softly and Tara goes to gather the uno cards that are scattered around on the dining table so that Sam could have her dinner.. After you heat up her food, Sam sits down with you while Tara goes into the bathroom to take a shower after looking at the time and noticing that it’s past midnight. 

“So? Did you catch him?” You ask, sitting across from Sam while slurping on a cup of tea.

Sam huffs and swallows her food before answering. “Nope. Only more of his little ‘sidekicks’ showed up at the meeting spot which resulted in a bloodbath.” Sam sighs, her eyelids feeling heavy before she continues eating. “Food’s delicious by the way.” 

You nod and mutter a small ‘Thank you’ before standing up and putting your now empty cup away. Sam soon finishes her food and you wash the dishes while she goes showering, but not before confirming that Tara is already in her room. 

About thirty minutes later, you and Sam are laying in your shared bed, your head on her chest and leg thrown over her front as she strokes your hair.  Sam softly kisses the top of your head before closing her eyes and sighing.

“Goodnight”

You smile softly and your hand strokes her stomach under her pajama shirt. “Goodnight, Sammy” 

– –

The next morning -which for you is around 11 AM since it’s saturday- you wake up to a feeling of coldness and throw your arms around the bed, trying to look for Sam. You sigh and grunt when you realize that she’s already up. Opening your eyes, you hiss at the brightness of the sun shining through the window.  

Stupid Tara. What was she doing in your and Sam’s  room, anyway?

After your eyes adjust to the bright sun, you sit up and look at the clock on your bedside table.

10:47 AM

You sigh heavily before standing up and walking out of the room, walking into the kitchen still in your pajamas. You see Tara sitting on the counter, munching on a NERDS rope. You roll your eyes at her.

“Aren’t you supposed to eat lunch in like an hour?”

“Yeah. So?” Tara glances at you, her legs swinging back and forth.

You shake your head and look around. “Where’s Sam?” 

“At work”Tara answers, still chewing on the candy.

“What?! It’s Saturday!” You exclaim, eyebrows furrowed. Tara nods, finishes the candy before hopping off the counter.

“Yeah. But since it’s an important case, she has to go in and work on it” Tara says, standing in front of you. You raise your eyebrows, arms crossed. Tara puts her hands up, the paper of the candy still in her left hand. “Sam’s words. Not mine”

You sigh. “Man, I’m gonna be soooo bored” 

“Hey! What am I? A roach?” Tara exclaims, slightly offended by your statement.

“Well….”You trail off: “You sometimes act like one.”  You hear Tara grumble and she crosses her arms as well,  looking up at you slightly  with a deep scowl on her face.

“No I don’t”  

“Oh yes, you do!” You smirk, enjoying her annoyed state.

“No, I don’t!” She fires back.

“Whatever. At least I know you’re not self-aware.” You smile and turn around, walking away and into the living room.

Tara gasps and quickly stomps after you in a hurry. “Hey! That’s...you know that’s not true!” She stands in front of you when you sit down on the couch, now a frown on her face.

“Oh come on! You’re such a crybaby!” You whine out, now being the one looking up at her. She bites her lip and pouts.  You let out a loud sigh and stand up, gently pushing her before holding out your arms and looking at her softly.

“Forgive me?”

A wide grin spreads across Tara’s face and she hugs you tightly. You wrap your arms around her and shake your head, chuckling.

Suddenly, the front door  opens and Sam walks in with a grunt as she drops her bag on the floor. You and Tara look up and you let go of her.

“Sammy? What’s up? You’re home early?”

Sam looks up and her gaze immediately softens. “Yeah. Brad told me and Mark to go home. That we shouldn’t work on our rest day” She mumbles and you walk up to her and she hugs you tightly, her arms around  your lower back while yours are around her neck.

“And you shouldn’t. Baby, I know you really want to catch this guy but you can’t if you overwork yourself, okay? You need to rest” 

Sam sighs into your shoulder and nods. “I know.”

You rub her back softly. “Come on, I’ll give you a bath.” Sam sighs and nods.

Tara perks up and shouts after you as you and Sam walk into the bathroom after she placed a soft kiss on your lips. “I’ll make lunch!”

You reply with an ‘Okay’ before shutting the door behind you and Sam.

— —

Later, after everyone’s finished their lunch and Sam had her bath, Tara is already out, deciding to pay a visit to the twins for a small study-date. You and Sam are laying in your bed, her head on your stomach as your fingers thread through her softly, silky hair. Sam wraps her arms around your waist and buries her face into your stomach.

“God. I just..wanna catch him” She mumbles and the sensation makes you hold back a giggle.

“I know, baby. I know.” You whisper softly, your other hand rubbing her back gently. “And you will. I’d say there’s no need to rush it, ‘cause he’s killing people but….you still don’t have to do this to yourself.” Sam sighs and nods into your stomach softly, “You promise me you won’t do this again?” She nods. “Words, Sammy. I need words”

“I promise you”

[succcession]

Lunch Break

Kendall Roy x f!reader (smut) 800 word count

Summary: To the point office sex with soft dom!Kendall

“What’s on your mind?” Kendall questioned as his eyes studied you laying out various fast food items across his desk. 

Today was one of the rare moments when Kendall had asked you to bring him lunch, instead of just completely skipping it or having Jess throw him a protein bar. 

“Oh hmm nothing, just happy to spend time with you.” you hummed, returning a sweet smile to his gaze. You always cherished these little moments when kendall let you completely into his life. It was also nice when he needed you for something. He could probably have lunch delivered from anywhere on the planet, and yet… he chose you. 

“Come here” Kendall's face beamed instantly, flashing you his typically toothy grin as he gestured to his lap.

You swiftly moved from around his desk, easily settling into his lap with your ass on his thigh as he cradled you. Your hand reached up to stroke the rough stubble forming on his cheek with your thumb. He leaves a light kiss on your palm and whispers “missed you.” before attaching his lips to your chest leaving wet kisses across your collarbone.

“Babe you haven’t even eaten yet,” you exclaimed, reaching for a french fry from his desk. “You’re not gonna have any time” you pout, placing the fry in his mouth.

“You’re probably right.” Kendall says sternly, slowly standing and easing you gently from his lap back onto your feet. 

“But you can’t just walk in here. Sit in my lap. And not expect to get fucked” 

His hands waist no time in reaching for your hips. His tight grip turning you around and his fingers working to push your skirt up around your waist, exposing your ass. You gasp as the cold air and rough feel of his fingers brushing against your thong, while he spreads your thighs. The empty space between your legs, warm, already yearning to be filled. His hands smoothed over your ass, grabbing a handful and massaging roughly, before leaving a light slap.  

“Ken!” you yelp as his hand runs over the red flesh.

“Shhh..” he is hushing as he presses his chest against your back, grinding his covered bulge into your ass. “Don’t want anyone to hear.” 

Your waist is quickly bent over his desk as he uses his weight to push you forward. The clinking sound of his belt and his hot breath hitting your ear is more than enough to have your pussy dripping and Kendall can instantly tell when he rubs the head of his cock along your slick folds. 

“Always so fucking wet for me.” He groaned out. Shuffling his feet between yours to spread your legs further for him. You stifled the loud moans desperate to leave your mouth. Letting out a breathy “just for you”. You could hear the pornographic sounds of his dick spreading your wetness, while his tip continued teasing your slit.  

Kendall breathed out a soft “love you” as he finally pushed himself into you. He always had a habit of letting his emotional side slip, but those simple words caused you to completely relax into him. Pushing your ass back and further onto his cock, stopping briefly as he bottomed out. He thrust his hips into your ass as his hands held tightly to your hips, forcing you to feel every inch of him inside your walls as his head twitched at your cervix. His slow yet deep pace leaving you breathless and searching for something to grasp as the burning sensation of stretching for his large cock turned to pure pleasure. He quickly moved his arms to wrap his hands around your fingers, placing them together behind your back. The loss of control forcing you to fully submit to his brutal thrusts. 

“Oh god, oh fuck, feels so good” you whimper as his swollen balls slapping against your skin, stimulating your pussy even more. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself tightening around his cock, feeling like you could cum at any second. “I’m so close Ken, I’m gonna.”

“Cum baby, cum for me” he mewls in your ear maintaining his pace, as his hands finally leave yours. One moving to rub rough circles on your clit, while the other grips your thigh tightly. Making sure your legs stay open wide for him as your pleasure builds and they begin to shake. 

Your orgasm floods through your body as your pussy pulses around Kendall. Despite your efforts to suppress your moans, loud yelps leave your lips as your repeat “fuck” unable to form any other thoughts from the cock high buzzing in your brain. 

“Good girl, it's okay, I got you baby” he cooed, talking you through your orgasm.

You can feel your overstimulated pussy attempting to push Kendalls cock out along with more wetness. However, he continues fucking into you pushing his body against you as close as he can, chasing his own high. You felt your knees beginning buckle and your brain going numb. The sharp desk meeting your hips as you quivered beneath him.

"You can take. Just a little more." His rough groans switching to gentle whimpers as his cock twitched against your walls, releasing his cum deeply inside. His weight collapsed onto you, your cheek met with the cold wood of the desk as you both breathed out your high. 

“Promise to bring me lunch more often?”

[ilguna]

Aubade - Chapter Five (f.o)

summary: you'll never truly be free from the Capitol.

warnings; swearing, murder, gore, death, mention of suicide, puke, WRIST HARM.

wc; 20.7k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Nonexistent.

A rough hand grabs your wrist, pulling you into their body. You don’t struggle, you can’t even if you wanted to. There’s no feeling in your legs, or your arms for that matter. And for fuck’s sake, your eyes are stinging. It all hurts. Is this what it feels like to die?

The air wraps its warm hands around your throat, and squeezes the water out of you the second that it touches your face. Your eyes snap open, hands flying up to grip onto the shoulder of the person that saved you, choking on the water. It can’t come out fast enough, you’re gagging, harshly coughing because your body’s telling you to.

Finnick pulls you onto the nearest spoke, blocking the sun from your face, leaning over, patting your back, rubbing, “Breathe, honey.”

You can’t, the saltwater’s clogging your throat, which is triggering the gagging. You barely have time to turn your head away before you’re puking up today’s lunch all over the rocks. It’s all water and bread, milky white in color like the poison that fled your skin this morning. You squeeze your eyes shut, full of tears, feeling the snot and vomit come out of your nose.

Your hands are in fists, hitting the area beside you as a distraction from the pain all over your head. Nose, throat, temple. You cough out chunks of soggy bread, getting a breath in when you’re brought into another round. This time much worse from the last, your throat is raw. Finnick sweeps your dripping ponytail out of your face, holding onto your other hand tightly.

And then, it’s not vomit that you’re choking on anymore, it’s your own tears. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, sobbing over the rock. They’re dead. Cashmere and Gloss are dead. You had to kill them because it’s your job to protect the others. If you didn’t, then any one of your allies could be dead right now, more than Wiress.

Does it matter? 

This isn’t right, this isn’t fucking right. 

You sit up, letting go of Finnick’s hand to dig your nails into your thighs. Your eyes are closed, stinging because of the next onslaught of tears that’re trying to force their way out. You tilt your head up, taking deep breaths. You can’t cry, not now. You told yourself that you wouldn’t anymore. Not while you’re still here.

“I’m okay.” You breathe, looking at Finnick, “Did we lose anyone else?”

“No, only Wiress.” He moves a stray hair off your face, “Can you stand?”

“Yeah.” 

He gets to his feet first, and then helps you to yours. There’s a noticeable limp when he walks, but he’s got an arm around your back, holding you to his side. The two of you join the others back at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Everyone but Peeta’s soaking wet again, Beetee’s snorting water out of his nose. The wire that Wiress had been cleaning for him, now sits in his lap.

“Let me clean that for you,” You guide Finnick to a box, “Get it wrapped up. Or if our mentor’s are feeling generous, they’ll send us a tube of healing cream.”

Beetee pulls out a little bit of the wire, spinning it between his fingers. A quiet musical chime makes you turn away. The sponsor gift is coming down slow enough for you to grab it out of the air, pulling off the parachute part to give to Katniss for her belt. She’s been securing her ointment and spile with both vines and the last sponsor gift you received.

You crouch in front of Finnick, he extends his leg for you to have better access, face twisted in pain. You squeeze out a little bit of the cream, gently applying it to the cut on his thigh. The knife went a little deep, but it’s not too bad. Only the outer parts of the wound really need the healing cream.

“It’s ice cold.” Finnick breathes, “Feels nice.”

“I’ll find something to wrap it with.” You touch his shoulder, moving inside the cornucopia. The weapons are dangerously sticking out from various places, most boxes must’ve flown out when the rock started spinning.

Either way, you crack open several boxes, slamming them down and opening them up. There’s a lot of useless shit inside, like sleeping bags, the type that hold the body heat inside. You have plenty of warmth in here, already.

You restock the knives in your belt, all varying in sizes. You could care less, anymore. Your good knives are gone. The ones stuck in the cornucopia walls are going to break if you yank on the hilt. You manage to find one first aid kit, and there’s still blue bandaging inside.

“Anyone know where my sword went?” You ask, coming out.

“It’s right here.” Finnick points, your sword’s directly on top of his trident. He must’ve held onto both when the cornucopia started moving.

You wrap his leg, and then get to your feet, sword in hand. You turn to everyone else, leaning on your weapon.

Johanna nods, “Let’s get off this stinking island.”

Katniss helps Beetee to his feet, once he thinks he’s good to go. He wasn’t the only one that was thrown when the cornucopia started spinning. From what you’ve gathered, Katniss retrieved the wire from Wiress’ body, Johanna saved Beetee, and Finnick went for you. Peeta had to stay put on the island, since he’s the only one that doesn’t know how to swim.

It’s decided that you guys will hang out in the twelve o’clock section of the beach because the lightning doesn’t come out that far normally. It’ll keep you guys away from any other dangers that the jungle has, too. Since you’re not sure on what the other half of the arena sections hold just yet.

Peeta, Johanna and Finnick start in different directions of where they think twelve is.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks, “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick reasons, “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss says.

“I think Katniss’ point is, knowing the time doesn’t mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ringle of the jungle as well.” Beetee says.

Katniss’ eyebrows twitch together for a moment, and then she nods, “Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve.”

“There’s no way we’re going to figure this one out.” You say, shaking your head, “The jungle all looks the same, it’s been done on purpose.”

They don’t believe you at first, circling the cornucopia, staring at each section of the jungle. You figured it out when you rose from the metal plate, figuring out where you were. There’s one tall tree in each section, only you didn’t think it was important at the time. So, that tree that the lightning likes to repeatedly strike, is everywhere.

“Well, maybe we should just follow Enobaria and Brutus.” Johanna suggests, you all switch to search for those instead, but there are no tracks. The rock spokes are wet from the water being kicked up, all footprints have been washed away.

“I should have never mentioned the clock,” Katniss sighs, “Now they’d taken that advantage away as well.”

“Only temporarily. At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.” Beetee says.

“It doesn’t matter,” Johanna flicks her hair out of her face, “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless.” She shakes her head, “Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You make a face, because it’s honestly a mystery. Johanna impatiently starts walking down one of the spokes, not waiting any longer. You all meet again on the beach, and carefully look into the jungle to see if you can decipher what might be inside.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta shrugs, “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick interjects.

“I’ll at least watch your back.”

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says, “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up, yanking a large leaf, roughly the same size as the last one, off a tree and hands it to him.

“I’ll go with them.” You offer, Finnick nods his head. 

Katniss doesn’t object, if she wants to. Finnick leads the way into the jungle, trident ready in his hand for a fight. You make sure Katniss isn’t following too closely behind you, and then you rest the sword on your shoulder. After walking about fifteen yards into the jungle, Finnick picks a tree, and begins to work his knife into the bark to create a decent hole.

You were hoping that there’d be some conversation with these two, but neither of them speak. You stare off into the jungle, wondering if Enobaria and Brutus are out here, watching the three of you drill into a tree. Did any of them get a sponsor gift containing water? They looked pretty healthy when you saw them.

And now two of them are dead. Three of your friends so far are gone, two by your hand. Cecelia, Gloss and Cashmere. Can you even consider Enobaria a friend after that attack at the cornucopia? That knife looked like it was meant for damage against Finnick, he just managed to get out of the way before then.

Were you even friends? All of you together hanging out, them helping you out of that endless pit in your mind. Three friends. Except for the fact that they tried to kill you. No friends. But they didn’t kill you, Gloss killed Wiress. Brutus wanted Peeta. You’re the enemy here, killing them without thinking. You just threw your knives. Would they have spared you? Cashmere and Gloss probably would’ve. No friends. You killed your friends. Does Enobaria even count anymore?

No, you don’t think so. You initially threw two knives at her and Brutus, the only reason they’re not dead is because of the cornucopia. And if you had one more knife, you think you could’ve killed them on the spoke. You’re the backstabber here. Once again, (Y/n) Gallows turns out to be the traitor, turning against her friends. All they wanted was Katniss and Peeta.

It’s not that simple. They couldn’t have Katniss and Peeta, not even if they begged. You’re supposed to be protecting them. You had to kill Cashmere and Gloss. If it were a choice, you would’ve hesitated. You can’t take chances in here, you know this. Ten years, they’d been your friends, and you didn’t try to advocate for their lives first.

“I’m going to check out the jungle and then head back to the beach.” You shake your head, walking away, “I want to make sure that the careers aren’t in here.”

“We’ll meet you at the beach.” Finnick says.

You wander diagonally, away from them and the tree. A part of you is hoping that Enobaria and Brutus will actually show up, looking for another fight. You wouldn’t put it past them, they hardly spilt blood last time, they took one person out. It’s six against two now, as if that actually matters to them. The odds have always favored the main careers.

They’re going to rest first, make sure that they’re at their best. Then they’ll restock what they can from the jungle, because they’re not going to go for the same move twice. They won’t attack from the jungle, they know that you’ll be on edge the most. They saw your accuracy in the Training Center, they don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

Enobaria’s going to want to do it in the dark, have some concealment. It’s all about strategy, and staying one step ahead of them. It’s what you would do, attack when you can hardly see. Who wants to risk a fire? It’s like waving a white flag in the air, surrendering to avoid a fight.

It’s not going to happen.

When it’s clear that there’s no careers camping nearby, you turn to head back to the beach where camp had been made. You fix the sword on your shoulder again, humming to yourself on the walk back.

You reach the beach, and find that the area the camp’s supposed to be is vacant. Still, you walk out of the trees, creeping to see if your allies are still nearby. They are, just hidden by the trees and bushes that border between the sand and the grass. They’re not all here, you’re missing Katniss and Finnick. And the ones who are here, are standing on the treeline, facing toward the jungle.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, Johanna’s hand flies to her ax, jumping because of your voice. 

“Oh, good, you’re out here too.”

“What do you mean?” You’re walking closer, trying to see what they’re watching.

Beetee glances, “The next hour’s begun, you just barely missed it.”

You come up behind Johanna and Peeta, and you’re able to see that Katniss and Finnick are on the other side. Finnick’s nose is gushing blood, like he’s been punched. You start forward, wanting to help, but Peeta stops you.

“There’s a wall, you can’t see it.” He places his hand against it, “Finnick ran into it.”

You press into it, stomach churning as you watch Finnick’s face contort, eyes missing you each time he looks around. Katniss runs her hand along the wall, trying to find a gap, but gives up after a few feet, shaking her head. Peeta puts his hand up, Katniss does the same on the other side. When he starts to speak, trying to tell her to hang on, her face doesn’t change. She doesn’t look like she’s registering what he’s saying.

“Can they hear us?” You ask, walking to the left, where Finnick sat down on the ground, hands clamped over his ears, eyes shut. His whole body’s rigid, prepared for the worst, for an attack. From what?

You wave to get Katniss’ attention, her eyes find you. You point your finger at Finnick, and motion for her to bring him over. You want him to see you. There’s this gross feeling in your stomach that’s telling you that you’re a part of this somehow. He needs to see that you’re out here, safe. 

Katniss nods, leaving the wall to go over to Finnick. She crouches down, shaking his knee. He doesn’t move for a second, but she’s saying something to him. You move to the side a little more, trying to get out of her blocked path. Finally, Finnick loosens one of his hands long enough to hear what she says.

His head lifts, looking directly at you. You drop to your knees, watching him crawl toward you, relieved.

“I’m here,” You say, “I’m here, Finn, I’ll be right here.”

Finnick must understand what you’re saying, better than Peeta to Katniss, because he nods. There’s tears building in his eyes, he presses his forehead against the wall, clamping his hands over his ears again, eyes closing again. You scoot closer, almost wishing you were inside with him. Whatever it is, it must be bad because he’s crying.

You figure it’s something to do with birds, because Katniss is shooting arrow after arrow into the trees, taking down black birds. She doesn’t stop, not until she’s completely unloaded her quiver, and decides that she won’t collect the arrows again. She sits next to Finnick, also placing her hands over her ears.

“Do you have any clue what’s happening in there?” You ask, looking at Peeta.

“I heard Primrose, her sister, scream before we were shut out. Weren’t you with them?” Peeta asks.

“I left to survey the jungle. I didn’t hear anything.”  You shake your head, trying to avoid the career topic. You’re not ready to bring that up again. You just went over it a couple minutes ago.

His face twists, “You went deeper in?”

“No, I went into the next wedge.” You point past him, “You saw me come from that direction.”

“Why?” He asks.

You chew the inside of your cheek, that didn’t last long, “I was making sure that the careers weren’t stalking.” 

Peeta doesn’t look entirely convinced.

You squint at him, waiting for him to say what’s on his mind. You know what he’s implying, that you left your injured husband and his precious girlfriend in the wedge when you knew that it was about to begin. Except, you guys had no clue what hour you were walking into, it was Johanna that chose this path?

For fuck’s sake, you don’t know what time it is right now.

You get to your feet, “Is there something else you’d like to say?”

Two pairs of eyes land on you, it must be your tone.

Peeta turns to you fully, “Well, I heard it all the way out here, it doesn’t make sense how you didn’t. Why’d you even offer to go inside if you were just going to leave them?”

“Were you not present for the past hour?” You start, “Did you miss how four careers snuck up on seven of us? Are you really so oblivious to think that they wouldn’t do it again? Especially when we’re split up?” You shake your head at Peeta, “Their scores are eleven, Peeta. Both of them. Brutus is twice your size, Enobaria’s ten times more aggressive.

“And don’t forget that you and Katniss scored twelve’s. You are supposedly the biggest threat here.” You emphasize. What about this doesn’t he understand? It’s clear, it’s been clear to you this entire time. This can’t be the same boy who dropped the baby line and single handedly caused Capitol uproar, “Of course, they want to kill Finnick, Johanna, Beetee and I, but they want you more.

“Use your fucking head.” You snap, moving to sit in front of Finnick again.

Peeta doesn’t say anything else, thinking over what you’ve said. Finnick doesn’t move from how he’s sitting, not even to readjust his stance. The birds are mostly perched on branches, but the more time goes on, they grow impatient and violent. Hurling themselves out of trees, beaks aimed to inflict pain.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t bat them away.

Johanna goes from standing behind you and Peeta, observing the situation, to guarding the area. She knows that you’re right, she knows your past as well as everyone else here does. You’re a career, that was the path that you chose. And it still would be your path now, if it weren’t for Haymitch.

From what you gather, there’s not much else going on out there. She tells you that there aren’t signs of the careers on the beach or in the treeline. When you ask if they think that the careers have figured out the clock theory, it sparks a discussion between you all. While you’d like to think that they’re that smart, they probably haven’t noticed the patterns, or they’re going to figure it out soon enough. 

You need to use Katniss’ discovery as an advantage.

You have half the clock figured out, if you guys could lure them into one of the wedges during the most dangerous time, then the job would be done for you. The blood rain, fog, monkey’s. Any of that could be useful against them. The problem is that it would require you guys to get back into those sections, when you’d barely made it out the times before.

Beetee’s got to have something figured out by now.

You’re not the only person in this alliance that has an idea of what’s going on. You’re forgetting that you’ve all been recruited for different reasons. Beetee’s going to think of a way to get around the careers, you’ll make sure that it goes smoothly, Johanna and Finnick will execute it. Katniss and Peeta are just hiccups that you have to work around, which is easy.

The wall finally breaks, Finnick falls forward into your chest, cushioning his fall. 

You wrap your arms around his back, hugging him tightly. He’s pulling your body flush against his, moving so that his forehead is on the crook of your neck. He’s taking deep breaths, face scrunched.

“I’ve got you,” You breathe, resting your cheek on the top of his head, “I’m not leaving you, Finnick.”

“I love you.” He whispers on your skin, “I thought it was you. I thought the careers were attacking. It sounded so real.”

You comb the hair out of your face, “It’s not, though. You know this, I’m okay.”

“I heard Alyssum,” He shakes his head, “Your brothers, Mags… They got the sound from somewhere.”

“How can you be certain?” You ask, looking over to see Johanna. She’s checking in on you and Finnick. Peeta scooped up Katniss as soon as he had the chance and brought her to the beach.

The hour’s over, though. There’s no reason to leave now, as far as you’re concerned, it’s fairly safe here. There are no more birds, only the dead ones that Katniss shot. Her arrows are still sticking out of their small bodies, scattered throughout the grass and bushes. Those will be fun to find later.

Finnick doesn’t answer your question, he does lift his head to look into your eyes. You cup his jaw, running a thumb over his cheek before you lean in. He meets you halfway, eager to press his lips against yours. They’re soft, warm, inviting. You pull away first, but he chases you for another.

“Are you ready to head for the beach?” You whisper, slicking his hair back.

“Yeah.” He sighs, backing off of you, but not before stealing a kiss. He stands, pulling the trident up with him, and then holds his hand out for you. He doesn’t let go on the way to the beach.

Peeta seems to have just convinced Katniss to remove her hands from her ears, because she’s got this dead expression on her face, “You didn’t hear them.”

“I heard Prim. Right at the beginning. But it wasn’t her,” he says, “It was a jabberjay.”

“It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it.”

“No, that’s what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer’s eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren’t Glimmer’s eyes. And that wasn’t Prim’s voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying.” Peeta explains.

Katniss is sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around her to comfort her. 

“No, they were torturing her. She’s probably dead.” Katniss deadpans.

“Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?”

“Seven more of us die.” Her tone is humorless.

“No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the games?” He guides her chin up so that she has to look at him, “What happens? At the final eight?”

Katniss doesn’t answer right away this time. You and Finnick take a seat in the sand, thighs touching from how close he insists the two of you sit. You don’t mind being next to him like this. It couldn’t have been easy, hearing you like that. You haven’t had a nightmare in years that would’ve brought on screaming. It probably freaked him out.

“At the final eight?” Katniss echos, “They interview your family and friends back home.”

“That’s right. They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?”

“No?”

“No. That’s how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?”

She still has this unsure look on her face, not wanting to believe him. You’re sure that the Gamemakers pull tricks like this all the time in arena’s. Maybe not the same exact way, since it’s no fun repeating the same thing over and over. Just in a different form, new enough for the Capitol citizens to ignore the repetition.

“First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he lists, “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the games. Not them.”

“You really believe that?”

“I really do,” Peeta says.

Katniss looks over to you and Finnick, “Do you believe it, Finnick?”

“It could be true. I don’t know,” he says, even though the answer’s pretty clear. You weren’t there in the jungle, you didn’t scream his name. It was a jabberjay, a ploy for the Gamemakers. It’s possible, “Could they do that, beetee? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

“Oh, yes. It’s not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school.” Beetee says.

“See?” You murmur to him, leaning your head against his shoulder, “Our family’s fine. Safe at home.” You squeeze his hand, he does the same back.

“Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’ little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands.” The corners of Johanna’s mouth are twitching, “Don’t want that, do they?” And then she throws her head back, shouting, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She then picks out a few deep shells from the sand, “I’m getting water.”

Katniss reaches out, grabbing her hand before she’s out of reach, “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love,” She says, shaking her hand free. She disappears into the jungle, toward the forgotten spile, and comes back with a shell of water that she gives to Katniss.

“I’m going to clear my head.” Finnick says.

“Do you want me to come with?” You ask.

He nods, you let him go first while you dust the sand off. He wanders into the water, you should’ve guessed. He has a habit of doing this back home, too. If the boarding school is too stressful or he just wants to be out of the house. He’ll go to the beach and sit there for hours on end, staring at the ocean, humming to himself.

Finnick splashes the water onto his face, cleaning off the dried blood. It’s hardly there anymore, after the birds. He forces his hair out of his face, “I’m ready to be dry again.”

“Tell me about it.” You say, hugging him from behind, “What I’d give for a hairdryer.” 

Finnick sputters out a laugh, “Me too. I don’t think I’ll be swimming for a long time after this.”

You smile, “Should we reapply the healing stuff to your thigh? Does it feel okay?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t hurt right now, I think we should save it, in case one of us gets hurt.”

“Let me know, then.” You kiss the back of his shoulder, letting go of him.

You wander deeper into the saltwater, pulling the hair tie out. You dive in, purposely getting your hair wet again so that the water will drip down the back of your neck. It’s a little hard to get it smooth enough to satisfy you, but you give up eventually, anyway. The more you comb your fingers through, the more hair that falls out because of the fog.

A few of the scabs have peeled all the way off, already. The only evidence that it was there are the odd shaped scars. You run a hand over the rest of your skin, face twisted.

If all goes according to plan, there won’t be a skin polish from the Capitol this time. You’ll be sent directly to District Thirteen—if it exists. That’s still a fairytale to you too, but if Haymitch believes it’s true, you won’t argue about it. You’ll be stuck with these fog scars, staring at them for the rest of your life, unless the Capitol will still be functioning after this inevitable rebellion.

A rebellion, one that you’re participating in. If you’d told yourself ten years ago that winning would eventually lead you here, inside of another arena to take down the Hunger Games forever, you’d think you’re delusional. It’s not a bad movement, though. That’s why you couldn’t say no to Haymitch.

It’s a sacrifice, not a small one by any means. Your lives are on the line. However, if that means that you’ll be able to have kids with Finnick and not have to worry about them being sent into the Hunger Games, you’ll take all the chances. You’d line up the shots straight and take them one by one. You’ll never have to see Alyssum go through the same pain you did, ever.

And that’s a cause you’d give your life for.

A cannon blast makes you look up, trying to figure out where the hovercraft is going to appear. Finnick starts to the beach, joining the circle that’s forming at the moment. You come up behind him, slipping your arm underneath his and leaning into his shoulder.

The hovercraft hovers over the six to seven zone, the claw dropping to collect the body. Except, it drops four more times, collecting the pieces of a single body, torn apart by some monster. There’s no way to tell who it was that just died, all you know is that you’re not going to be caught in that section.

Peeta hadn’t drawn the second map like Johanna had wanted him to, because of the jabberjays. So, she grabs him a new leaf, and the rest of you gather around to watch him draw the new one. He writes ‘JJ’ for the jabberjays in the four to five sector, and writes ‘beast’ in six. You now know what seven of the hours bring, five of them still a mystery. 

Finnick weaves another water basket, so Peeta goes to collect water. You sit by on the shore, watching as Finnick fishes with his spear and Katniss dives to clear her skin like you did. She comes to sit nearby, applying the fog ointment on her body again. The fish begin to pile, so Katniss takes on the responsibility of cleaning them. 

The sunset is gorgeous across the sky, you weren’t able to properly appreciate it last night, but now that you’ve got time to relax, you watch the colors take over the sky. Pink, orange and yellow hues spread throughout the sky. Back home, you’d say that it’s a perfect way to wrap up a good day, but it hasn’t been a good day by any means.

Just goes to show that sometimes the ugliest days can have the prettiest endings.

The moon rises on the other side of the arena, taking the dark sky with it. The sun has fallen below the horizon, taking the colors with it. You stand, stretching your arms above your head. You suppose you could’ve been weaving mats this entire time to get you guys something to sleep on, but you weren’t looking to busy your hands.

Finnick stops fishing, turning to see what Katniss has managed to do. The fish have been thoroughly cleaned, and since starting a fire is out of the question, the fish will have to be eaten raw tonight. You can already feel your stomach doing somersaults, trying to get out of it.

Or maybe you’re just anxious that this will cause another round of vomit in the jungle, which will be the fourth time in two days. It’s too many, in such a condensed time. You’d say that you’re sick, caught a bug before you came inside, except you haven’t come across anyone sick in months. 

You take a seat in the sand, watching as everyone comes together. Your stomach is empty, there’s nothing inside, yet the nausea is overwhelming. You’re hoping it’s because you’re hungry, because you can’t go several days without food, it’s just not reasonable.

Finnick sits next to you in the sand, eyeing you, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You breathe, taking in a deep breath and holding it.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the Capitol anthem is interrupting him, signaling the last event for the night. The Fallen. All you can handle is the Capitol seal, and then you’re staring at the sand. You can picture Cashmere’s face in the sky, the picture they took of her for it.

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, harder and harder until you’re seeing the black and white shapes. It’s impossible not to picture the way she looked at her brother, reaching up to touch the knife in her heart. You killed her. And you killed Gloss, instantly dead because of the head trauma.

Wiress. He killed Wiress, you had to. It wasn’t a choice. You couldn’t let him—them—get to your allies. If Katniss or Peeta get hurt during this arena, then you’re screwed. You need both of them to be okay. Which means you have to make sacrifices. You have to make decisions you wouldn’t imagine yourself making. You went through this already, you’re okay.

Cashmere and Gloss would understand, they’d have to. All you have to do is forget that look of betrayal in her eyes. She wasn’t going to kill you. She never would’ve gone after you. They wanted Katniss and Peeta, and you knew that. It wasn’t a choice to kill them. It was forced on you. You had to act.

You let out a shaky breath, Finnick rubs up and down your back, “It’s the man from Ten who died earlier, (Y/n).”

The anthem finally finishes, but you don’t pull your hands away immediately.

“They’re really burning through us,” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us Six and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff,” Peeta doesn’t hesitate.

Eight dead yesterday, seven dead today, nine left in the arena.

The tinkling sound of a sponsor gift finally convinces you to lift your head. It takes a moment for the world to return to normal color and the shapes to fade. By then, Peeta’s caught the parachute, bringing it to the middle of the group.

“These are from your district, right, Beetee?” Peeta asks.

They’re squared shaped, and bite-sized, not much of a meal.

“Yes, from District Three,” Beetee confirms. “How many are there?”

Finnick counts, making sure to place them into a neat pile when he’s done turning them over in his hand, “Twenty-four.”

“An even two dozen, then?” Beetee asks.

“Twenty-four on the nose.” Finnick says, “How should we divide them?”

This is different from last time—District Four, one piece of bread to share. That would’ve been day four, one in the morning. With this, it’s tomorrow night, at midnight. Which means that you guys have to be careful about being on time. Haymitch will confirm later on, and just like that, you’ll be out of the arena. Hopefully without any hiccups.

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, causing Katniss to let out a laugh.

The bread is promptly divided, with the leftover six being folded back up into the parachute for tomorrow. You ignore the fish in front of you, biting into the first roll of bread. It’s warm, soft and buttery. They have bread like this at the bakery at home, but it’s nothing compared to what you’re eating now.

Finnick catches on to your avoidance, and piles his three rolls on top of yours. You give him a look, “Take one back.”

“If you’re not going to eat the fish, then you’re going to have my bread.” He says, shaking his head, “I don’t need it.”

You break one in half, holding it out to him without looking. You use this against him all the time, and he hates it. Finnick’s not stubborn often, and when he is, he chooses the worst moments to be. The only way you can get him to cave is when you also put your foot down, don’t talk to him, and force him to take whatever it is.

When he doesn’t take it right away, and you can feel it growing cold in your fingers, you sigh through your nose, “Finnick, it’s getting cold. Eat it or I’ll break your fucking nose.”

He snatches it from you, clearly not happy. However, judging by the look on his face, and his hum, it’s still good. You chew on the bread, resting your head on his shoulder, drinking the warm water. That’s another thing you can’t wait to get away from, warm water. The last time you had a cold glass of water was two days ago, but it feels so far away now.

Tomorrow, after midnight, you’ll get your water. 

You guys gather your belongings before the ten o’clock wave comes, standing in the jungle in the meantime. You lean against a tree, digging the tip of your sword into the ground. Finnick stands close, hip to hip with you, talking to Johanna about meaningless stuff.

The wave finally comes, there is no scream, no cannon. Wherever the careers are hiding must be good if they’re avoiding you guys all together. Maybe there is a possibility that they figured the clock scheme out, or eavesdropped long enough to hear Peeta say it. 

The water comes just below your knees before receding to the cornucopia, settling down. The six of you return to the damp beach, which is going to be miserable to sleep in. The sand won’t stick to your skin anymore, but that’s not the problem. It’s the fact that it’s going to dry in your hair.

As you’re creating the bed that you and Finnick will lay in, the chorus of clicking interrupts Johanna’s conversation. You all pause long enough to listen, you come to the conclusion that it’s some bug with pinchers. There’s no other idea that comes to mind. It’s in the eleven wedge, meaning the lightning is only an hour away. Then you’ll have another twenty-four hours to survive before the rescue.

Please, let this be over soon.

Katniss and Peeta volunteer to take watch tonight, since neither you or Johanna have gotten much sleep these past couple nights. You don’t argue, even though you could use a good couple of hours to yourself, again. Although, sleep might even be better, blocking out the thoughts entirely.

Finnick lays down first, and despite the fact that the two of you are obviously warm, he extends one arm out for you. You curl up beside him, getting close enough to satisfy him. You place a hand on his chest, and close your eyes, feeling it rise and fall below your fingertips.

He falls asleep first, he almost always does. His breathing slows, and his body relaxes. You feel better knowing that he’s sleeping right, as soundly as his body will allow. This lets you breathe out, cuddling up closer to him, drowsiness finally dawning on you. It’s only a few hours.

You’re safe.

—

It’s early when you wake, sun barely rising in the sky. It’s not the light that did it, though. It’s the overwhelming urge to pee that does it to you. You scrunch your face, squinting to see your surroundings. Finnick’s not where he was last night, so you roll over to look behind you.

There he is, guarding with Peeta. They’re both sitting in the sand, facing two different directions. Finnick’s staring into the jungle, glancing at you when you move. Peeta’s toward the water, resting his chin on his hand. Finnick has to look at you again to realize you’re awake.

You sit up in the sand, feeling the ache in your entire body, your lower back louder than the rest. You stretch your arms above your head, a yawn forcing its way out. You pull the ponytail out, scratching your scalp before pulling it back up. They don’t say anything about you being awake, until you’re on your feet, pulling the sword into your hand.

“Where are you going?” Finnick asks, looking you up and down.

“I’m gonna pee,” You murmur, walking around Peeta, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Do you want me to come with?”

“To watch?” You yawn, “No, I’m fine.”

You wander down the beach, swinging the sword around in a circle. You then place the blade on your shoulder, turning into the jungle when you’re sure that you’ve put enough distance between you and the camp. You continue going, trying to find a good and hidden spot.

When you finally find it, you take your time taking off the belt, leaving the sword in sight. You disappear into the bush, not liking the way it prickles your skin. It’s got the best coverage, though, so you pee and step out. The cramps are gone, you pull the belt back on, counting to make sure all the knives are there.

You crouch, bringing the sword into your hand.

A branch snaps. Your eyes dart up, searching the surrounding area. You picked a good spot, well hidden by the trees, bushes and vines. There are even rocks nearby that conceal the area. 

So, you feel your heart jump at first when you see Peeta in front of you. It took you a good five minutes to find this area, and he found you without a problem. He doesn’t even know how to track, which means you left an obvious path behind that he could follow.

“Finnick worried about me?” You muse, double-checking to make sure you didn’t miscount, “I was about to head back.”

“No.” He says, voice odd.

Your face twists as you look back up at him, “Then…”

The words die in your throat, as you finally take a good look at him. Peeta’s covered in blood, his fair skin is stained red, spatters across his face. On his cheeks, chin, forehead, around the eyes. He looks like he’s just brutally murdered someone, almost how he looked after the monkey mutt attack.

And he has Johanna’s ax in his white-knuckled fist, tense. It’s bloodied on the blade, blood still dripping off. The way he’s holding it is awkward, he’s clearly never held an ax before in his life. You can already think of how to correct the positioning, but there’s a pulling feeling in your chest, telling you not to.

This is wrong.

Peeta’s got a wide stance, watching your every move. He’s expecting you to run. And you’re not sure from what. Are the careers nearby? Is that why he has Johanna’s ax? Or is he anticipating a mutt attack?

“Peeta,” You begin carefully, “What happened?”

He’s calm, “We talked about it last night. Katniss and I don’t need your help anymore.”

You can feel your heart jump to your throat, clogging it. You knew this might happen. There’s six of you, two careers and one other random person in the arena. You knew that Katniss would get antsy because of the numbers. There’s no reason why the six of you need to be in an alliance anymore.

Did she do it? Did he do it?

The blood, on the ax, who does it belong to? It can’t be Finnick, right? Finnick saved Peeta’s life, Katniss has to have some gratitude for saving Peeta. She wouldn’t want him dead, not right away. She’s smarter than that. Or maybe that’s why she had Peeta do it, because she couldn’t bring herself to.

No, that’s not right. He can’t be dead. He’s faster than Peeta. There’s no way Peeta would get the jump on him with an ax. Finnick can throw the trident. But against Katniss? It’s a fair fight, less than fair because of her aim. Please, don’t let him be dead.

You guys are close, so close to being rescued. All they had to do was hold on until tonight, and then it’d all make sense. If Finnick’s dead…

“You can’t take on Enobaria and Brutus alone.” You reason, trying to save what’s left of this alliance.

The question of who’s blood he shed is eating away at the back of your mind. You want to ask, but you can’t. It’d be better if you didn’t. If he’s gone, it’d better be left unspoken. You’ll have to ignore it, even if it’s obvious, and not go back to the beach. You’ll figure out how to survive in the jungle. Moving from section to section until midnight, if you have to.

Oh fuck, he can’t be dead.

“We can—Katniss can. It’s too late, she made up her mind.”

“You don’t understand,” You say slowly, he’s moving closer. You take small steps back, not wanting to trip. You might have to run, pull him deeper into the jungle and kill him. You don’t want to, but you’re not going to let Peeta kill you. “Like I said yesterday, after the jabberjays. You two don’t know what Enobaria’s like. I’ve been around her for the past eight years, I can help you take her down, and then we’ll go from there.”

“Even if we killed Finnick?” Peeta’s gauging your reaction, “And Johanna, and Beetee?”

You stare, unsure if this is some cruel joke. Johanna would set this up, trying to get under your skin as always, but like this? All of them dead in the snap of a finger? You walk away to use the bathroom in the jungle, and suddenly he’s dead? They turned on him?

It can’t be true.

The haunting smile growing on Peeta’s face says that it is, “Didn’t think so.”

He’s dead. They killed him. You walked away and they killed him first. The blood on Johanna’s ax belongs to him. Your best friend is dead. Your husband is dead. The love of your life is dead.

Finnick’s dead.

And so are they.

You start forward, swinging the sword in your hand, face falling.

Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen are not going to make it out of this arena alive.

He doesn’t move, preparing the ax in his hand. You bring the sword back, swinging it at his arm. Peeta barely has time to block the blow with the handle of the ax, knees buckling under the weight of the sword. You pull out, and aim for the legs. He doesn’t jerk away in time.

There’s a deep gash in his left calf, fauceting out blood. He tries to swing the ax at you, and you grab the handle in your other hand, yanking it out of his. He goes to step to catch himself, but the pain must be too much for poor Peeta to handle, because he falls to his hands and knees.

You toss the sword aside, pointing the ax blade at his head, “That was easy.”

You slam the ax through the top of his skull, splitting it open. Blood spurts onto the handle, coating the back of your hand. You place a foot on Peeta’s shoulder, pushing him off.

The birds have stopped singing in the trees. That’s how you know Katniss is nearby, because you can hear the rustle of the leaves behind a tree. There’s a glint, sun reflecting off metal. 

You drop, hitting the ground as the arrow whizzes over your head. You twist, getting back to your feet, taking the ax with you as you take off running into the wedge, going deeper into the jungle. You take the hardest paths, ducking behind trees as arrows lodge into the bark.

You don’t know how many arrows she has. You should’ve counted them to know an exact number. It’d save you right now, it’d let you count down to the final arrow. Then she’d only have a knife, and that’s a fight that you can win. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching her running behind a tree. You pull a knife from your belt, spinning long enough to throw it at the other side. She dodges, the knife slams into the tree a few feet behind her. 

Katniss is fast, she’s already got an arrow aimed at you even though the knife’s just buried into the tree. You stop running, throwing yourself back, the arrow misses you by a hair, wind cooling your face. You stumble back a few steps, catching yourself on a tree before you push off, heading back into the trees. 

You could run a whole thirty minutes up and not hit the forcefield. That’s all you have to worry about right now. The forcefield. The ax can’t come anywhere near it, it’ll take your life and that’ll be it. (Y/n) Gallows is dead because of a seventeen year old. Like Finnick.

Finnick.

You yank another knife from your belt, throwing this one harder. It slams into her shoulder blade, a scream piercing the air. You pull another knife from your belt, but have to shove it back in, because she’s got an arrow on you, pushing through the pain. You wait until the last second to twist out of the way.

It hits the tree next to you, halfway disappeared in it.

Katniss has your knife in her hand, dropping it in the grass as she gets to her feet. The blood is running down her arm, the same way it had when you sliced Peeta’s leg open. An eye for an eye, you’re sure. She kills Finnick, you split her boyfriend’s head open. And you’d do it again if you had the chance.

She chases you another thirty feet, arrow after arrow narrowly missing you. You’re two knives down, you only have one left. If this one doesn’t hit her, then you can only do melee. And with the arrow’s she’s pulling out of thin air, there’s no fucking way you’ll have a chance to get that close.

You slide beneath a bush, knife blade in your hand. You can hear her, coming up the slope. You peek out far enough, find her, and throw the knife, taking off down the hill, not looking back. Her scream is enough confirmation that it hit her somewhere valuable. And for that, she sends an arrow back at you.

This one sticks, straight through your right side. You let out a strangled noise, reaching to pull it out already. You can’t run with it here. And you know that it’ll keep the blood at bay if you leave it in, but it has to go. So, you pull the arrow out, teeth grit, persevering through the tears in your eyes. 

There’s no relief once it’s out.

You can see Katniss coming again, this time a hand gripped at a gaping hole in her thigh. There’s a chunk of skin gone, it must’ve been the odd shaped knife. That one had been the sharpest, and by far the most dangerous. You’ve seen knives in the hunger games with teeth. Those are the worst to be stabbed with. There’s no recovery, no chance at surviving the aftermath.

It’s a shame that it didn’t have teeth.

You’re backtracking now, heading back to the beach. It’s easier running down than it was up, you know which trees to duck behind. Katniss still has arrows to play with, and each of them are missing. She’s having a hard time keeping up with your pace, which isn’t much to begin with.

With every step you take, pain stabs into your side. You have to keep moving, get to the beach and you’ll fight her there. She won’t win in the water. All you have to do is lure her in the water, you’ll take her down. She’ll drown, just like everyone else. She can’t hold her breath like you can.

You focus on weaving between trees, ignoring the fact that she’s even here. It isn’t until you’re closer to where Peeta died, do you feel safe enough to take a breather before the water. You’ll bring her up the spokes, to the cornucopia. It’ll be easy. You have to get her there first.

“(Y/n).”

You whip around, finding her directly behind you. You don’t know how she got here so fucking quick, but it doesn’t matter. You swing your fist, connecting with her nose. She hits the ground, wincing. You slam your foot on her throat, raising the ax over your head, aimed for her forehead.

You swing.

The ax handle is caught, arms securing around your throat. You’re pulled backward in a headlock, arms tightening the moment you begin struggling. You throw yourself back, fingers digging into the skin.

“No—!” You scream, throat constricting when they readjust their arms. You can’t breathe.

“Stop!” The person says, “(Y/n)--!” 

Katniss is sitting up now, leaned over in the grass because she’s choking each time she tries to breathe. She’s got a hand over her throat. Next to her is Enobaria, rubbing her back, concerned. It makes sense now, why they’ve betrayed you. They’re with the careers. Brutus has his arm around your neck.

He’s going to kill you.

The thought alone sends you into overdrive, throwing your entire body forward to try and get him over your shoulder. He hardly budges enough to let your knees bend. He’s too big, if he’s twice Peeta’s strength, then he’s three times yours, at least.

“Get her out of here!” Enobaria motions to the beach, “Weren’t you two idiots paying attention to what time it was?”

You struggle against Brutus, not wanting to go out there. You don’t want to see the blood on the sand. You’re not ready to see Finnick’s body, not yet. Never, actually. You’d rather them kill you in the jungle, where you murdered Peeta.

The sun’s streaming through the branches, grass turning to sand. Brutus drags you out, and you force your eyes closed, gritting your teeth. You won’t look, you can’t. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s not fucking right. Finnick wasn’t supposed to die, he was supposed to be safe at home. 

You tried. You tried so hard. It took a lot of convincing to yourself and to Anchor to get him to agree. All you wanted was a peace of mind, to know that Finnick would be there when you got home. And now he’s dead. Your love is dead.

“Just fucking kill me already.” You sob, Brutus lets you go. Your knees splash in the saltwater, head dropping. He doesn’t say anything, probably getting some sick sadistic satisfaction from watching you grieve. Why ruin the show?

Brutus isn’t moving, or saying anything. You open your eyes, and you’re met with the blinding reflection of sunlight on water. You flinch, blocking the sight too late. You turn to look over your shoulder, and find that Brutus isn’t actually Brutus. Or he is, and he just shrunk a few inches, and grew hair.

It’s Peeta, staring at you warily. He’s taken several steps back, hands seemingly prepared to stop you. You don’t take your eyes off of him for a long moment, trying to figure out how he’s come back to life. You saw the ax split his skull open, the white of his eyes, his limp body. The only thing you didn’t hear—

There’s movement in the treeline, coming out. It’s Katniss, bow readied in her hand, watching you. You sweep over her body, trying to find your puncture wounds. There’s nothing, no cut in her shoulder, not even a gaping hole in her thigh. She doesn’t look like she just chased you, either.

You reach a hand up to touch your side, where she lodged an arrow, and there’s no pain, not even when you press down. It’s enough to convince you to tear your eyes away, looking down to see your skin, completely intact and no evidence that she’d actually hurt you.

“Where’s Finnick and Johanna?”

You snap to look at Beetee, who’s sitting up in the sand.

You can feel your heart drop.

They’re alive. They’re all alive.

“Oh, fuck.” You breathe, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t real, none of it was actually real. And you killed Peeta, and almost killed Katniss. Does that mean...? 

You gasp, shaking your head, trying to fill your lungs, but it’s not working. You can’t breathe, each breath you take isn’t enough. It wasn’t them that killed Finnick, it was you. 

You’re hyperventilating, “Is—” you can’t get the words out, “Did I?”

It felt so real. The pain was real. You didn’t know.

“No.” Peeta suddenly says, finally understanding what you’re asking, “No, (Y/n), Finnick’s okay, you didn’t hurt him.”

You’re trembling, that’s what you discover as you get to your feet, hardly able to stand. You start toward the jungle, because you have to see him. This isn’t going to happen, you need to feel him beneath your fingers first.

Katniss grabs your elbow, “Johanna wants you to stay here.”

You press your lips together, tears building in your eyes. Katniss is blurry, you can barely make out the way her face changes. Your throat burns, teeth chattering. This wouldn’t have happened if you took Finnick with you like he offered.

“How bad is it?” You manage to get out.

“It’s his throat.” She says.

You look up, face contorting as the tears insist on taking over. You let them, pulling your arm from her hand as you drop into a crouch. The heels of your hands are pressing into your eyes, wet from the tears. They’re hot down your cheeks, leaving clear paths behind.

That stomp wasn’t light by any means. That’s a move you make when you’re serious. 

You rub down your face, shaking your head when you stand up again. You turn back to the water, walking towards it, and not stopping. Not until you’re waist deep, hands pressed together, against your lips. You watch the waves, and try your best to ignore the tears running down your face.

Johanna’s immediately talking to Katniss when they come out of the jungle. Something about getting him water. You’re not really listening, and you’re not turning around, either. You can’t look, you should but you can’t. You don’t want to see the look on his face.

It’s too real. Whatever happened in the jungle mirrored one of your post-games episodes. You don’t remember what happened, you completely blacked out. You’ve only ever been told the story about how a reporter tried to surprise you from behind a month or so after the games. 

In return, he went flying over your shoulder, and you went to stomp his throat out. Reed and Mox got hurt trying to intervene. You almost broke Reed’s nose, it kept gushing and gushing blood. Mox has a bruised rib, he couldn’t move around without being in pain.

You do remember the guilt after, and spending weeks alone in your bedroom, trying to hide from them until they healed. Reed’s black eye went away pretty quick, but Mox was a whole new story. You couldn’t look them in the eye for a while. It’s the scream from the reporter that broke you out, your foot hovering over his throat. 

Except, those episodes never lasted longer than a few minutes. You’ve been in the jungle for an entire hour. It’s different. It has to be one of Gamemaker hours, because there’s no way you could’ve created that on your own. If they can manipulate Katniss’ sister's screams to lure her in, then who knows what else they’re capable of?

It was a hallucination. That’s all it was.

And you can’t bring yourself to leave the water.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring into the water. Hoping that the sun will melt you into a puddle. There’s splashing, someone coming up behind you. You lace your fingers, closing your eyes.

“Finnick wants you to come out.” Johanna says, “We got another sponsor, another twenty-four from Three.”

“I’m not hungry.” You murmur.

“He doesn’t care, and neither do I.” She grabs the underside of your arm.

You twist, shoving her off of you. Johanna loses her footing, dropping below the surface, and rocketing up. She flings her head back, hair slapping her neck. She’s wiping the saltwater out of her eyes, glaring at you.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You snap.

She breathes through her nose, “Throwing a pity party’s not going to make it better, you know. It’s your fault—!”

There’s a stinging pain across your palm, her head whipping to the side. You continue forward, pushing her shoulders, “Yeah? It’s my fucking fault? You wanna say that to me?” You shove her, “Say it again, Johanna. If you mean it, say it again.”

There’s more splashing, Katniss is coming over, Peeta trailing behind her. You avoid seeing Finnick, you think he’s sitting next to Beetee in the sand. He’s safe, back there, away from you right now.

You’ve had enough of Johanna.

“You’re so full of shit.” You slam your hands into her shoulders, forcing her back another couple of steps, “And you’re a fucking coward, too. Say it, I wanna see that brave look on your face again.” You tilt your head, an inch from hers, “Who’s fault is it?”

“Get out of my face.” She seethes, meeting your eyes.

You shove, hard.

Johanna falls into the water, this time her head makes the cut. She’s pushing herself up a second later, eyes on you, obviously ready for a fight. Katniss wedges in between, facing Johanna. 

“Stop.”

Peeta comes up behind Johanna, “Come on.”

She starts to leave, watching you until she’s in shallow water. Katniss doesn’t move right away, and when she does, she doesn’t look at you. You turn away, shaking your head as you return back into the deep water.

It’s not enough, anymore. Johanna’s voice is echoing off the water and back into your ears. You push the baby hairs out of your face, and then you dive in. You swim in as deep as you can afford before blowing out half your air and plugging your nose, sinking to the bottom.

Tonight, at midnight. That’s the official time. All of you have to avoid the clock, the careers, and any more fights to get there. Which means going around Finnick, soon, even if you can’t stand the idea. You have no choice. 

She was out of line, making an enemy out of Johanna isn’t necessarily the best idea, but she shouldn’t have said that to you. What did she expect? For you to sit there and take it? Does she forget who you are? She needed a reality check, and that’s exactly what you provided to her. 

If she’s going to run her mouth, she needs to be careful who she does it to. 

It’s going to be over soon. You’ll be rescued at midnight, at the tall tree in the lightning section, you’re sure. And then you’ll be brought to District Thirteen, where your family will be waiting for you. Reed, Mox, Alyssum. You’ll get to hold them in your arms again, and then the real challenge will begin. 

Defeating the Capitol.

Who knows exactly how long that’ll take. It could range from weeks to years, it’s not a war you win overnight. The last fight the district had with the Capitol resulted in the Hunger Games. What happens when you guys lose again? Coriolanus Snow just creates something ten times worse than the Games?

You don’t want to know. You guys can’t lose. The districts can’t lose again.

The burning in your lungs is growing stronger by the second, not nearly as bad as it had been yesterday. You’d inhaled water, almost drowned. You’re sure that was a sight for everyone back home to see. They know that the water was impossible to tread, because you were trying. Every time you had gained an inch to the surface, you were thrown in deeper.

It’s been a couple minutes. You should get out of the water, let them know that you’re alive. You’re not ready to, even though you get to your feet to push off, anyway. You’d stay down here forever—maybe not in saltwater—if it meant that you’d get to sit in silence for once in your life. The serenity is different. No one can really interrupt.

You bend your knees, and jump, getting a few feet in the air before you begin to swim to the surface. Your lips tight, eyes squeezed shut. Who knows what area you’ll resurface in. Not that it actually matters, they’re all going to be on the beach, or in the shallow end of the water.

Your hand finds air, and then your head. You take in a deep breath, squinting to see your surroundings. Katniss and Peeta are in the water together, she seems to be showing him how to swim. You swim until you can feel the ground beneath your feet, which is when you take the time to pull your ponytail out to fix it.

You walk to the beach, hands playing in the water. Johanna’s not in the water or on the beach. She’s probably in the jungle, collecting water. It’s for the best, if she’s not around.

Beetee is eating some of the bread rolls. There’s still a fair amount piled in the middle of the silk parachute. Your portion, you’re sure. Finnick wouldn’t give it away. You pull the shoes off your feet, tired of the feeling of them. You drop them in the sand, and then walk until you’re a foot away from Finnick, which is when you sit.

Your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them to keep from falling over. You stare at the bread, you know you should eat. You weren’t lying to her, you aren’t hungry. It’s funny how easily you can lose your appetite. You should be starving, only eating bite-sized bread pieces for the past two days, and barely holding it down at the sight of any meat.

It doesn’t matter. It’ll be here in a few hours. It might not be as fresh or good tasting, but that won’t matter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Finnick asks, voice soft.

You shake your head, “It was just a hallucination.”

He doesn’t press right away, “My throat’s okay, honey. I can speak and breathe just fine, if I were hurt, I’d let you know. You know that.”

You hum. It’s not entirely true, you can’t believe it. You don’t, “How’s your nose?”

“Tender, it’s not broken.”

“That’s good.” 

Finnick turns his body, you can see it out of the corner of your eye. You chew on the inside of your cheek, “Will you look at me?”

“Not yet.” 

“There’s no bruise, (Y/n). You can’t tell what happened.”

“As if that matters. I know where I placed my foot, I know how hard I did it. I saw the look on her—your face when it happened. I could feel the ax in my hands, I was going to kill you. It wasn’t you, but it was you.” You breathe, closing your eyes.

“Tell me what happened.” He says, “Please.”

You want to tell him no again, not wanting to live through it. Now that you know what actually happened—or half of what happened—it makes it worse, somehow. You killed Peeta, but was there a body left behind? Was it Enobaria and Brutus that were chasing you through the trees? You can’t fucking tell.

And maybe that’s where he can help. 

You start from the beginning, telling him about how Peeta had shown up right as you were getting ready to head back. His stance, the ax in his hand, the way he was covered in blood. He was rigid, on edge. You knew there was something wrong. And he told you that he and Katniss were leaving the alliance.

The way you felt after, you tell Finnick that you’d been thinking about that on the first day. How the time might finally come where either of them decide that the alliance is too risky. Especially with how few people are left in the arena to actually fight. You avoid the topic of leaving the arena, because the Capitol is still very much listening and you can’t give that away.

You knew the blood belonged to somebody. You were just hoping it wasn’t his. Johanna or Beetee dying would be cruel, but you can’t afford to lose him. You thought that Katniss might hesitate because Finnick saved Peeta. So that’s why you thought Peeta would’ve done it, because it’s different. 

“But you’re faster than he is,” You shake your head, “It didn’t make sense on how it could be done. I ended up settling on Katniss, only cause she’s fast. I didn’t want to believe it.”

And that’s when you tried to convince Peeta that he needed you for Enobaria and Brutus. If you couldn’t get a straight answer on Finnick, Johanna and Beetee, then you’d ignore it, because you had to. You needed the alliance for an advantage against the careers.

Peea was set on the idea of doing it alone, and you did try to convince him one more time.

“He didn’t hesitate to say it. ‘Even if we killed Finnick?’. It was so bizarre. He said it so casually like he was asking if I wanted water. I thought it was some fucking joke that was set up.”

Then Peeta smiled, taunting you. He knew what your answer would be. He knew that you wouldn’t be able to go on knowing that they killed Finnick. And he was right, because that’s all it took. Him saying it out loud made it impossible to ignore, to work past. 

You wouldn’t be able to survive with them. Their lives were suddenly meaningless, and you’d take on the careers alone. A minute later, he was dead in the grass. He never stood a chance, Peeta’s not a fighter like you are. It was him versus the blind rage, and no one has ever won against that.

The trees went silent, and that's how you knew Katniss was there. Her arrow was reflecting in the sunlight. You dodged, the arrow landed in the tree behind you. You got back to your feet and started running away from her, the arrows. Because suddenly it was two pissed victor’s instead of one. 

It was an unfair fight, her long-range bow against your five knives and an ax that you don’t normally use. You threw one, she dodged, and she let an arrow go, you moved out of the way, and started running again.

Back and forth. You were aiming for the forcefield, a slight hope that you’d be able to trap her into it. The only problem was that you can’t tell what’s the forcefield and what isn’t. You’d end up dead like him. 

That’s when you threw another knife into her shoulder, and she screamed.

“That’s what we heard.” Finnick interrupts, “There was this scream, so we all came into the jungle to find you. It’d been too long. And we did find Peeta’s body, but the second I bent down to touch it, it disappeared. Like one of the holograms.”

You don’t know if that makes you feel better or not. He was real under your hands.

You tell him about how you went uphill for ten more minutes, all arrows narrowly missing you. You had one knife left after trying to fight back. You ended up behind a bush, waiting for her to appear. And you didn’t stop long enough to make sure you actually hit her, either.

“Another scream.” You murmur, “This time louder. And as I was running down the hill, she’d already sent an arrow back at me. And it sliced—” You touch your right side, “right through here.”

Katniss kept chasing you, of course. Straight down the hill. There was no other choice, you needed to get to the beach. Fight through the pain long enough to get to the water. Katniss wouldn’t be able to survive out there, because it’d be a fair fight if you could find somewhere to hide. 

“I waited until I couldn’t see her, and I took a break to catch my breath. I was planning on getting in the water and drowning her, so I needed to be at my best to do it.” You close your eyes again, “And that’s when I heard my name.

“I thought it was so fucking weird that she’d just appeared out of thin air like that. I couldn’t stop to think, though. She was trying to kill me. She’d already killed you. And so I swung.”

You finally look at Finnick. He’s watching you, listening. He was right about how there isn’t a bruise on his throat, not right now anyway. It might show up by tonight, and then you’ll really feel guilty. 

“I know it was you, now.” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I was prepared to kill you. I wanted revenge. Nothing else mattered. That’s why my foot went to your throat, because it would hold her down. I was aiming for her head.”

“Katniss caught the ax.” He says, “Peeta brought you into a headlock. Johanna was right next to me.”

“Enobaria was next to you.” You look back down at the sand, “I thought Brutus had me. I was convinced that they’d somehow managed a secret alliance with the careers. The logic didn’t matter, because they’d killed you. I wanted them dead, I wanted all of them fucking dead.

“It wasn’t until Peeta dragged me out here and I turned around, did I see that it was him. Still alive and breathing, watching me like a rabid animal. And Katniss coming out of the trees, bow loaded in case it needed to be used. Beetee was sitting over here. I realized what I’d just done.

“I thought I killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” Finnick says, reaching out to grab your hand. He squeezes it tightly, “I’m right here.”

“I know..”

“I love you.” He says.

“I love you.” You echo.

“Do you want to eat?” He asks.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll eat later, when I’m hungry.”

He nods, deciding not to push.

“Finnick, (Y/n), we figured out how to make you pretty again!” Katniss shouts from the water, motioning the two of you over.

You get up, Finnick following, “Was there an ax in my hand?”

“Yes.” 

“Is it still here?” You look at him, “Or did it disappear like Peeta’s body?”

“I’m not sure. Johanna’s in there right now looking for your sword.”

“Oh, so that’s where she is.” You stare at the cornucopia, avoiding his eyes again. 

Once you reach Katniss, she explains that rubbing the sand over the scabs gently removes them. You follow her instructions, and watch as they disappear into the water, one by one. The skin beneath is smooth, but scarred. It’s not noticeable in the shade, but when you look at them in the sun, they’re light. Almost like stretch marks.

You feel better when they’re gone, because the urge to scratch is completely gone. Katniss lets you use the last of the ointment to spread over your skin for good measure. It seems to genuinely act like sunscreen now, because before your skin felt like it was on fire.

As soon as you’re done, Beetee’s calling the four of you back to the beach. You grab your boots, sitting in the shade and resting them nearby while you wait for your skin to dry. Then you’ll wipe off the sand and put on the shoes without worrying about the sand sticking to you.

Finnick doesn’t sit down right away.

“I have a plan.” He looks between you and Finnick, “I think we’ll all agree our next job is to kill Brutus and Enobaria. I doubt they’ll attack us openly again, now that they’re so outnumbered. We could track them down, I suppose, but it’s dangerous, exhausting work.”

“Do you think they’ve figured out about the clock?” Katniss asks.

“If they haven’t they’ll figure it out soon enough. Perhaps not as specifically as we have. But they must know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they’re recurring in a circular fashion. Also, the fact that our last fight was cut off by Gamemaker intervention will not have gone unnoticed by them.

“We know it was an attempt to disorient us, but they must be asking themselves why it was done, and this, too, may lead them to the realization that the arena’s a clock. So I think our best bet will be setting our own trap.” He finishes.

“Wait, let me go get Johanna,” Finnick pushes himself off the tree, fixing the trident in his hand, “She’ll be rabid if she thinks she missed something this important.”

“Or don’t.” You rub your face. 

Finnick ignores what you’ve said, starting to the six to seven section of the jungle to retrieve Johanna. Peeta and Katniss decide that they’ll sit with you, off to the side to allow Beetee room to work, assuming that he’ll be using the sand and not a leaf like Peeta. A few minutes later, Johanna comes out behind Finnick, your sword in one hand, her ax in the other.

It’s clean.

“Here.” She thrusts the sword out in your direction, “I’d be a shame if you were weaponless the rest of the games.”

Finnick takes the sword from her and places it next to your boots, “Don’t antagonize her.”

Johanna rolls her eyes.

Beetee forces them back a few steps, as you anticipated. He draws a circle in the sand, and divides it into twelve. It’s not nearly as neat as Peeta’s, but it gets the job done, “If you were Brutus and Enobaria, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?”

He looks up to the rest of you, pushing his glasses higher on his nose while he waits. He’s using the same tone that you do in the boarding school, teaching the teenagers how to defend themselves. Or when you’re showing them the poisonous berries that the Gamemakers commonly use to deceive them. They always have to be on their toes.

“Where we are now. On the beach,” Peeta says, “It’s the safest place.”

“So why aren’t they on the beach?” Beetee asks.

“Because we’re here.” Johanna says flatly.

“Exactly. We’re here, claiming the beach. Now where would you go?” 

Katniss tilts her head, “I’d hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us.”

“Also to eat,” Finnick chimes, “The jungle’s full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I’d know the seafood’s safe.”

Beetee smiles, “Yes, good. You do see. Now here’s what I propose: a twelve o’clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and at midnight?”

“The lightning bolt hits the tree.” You murmur.

“Yes. So what I’m suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down to the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o’clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted.”

No one speaks for a long moment, turning this plan over in your mouths. You brush the sand from your legs, ready to pull the boots back on. It’s not a bad plan, electrocuting the careers to death. But Katniss already said what you’re thinking now; the careers are spying. If you suddenly leave the beach and come back, it’s going to look suspicious.

He says chasing the careers around in the jungle’s going to be exhausting? He doesn’t know the first thing about being a career. You walked around for hours in the blazing heat with four other tributes. You didn’t have any freshwater until you finally came upon it while hunting for others.

It’s not going to be as hard as he makes it out to be. You guys have water, you doubt that the Two tributes have the same endless supply that you do. It’s really not that hard, all you have to do is start with a clue. Any glimpse of them would be good enough, and then you could have an actual field day.

The only real problem is lugging around tributes like Beetee and Peeta, who don’t know the first thing about tracking or being quiet in the woods. You saw Peeta last year, how Katniss had to ditch him in order to properly hunt. And Beetee’s probably never hunted a day in his life.

Honestly, neither have you, really. The most you’ve done is fishing, but that also includes using a spear to fish. That means standing still in the water for hours if it meant that a fish would finally approach you. It means being quiet and careful to actually kill them. 

And if it weren’t for the fact that Finnick’s been injured twice in important places—his ankle and his thigh—you’d say that he’d be able to keep up with your train of thought. Except, he would last an hour before needing a break because the pain would be too much. That’s when this plan starts to fray.

“Will that wire really be able to conduct that much power, Beetee? It looks so fragile, like it would just burn up.” Peeta’s shaking his head.

“Oh, it will. But not until the current has passed through it. It will act something like a fuse, in fact. Except the electricity will travel along it.”

“How do you know?” Johanna’s eyeing the wire now.

“Because I invented it,” He says, as if it’s obvious. “It’s not actually wire in the usual sense. Not is the lightning natural lightning nor the tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry about the wire—it will do just what I say.” Beetee nods.

“And where will we be when this happens?” Finnick asks.

“Far enough up in the jungle to be safe.”

“The careers will be safe, too, then, unless they’re in the vicinity of the water.” Katniss points out.

“That’s right.” Beetee says.

“But all the seafood will be cooked.” Peeta says.

“Probably more than cooked. We will most likely be eliminating that as a food source for good. But you found other edible things in the jungle, right, Katniss?”

“Yes. Nuts and rats.” She says, “And we have sponsors.”

“Well, then. I don’t see that as a problem.” Beetee says, “But as we are allies and this will require all our efforts, the decision of whether or not to attempt it is up to you four.”

You cover your mouth, staring at the clock figure in the sand. You’ll lose if you propose anything other than he has. You know that you guys have to be at the lightning tree at midnight, anyway. It’d give you an excuse to stay there until the rebels could arrive and rescue. It leaves you vulnerable, though. There’s no guarantee that the last of the careers will fall for this.

“Why not?” Katniss asks, “If it fails, there’s no harm done. If it works, there’s a decent chance we’ll kill them. And even if we don’t and just kill the seafood, Brutus and Enobaria lose it as a food source, too.”

“I say we try it,” Peeta agrees, “Katniss is right.”

You’ve successfully pulled your boots on, getting to your feet. You dust the sand off your butt, trying to hide your disagreement as best as possible. The wasted effort when you could be spending it hunting them. Then again, it’s better to hunt at night. They’d be stupid enough to light a fire and assume they could defend from attackers.

Finnick glances at you, waiting for any sort of confirmation. You give him a dead look for less than a second, because that’s all he needs to see. It’s the same one you’ll give if Alyssum’s asking too many questions. Or if the kids at the boarding school are getting out of hand.

He looks at Johanna next, raising his eyebrows. 

“All right.” She says, “It’s better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they’ll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves.”

Katniss leans in your direction, “You didn’t say anything.”

Of course she’d notice that. You look down at her, “I didn’t object, did I?”

Beetee wants to see the lightning tree before the whole plan takes place, so that means leaving the beach behind and letting the careers take over. Finnick offers the bread to you one more time, trying to get you to break. You wave it off, not ready to eat just yet. The heat of the arena’s boiling you alive, making you nauseous.

You pull your sword into your hand, Peeta kicks the arena diagram until it’s gone, not wanting to leave any hints for the careers. The six of you head toward the lightning wedge, waiting on the border while Peeta and Finnick decide how Beetee’s going to get up there. He’s still too weak to carry himself up that slope. Another reason why hunting the careers wouldn’t work.

It could, though. You could take Katniss and stash the other four somewhere else, it’d be easier to go around with her. You’re not injured, and she isn’t either. She knows how to track, and you know what to expect. The two of you could probably find them in a couple hours and be back before the sun’s down.

Johanna takes the lead into the trees when they decide to take turns carrying Beetee. Katniss is behind her, Peeta and Beetee, then Finnick, with you taking up the back. You leave a good distance so that you can take your time, not wanting to be on their heels the entire way up.

Besides, about thirty minutes in, irritation weighs on you. Your skin is sticking together, you can feel the sweat running down your temples. The sound of their breathing is too loud, the humid air is fucking with your hair. You can’t stand the way the boots rub against your calves, undecided on whether it wants to slide or stick.

You grit your teeth and breathe through your nose. One night of freezing cold temperature would set you straight, if only the Gamemakers would break the rules. It’s not like they haven’t ever done it before, either. They control everything. The weather, the time of day, the cornucopia island, apparently.

If they wanted, they could fix the temperature.

The closer you get to the top, the more Finnick insists that she take the lead instead of Johanna, “Katniss can hear the forcefield.”

“Hear it?” Beetee asks, you wonder if he’ll call her out on the bullshit.

“Only with the ear the Capitol reconstructed.” She explains.

Beetee doesn’t skip a beat, “Then by all means, let Katniss go first.” He wipes steam from his glasses, “forcefields are nothing to play around with.”

And just like that, Johanna backs off for her. Despite the fact that you and Johanna aren’t getting along at the moment, she still turns around and gives you a dramatic eye roll. She doesn’t believe it either, and that’s probably not something you should show Capitol cameras, but it doesn’t matter. 

The tree is unmistakable in the jungle, towering over the rest. Katniss resorts back to her nuts, asking for you guys to wait back while she double-checks to make sure that she’s right. She’s searching, and stops a few feet away from another tree, and throws the nut up higher, to the right. It hits the forcefield, sizzling on its way down.

“Just stay below the lightning tree.” She says.

With that, everyone splits into their own activities. Finnick insists that you help him guard Beetee while he examines the lightning tree. Johanna takes Peeta’s bent knife to tap into a tree, Peeta goes to gather nuts. And Katniss goes to hunt for a while, trying to gather food.

Beetee circles the tree, muttering to himself. With the way that the tree is built, you could easily climb it. There’s roots that wrap around the base of it, and when you yank, you find that it’s sturdy. You ignore the glare Beetee sends you, not happy that you’re testing the strength of the tree.

It doesn’t offer much protection, unless you’re tens of feet in the air, that’s when the branches start. They start out thin, from what you can tell, but they’re thicker in the middle. Perfect place to hide if you were cornered.

The ground shakes, you turn to look through the trees the best you can. The ten o’clock wave is reaching toward the sky, racing down the slope. Since it stays within its wedge until the beach, you don’t have to worry about it coming to you. A few minutes later, Katniss materializes in the jungle, holding a few rats.

She sits on a rock, cleaning her kills. When she’s done, she draws a line in the dirt, a few feet away from the forcefield, and then she and Peeta sit together to roast the nuts and cubes of rat. You have to walk away, because the smell is already too much.

Beetee’s taking measurements of the tree, but stops to snap off a part of the bark. He wanders over to where Katniss and Peeta are sitting, and throws it at the forcefield. It bounces off, landing in the dirt, glowing a bright blue. Once it returns to the original brown, he mutters, “Well, that explains a lot.”

You wander away, watching the jungle, tired of standing next to the tree. There’s nothing going on out there, no movement. You’re betting that Enobaria and Brutus are gathering what they can from the cornucopia. There’s not much, and they’re gonna want to take the last of the knives. Which means that you’ll have to switch your weapon when you get back down to the beach.

The sword’s not going to be practical tonight, anyway. Everyone else has a weapon they can throw, and you’re going to be nailed down if you don’t. 

The clicking from the wedge next door gradually rises in noise until you can finally hear it. It’s already eleven, which means that you guys have got to go back down before you’re caught in the storm.

Everyone’s stopped to listen to what it is exactly. You turn to head back up to Finnick, trying to stick close. 

“It’s not mechanical,” Beetee says.

“I’d guess insects, maybe beetles.” Katniss says, eyeing the area.

“Something with pincers.” Finnick agrees.

They grow louder, closer, hearing what they have to say. You’re not bothered by bugs, especially back home because the weather brings them on, but the idea of running across any of them here is different. This isn’t the beach in District Four, this is a jungle in the middle of who-knows-where.

“We should get out of here, anyway,” Johanna starts, “There’s less than an hour before the lightning starts.”

You were hoping that they’d agree to go back to the beach, only everyone wants to stay close enough to the tree. So, the six of you travel over two sections until you’re at the same tree, this time in the blood rain wedge. This is where they lay out what’s left of the food, minus what you haven’t eaten yet.

They snack on meat and nuts, mostly. While your bread sits on the same square of silk parachute, waiting for you to give in. You’re not hungry, you’re still not ready to eat yet. Finnick gives you a glance, one that you ignore while you pick at your fake nails. They’re still miraculously on somehow, even with all the fighting. Beth and Cleo did a good job.

Beetee asks Katniss to climb a tree to watch the lightning strike, wanting to know what happens. She disappears into the tree in time for the next hour to begin. A minute later, she’s back on the ground, confirming that the tree turns a different color when struck by the lightning.

They’re done eating by then, the leftovers are squared away and Katniss takes it to be safe. Finally, you’re heading back downhill to get to the beach to wait out the hours until it’s safe to return to the jungle. As soon as your feet sink into the wet sand, the relief hits you.

Beetee brings you all back to the ten o’clock beach to wait out. He begins to mess with the wire, making sure that it’s going to work tonight. Other than that, there’s nothing to do besides wait until tonight. The others decide to take naps in the jungle’s shadows, but that only lasts about an hour and a half before they’re all awake.

“Well, I’m going to the cornucopia.” You stand, brushing the sand off your legs, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Don’t you think you should take someone with you?” Peeta asks.

You stare at him, “You think I need a babysitter?”

Finnick doesn’t object, letting you walk off to the nearest spoke by yourself. You’re still not over how Enobaria and Brutus managed to get away so quickly. These rocks are uneven, the cracks between them small. Hell, not even you ran the first day.

The cornucopia’s blinding in the sunlight, you shield your eyes as you examine the outside to make sure there’s no one. And once you stand in front of the mouth, you’re about ready to turn back and settle with the sword. It’s absolutely picked clean, boxes have been stacked neatly against the wall to allow display of what’s left. 

This is not how you guys left it yesterday. It was a mess, since boxes and weapons had been flung into the water. None of you bothered to stay long enough to search through them one last time. It just means that Enobaria and Brutus were looking for something specific. 

You hope they didn’t find it.

On display on the ground is an array of different machete’s, swords, tridents, axes, everything you could imagine. The edge on the right side is what you’re concerned about, though. It’s a spear, about the same length as the sword that you’re holding. It’s the only one left in here, too. All the weapons on the back wall are missing.

You check behind you, watching the water for a long moment, before heading inside of the cornucopia to grab the spear. It’s not super heavy when you weigh it in your hand. You hold it up over your shoulder, draw your arm back, and throw.

It hits the back wall, sticking in the wall because the sun has softened the gold walls. You pull the spear out, nodding to yourself as you leave. The only time you use a spear is in the boarding school, it happens to be one of the more popular weapons amongst the students. Only a few of them can actually throw it, though.

From what you can see as you head back down the spoke, they’ve decided to start fishing and diving for food. Finnick gives you a look as you get closer, and then stops to stare at what you have in your hand. His face twists into a funny expression, shaking his head.

“A spear?” He asks, “That’s a new one.”

“Need something to throw, can’t do that with a sword.” You say, hopping down from the rock, “What’s going on here?”

“Making a feast for tonight.” He pulls you into him, “Maybe you should try eating.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten since last night, and it’s almost four.” He says, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Finnick,” You start, “If I were feeling sick, you know I’d tell you. It’s the arena that’s messing with me.”

He gives you a look, “Promise me you’ll eat tonight.”

“I promise.” You breathe, pulling away from him, “I’m going to take a nap.”

He nods, letting you go. You wander back over to where Beetee is, still fixing the wire. You lay in the shade, using your arms as a pillow. You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to tire your mind out enough to fall asleep. Nothing works, between Beetee talking to himself, and listening to the splashing in the water. You’re not ready to sleep.

In fact, you don’t think you’re ready for anything. You’re not sure how tonight’s going to work out exactly. All of you need to be in the same jungle as the lightning storm, which means risking the chance of getting hit, something none of you can afford. You know that Plutarch chose that one for a specific reason, maybe because it’s easier to control, but this whole plan still doesn’t have you convinced.

Teetering back and forth on whether or not you can trust this is making you irritated. On one hand, you’re expected to trust Plutarch Heavensbee, the Head Gamemaker, a close friend of President Snow’s. And he’s working with Haymitch Abernathy, who’s been sober long enough to put together a whole ass rebellion.

Not to mention, there’s still Enobaria and Brutus to worry about. If they’re at the tree at midnight, does that mean they’re eligible to be saved? If you’re able to convince them to set their weapons down and join you, will it mean anything? Although, you’re not really sure if you want them to help, after Cashmere and Gloss.

You can’t lose your nerve now, it’s too late. You’ve lost so many people that agreed on an alliance that half of them couldn’t make it into. Three districts never found you, either dying in the bloodbath, or in the jungle. Besides the morphling from Six, but that was by chance, she sacrificed herself and died.

You’re so close to the end.

Maybe you do doze off at some point, because you wake when Finnick accidentally jostles you. You don’t open your eyes immediately, hoping you can sink back into blissful sleep. Their talking is what keeps it from happening.

Peeta laughs, “Hey, look at this!” There’s a moment of silence, “You know, if you put enough pressure on a coal it turns to pearls.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Finnick says, Katniss lets out a laugh.

You roll over, and then sit up completely, rubbing your eyes. The sun’s setting again, only an hour or so of sunlight remains before the moon takes over. Then you’ll have no choice but to hike back up to the lightning tree, execute the plan, and go to wherever the rebels have claimed as their base.

“You alright?” Finnick asks.

“Yeah, just tired.” You place your head on his shoulder, watching Katniss and Peeta.

“For you.” Peeta holds up what he has in his hand, which is a pearl. That’s what he must’ve been showing them a few seconds ago.

“Thanks,” Katniss says, observing it in her hand before closing it.

The smile’s disappearing from Peeta’s face, “The locket didn’t work, did it?” He murmurs, “Katniss?”

“It worked.” She says.

“But not the way I wanted it to.” 

They continue to open oysters and clean fish. You weave another few baskets, Johanna taps another tree for water. She fills an entire basket full, and then sets it in the middle. Around it are smaller baskets, full of cleaned fish, oysters and shellfish. Then there’s your own basket, piled with this morning’s rolls.

Once it’s clear that it’s time to eat, Johanna comes around to sit down between Finnick and Peeta, still avoiding you. You’re surprised that she hasn’t tried to use your anger against you yet. Then again, she did go straight to Finnick after, he probably had a talk with her, defending you even though you nearly killed him.

You’re interrupted by a parachute, chiming on its way down. It lands on the sand in front of you, and unfolds to reveal more than just bread, there’s a bowl of a red sauce too. Cocktail sauce. For the first time in two days, the idea of eating seafood is appealing. 

The bread is from District Three, and Finnick counts every single one of them, “Twenty-four again.”

You reach for a chunk of clean fish, dunking it in the cocktail sauce and biting off a good piece. It’s spicy, makes your mouth water in a good way. You let out a hum, nodding your head in approval. Finnick gives you an amused smile, but doesn’t comment on your sudden change.

The bread is divided so that you get this morning’s bread, and tonight’s newest arrival. With the first bite of food down, your stomach’s decided that you’re hungry. You take your time, working through your bread, sometimes dipping that in the sauce. Then you move onto the fish, and take your time going through it.

You stop eating sooner than the other’s, mostly because of the bread. You fall back in the sand, hands resting over your stomach. Finnick’s not far behind, getting to his feet to stretch. By the time everyone’s done eating, there’s still food leftover. The only part that’s saved is the bread, in case any of you get hungry tonight. 

They throw the rest of the seafood back into the water, leaving the shells in the sand because they’ll be washed away later tonight, anyway. And since there’s still a few hours until midnight, you’re left to entertain yourselves. 

Finnick comes to sit next to you on the border of the jungle and beach. You sit with your legs touching his, leaning into body. He’s got an arm around your waist, keeping you secured next to him.

The anthem plays, but there are no faces that show up in the sky. If all goes well tonight, the Capitol will get their murder. And you’ll all be gone soon after that.

While waiting, you fix your hair one more time, tying it into a bun at the back of your head. You move onto Finnick’s leg, applying more healing cream to make sure that it’ll be healed well enough for the rebels. There’s a bit left in the tube, so you move onto Beetee’s back, slathering the cut he has, and then you toss that into the water to get rid of it.

Katniss comes out of the water, Peeta trailing behind her, “It’s about nine, I think.”

Finnick looks up at the sky, the moon’s the only source of light at the moment. He nods, “Yeah, we should get a move on.”

After you gather all belongings and make sure nothing valuable is left behind, you cross into the twelve o’clock section, and begin the hike uphill. Johanna takes the lead, Katniss, then Peeta and Beetee, Finnick in front of you because you’re the last to follow. 

For the most part, you’re all quiet, not wanting to draw unwanted attention. It’s harder to do this climb, now that you’re full. A part of you wishes that you all would’ve gone to the tree, eaten, and then went back down to the beach. Beggars can’t be choosers, though. You’re already running the risk of the wire killing the careers.

The second you’re at the tree, Finnick’s chosen to help Beetee, per his request. The rest of you stand guard around the tree to protect them as they unravel the wire. You stay close to Finnick, following him each time he moves. Beetee has him wrap it around a broken branch and lay it on the ground when he’s done.

They move to stand on either side of the tree, and pass the spool back and forth, working it around. A rhythm begins, and then a pattern on where Beetee guides the spool. Whether or not it matters where the wire lands is up to him, since it’s his plan in the first plan.

The ten o’clock wave shakes the ground again, a few minutes after they’ve finished wrapping the wire around the tree. The tension in your back is too much, so you crouch while listening to what Beetee wants you to do next.

He wants you, Katniss and Johanna to take the coil down to the beach, leading the wire down as you go. At the beach, you’ll lay it across the twelve o’clock sector, and drop whatever’s left of the spool into the water, as deep as possible to ensure it sinks and can’t be messed with by careers. After that, you’ll run back up to the jungle to make it to safety.

You stand, stretching.

“I want to go with them as a guard.” Peeta says immediately, looking between the three of you.

“You’re too slow. Besides, I’ll need you on this end. (Y/n) will guard.” Beetee nods in your direction, “There’s no time to debate this. I’m sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now.” He passes the coil to Johanna.

You adjust on your feet, watching to make sure he doesn’t object further. Katniss goes to him, “It’s okay. We’ll just drop the coil and come straight back up.”

“Not into the lightning zone,” Beetee reminds, “Head for the trees, in the one-to-two sector. If you find you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.”

You turn to look at Finnick, finding his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. You give him a smile, “I’ll be right back. I love you.”

“I love you.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss you, “Be safe.”

“I always am.” You whisper, pushing off his chest and joining the other girls.

“Ready?” Katniss asks.

“Why not?” Johanna shrugs, starting into the jungle, “(Y/n) guards, I’ll unwind. We can trade off later.”

Just like that, you start downhill. This time Katniss is leading the path, making sure Johanna can make the steps down, while you take up the back, spear in hand. There’s no more conversation, only silence as you go further down. It isn’t long until your stomach is doing backflips, like something’s wrong.

Halfway down, the clicking begins, meaning you only have an hour before the first bolt of lightning hits the tree. Another thirty minutes and you should be down there, which should give you plenty of time to clear out. Granted nothing else happens.

“Better hurry,” Johanna says, “I want to put a lot of distance between me and that water before the lightning hits. Just in case Volts miscalculated something.”

“I’ll take the coil for a while.” Katniss offers.

“Here.” Johanna passes it to her.

The wire suddenly goes rigid, and the two of them jerk when the wire comes flying down the hill, turning into tangled curls. The end that’s been cut stops a few inches before their feet.

The silence is deafening.

They’re here, Enobaria and Brutus are in the jungle, just as you suspected. Why they’re not targeting the boys is a question that surfaces for only a moment. It doesn’t matter, they want to kill you. Now that you’ve separated into two groups, you’ll be easier to kill.

Well, that’s what they think.

You watch as Katniss lets go of the cylinder to grab a wire, but Johanna’s already swinging it at her head. The two of you drop into the mess of bushes, grass and vines, hiding your bodies. Johanna’s sitting on Katniss’ chest, shoulders pinned down by her knees.

You drop the spear long enough to catch the knife that she’s practically throwing at you. You hold Katniss’ wrist down, digging the knife into her forearm deep enough to find the tracker. You twist the knife, watching the flashing light come out of the dark red liquid now coating her arm.

While you bury it in the dirt, Johanna gathers the blood in her hands before wiping it on Katniss’ face, “Stay down!” She hisses.

Johanna takes off, and you’re right on her heels, knife and spear in two different hands. Then you shove the knife into your belt, trying to free up a hand to allow easier escape. She moves faster than you thought she would, weaving in and out of the trees. You barely have time to look behind you to confirm the careers are even following.

They are.

You split, heading away from where Johanna’s going, hoping that you’ll be able to get the jump on one of them, or both. All that matters is that you lead them away from Katniss, make them think she’s dead.

You can see them run past, you think. It’s too dark to actually see. The moonlight doesn’t reach you through the trees properly. You know for sure you saw the movement as they chase Johanna away.

You start down the hill, trying to follow them so that you can attack from behind. If you take down Brutus first, most of the work will be done. He’s the one you have to worry about, anyway. It won’t be easy to take down Enobaria, considering she’s vicious, but Brutus is bigger than you are. 

A sharp pain stabs through the back of your head, forcing you down to the ground, the throbbing begins immediately. Your hands connect with dirt and rocks, sticking to your skin.

You turn to see who it is, halfway prepared to see Katniss, risen already to get revenge for cutting her arm open. She would just shoot you, though. This is much worse.

She must’ve shed her jumpsuit recently, because she had it on when she attacked your alliance in the cornucopia. No suit allows for her to show off her muscles, the fact that she trained to volunteer. Her hair’s tied in a ponytail at the back of her head, hair strands sticking to her tanned shoulders. There’s a nasty smile spreading across her cheeks, showing off her dazzling sharp teeth.

Traitorous bitch.

Enobaria swings the sword in her hand, “Long time no see.”

“I was hoping I’d never have to see your ugly face again.” You snap, reaching for your spear, which is out of arm’s reach. She swings her sword to your throat, stopping your movements.

“Ugly?” She mockingly pouts, “Have you seen yourself recently?”

“I look fantastic. You smile.

You can’t get the sword out of her hand without injuring yourself somehow, it’s not going to work. She’s got to attack, move the sword to allow you to jump in and take over. You should’ve kept running with Johanna, and formed a plan then. Now you’re alone, and there’s no advantage anymore.

“Right.” Enobaria pushes the sword tighter, you back off to get away, laying flat on the ground. She tilts her head, that same smile across her face. It’s familiar, the wide-eyed doe look. As if she’s not doing something socially unacceptable, “I’m not going to let you win.”

Her face changes, and she suddenly thrusts the sword down.

You grab the blade, feeling the steel sink into your palms. You turn your head away, pushing your body into the dirt. If only you could liquify, become one with the jungle for just a minute.

Enobaria’s running her mouth, as always, something about you killing Cashmere and Gloss. If your teeth weren’t breaking against each other, you’d blame her for their death. She can’t call you a murderer when she was going to kill you first. It was self-defense, you would have rather killed them.

She’s moved her body over yours, standing directly on top to make it easier to press down. You can feel the blood running down your arms, pooling at your elbows. It drips onto your face. You grip tighter, trying to keep it from sliding, blade cutting deeper into your palm. 

Tears appear in the corner of your eyes. This isn’t what you wanted when you volunteered. You never thought you’d kill your friends. You never thought you’d make an enemy out of Enobaria. You need an exit. You need to get out of this and find Finnick. Time’s running out.

You hold your breath, feeling the sword slide down. You have to live. You have to.

You need a weapon, not the sword. You need to hurt her so she backs off.

The sword is an inch away, now. The burning pain in your palms are becoming too much to handle. The blood mixes with the tears running down your face. Enobaria shoves harder.

This can’t be the end. There has to be more.

The knife. Johanna’s knife.

You have to let go, only for a second. And you do.

You pull the knife out with one hand, and slam it into her calf, which is next to your hip. She lets out a scream, stumbling forward, barely missing your face with the sword as she falls to the ground. It hurts to grip onto the knife, but you don’t have a choice.

You scramble through the dirt, on top of Enobaria, knife behind your head. She turns, swinging her arm to knock you off. You roll slightly, and then get to your feet. She’s got the sword in her hand, trying to keep up with your pace. She can’t stand, when she tries, she falls to her knees.

You kick the wrist that holds the sword, forcing her to let go. Enobaria opens her mouth to speak, only it’s too late. You slam the knife through the top of her skull.

The cannon blasts.

You get back to your feet, dizziness hitting you. You wipe your nose with the back of your wrist, watching the blood spill out of her body. You turn away, heading back a few steps to recollect your spear, putting the knife away one more time.

You start jogging, running after Johanna and Brutus, hoping that she’s not dead yet. You can get Brutus. If you can kill Enobaria on your own, you can take down the last career. That’s all that’s left, anyway. Then you need to get back to the tree, make sure you’re with Finnick in time.

Another cannon blast, two have died. 

There’s shouting, loud and increasing in pitch, desperation. It’s Johanna, you think you can hear her screaming for some type of help. You run, now, preparing the spear in your hand. As you take another step, your foot snags on something in the grass, bringing you to the ground.

You sprawl for only a second, turning to see the root of the tree to make sure you get your foot out properly. Only it’s not a root, it’s one of Johanna’s axes. She had two of them. This one is clean, she must’ve missed Brutus.

You get back to your feet, watching the grass for more weapons. There are none, Johanna’s second ax is embedded in a tree. She’s weaponless. You took her knife.

You pick up the pace, following her screams. They’re growing louder, and then you see them. Brutus is on top of her, fist raised above her head. His muscles ripple in the small patch of moonlight that he’s in. You draw your spear back, aim, and then throw.

The spear goes right through his neck, spurting blood on Johanna. His eyes are wide, that’s his last moment of life, before he’s falling to the side, following the momentum of the spear. The cannon blast is immediate. Three dead.

You’re coming out of the trees, going to help Johanna to her feet. You need to know who the second cannon was. It can’t be Finnick. You don’t want to believe it. There’s one more person in the arena—Chaff. That cannon has to be him. Unless you cut too deep into Katniss.

You don’t even open your mouth to speak, when a body collides into you. Your back slams into the grass and vines, head following soon after. You reach for the knife on your belt, as the new person scrambles to get on top of you. You slash, he hisses in pain.

Peeta.

“Get—!” You slam your foot into his chest, knocking him back. You scoot away from him.

“(Y/n)?” Johanna asks.

“Where’s Katniss?” Peeta demands.

“Is Enobaria dead?” Johanna asks, “Is she coming?”

“She’s that—Katniss is back that way.” You point in the direction you came, Peeta’s getting to his feet, “Wait!”

“Did you kill Enobaria?” Johanna asks again.

“Yes!” You’re getting up, “Peeta, stop!”

You shake your head, he’s already gone, disappeared into the trees. If you chase him now, he might think you’re going to kill him. You turn to Johanna, holding out your hand.

“Who was it? That second cannon?” 

Johanna takes your bloodied hand, you pull her to her feet. It stings. She motions a few feet away, toward the eleven section, where the insects are dying out. It’s almost midnight. You need to get back to the tree, be there with Finnick to get rescued.

There, in the grass, lies a man. When you inch closer, you’re able to see that it is Chaff, after all. He must’ve joined the fight and lost to Brutus. That’s the only reason why you can think he’s dead, or here in general. 

“Brutus killed him.” She breathes, wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her jumpsuit, “He heard me first.”

“Peeta did too, then.” You turn to look in the direction he went, “We have to get back to the tree, make sure that Katniss got there.”

“Go, I’ll find Peeta and meet you at the tree.” She waves you off.

“Thank you.” You say, and then you start uphill, running. 

The only weapon to your name is the knife, which you’re not entirely sure you need anymore. Enobaria and Brutus are dead. Your two enemies have officially killed themselves by coming after your split group. This isn’t how this should’ve gone, though. Where is everyone?

Peeta and Katniss will be looking for each other, going in circles. Hopefully Finnick’s sitting tight at the tree with Beetee. Johanna will get Peeta, and then you’ll all be at the tree in time to get out of here.

The insects have stopped chirping. It’s almost midnight, and you’re not even close to the tree yet. You run faster, hands squeezed into painful fists as you struggle through the vines.

The sky is swirling with clouds. Midnight is only seconds away. There’s light flashing, gearing up for the first bolt.

It happens in the matter of milliseconds, the brilliant white light, and the dome bursting into blue a second later. You clamp your hands over your ears, dropping into a crouch when the thunder cracks. You can hear it through your hands, as if you’re inside of the noise itself.

You need to get to Finnick.

You barely get back to your feet, this time running faster. The dome is exploding, Beetee must’ve done it. It’s falling apart. The arena’s falling apart.

One hexagon at a time, colliding with the ground, causing earthquakes that you can’t quite fight through. The sky, beautifully blue compared to the midnight black the arena’s taken on, is shining through the broken pieces.

There’s a fire, smoke’s filling the trees, and you’re running toward it. Toward the tree that should have Katniss and Beetee and Finnick. Your husband will be there, waiting for you. The smoke creates a haze in the trees, you cover your mouth with your elbow.

It’s only a few more minutes away. A few more minutes of running and you’ll join him, and you’ll be free.

“Finnick!” You scream, pushing off of green trees, tiny branches whipping at your skin, trying to force you to slow down. You can feel the sting, the fresh blood joining the old. You don’t have time to stop, “Finnick!”

And then it appears: the hovercraft to get out of here. So close, yet so far away. They’re waiting up there. The first person they’ll rescue is Katniss, naturally. And if everyone is spread out far enough, it’ll drop two more times before you arrive.

“Finnick!” You call again, wanting him to hear you coming, because you are. You’ll make it. The two of you will be safe, this time out of Capitol hands. Just another minute uphill. They can wait that long, can’t they?

The claw drops again, for the second time, to retrieve the second victor. Your legs are in flames, throat tight and dry from your breathing. There’s a film in your throat that you can’t quite cough away because of the smoke. You can’t stop now. You’re right there.

“Finnick!” Your voice cracks, you swing around a tree, you can see the lightning tree. It’s towering over you. Once threatening, now an important place to be. You’re lucky the lightning isn’t still going. 

One more time, the claw is coming down. You can make it. You watch it disappear into the trees, collecting the last victor. You need to be on this one. You don’t think they can afford to drop it again.

You break through the trees at the same moment it’s retreating. 

One body, one unmoving body. His bronze hair is all you can see, blowing in the smoke and flames. You try running faster, hoping to reach it before it’s too late. You can’t, not from the ground. You find the nearest rock, and try launching off of it, hands reaching for him. For the claw. For freedom.

Your fingertips graze the metal, and then you come crashing down to earth.

“No!” You cry, barely landing on your feet. You brush the blood and dirt mixture onto your thighs, smearing it. 

The only option left is the tree, scaling it. You don’t have time to waste, sticking your foot into the loose vines that wrap around the tree. The moment you grip onto the rough bark, it digs into the wounds on your hands, forcing tears to your eyes. You start to climb, using mostly arm strength to pull yourself up. You can see him getting further away.

You can’t let him go without you.

You pull yourself up until you can finally reach the branches, almost twenty feet off the ground. You don’t look down, only focusing on the wood above you, whether or not it’ll hold your weight. You make it an additional ten feet before the branches stop.

You turn to look for vines, and find none. The next batch of branches is higher up. You won’t make it.

Finnick’s out of reach, now. He’s almost at the hovercraft.

“Finnick!” You scream again, hoping they’ll hear you. They have to come down one more time. You’re a little less than halfway up, it won’t take too much time to drop down and get you. Just one more time.

With one hand gripped onto a branch, you hang out as best you can, hoping they can see you. The claw disappears into the hovercraft, and so you wait for it to come down to you. But time’s ticking on, one second turning to ten, and the bottom of the hovercraft begins to shut, sealing them inside. That’s it. It’s not coming back down.

You didn’t make it. 

If you’d left Johanna even a couple seconds sooner, you would’ve made it. Finnick and you would be together inside of the hovercraft. Now it’s leaving, and you’ll never get to go to District Thirteen.

The hovercraft blends into the blue sky again, officially leaving you here. In the hands of the Capitol, of President Coriolanus Snow. Who knows what he’ll do to you? You just successfully got Katniss into the hands of the rebels. You’re a rebel.

Finnick’s safe, though. He’s not at the mercy of the Capitol anymore, only you.

You did it, not quite the way you wanted it to happen but he’s safe.

Your husband is safe.

--

AUBADE IS PART 3 OF A TRIOLOGY //MASTERLIST//

[the-fiction-witch]

Groupie P2

TV SHOW PISTOL COUPLE MALCOLM X READER RATING: SMUT AF

I climbed out of the still icy shower with my towel wrapped around me tightly, I held my towel tightly as I went to my bedroom. I picked out my neon green lace panties and matching long-line lace bra, My fishnet dress, my big black belt, my thigh-high black stockings, my neon green spiked dinosaur shoes, and my fingerless spiked gloves and my headband from last night. I did my make-up to match with my black and neon green theme going my hair in a high pony. Grabbing my usual necklace and slipping it around me too, I grabbed my handbag and hurried out of my house locking it up behind me, I hurried down to Denmark Street and quickly found the little guitar shop he had mentioned. I knew I was early but there was no one around, I stood waiting outside noticing the various people giving me evil looks as they went past. I waited admittedly impatiently for a while unsure where exactly to spot him from.

"Aww there you are pumpkin" I heard made me glance over down the street to the other side of the guitar store, where Malcolm stood in his typical shoes, his tight leather pants, his black buckle shirt, and his same jacket from last night.

"Morning" I smiled fixing a stray bit of my hair

"Morning" he smirked giving my lips a kiss and setting both his hands on my waist "don't you look beautiful," He smirked Moving a hand to grab my ass "come on," he kept his arm around me as he ushered me inside the little red door beside the guitar shop, and down a small corridor, I went along with him unsure where exactly I was going but I wasn't going to complain as the further we went the louder music got. Until it opened up to a little courtyard with a sort of warehouse-like building snuggly behind it where this intense music was coming from "Where are my sexy young assassins?" He smirked as we came through into the place, it was much as I expected it to be quite frankly beer bottles across every possible location, a mattress or two on the floor instruments about the place and of course, the boys from last night all stood around not really playing more fiddling with their instruments then doing anything of note.

"fuck off Malcolm" One spoke up

"you don't even want the news I have with me?" he asked them

"not partially" the same one spoke up

"What is it, Malcolm," another asked smoking a cigarette

"You sit there, don't be a distraction," he told me picking me up and sitting me on the table giving my nose a kiss and winking at me before he went on telling the band some news and things much of which I didn't understand until I noticed the one who had been smoking a cigarette was looking at me as the conversation began to flutter to its end and luckily I managed to pick up some names

"Not to be rude" steve began "who's this?"

"I'll not be rude. Who's the little whore on the table?" Jhonny asked

"she. is none of your concern," Malcolm told them having a seat having now slipped his jacket off and sitting it on my lap so I happily took it pulling it close and I gave it a warm cuddle it felt so soft for a leather jacket clearly where he wears it so much, the scent of him all over it, so I hugged it tightly keeping it safe for him

"Looks like a bar girl" glen smirked at me

"You boys get your groupies, so do I" Malcolm smirked "Pumpkin." He cooes tapping his leg

I giggled a little sitting on his jacket on the table and moving over to sit on his lap letting him wrap his arm around my waist at times moving my hip gently so as to not draw attention to the fact I was at this point border line humping him as the boys argued with each other,

"You for everybody or just Malcolm's?" Steve asks me

"Depends" I smiled getting up and stealing steve's cigarette, for myself

"On what love?"

"on who's asking" I smirked "and how they compare to my Malcolm"

"Humm aren't you sweet" Malcolm cooed

"What's with the spikes?' glen asked me

"Well when you dress like this you have to use something to keep people's hands off" I smirked

"Oi!" Malcolm glared

"Except yours Malcolm"

"Good girl" he smirked so I went back sitting back on his lap

'Vivienne alright with this?' johnny spoke up

"Well. What she doesn't know" he smirked

"Perhaps I should pop to sex and tell her."

"My relationship with Viv and how it works is frankly none of your business Mr rotten, by all means, March your ass up to sex and tell her all about my little darling, but I guarantee you she will not give a shit. I don't bother her when she's with her toy boy why would she bother me when I'm with my groupie" he explained

there were a few more talks of things before we finished up I kept hold of Malcolm's jacket as he finished up with the boys "Now go on I want a new song by the end of the week" he told them "Come on then darling" he wrapped his arm around me again and we headed out the place and down the street, it was then I felt the need to speak up

"Who's Vivienne?" I asked

"Vivienne. Is none of your concern" he says

"But who is she I'm curious is all?"

"She is a designer. Sews clothes I use for the boys"

"I meant more... to you"

"We live together. She is... the mother of my son but as I said none of your concern."

"Am I none of her concern?"

He gave me a look and slightly laughed at me "alright. Yes. If she knew about you... she'd have kittens. I told John she doesn't care because then he won't go scampering off to tell her" he explained "you let me worry about her, all you need to worry about is looking so beautiful," he smirked

"Okay, where are we going now?" I asked

"Well, viv's at the shop. And her little kiddies are at school so how about we head to my place and you... inspire me in that special way you do pumpkin" he smirked

I blushed but went along with him as he heads me across to the little flat it was cluttered and clearly well lived in, he took me thought to the office and sat at a small desk with a typewriter on it starting in some work

"You like that jacket?" He laughs as he lit himself a cigarette having a small drag before handing it over to me

"It's warm and cosy" I smiled

"Humm well if your very good, you can keep it for a while"

"You mean it?" I giggled handing back the cigarette

"Of course I do" he smiled

I giggled and slipped the jacket on hugging it as it was around me and he smirked at me

"You look adorable in my clothes pumpkin"

"I do?"

"You do. Maybe I should let you wear my clothes more often" he smirked pulling me to sit in his lap

"You really like me sitting here today" I smiled

"Well... I missed you. After last night I came back here and crawled into bed and, I couldn't sleep. I missed your pretty pussy too much" he smirked grinding his hips to rub himself against me more aggressively than he did earlier "woke up with a hard-on just thinking about my little darling" he growled

"Oh? What did you do about it?" I smiled playfully with his hair

"Well. I had a little time in the shower this morning thinking about our time in the back of the car last night"

"You did? Why didn't you just turn over and have a snuggle with Viv?"

"Like I get sex off her anymore." He laughs "besides I'd be disappointed it wasn't you"

"Well, it could have been"

"Could it?"

"If you'd come and snuggled with me I'd have been there this morning to take care of you" I smirked now working into his grinding

"Could I now?"

"Umm" I nod

"Well maybe next time I will" he smirked slapping my ass

"Ah! Malcolm" I giggled

"Now you sit right here and keep me company," he says sitting me on the desk he was working on every so often he would stroke my thigh or fondle my breast as he worked

"I need to powder my nose" I smiled after a while

"Second door on the left," he says as he was deep in his typing so I went to the little bathroom and smirked I didn't really need to I just fixed my lipstick and set his jacket in the side, I slipped off everything except my heels leaving me completely naked slipping his jacket back on only just concealing me and returning to the room leaning on the doorframe at first he didn't spot me but he glanced over and his wicked smile grew as he but his bottom lip reclining in his chair a little turning to see me stood there

"Hi Malcolm" I smiled

"Hello, pumpkin. First door on the right"

"What is?"

"My bedroom. Go on."

"Make me" I smirked

He gave me a look and I just playfully smiled, it was agonizingly slow as he left his chair stepping over to me his hand grabbed my neck his fingers pressing in the hikis he made last night "don't toy with my pumpkin. I think after that show today my little groupie might need a lesson"

"What show?"

"With the boys." He smirked slipping the jacket off me "don't you even think for a second one of those boys is getting their hands on my little groupie"

"They won't I promise" I smiled

"Good," he smirked picking me up by my thighs wrapping my legs around him and pulling me into an intense kiss as he kicked open the bedroom door and carried me with him to the bed throwing me down on the bed "you looked so cute in your little outfit today,"

"I did?"

"Ummm you did, but you look even better like this darling" he smirked

"Perhaps you should join me Malcolm" I giggled stroking my toes up his chest

"Perhaps I should" he smirked holding my ankles and pushing them as far apart as possible, he undid his shirt and pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. He undid his pants letting them quickly drop to the floor. He glanced down at himself and bit his lip a little as he stepped out his pants "You can take it from there darling" he smirked

I giggled sitting up and stroking across the waistband of his boxers,

"Ah ah." he smirked slapping my hands away "without your hands"

"Yes, Malcolm" I blushed kissing the bottom of his stomach and gripping the waistband with my teeth being careful not to catch his sensitive pale skin, as I pulled them down far enough they would fall on their own, and I looked at him had not really gotten to see much of him yesterday in the car, his little dark snail trail that leads down to himself, his slender shaft completely erect his veins across his shaft and even his head slightly leaking precum where he was clearly desperate "Already Malcolm?" I smiled licking the precum away "Didn't you get enough satisfaction last night?"

"well I was extremely satisfied last night, but I've had my little pumpkin grinding on me all day today" He smirked pushing me down flat on the bed he kicked his boxers off and climbed onto the bed with me "You tasted so good last night, let's see if your still as good" he smirked giving my stomach a kiss then down to my inner thighs, he pushed my legs open and buried his head between my legs kissing and nibbling on my clit

"Uhh! Malcolm!" I gasped tugging on his hair

"Aww my name sounds so good coming out your mouth" he growled clamping his lips around my clit licking and sucking me mercilessly

"AHHH! Malcolm!" I squealed pulling on his hair hard, making him pull back and lick across his lips

"Fuck you taste so good" He smiled "Let's see if the rest of you tastes so good" he growled licking up my stomach and between my breasts, up to my neck biting and kissing my skin

"I'm starting to worry you might really wanna eat me, maybe you're a vampire"

"Humm if I was don't you think I'd have turned you into a sexy little bride of Dracula by now"

"would you now? haven't you already got one of those?"

"No. I don't. but I'd be happy to have you" he smirked moving down to grope and fondle my breasts moving to kiss and suck at my nipples

"Malcolm stop it!" I giggled pushing him away

"Awww come on darling, I just wanna get them nice and hard before we play with them" He smirked

"Maybe I want something else"

"Yeah? something a little more.... invasive darling?"

"Ummm hum" I nodded

"alright" He growled and smirked hard took my hand softly giving my hand a soft little kiss and setting it on his cock, I smirked and stroked across him a few times before he pushed me away and came closer stroking my thigh before he pushed hilt deep inside me again

"Uhhh! I missed you!"

"Yeah it was only last night darling"

"I still missed you,"

"yeah, I missed you too" he smirked holding my hips as he moved thrusting fast and hard much more so the  last night as now without the confines of the small mini around us, I arched my back off the bed whenever I felt the shock of pleasure from his hitting the perfect spots inside me, often times he would lean down and make out with me or bite and suck on my neck often times moaning when he heard me scream "Fuck" he groans burying his head in my neck as his hips moved mercifully the bed creaking and squeaking below us, I knew I was close it wouldn't be long before I hit my high often screaming and moaning in his ear, scratching my nails down his back "Come on darling, I wanna watch you fall apart for me" he smirked

"Yes Malcolm" I smirked back moving my hips a little too

"Uhhh! fuck!" he groans getting faster and faster which causes me to hit my orgasm screaming in his ear and digging my nails into his back, he groans and monas letting me ride it out before he pulled out I was about to help him with my hand but I didn't need to as he almost instantly bit down on my neck hard and came across my stomach "fuck! you are so amazing. how did I ever get such a good little groupie" he smirked laying down in the bed beside me and playing with my hair

"did you enjoy it, Malcolm?"

"Ummmm of course darling, why wouldn't I?" He smirked "Vicous little thing aren't you?"

"Why?"

"Feel like my back been malled by a tiger"

"Sorry Malcolm"

"It's alright darling, I leave my marks on you and you can leave your marks on me" He smirked giving me a kiss and climbing out of the bed grabbing a cigarette from his pocket passing around naked with his cigarette often times sharing it with me until I heard the phone so he grabbed his boxers and went to answer it, so I sat up and began to get dressed again cleaning up the mess on my stomach until he came back "Hey pumpkin" he smirked giving me a cuddle and a kiss "get your things, she's on her way home and I don't want you to get in trouble"

"Alright, will I see you again?" I asked

"you will pumpkin, there is a little alleyway in soho, two fetish shops on either side and a peepshow at the bottom. meet me there tomorrow night at eleven under the red lampost"

"Okay" I smiled giving him another kiss before he took me to the door "I'll miss you"

"I'll miss you more. go on or we'll both be in trouble" He winked giving me another intense lusty kiss before I pulled back giving him a little wave as I headed out.

[soupercatte]

FFXIV Writing Prompt 24: Vicissitude

Teka’a stamped his foot on the floor, teeth clenched tightly as he let out a frustrated growl.

“What do you mean I’m not old enough? I’m thirteen!” He snarled angrily. “That’s practically grown! I can do this!”

Kelas’ra continued packing a bag without a single word, but the position of his ears pressed against the back of his head and the flicker of his tail bespoke more of his annoyance than any words could. He paused for a moment, returning back to his task.

“You are still a child, Teka’a. I refuse.”

“I’m not a child!”

“You are. Do not argue with me about this, My Heart.”

His father turned and strode up to him, Teka’a squaring his shoulders to try and seem bigger than what he was. He was the same height as Kelas’ra, though that wasn’t saying much given how small the man was to begin with. Reaching out with a gentle touch he rubbed his thumb across Teka’a’s cheek. 

“Your markings still have not fully come in.” He said with a soft smile. “They’re still so light and muddy. When they are filled in and a deep brown then you will be a true adult. Until then, you will stay here where it is safe and warm within the Respite. Do you understand me?”

Pulling back, Teka’a rubbed his face angrily, pursing his lips as he huffed. “Maybe they’re just light and fully filled in! It’d be a blessing really, given just how many there are.”

Kelas’ra shook his head, turning back to the bedroll and placed a few more blue glass bottles into his travel bag, hearing them clinking against each other as he padded them with medical supplies should he have need of them.

“I grow weary of this. Please, Teka’a. Just listen to me this once and stay here. Any other job I would let you follow us on but this one may prove to be dangerous. If something were to happen to you, I…”

His voice trailed away before he shook the thoughts from his head, fixing the clasp on his travel bag and carefully tossing the strap over his head. 

Kelas’ra turned, adjusting the belts of his clothing. He wore a set of dark leather robes, a sort of plum black that was tight in the arms and chest and draped down his legs like a trench coat, straps and belts fastening it snugly in place.The gloves that ran up his arms were fingerless but had thick padding in the palms, his boots similar as well, the various buckles and ties crisscrossing up his legs to his thighs, disappearing underneath his robes. He fiddled with a small capelet that draped off of his right shoulder, the fabric wrapped loosely around his neck, keeping it warm. All in all he looked less prepared for a journey through a blizzard and more for subterfuge.

He clasped Teka’a’s shoulders in his hands, brushing his hair back before giving him a tight hug, the musky sweet scent of his cologne heavy in Teka’a’s nose.

“We will be back before you know it.” He whispered, stepping back with a grin. “You can join me on the next job, alright? Something less…potentially lethal.”

The boy scowled and didn’t answer, turning away and crossing his arms. Kelas’ra appeared hurt by the response, lowering his head as he hopped down from the loft in the Respite’s kitchens, pausing at the door.

“I love you, My Heart.” He said gently to the air. “All that I do I do for you. Never forget that.”

He left the room, Teka’a letting out a frustrated cry and throwing his grimoire off to the side. His father just didn’t understand! He wasn’t a child any longer, he could be trusted to join on his first mission!

He’d been waiting for this day for so long, wanting to go with Kelas’ra and Inquisitor Ackald on a trip to do whatever it was they got summoned for. He’d always asked for details, to learn more about their responsibilities in the Respite but Kelas’ra was ever secretive about it, the Inquisitor even more so. At long last he had gotten his father to agree to allow him to join them on the next adventure but when the summons arrived he had flat out refused, stating Teka’a was too young for such a thing.

He could handle himself, he had been training for years now! Between his thaumaturgy training from Miss Thea, his conjury with E Sumi in Stillglade Fane and the various teachers he had accumulated over time was more than prepared, an accomplished mage in his own right!

Teka’a grabbed his grimoire and hopped down from the loft, leaving the kitchens. There was a faint murmur of voices coming from the entrance to the respite, Teka’a peering out from the hallway to see Adryian and his father talking with a couple of Temple Knights, nodding and trading supplies. Kelas’ra turned and gave him a quick glance, his lips quirking into a faint smile before returning back to the conversation. Satisfied, they left with the Temple Knights, the cold air blasting into the room from the door before it closed behind them. He lingered in the hall a while longer, watching with frustration at the clergy members and half frozen travelers milled about, partaking in the hot teas and coffees and sweets set out along the counter for visitors.

He’ll never take me anywhere unless I prove it to him I can handle it. Teka’a grumbled to himself, slipping back into the hall. If I follow him and show that I’m capable, then maybe…

He couldn’t go through the front door, Illaine would be standing guard by the gates and she always did whatever Kelas’ra asked her to. No, he’d need to find another way.

Teka’a rushed back to the kitchens, climbing the loft and pulling on his thick woolen coat and hat, grabbing his bag and his grimoire before sneaking his way down the hall and up the back staircase to the attic storage. He came up here a lot to study, the room warm from the radiant heat below. Unlike down below the windows up here actually opened, Teka’a shimmying out onto the roof tiles and closing them behind him, gently sliding down the sloped roof. He dropped to the outcropping of the second floor, carefully making his way around the ledge before hopping onto the chocobo stables and rolling down the back. His father’s bird as well as the Inquisitor’s were still here, chirping as he shushed them, patting their beaks before squeezing through the bars of the courtyard wall, finally free.

He wasn’t sure where they had gone but they couldn’t have gotten too far. Sprinting up the hill of Empyreum and into Foundation he soon caught sight of his father’s trademark silvery hair, following closely behind them as they traveled through the city and out the massive iron gates into Western Coerthas. The guards watched him silently as he followed suit but they said nothing, allowing him to pass unabated.

The winds were bitingly cold as he squinted in the blizzard, clutching his coat tightly to himself as Teka’a struggled to keep up with his father and the Inquisitor, his feet sliding across the icy stones of Falcon’s Nest and soon he found himself wading through snow as they continued onward into Riversmeet. He’d never come out this far into the Coerthas before, usually staying within Ishgard’s walls or occasionally traveling to the Observatorium with Kelas’ra keeping watch. It was something new and despite the numbing cold he was excited to see what was in store.

Teka’a was thankful they hadn’t taken chocobos with them; if they had he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the two as they began the ascent to Red Rim, carefully following in the trails they left behind in the snow to make it easier for him to walk. Further and further they went into the wilderness, the sky dark and the snow coming down in thick blankets, covering his shoulders and stinging his eyes. He struggled to keep them in his sight, but somehow he managed to keep up while maintaining a safe distance so that he wasn’t spotted.

They arrived at the top of Red Rim and Teka’a ducked behind a boulder as he saw the Inquisitor unsheathe his sword, taking on a more aggressive stance. He couldn’t hear what was being said but he saw a group of people wearing deep red robes, some wielding canes as others held books, grimoires perhaps.

Heretics… Teka’a thought, eyes widening with excitement. He’d finally get to see them in action, keeping Ishgard safe! It was always strange to think of Kelas’ra on the frontlines, especially given how weak and timid he was. He was curious to see exactly what it was his father did, especially since he didn’t bring his bow with him.

Teka’a watched the stand off as the Inquisitor stepped closer to the group, Kelas’ra staying back but appeared to be tense and ready to attack. The heretics were yelling something though he could not make out the words, their body language becoming more and more aggressive.  The Inquisitor marched forward once more, step by step until finally at last one of the heretics let out a yell, raising their grimoire to the sky. Lightning struck down from the clouds, the snow swirling as the Inquisitor jumped back, Kelas’ra crouching down as the snow blasted them, Teka’a hiding behind the boulder as the winds whipped over his head, nearly tearing his hat away. Taking a chance to peek he gasped as a large portal opened, a terrifying red skinned creature emerging. It was at least as tall as two men stacked and as wide as a chocobo cart if not two. The creature’s tongue rolled out of its mouth as it let out a bone shaking roar, Teka’a covering his ears as he watched in horror. There was no way just the two of them could handle all these heretics and that monster!

“Lad!” Teka’a heard the inquisitor shout, peeking over the boulder slightly. “Ye take that beast and I’ll handle the rest! I’ll leave ‘em for ye to finish off!”

“Understood!” Kelas’ra nodded and removed something from his bag, placing it over his face. Teka’a suddenly felt a strange sense of foreboding wash over him, making his hands shake and his heart thump wildly in his chest as Kelas’ra pressed a hand to the ground, the limb vanishing elbow deep.

What in the… Teka’a gaped as his father pulled up a massive scythe from the earth, hewn of a deep reddish wood and polished steel, he swung it effortlessly in one hand as if it were made of air. The Inquisitor let out a cry and rushed forward to the heretics while his father vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but a strange miasmatic cloud in his wake. 

Kelas’ra reappeared high in the air, spinning like a blade and careening down on top of the creature, the monster roaring angrily as it swiped at him but he seemed to fade through its hands like smoke.

This doesn’t make sense… Teka’a ogled, watching him spin and flip through the air effortlessly as he fought the creature, slicing it with the scythe blade. He has aether sickness…he can’t do these sort of things!

He watched the fight continue as his father taunted the beast, slowly whittling him down as the Inquisitor handled the heretics, knocking them down and ripping away their canes and grimoires. Teka’a watched as a heretic rose to their feet, pulling out a small wand. He wanted to call out to the inquisitor but he was hesitant to give away his position. Then again, that’s why he came, to prove he could handle a fight…

The heretic called out a spell and a blast of fire rocketed across the cliffside, catching the Inquisitor off guard, the tall hyur letting out a yell as he was knocked to the ground.

“Adry!” Kelas’ra shouted, turning to his friend when the creature he was fighting swiped at him, sending him flying back with a sickening crunch sound. Teka’a’s heart plummeted in his chest and he was on his feet before he realized what he was doing.

“Papa!” Teka’a screamed, whipping out his own grimoire and dashing across the cliff. He called forth every spell he had ever been taught, hand outstretched towards the monster as he fired off ice and fire and levin and stone and everything in between. He dove over Kelas’ra’s form sprawled out across the ice, the man lashing out and trying to grab his ankle but he missed. Positioning himself protectively over his father he stared down the massive being, teeth gritted.

“Teka’a! Why are you here?” He wheezed, his voice strange, almost as if it were multiplied and echoing in his mind. Teka’a couldn’t see his face through his mask, but he could see the smear of blood around his lips from his attack. “It’s dangerous! Get out of here!”

Teka’a shook his head, ignoring his words as he fired off another blast at the being. The creature growled angrily as it swatted at the small blasts of fire and levin that pocketed its flesh, leaving small wounds like that of an annoying insect. Tired of his paltry attacks, it roared ferociously, causing Teka’a to freeze on the spot, his legs cemented in place.

A stunning spell! He thought frantically, trying to move but his body wouldn’t listen. No! How could it-

He barely had time to register what had happened when a great clawed hand collided with his body, sending him careening  across the ice. His senses were addled as he tumbled across the ground, striking a snowdrift before blasting through it, the ground disappearing beneath his body as he gasped, feeling himself begin to fall. Ice cliffs rose around him as he clawed at the air, hearing his father scream his name from high above, the sky but just a slit in the ice now.

And then…there was nothing.

--------

Teka’a groaned, eyelids fluttering as he struggled to come back to consciousness, chunks of hardened snow raining down upon his face. His body ached worse than anything he had ever felt before in his life, tears welling in his eyes as he let out a choked cry. He was trapped underneath a pile of snow and ice at the bottom of a deep ravine carved into the ice caverns, the wind whistling high above him.

Turning and twisting he gasped in pain as his leg appeared to be broken, wedged underneath a block of ice. Digging with his fingers he freed his chest and his other leg but he couldn’t lift the remaining ice, stuck in place and feeling his pulse quickening with fear. How long had he been out? Was his father and the inquisitor okay? Where was that creature? Did they know he was down here?

Teka’a peered around in the small cave, spotting his leather grimoire in the distance. He reached for it, fingers stretching and grasping but it was just too far out of reach.

“Gods dammit…” He spat, smacking the ice. This was a mistake. He should have never come out here. Things had been going so well in his studies, his daily life, but he just had to prove himself, prove he was capable and yet all he had done was succeed in getting himself in trouble. As always.

Struggling again he dug his nails into the ice, ripping at it and trying to break off pieces but it was too thick. His leg ached so badly it was almost mind numbingly painful, he wanted to cry but knew it wouldn’t help his situation.

As he fought to free himself he could hear explosions from high above, glancing upwards to see flashes of light, distant yelling audible even from here. Before long he saw a darkened form appear over the edge of the ravine, peering down at him.

“Teka’a!” His heart soared as he heard his father’s frantic voice echoing down the shaft. He tried to call up to him but his voice was trapped in his throat, unable to cry out. Kelas’ra leapt into the chasm, digging the scythe blade into the ice to slow his fall, landing with a heavy thud by his side.

"My Heart!" He cried, hands holding his face and inspecting him. "I told you! I told you to stay home!"

Kelas'ra sniffled, a choked sob escaping his lips as he ran his hands over Teka'a's battered body, resting on the block of ice. "I will get you free, just hold on!"

He dug into the ice with the fervor of a man mad, flinging pieces left and right behind him. Teka'a mused at his voice, half delirious. It sounded so…odd. Like various whispers behind his words, floating in his head instead of his ears, making him far easier to listen to instead of the whistling winds high above.

Watching his father he ended up focusing on his hands, the way he tore through the ice like a rabid animal. I thought his gloves were fingerless… He thought, watching the actions. For his bowstring…

He must have been wrong, he couldn't see the sandy skin, just black leather. Oddly sharp black leather, it appeared. Good for digging, at least.

Kelas'ra let out a grunt as he grabbed the last large chunk of ice, lifting it. "Pull free!" He groaned, teeth gritted but Teka'a was transfixed by his face, what little he could see through the mask. It seemed…off. Snapping out of it Teka'a crawled on his elbows, getting himself far enough away for Kelas'ra to drop the ice with a gasp, huffing with exertion.

"I'll get you out of here." He said breathlessly, picking up Teka'a's grimoire and handing it to him before winding his arms underneath his frame. "I'll climb out, just hold on--"

"Papa, your face…" Teka'a interrupted, reaching towards and took hold of the mask. Kelas'ra froze as he pulled it away, the boy's eyes widening in surprise at what greeted him from behind. He dropped the mask, the metal piece clattering to the ground as he stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"...I can explain." Kelas'ra said in a soft voice, the tones rumbling in T'eka'a's mind, whispers intertwined as if spoken by a chorus. "But now is not the time."

His multiple eyes glanced away as he reached down, placing the mask back over his face and hefting Teka'a into his arms.

No longer needing to hide he leapt into the air, gliding effortlessly upwards through the chasm before shooting up and out into the sky. Teka'a watched in wonder as they slowly descended in the swirling blizzard, the dead monster's body visible in the distance, already covered with a thin layer of snow. Adryian waited patiently, running over when he saw them descending.

"Hold him." Kelas'ra said in a flat voice, transferring the thirteen year old to the man's arms. "He needs to see."

The inquisitor let out a heavy sigh and nodded, watching the Miqo'te man stride over to the group of bound heretics, removing his mask. They struggled and cried and screamed as he stepped closer, taking hold of the first man and bringing him close.

Teka'a couldn't watch, closing his eyes tightly as he turned away, stomach churning as he heard the blood curdling screams and crunching sounds, the man's cries fading away on the wind. One by one his father worked through the heretics until they laid in a small pile, bereft of aether and blood and chunks of flesh.

Kelas'ra crouched and took a handful of snow, rinsing the inside of his mouth and rubbing it across his face to clean himself as he dusted his hands on his robes, turning back to Teka'a and the Inquisitor. He took the boy once more and Teka'a noted with faint curiosity that his gloves were fingerless, just the claws that curled from the tips were the same black as the leather clothing.

He said nothing as his father carried him, his face shifting like smoke until it was back to normal but his expression was drawn and tense. Once the Inquisitor had gathered the discarded grimoires and canes from the heretics they made the long trek back through the blizzard down Red Rim and into Riversmeet. 

There were so many things Teka'a wanted to ask but he found his voice was frozen in his throat, able to only clutch tightly to the man as he carried him through the snow. 

Things had changed now. They could never go back to what they were before, now that T'eka'a knew the truth. His father was a man eating monster, his father. The man who dressed Teka'a's carbuncle in little coats and scarves, the man who had cried with worry when Teka'a had gotten a cold and slept for nigh on a week unabated. The man who had sang at the top of his lungs for Teka'a's nameday on the beaches of Costa del Sol but a mere few months ago, laughing and smiling and rolling in the sands as they had wrestled. The same man who carried him now, distraught with silent angry tears running down his face, freezing in his silver hair as he marched onward.

The vicissitude of their relationship made his stomach churn as he couldn't decide whether to be mad or terrified or mournful, knowing now what he did meant he could no longer remain blissfully ignorant of what actually happened when his father was called away on business.

Things had changed. And he was terrified of what was to come next.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 2 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Dane Hunter

I pull the cell-phone from Julian's grasp as he goes stiff and bring it to my ear.

"Who is this?" I demand.

A whisper answers me.

"You're the detective. You tell me."

So, it's our thief and apparently, he has our number.

No wonder Julian's heart is racing.

"Alright, then. What do you want?"

"I want many things. Only one concerns you. Leave this 'case' as you call it, alone. Do not pursue me again."

I shift the phone from one ear to the other, listening for background noise... some clue to the caller's location... but I hear nothing.

"And if we don't listen?"

The whisperer seems to choose his words with care and when he speaks again, it is with a slow and chilling thoughtfulness.

"You may consider this warning a courtesy... from one bearer of secrets to another. Pursue me at your own risk... if you do, you pursue death."

The line goes dead.

I stare at the 'call ended' message and release a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

"Shit."

"What did he say?" Julian asks and I shake my head.

"He knows who we are. Told us to drop the case 'or else.' "

He frowns.

"He saw me go Unseen but he didn't seem surprised. Maybe he's not human, either."

"Fuck. I wondered, with how we lost him last night. You're faster than me, in human form and it's not easy to shake a Wolf off your tail."

He grimaces.

"I know."

I rub his shoulders in silent apology and he leans into my touch.

"So, what do we do?" he asks and I turn my cell-phone over in my hands and consider.

"We wait," I say.

"We wait to get a call or for him to make his next move."

"Really?" he asks, brows raised hopefully.

"You won't drop it?"

I can't help smiling at his dauntless spirit and clip him playfully under the chin.

"Nah. I don't scare that easy and... for better or worse... neither do you."

I'm slightly relieved, nonetheless, when my phone stays silent.

I check the police blotter but there's no record they've responded to any calls, either.

Maybe we stopped the thief before he struck or maybe whoever's shop he broke into hasn't noticed yet.

The thief leaves so few traces, it wouldn't surprise me.

Meanwhile, we keep ourselves busy preparing for Ingrid's arrival.

Julian had been quick to offer her a place to stay but I know he's a little self-conscious about the size of our house, sometimes.

"There's only one bathroom," he reminds me.

"What if Ingrid wants to take a shower right after one of us has taken a shit?"

"We'll open the window," I say, demonstrating.

"Problem solved. Stop fretting."

"I'm not fretting."

"You're fretting," I repeat, rubbing my thumb over the worry line between his brows.

"She'll love it here just as much as I do. Besides, she grew up the youngest of eight. She's used to sharing things."

The following morning, we head for the airport to pick her up.

It's over an hour's drive and we spend it discussing our caseload.

The 'thief' isn't the only thing on our plates.

Most of the cases we take are simple and easily solved, missing pets, lost or stolen goods and various 'mysteries' that seem to defy conventional explanations, hauntings, cryptid sightings, strange phenomena... that sort of thing.

Julian enjoys those more than I do.

I like helping people with things that mean something but that the usual authorities typically can't be bothered to help with.

At the airport, Ingrid texts me to meet her at Baggage Claim.

The airport is small but busy, being the only large airport in this part of the state.

There's a crowd around the black conveyor belts spewing rows of luggage from a portal in the wall and I scan it for my sister but don't see her anywhere.

"Is there more than one baggage claim area?" Julian asks, consulting a confusingly unmarked map on the wall.

"No, this is it," I say.

"I think..."

My only warning is my sister's shrill battle cry of 'Big brother Dane' before she attacks from behind, leaping onto my back and wrapping me in a tangle of arms and legs.

Lucky for her, the muscle I pulled is fully healed and I have good reflexes.

I reach behind me, grab her, swing her around and set her on her feet in front of me before giving her a hug that makes her squeak.

"Hey, little sister," I say, laughing.

"Still up to no good, huh? How was the flight?"

She grins up at me, cute nose wrinkled and gap-toothed grin spread wide.

Dressed in blue overalls and a white crop top, she's got a halo of springy curls, golden brown skin and liquid amber eye, pretty... in an 'adorable little sister' kind of way.

"Not bad," she says.

"I got a window seat."

She wriggles from my grasp and turns to Julian, who hangs back a bit, still a little unsure of himself when meeting my family.

"Julie," she shrieks, bouncing towards him and snatching him in a spine-crushing embrace.

"How's my favorite Faerie?"

He's only met Ingrid in person once but Wolves make friends fast.

"You know how that sounds, right?" he laughs and she giggles.

"Am I wrong, though?"

He rolls his eyes but smiles and squeaks as she squeezes him again.

"This is gonna be so much 'fun'," she squeals.

"I can't 'wait' to see Spring Lakes... you guys have to show me everything... and Dane says it's a great place to Run. I haven't been outside as a Wolf in months... I have to shift in my room in the city and 'Oh My Goddess' there was this one time I forgot to lock the door and my roommate came home and..."

"Ingrid."

I put a hint of Alpha in my voice... just enough to stop my sister's run-on sentences... and shake my head.

This might seem like the sticks compared to her music school in New York but we still don't talk about Wolf matters in public... especially in the middle of a crowd.

Her grin fades momentarily as she catches on to her faux pas, then returns to full brightness as she spots something behind me.

"Oh. Here comes Charlie," she exclaims, clapping her hands.

"You guys are gonna love him. I hope there's room in your car."

As she darts off along the line of luggage, Julian and I share a look and I can tell we're thinking the same thing.

'Who the fuck is Charlie?'

Steeling myself for a host of possibilities, I trail after my sister along the luggage-laden conveyor belt.

Ingrid is congenially friendly, like the typical hyperactive puppy and 'Charlie' could be anyone from airport security to a boyfriend she forgot to mention she was bringing along.

I'm both confounded and relieved when, instead of a person, she fixates on a large black case on the belt, grabs it, lays it on the ground and unzips it to reveal a cello carefully packed in a casing of foam.

"Hey, buddy," she croons, stroking the polished dark wood.

"They treat you okay? Not too rough, this time?"

"That's Charlie?" Julian asks, laughing with obvious relief.

She twists and grins up at him.

"It's a musician thing."

"I remember that now," I say, as she finishes her inspection and zips the case shut, slinging it over her shoulder as she stands.

"What happened to.... uh 'Wanda' wasn't it?"

She shrugs as she pulls two extra-large rolling suitcases off the belt.

Each looks like it weighs at least fifty pounds but being a Wolf, Ingrid is stronger than she appears.

"Wanda was a great study instrument but I outgrew her. Charlie's on loan from the Conservatory. He's got an amazing voice," she giggles, "And damn, can I make that boy sing."

Julian shoots me a wink, probably sensing how intensely glad I am that Charlie is, indeed, not a person.

I take one of the wheeled cases, Julian takes the other and Ingrid carries the cello on her back as we make our way through the crowd and towards the exits.

"I can't wait to hear it," Julian says warmly.

"From what Dane tells me, the New York Philharmonic would be lucky to have you."

She blushes and gives me a pretend glare.

"That's just big brother talk. I think Spring Lakes is more my speed."

"Really?" I ask.

"I thought you loved the bright lights and big city."

"I do but I think I'm ready for a change," she says.

"When I saw the orchestra here had an opening, I jumped at the chance to spend time with my big brother."

"Oh, so that's how it is," I say, nodding.

"And here I thought you just wanted the free room and board."

She grins.

"Well, there's that, too. But seriously, Dane, I feel like I've seen you twice in the last two years. It's hard being away from Pack."

"Don't I know it," I agree.

"And I'm glad to have you here, too."

[arcaneblaine]

their favorite body part ┈ gvf headcanon

☽ ┈ ft. josh kiszka, jake kiszka, sam kiszka, danny wagner

☽ ┈ cw/tags: nsfw (smut, oral, choking, etc.), fluff

☽ ┈ request

☽ ┈ thank you for this request! sorry we're lagging on posting more but hopefully we'll have a few more breaks in our schedules. in the meantime, enjoy :)

JOSH ┈ mouth

imo josh is a mouth worshipper

catch him gawking at your lips while you’re having a conversation with him, or telling him about your day

for the most part, it’s unintentional but he gets distracted easily

he loves the way the corners of your mouth turn up when you catch him zoning out

or the way you barely bite at the flesh of your bottom lip when you’re unsure of something

he always prefers to be the one biting for you, but it is what it is

he loves you in darker shades of lipstick, finding that the closer your lips are to wine, the more he wants to get drunk off them

he loves the plumpness of your lips when you go down on him as the color you’re wearing smears against his skin

watching himself disappear past your lips is just enough to send him over the edge most of the time, muttering your name as if it were some kind of ancient prayer

he loves the way your mouth looks so agitated after his teeth score your lips, turning your skin various hues as he marks you as his

he loves the wash of bliss that settles into your smile as he finally hits your sweet spot and sends your head reeling

most importantly, he loves the taste of your lips as it blends against his tongue

it’s incomparable to anything else, and it’s so wholely you which is exactly what he likes

JAKE ┈ hands

jake’s mind goes absolutely numb when you slide your hand into his own

he loves the feeling of your fingers interwoven with his, or when you hook your finger through one of his belt loops

he loves the digs and hills that make up the landscape of your knuckles, and the valleys and bends that score your palms

he swears he could draw roadmaps based on the intersecting portions of your fate lines

he’s always admired the way you hold your pen to sign your name or the way your fingers fiddle with one of your shirt buttons when you get nervous

that being said, he loves the nimbleness of those same fingers as you unzip his jeans

he loves the feeling of your nails raking through his hair and down his back when he thrusts into you

or the way your hands tighten around his wrist as he controls your breathing

he loves the look of your hands as you jerk him off, the image seared into his memory for when he’s alone or away on tour

a guilty pleasure of his is kissing each of your knuckles when the two of you are alone, the quietness of the room serving as a barrier from the outside world

he loves when you caress his face with those same hands that are simultaneously strong and tender

SAM ┈ feet legs

oh, sammy my beloved

sam loves the softness of your skin after you get out of the shower, wrapping yourself around him as you settle in for bed

he loves the scars on your knees from grade school recess anecdotes revolving around slides and soccer balls

most days he just wants to rest his head in your lap and brush his fingers along the terrain of your calves as you work or read

he loves when you wrap your legs around his waist and sit in his lap while he’s home, the closeness something he craves when the two of you are apart

your legs are sam’s kryptonite, and you use that to its full meaning

he loves to be buried between your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he makes you moan his name with his tongue

he loves when you dig your heels into his back and suffocate him slightly when he hits just the right spot

he can’t help but leave various hickeys printed against the soft muscle of your thighs, his fingers also pitting bruises from keeping your writhing body in place

it gets him hard just thinking about pressing your knee to your chest to thrust harder into you

or the way your legs turn to jelly after he’s bent you over a counter

yet, nothing is comparable to when sam rests his hand on your knee while you’re in public, a gentle squeeze signifying that he’d rather just be with you

and in the car when his thumb brushes against your inner thigh because he knows that beneath your clothing are his marks of passion; a secret for only the two of you

DANNY ┈ hips

Shakira knows they don’t lie okay

danny loves looping an arm around you, his fingers settling on your hip and dipping beneath the hem of your shirt slightly while the two of you are in public

the curvature of your body---he feels---fits perfectly against his side

he loves absentmindedly drawing patterns against your skin with his fingers because he knows it’s such an intimate spot that he had the privilege of touching

it doesn’t matter where the two of you are, he’s usually going to have his fingers subtly digging into the skin of your hips, marking you as his own

he loves watching you dance, even if it’s just the two of you in his apartment goofing around, swaying your body to the music

his eyes light up when you pull him close to you, letting his hands tug your hips to bring you closer to him

he loves using your hips as anchors when he’s grinding against you, moaning sweet nothings in your ear

he loves feeling your hips move against his as you desperately search for more frictions, your fingers grasping at his shirt

he loves raking his teeth over the sensitive spots beside your hips as he drags your underwear down your legs

he loves tugging you back against him, fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deeper into you

what he loves most of all is the fact that he’s one of the few people that know you’re ticklish around your hip area

he prides himself in the fact that he’s someone you trust to explore the depths of your body like that

[i'm not tagging bc the post would break lmao]

[hard-to-be-the-bard]

boss bitch (Helmut Zemo x Reader) NSFW

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, AFAB Reader, orgasm denial, daddy kink, unprotected sex, choking, thigh-riding.

“Are you sure you want to be drinking all of the good stuff?” 

You glanced up at the voice, seeing Zemo leaning across the doorway, watching you with an accusatory glance towards the bottle of whiskey you were holding in one hand, having poured half a glassful already.

He moves from where he’s standing, coming closer, using the countertop to rest on this time, instead of the doorframe.

At this moment in time it’s quiet, Sam and Bucky are already asleep on the floor above, and you’re almost wondering why Zemo’s awake, but then again, he did seem to appear in rooms when you least expected him to, he was almost impressively quiet.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing towards the bottle you’re holding, and you nod, sliding it across the counter towards him.

“It’s hardly like you have to ask, it’s your stuff” You muttered. He gave a chuckle at this, which you would of missed if the room wasn’t so quiet. 

You took a sip of your drink, the burning liquid going down the back of your throat as you felt Zemo’s eyes on you. You placed it back down on the countertop and sighed.

Zemo moves again, changing from leaning on the counter to actually sitting down, on the opposite side you’re on, his eyes not leaving you once, before he speaks again.

“So what makes you feel like drinking at such an hour?” He questions.

“I could ask you the same question” You say, nodding towards his own glass, and he tilts his head in thought for a moment.

“I couldn’t sleep”  You answer before he has a chance to speak, and then you gesture towards the shelf filled with various other bottles.

“So I decided why not” You laugh to yourself. Zemo nods, and cradles his glass in his hands.

“Seems like we are both in the same predicament” He responds, lifting his glass in mock cheers, before bringing it to his lips, again, watching you as he did so. Your eyes watching the way his lips wrapped around the edge of the glass, and you turned away, clearing your throat slightly. 

When you turn back, he’s smirking almost, an amused expression on his face.

It’s almost painfully difficult to ignore the way your stomach churns when he looks at you, especially when he watches you so closely. 

Sam and Bucky would be disappointed if not upset with you if they found out that you had feelings for the man who technically broke up the avengers.

But there was something different in the way he watched you, a softer gaze to the one he gives Sam, or Bucky, he’s almost sizing them up, wondering what their next move will be, always thinking ahead.

You don’t realise Zemo has even moved until he’s sliding into the seat next to you. Your head turning sharply as his elbow brushes against yours gently.

You inhaled softly, before breathing out again. Zemo turns his head towards you

“Is something wrong?” He asks, and you shake your head, before you down the rest of your drink.

“I’m fine” You assure him, and he’s still watching you, constantly. You wished he wouldn’t, almost squirming under his gaze. 

He knows your nervous, he’d be an idiot if he couldn’t tell that much, but it was satisfying for him, watching the way you tried to pretend nothing was wrong when he was sat ever so close to you, arms brushing for a slight moment, and the way you tensed up.

You’re scolding yourself mentally, he’s practically a terrorist you tell yourself. A few glances and gentle touches won’t change that.

You feel a hand on your arm and when you turn to look at Zemo his face is close to yours. You look down at your arm, and see his hand resting on top of your wrist.

“What are you thinking liebling?” He asks.

“Nothing I-” You can’t stop looking at his mouth, and you force yourself to turn away, until the hand on your wrist moves to your chin, tilting your head back towards Zemo.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me” Zemo whispers, and you shake your head

“I’m not scared of you” He watches you for a moment, his thumb running across the underside of your lip, your eyes almost close at the contact, as you move closer towards him in your seat unconsciously.

He chuckles at that, low and soft, tilting his head to examine you further. He moves closer to you, so that his lips are level with yours, and you’re waiting for him to to move, do anything other than just watch you.

And then he kisses you. His hands moving to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer towards him, so that you’re actually on his lap, it’s an almost awkward manoeuvre from your chair to his knee, without breaking the kiss once.

All you can think about is the way his lips are moving against yours, the soft grip of his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist.

His leg moves upwards, and you almost stiffen at the sudden contact of his thigh against you, and he pulls away once again, eyes on you, waiting for you to push him away or give any sign that this isn’t what you want.

But it is, and you respond by kissing him again, your hands pressed against his chest as he kisses you back, harder this time, more desperate, pressing open mouthed kisses against you. 

Zemo moves away, his mouth now moving across your neck, as he switches between nipping and sucking on the skin. It almost draws a moan from you, yet you bite your lip before any sound can escape.

The hands on your waist shift your body forward, and he moves his leg upwards again, creating friction between the two of you, and you suck in a gasp of air.

“Shit-” You mumble into his shoulder, as he continues to move you against his thigh, and his leg almost bounced up against you, unrelenting with his pace. Continuing to grind his leg into your cunt. He watched you, pleased with the way your eyes fluttered shut, and your mouth opened and closed slightly in breathy pants for air. 

You moved to bury your head in his shoulder, but his hand stopped you.

“I want you to look at me” Zemo instructs, as his hands move from your waists, allowing you to continue your actions at your own pace, as his fingers worked quickly on removing your shirt, glancing at you for approval before he swiftly unbuttoned it, pulling it off you, and then making quick work of your bra, throwing it onto the ground below the two of you.

His hands moved to cup your breasts, a finger and thumb flicking one of your nipples to get a grasp of your reaction, to which you respond by pushing your breast further into his hand, desperate for him to keep going. His head lowered and he pressed a kiss to the top of your breast, before moving his hands again, around your waist and he quickly picked you up, and you made a noise at the sudden movement, as he placed you onto the top of the counter, pushing your legs aside to stand between them.

A hand wrapped around your throat gently as he kissed you, and you could taste the whiskey on his lips still, and his hand got tighter, as yours gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, making pleading noises into his mouth.

“God take it off” You gasped, breathless from the kiss, tugging at his shirt. Zemo raises a brow at you before complying, shrugging the fabric over his head and discarding it onto the floor along with your clothes.

His hands were quick to move down to your pants, pushing a hand under the waistband and pulling them down in a swift motion, removing your underwear at the same time, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Zemo’s fingers moved quickly, pressing up against your clit almost immediately, and circling it against it watching as you shuddered at the contact. He moved closer, so that he could kiss you while he continued to touch you, and you moaned against his mouth as he continued to circle his finger against your clit. 

His other hand moved back up to your neck at the exact time he pushed a digit into you, and your body jolted further, in an anguished attempt to make more contact with Zemo. 

“You’re so good for me” He breathed out, pressing kisses into your neck, starting to nip at the flesh again, making sure he left marks for the morning to come,  while adding another finger, and increasing his pace.

Your legs shuddered and your hand moved to grip around the one around your neck, pleas and moans leaving your mouth as you felt your orgasm building up, you felt hot and exhausted already, Zemo’s hand tightening around your throat, helping build up to the climax even more

“Fuck Zemo I-” And before you can reach the top of your climax he pulls his fingers out completely, and you whine at him almost childishly, begging for the contact to come back again.

“You don’t get to come until I’m inside you” He murmurs, pressing a kiss against your mouth as your hands reach for his fly, deprived of the skin on skin contact that you crave from him so much. 

There was a moment of silence, where you pulled off his belt, and he pushed his own trousers down to speed up the process.

He was at his limit at this point, allowing you a moment to run a hand over the tip of his cock as he let out a soft groan at the contact.

He moves closer to you to position the tip of his cock at your entrance, and you arch your back as you feel him push into you slowly. He brings a hand to pull your leg behind his back as he pushes further into you, and your wraps around his arm again, digging into the flesh, and you think to yourself that it’s definitely going to leave marks in the morning.

His hips snap forward, meeting yours and he stretches you out so well, and you can feel him filling you entirely, but god it feels so good.

And he’s fucking you hard, yet with a delicacy that you’ve never seen before, your head is lulling back slightly as a string of curses leave your mouth, you can feel him fully as he shifts back and then thrusts into you harshly again, and the hand on your thigh is squeezing hard enough to bruise you.

“Fuck daddy-” You whimper, and you don’t know where it came from, neither does Zemo, but it definitely spurs him on

“You such a good girl” He murmurs, picking up his speed, and you whimper from the pleasure coursing through your body, a hand goes to the side of the countertop and grips the edge, the glass that was near you has fallen off the side now, and shattered on the floor, but neither of you care, you’re both lost in the feeling of each other, as he continues to bury himself inside you, your toes curl at the sensation of him thrusting in all the way, and you continue to let out a stream of cries and whimpers, moaning from the way he’s fucking you.

You feel your climax building again and you know it won’t be long before you come undone. Zemo leans down to kiss you again, as a grunt of pleasure leaves his mouth, his fingers grip tighter around your thigh, and the hand on your neck loosens slightly. He thrusts harder than before and you watch his face contort as he removes the hand from your neck and begins to circle your clit, it’s too much for you and with a whimper and a cry of his name you’re climaxing over his cock, he feels your walls tighten and he with a grunt he’s reaching his peak quickly after you, spilling his seed into your cunt.

He’s breathing against your neck as you lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He doesn’t move, not yet, until you slide your leg down from around his waist..

He pulls back, sliding out of you with ease, and watches with some sort of satisfaction and his cum drips out of you slowly. Your arms fall down to your side slowly, and he glances towards your slumped figure.

“Come, let’s get you cleaned up”

[arc-misadventures]

Attachments

“Attachments are forbidden.”

“Attachments are against the code.”

“You must let go of these feelings.” 

“Listen to the words of your master, Padawan.”

“Vengeance is not the Jedi way.”

“What have you done...?”

“You will never become a Jedi Knight.”

“You are my Padawan, remember that.

“Remember, attachments are against the code.”

“Jaune...?” 

~~~

Deep azure eyes slowly opened, escaping him from the dream of old memories that haunted his mind. A series of memories he long wish to lay to rest, and be forgotten. He had no such luck however, luck was never on his side. 

A tired groan escaped his lips as he sat up in his cot buried in an alcove in the wall. He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes as he sat up, shacking his head of the weariness that plagued him. He looked down upon the ground and noticed his boots, sluggishly kicked off his feet as he retired to bed. He grabbed them and dawned them on, making sure that each strap was tightly secure across his legs. Ensuring his deep blue cargo pants were neatly tucked into them in the process.

As he raised himself to stand upon his feet, he stretched his arms out wide, stretching his stiff muscles in the process. Another brief yawn escaped his lips as he walked over to the small desk he had in his room. He saw it more as a work bench than a desk, with all the spar bits and bobs that lay strewed across it, no doubt from one of his experiments to upgrade and fix his gear. A deep brown belt rested atop of it all, with in lay several bits of his gear; a repair kit, lockpicks, medical stims, a blaster. Your typical everyday old things your average spacefarer may have need of. 

He grabbed his belt, and put it on, making sure the belt was properly buckled on and the various bits of as for mentioned kit were fit into their proper. He could feel the holster for his blaster bounce against his side as he tightened his belt buckle, he then reached down and secured the second belt that wrapped around his thigh, securing his holster in place. He did a last check before placing a small cylinder container on the back. He shook his belt for a bit before giving a content nod that everything was secure in it’s proper place. 

He reached over and grasped his off-white with dull silver highlights jacket and dawned it on.  And, with that he was ready to face the day. What ever that may be on this, ‘cargo-ship.’

The door to his room  opened as he stepped out and made his way to what he called the mess. He rubbed his fingers through his simple crew cut of blond hair, stopping for a brief moments to scratch at a minor itch he felt against the side of his head. As he entered the mess, he spotted one of his crew mates, reading over a data-pad as she slowly drank what he assumed to be a cup of tea. 

“Morning, Blake.” He said over his shoulder as he grab a some food, and prepared himself a drink.

“Oh, morning, Jaune, sleep well?” His companion spared him only a fleeting glance as she analyzed the data-pad, must be something good on it he thought.

“About as well as can be on this ship.” He payed little mind to the soft hum that echoed throughout the ship, a by product of the ships over-sized, and quite frankly over powered reactors. 

“Not well then?” Another dry and simple remark from her, as expected.

“Eh... yeah... pretty much.” He thought about it for but the briefest of moments before relenting. It was always pretty much like that. 

Twi’lek gave a short laugh at his dry remark. His eyes looked over her once, still unable to not notice how well the black with white highlights fitted the purple skinned Twi’lek. He saw her amber eyes scan through the data sleet, swiping across what appeared to be a list of sorts. 

“Looking for a job for us?” He grab his simple meal and sat upon a seat across from her, letting his head hang above his drink. Letting the warm smell fill his nostrils. 

“We need to get some credits in our coffers; this ship ain’t a cheap one to run.” She waved her hand up in the air like she was the only one who could understand such a simple construct as needing money.

“Are you referring to the shear size of the ship or all the ‘upgrades’ the boss has, and undoubtingly will make to it.” He remarked sarcastically as he bit into his meager meal as he listened to the Twi’lel’s worries.

“Both.” 

Jaune gave a small chuckle as he looked over the insides of this, Cargo-ship, if it ever was one. It had been so heavily modified that it was anything but, a humble cargo-ship.

“Cargo-ship... this thing is still classified as a cargo-ship?! The Crescent Rose, has enough fire power to rival most Imperial and Republic, Corvettes. Shields just as strong as a their frigates, and she can run paces around all of them! I still wonder how we haven’t been blown to dust from all the power running through this thing...”

“Didn’t you say she’s a dream to fly though?” Blake gave a small laugh at her friends expense, while she would agree that it was a good ship, but she was overpowered to the extreme. 

“She is, but she’s so powerful you can’t help but be a little worried about blowing up at worse.”

“And, at best?”

“I don’t know, we loose the plumping and the shower breaks?”

The duo shared a laugh, life aboard this ship brought untold amounts of possibilities aboard it, and as hectic as it was, they never let it get away.

“So, find us a job yet?” 

“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“What is it?” 

“Gun run.”

Jaune groaned as he fell back into his seat, his eyes staring blankly upward into the void. 

“Is there anything else...?”

“Nope, nothing that pays enough for we need.”

“Okay, what’s the pay, and the cargo?” Jaune grabbed the data-pad and looked over the contract, it was simple enough, your basic delivery mission. Basic for smugglers that is. 

“Simple enough; Some pistols, and some rifles. Common grade weapons. My guess they were stolen  from someone, and wants to get rid of them before they get caught.” Blake gave a rather lukewarm reply as she partook of her drink. 

“15,000 credits isn’t nothing to scoff at though... Whose guns are we running with?”

“A human by the name of, Set Tiliar: Gangster, thief, smuggler, etc, etc... Your typical stuff.” The list of characteristics Blake just listed off, could cover about a billion people based on where you in the galaxy, or on a planet for that matter. It really depended on where you were actually.

“Sounds like he could easily run these himself, why hire out a third party? He running hot and needs to lay low for a while, or something?” 

“Could be. But, my bet is probably something he and his crew couldn’t handle.” 

“Hinting to the location, or the person we would be delivering these to.” Jaune speculated before he simply drop the pad on the table and left it that. “We won’t know unless we see the guy then. Pfff... When are we seeing the guy?”

“As soon as the boss comes back.”

“Speaking of which, where is the little loot gremlin anyway?” Jaune took a fleeting glance around the mess, not seeing nor hearing their boss’s presence.”

“You know she doesn’t like it when you call her that.”

“Then she should swiping the cargo because she thinks she could use the trigger for... Something?!”

“Ehh... fair, fair.” Blake had to relent to Jaune’s words. The boss seemed to have the though that she was entitled to a cut of any weapons that were brought on board, even their own at times.

“So Where is she?”

“Went out with her sister last night to hit up a bar, and relax. Hopefully they’ll be back soon. And without a huge tab on them...”

“I know I met you all at a bar... But. I swear, I will never go drinking with you lot again...” 

“Do you think they ever repaired it?”

“Rebuilt it is the better question.”

“What do you expect when a pair of Mandalorian’s go out and party?” Jaune couldn’t help but laugh at her words, property damage was the best one could possibly hope for when a Mandalorian. 

“I can dream can’t I?”

“No.”

“Nahh... nuts...” 

The pairs pleasant conversation was soon interrupted with a whoop and holler as the door to the ship slid open, revealing a pair of possibly drunk Mandalorians along with the bosses trusted X2-C3 Imperial Astromech droid. A droid she had lovingly, ‘liberated’ from the empire some time ago. Evidently it had been sent along with them to chaperon them. If it was at all possible for anything to chaperon a pair of drunk Mandalorians that is.

“Hey people! What’s happening?!” The pair of Mandalorians, one dressed in armour painted in yellow, and tans. And, the other in red, and black. Sisters if one could believe it, though they look vastly different in terms of their appearance, and height.

“Just finishing up our breakfasts, what about you, did you have fun?” 

“Oh yeah, we had a blast!” 

“Not as much as they did, ha!” The yellow armoured Mandalorian voice made a slightly synthetic sound as she spoke through her helmet. Based upon her tone of pitch Jaune speculated that she was slightly buzzed, which all things considered was marginally a good thing, better than her being knock out drunk, again.

“Please tell me you didn’t get into another drunken brawl? We have enough debts to pay as is without the two of destroying some bar in an attempt to let off some steam.” Jaune help but agree with, Blake, they had enough troubles as is. He did not favour having to go against some criminal gang because yang somehow dishounored one in a drunken brawl. 

“Nahh, nothing of the sort; just roughing up some smugglers who thought it was a wise idea to try and cheat a pair of Mandalorians at a game of Sabacc. Don’t worry, nobody died this time.” 

“Ughh... Yang, just because it didn’t happen this time doesn’t make it any better...” Jaune facepalmed as he heard his yellow suited Mandalorian friend give him a rather weak excuse. 

“Pssh, not to me it does!” She laughed as she removed her helmet, letting a golden main of hair run free as she gave him a rather uppity smirk at him, Her violet eyes flashing him with a sense of glee as she sat down next to Blake. 

 “Besides, its not like we leveled the place like we did last time... Ahh, good times...” Jaune couldn’t help but shudder as he saw his red trimmed, brunette friends, maniacal, and wistful gleam in her eyes. 

“Please don’t do that again, I don’t want to pay more bills then what we already have thanks to you two.” The Sisters looked aghast at Jaune’s words, somehow that they were at fault for all the debt they had accumulated as of late. Which they were, but they would never agree to it.

“Fine then, we’ll go get a job, and score ourselves some credits!” 

“Way ahead of you, Jaune and I were just waiting for you to return so we could go and meet the guy about the job.”

“What’s the job?” Asked Yang as she munched on some berries she got at a market a while ago.

“A gun run, take the cargo, and drop it off. Easy as that.”

“Though some of the details are a little fuzzy, we’ll have to go and talk with the guy to find out the job really is.” Jaune interjected as, Blake finished speaking, to clear out some of the small, minor details. “And, no Ruby, you don’t get your, ‘cut.”

“What?! Why not?!” Ruby whined like, Jaune had just confiscated Ruby’s favourite blaster. Like one could do that while she was alive that is. 

“Because we need the money! Your insatiable lust for weapons is not going to feed us, or the ship for that matter. Besides, its nothing fancy, just a bunch of surplus weapons. Nothing special.” Jaune emphasized the nothing special part to make sure the little reaper didn’t get any ideas, though that still probably meant, Blake would be stuck on guard duty. 

“Set Tiliar...?” Yang mused as she read over the data-slate with the contract on it. 

“You know him?” Asked, Blake.

“Heard of him before; Local bar chatter stuff. He’s your basic smuggler trash. Nothing to write home about. However, this reads like he wants to get rid of these guns in a hurry.” Yang stated as her eyes glazed over the contract.

“We speculated that they’re stolen, hence why, Set is willing to pay so much for someone else to run them for him.”

“Sounds easy enough, where is this guy?”

“We should be able to find a contact for him near the southern commercial district. Shouldn’t be too much of a hassle to find him. We just got to ask the right people.”

“Alrighty then, lets get going!” Ruby exclaimed as she sat up and grabbed her helmet, making a beeline for the exit. 

“Oh no, you two are staying here and guarding the ship. We need someone to watch and P3-NY...?!” Jaune was shortly interrupted as Ruby spoke.

“Penny! Her name is, Penny. Isn’t that right my little murder machine~!” Ruby loving rubbed her face against the machine as one would for a pet. It would have been cute of said astromech if Ruby didn’t upgrade to the point the thing was more of a mobile weapons platform than your standard astromech. 

“Yeah... Penny can’t be able to defend the ship all on her own, besides if they send the gear straight to the ship we need someone to show where they need to put it. Besides, I doubt they would like a pair of Mandalorian shoeing up to meet them.” 

Ruby gave a deflated groan as she sat back down. “Fine, we’ll stay her and watch the ship. But, don’t be take too long.”

“Quick and fast, just the way you like it.” Jaune smiled as he got up to leave, with Blake soon to follow.

“Depends on what were doing pretty boy~!” Jaune groaned into his hand as he heard another of, Yang’s flirtatious remarks. No, no, I’m not dealing with this! Come on, Blake, lets get going before they decide to but in again.”

“And the sooner the better.” Blake mumbled as they made their way down the exit ramp of the ship.

“Have fun!” Yang called out one last time as the duo prepared to get their little ragtag team caught up in a whirlwind of trouble.

Again. 

~~~

Yeah, tis a Star Wars AU. Yeah i did it. Placing this in the Star Wars : The  Old Republic Era. I feel like I have more possibilities to explore there then in the Prequal and Original Series, Era’s. I do hope you all enjoy it.

Till later then. 

[tangerine-stained-hands]

Burning Caverns

Wilbur Soot x Reader

~1791~

NSFW One shot

  You walked down the stairs of your new home, Pogtopia, one of Wilburs trench coats tied snug around your body so as to not show your clothes. It had been weeks since your boyfriend had come laid in bed with you, or laided you. And needless to say you were getting a bit needy, your hand could only do so much as to pleasure you as he could. So, you decided you would give him a little visit in his office, and give yourself the sweet release you were so wanting.

  The lights in the walls flickered as you downed the hallway to his office, hand brushing against the wall with one hand as the other gripped the coat. Your body was buzzing with excitement as you came upon his office, the door cracked open a smidge.

  “Wilbur? Can I come in?” You asked, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

  You heard a hushed ‘come in’, and promptly nudged the door open, taking sight of a hunched over Wilbur, lit by a half burnt candle that sat on his desk. Papers strewn across the desk as he looked over various maps that held messy writing and half drawn battle plans. An ink bottle laid on its side, the contents of it emptied from various scribbles and plans across the multitude of papers.

  With a small, almost sad smile, you made your way over to Wilbur, placing a hand on his arm. “When’s the last time you slept?” 

  He shrugged, tired eyes switching from paper to paper. You frowned, and stood in between him and the desk, tilting his chin with your hand, making him look at you instead of his papers. 

  “What are you-?” He began, but you cut him off, pressing two fingers slightly against his lips. With a gentle push, he landed in his chair, hands gripping the arm rests as you gently settled yourself upon his lap. 

  “You need to take care of yourself hon,” You murmured, arms looping around his neck. “It’s not healthy to push yourself like this.”

  Wilbur avoided your looks, face ridden with guilt. He knew how much you worried about him. “I’m sorry love. Is there anything I can do to make up for worrying you?”

  You held his face in your hands, giving him a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep. And spend a night with me. It’s been far too long since either of us have had a release.”

  His checks lightly flushed with blush, hands quickly coming to your waist as he met your gaze. “I can do that. Suppose we could spend this night together?”

  Heat rose in you, a smile forming on your lips. “I’d like that. Fortunately, I’m already dressed for it.” 

  Taking a small breathe, you untied the trench coat, revealing the lace lingerie you wore, along with a lace choker. “I got a little impatient with waiting.” You spoke sheepishly.

  “You are,” He took a pause, drinking you in. “So absolutely beautiful darling.” 

  You smiled, ang gingerly slipped off his lap, dropping the trench coat on the ground as you walked over to the office door, closing and locking it. You didn’t want anyone disturbing you two.

  Wilbur held his arms out as you made your way back over to him, sitting on his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him in for a kiss. The kiss was full of hunger and love, both of you craving each other.

  His fingers brushed against your underwear as he ran his hands up and down your waist, hungry to touch you. You pressed yourself flush against his chest, fingers threading through his hair. You could already feel how aroused you were, his touches making you melt into him. 

  You pulled back from the kiss, tongue flicking against his lips as you opened your eyes. Wilbur looked at you, tilting his head slightly. You leaned your head down, kissing his neck softly, causing him to shiver. Your tongue brushed against his skin as you bit and sucked, leaving marks all across his skin. His tender hands gripped your hips, squeezing hard enough to hurt, but you didn’t mind.

  As you pulled back from his neck, a satisfying ‘pop’ noise being made, you felt something growing in your boyfriends pants, causing you to grind against his lap, hearing a breathy moan escape his lips. You bit your lip, looking him in the eyes as you continued to grind down on him. He began to melt under you, soft pants and moans passing through his lips.

  “Darling I-” Wilbur shuddered under you, leaning into your shoulder.

  Through his jeans you could feel him throb, he was close. You however were not ready for him to have his release. As he began to kiss and bite your shoulder, you stopped grinding, a mischievous grin forming on your lips. His hips bucked against yours, chasing any friction he could get.

  “No no no, not yet.” You bit his earlobe softly. “You still need to pleasure me babe.”

  Wilbur bit his lip, smothering a growl into your shoulder. He lifted you up, swiping off all the papers, then set you on the desk. 

  You laid back as he pulled down your underwear. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as he leaned down in his chair, his mouth quickly latching onto your already wet pussy. You let out a soft moan, hands gripping the desk as he went to work, his tongue flicking up and down on your clit.

  Your back arched, hand quickly gripping his hair, pulling him closer to you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive skin as his tongue moved skillfully. Pleasure quickly rose, causing you to moan loudly.

  “God,, Wilbur” You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Your pretty mouth has such a way of pleasuring me.” 

  Your compliment lit a fire in him, causing him to slip a finger inside of you as he continued to stimulate with his tongue. The burning feeling in you tightened, causing you to wrap your legs around Wilbur, holding him in place as he brought you closer and closer to the sweet release you so craved. 

  With a strangled moan you came, Wilburs tongue lapping around you as your legs twitched, quickly becoming overstimulated. When he had finally pulled away, you sat up, panting heavily. His hands found your hips, gently helping you off the desk. 

  As your feet touched the ground, you reached for his belt, quickly undoing it, and tugged his pants down, the tent that had grown becoming a lot more free. You smirked slightly, and tugged down the waistband, letting him spring forth. Precum was already dripping from the tip. 

  You bit your lip, then crawled up onto his lap, positioning yourself over him. His lips found yours, encompassing you in a rough, needy kiss, before you slammed yourself down onto his lap, moans escaping both of you. His hands held you roughly, nails slightly digging into your skin. You gripped his hair, tugging him back slightly as you bounced, slick noises coming from each movement. 

  You smiled widely into him, finally getting what you so craved for so long. You were so come over with pleasure as you rode him, you could barely hear the knocking on the door. But Wilbur hand. 

  “Nhg, wait wait,” He whispered into the kiss, holding you from moving. You whined, tugging softly at his hair. “Someone’s at the door.”

  “Wilbur? Are you in there?” It was Fundy.

  “Y-yeah, I’m here.” He answered, trying to steady his voice. 

  “Could you open the door? I wanted to talk to you about some battle plans.” Fundy jiggled the handle.

  You looked at Wilbur, tightening around him as you slowly moved up and down on his cock. You wanted to see how much you could tease the man as he spoke with his son. 

  Wilbur let out a small moan into your shoulder, giving a small glare as you smirked. “I’m actually um, doing something important right now. I-it would be better for you to come back later.” His voice stuttered as you licked his neck.

  “Are you ok.? I know everything’s been hard, and you’ve been working your ass off. Y/n was talking to me about how worried they were about you. We’re all worried.” Fundy spoke, concern lacing his voice. 

  “I’m ok.” Wilbur looked at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I’m going to take care of myself tonight, and spend some time out of the office. Let me finish this up, then I’ll go rest, yeah? We can talk more tomorrow.” 

  Fundy’s hand left the door. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

  As his footsteps faded, you pulled Wilbur in for a deep kiss, mumbling how much you loved him as your lips pressed against his. Wilbur mumbled back sorries and I love you’s, fingers lightly brushing over your buzzing skin.

  You began bouncing once again, loving whispers filling your ears as moans bubbled up from your chest. Your chest brushed against his, your sensitive skin brushing against his soft sweater. Wilburs hands shifted from your hips to your thighs, thrusting gently, yet fast, chasing the contact with you. 

  “Wilbur,” You breathed out, moaning into his ear. “I want you to cum inside me. No pulling out this time.”

  “But what about- what if you get pregnant?” His movements slowed, looking you in the eyes.

  “Don’t worry, I’m, ah, I won’t.” Your muscles began to twitch, getting awfully close to your second release.

  “If you say so love.” He began to quicken his pace, biting your shoulder as his hips stuttered, slamming you down on his lap as he came. You twitched, moaning as you felt him fill you up, back arching. 

  As you came down from the cum high, Wilbur kissed you all over, whispering small ‘I love you’s’ as you leaned into him, gripping around his cock. Your chest heaved, your arms wrapped around his neck.

  As you held onto him, not wanting to let go, he leaned down, grabbing the trench coat. “Love, I’ll carry you to our room, but you’ve got to put the coat on. I don’t want anyone to see your lovely body.”

  You blushed softly, then kissed him softly, slipping the trench coat on. “You’re gonna have to walk down the halls with your dick in me. I’m not letting you go yet.”

  Wilburs cheeks turned bright red, fingers drumming on your waist. You gave a cheeky smile, then wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up, his arms holding you close to him. You loved this man so much.

[imaginesupply]

Spencer Reid Imagine: Just peachy

Spencer Reid Imagine: Just Peachy

Summary : Reader (female pronouns, no Y/N, third person) is hosting dinner night at her apartment for the time. Spencer volunteers to help with the preparations. Derek is a good friend.

Warnings: Smut (handjob – male receiving, cum in pants), sub!Spencer, the Lord’s name in vain (only once), one mild curse word. (Because some of this shows Spencer’s thoughts, I had to refrain from using slang words for bodily parts and bodily fluids sometimes. Please don’t judge me.)

Word count: About 1.5k

Note: I wrote this really quickly when I was taking a break from working on my thesis (how Spencer went through the PhD pain thrice willingly, I will never understand) and my brain was fried. Consequently, this is the fic equivalent of the snack you make at 3am when you’re tipsy.

"Remember what we discussed?" Derek asked an exasperated Spencer for umpteenth time as he pulled over in front of their new co-worker's apartment building.

"Yes," Spencer groaned softly, adjusting his hair. "I have an eidetic memory, you know."

Next to him, Derek chuckled. "I know. No need to be so defensive," he teased, "just be yourself and there's no way she won't fall for you."

"Actually, it's not that -"

Derek cut him off before he could say anything more. "Bullshit. It really is that easy, pretty boy and" - he leaned over, grabbing Spencer's satchel from the backseat - "while everyone is due to arrive at seven, I can divert the rest of team if you just send me a text."

Spencer frowned, staring at his friend like he had grown two heads. "Why would I want you to stall -" He stopped in the middle of the sentence, his eyebrows rising high up his forehead and his cheeks turning pink when he finally realized. "Yeah, no, yes" - Spencer shook his head clearing his now corrupted mind - "what I mean to say is that I would definitely text you but - nevermind. Bye." Then he escaped from the car as if it were on fire, almost tripping on the laces of his converse.

Not even thirty minutes had gone by and Spencer already knew he was in trouble.

They walked through the farmers' market, Spencer carrying the fast filling linen bag. She guided him through the crowd, making them stop at the stalls that held anything of interest and buying various ingredients for dinner: vegetarian gratin and peach pie.

Eventually, they stopped at the fruit stand where she approached and asked the vendor if they could taste the peaches. Though they were out of season, they were looking quite ripe. The old man handed her a peach with a smile. "There you go."

She thanked the man and pulled back the sleeve of her lightweight jacket before taking a bite. That was the exact moment Spencer realised this had been a terrible idea. He should never have listened to Derek. He should not have offered to come earlier and help make dinner.

She took in the scent and hummed against the fruit, softly so, that only he would hear and erotically enough that he had to swallow down the saliva gathering in his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing. She bit down on the fruit, the tips of her lips curling up and then licked off a thin trail of juice along the inside of her wrist and forearm, eyes closed. Then, as if nothing, she turned to the old man. "They're delicious!"

She turned back to Spencer and he noticed she was sporting her usual slightly bemused grin. "Have a taste, darling." She turned the pale fruit in her hand and offered it to him, an expectant look in her eyes. And there, in the middle of the busy farmers’ market, Spencer felt like a teenager whose girlfriend had just slipped her hand down his pants for the first time. Which, of course, he had never experienced so he didn't actually know what that would feel like.

Knowing better than to disobey her, Spencer leaned forward into her hand and took a bite of the remaining fruit, leaving behind only the endocarp, while adjusting his satchel to hide the prominent bulge in his crotch. It was the way she looked and the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel like-

“Are you alright?” She asked.

Spencer swallowed the fruit, his throat tight. “Just peachy.”

If he thought that was torture, nothing had prepared him for the actually cooking part. The space between the cabinets and the kitchen isle was narrow, which meant their bodies always brushed whenever she passed behind him, and he was already a sweaty, blushing mess.

Just be yourself, he reminded himself of what Derek had told him. "Hey, umm," Spencer stammered, drawling off, "did you know that until refrigerators were invented in 1834, salt was widely used to preserve meat."

He heard her soft laugh behind him, immediately turning around at the sound before realising she was bent over the counter, trying to reach something on the highest shelf and he had just inadvertently placed himself right behind her backside.

For some reason he couldn't even begin to explain, his first instinct had been to touch. Luckily, though, he had managed to stop his hands mid air before he could effectively ruin everything, but now all he could see was the black fabric of her pants stretching over the roundness of her hips and the warm pressure against him and-

"Spencer!"

He started, finally looking away. "What?"

She chuckled again. "As much as I appreciate your ability to be a walking encyclopaedia, I'd really enjoy it if you could put your height to good use and pass me the pie dish."

"Of course." Spencer shook his head, clearing his mind. "Yeah, I can do that."

She stepped aside, allowing him to grab the item from the cabinet. "Thank you, darling," she said, grinning.

"No problem," Spencer quipped, wiping his clammy hands on his leg pants as he subtly made sure his predicament wasn't too noticeable.

"Great! You can go ahead and knead the dough before stretching it over the dish."

"Yes, ma'am." His brown eyes went wide when he realised that he'd just said it out loud. It wasn’t even his fault. There was just that natural authority about her that made him very compliant.

She laughed once more, softly, looking up at him almost endearingly. "You can call any m word you like, darling."

His start stopped in his chest. Was she flirting with him? He had noticed her body language did not indicate repulsion and she did touch him more than was strictly necessary, but he didn't think she'd actually flirt with him. Spencer considered that he might really have to send Derek the text, but he tried not to get his hopes up too much. He was already nervous enough as it was.

She came up behind him, taking a look at the dough he had absentmindedly tortured and shook her head in amusement. "No, darling, not like that," she cooed gently, coming up closer until her body was pressed up against his. Spencer gulped nervously, acutely aware of the way her breasts were being squashed against his side.

Then her hand wrapped around his over the dough. "You do it like this, Spencer," she whispered. Her fingers lodged themselves between his, applying light pressure, making them bend to her will. "You need to feel it. Are you feeling it?"

Spencer was certainly feeling it, but not in his hand. He would almost be amazed at how a simple touch on his hand could make him radiate warmth and make all the blood in his brain rush to his dick, if he weren’t becoming so lightheaded.

She kissed his arm over the fabric of his shirt. "Here, let me show you." He felt her free hand slide across his stomach and down to his belt. His body jerked at the touch.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice raspy and sounding like a whimper.

Her hand stilled over the now undone buckle. "You want me to stop?"

"No!"

It came out embarrassingly loud and he might have felt ashamed for it, hadn't she managed to remove his belt and open his pants in record time. She pressed her palm to the front of his boxers, cupping his bulge. The fabric was thin and damp, doing little to numb the sensation of her touch. Spencer knew there was already a stain from the pre-ejaculatory fluid he was leaking, but he couldn't get himself to look down. Two senses at once would be too overwhelming and he was already trembling.

At first, she just ran her the tip of her finger up and down his length, making sure to trace the small slit where the wet fabric clung to the damp head. He shivered against her and let out the cutest, most delicious whimper she had ever heard.

"Do you like how it feels?"

"Yes." He choked out the word. His eyes were shut tight, focusing on the sensation but then she surprised him, sliding her hand inside his boxers. And, oh God! Spencer panicked, if her hand alone already felt this good, how could he possibly survive being inside her - "Stop," he moaned urgently, his hand frantically rising to grab hold of hers but it was too late - it was too good.

"Oh, my darling boy," she sighed gently, pressing another kiss to arm as his dick pulsed in her fingers, making a mess of her hand and his boxers.

"I am so -" He didn't know what exactly he was apologising for and he didn't have the time to find out. The bell rang while he was still enjoying the aftermath of his first non-solo orgasm.

Panic set in. He had never gotten around to text Derek.

"Don't worry, darling," she said reassuringly before sliding her hand out of his boxers and bringing it to her mouth to lick it clean. "I'll go get the door and you go clean yourself. Don't want everyone to know how naughty you really are, do you darling?"

[fics-by-caroline]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Magical!Reader

Summary: You and Loki are part of the Avengers, but the pair of you have different ideas of what justice entails than the rest of the group; i.e., more horror, more drama, an eye for an eye. And man, do you two ever look sexy covered in blood.

Category: Smut (18+ only, please!)

Warnings: Smut (blood kink, oral sex -- f receiving), rough sex, porn with some plot), language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, smoking, alcohol consumption, mention of human trafficking.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so please be nice 🥺

   Taking a drag from a cigar in the corner of the dimly-lit speakeasy, your target looked you up and down. Even without tapping into his thoughts, you could tell that he liked what he saw; how the black dress you wore hugged your figure, how you had crossed your legs in a way that allowed him to catch the red bottoms of your heels, red that was reflected in your lipstick and nails. You turned to make eye contact with him, and were immediately hit with hearing him imagine you on your knees sucking him off in one of his fancy cars and afterwards kicking you out onto the street.

   Typical, You thought with disgust, finishing your martini. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Feeling him get up and walk towards you, you shot a knowing look at Loki across the bar.

   “Can I buy you a drink?” The man’s voice was dripping in disgusting salaciousness. He sat beside you, reeking of the over-application of cologne, whiskey, and cigar smoke.

   You shot him a demure smile. “A dirty martini, drier than the Sahara.”

   The man waved down the bartender before leaning closer to you. “Michael Ashbourne.”

   You suppressed an eye roll, taking instead to lighting a cigarette. “I know who you are, Mr. Ashbourne.”

   “And what is it that you know of me?” Ashbourne stroked your hair with a drunken finger.

   Uncrossing your legs, you turned to face him. “That you are one of the worst Midgardian men alive today. You cheat people out of their winnings in various casinos around the world, making yourself and your friends — no doubt the ones who surrounded you in that corner over there — some of the richest men in the world, while managing to operate under the radars of your enemy governments. You sell weapons and drugs because you always want even more money on top of the billions you already have, not caring about the damage you cause. You drink the most expensive liquors, sleep with all the women you please, and leave people eating the dust in your wake. But what brings you to the epitome of disgusting actions is your engagement in the trafficking of girls, once again, for even more money.” Even though you kept your voice low, you made sure to lace every word with biting poison.

   Ashbourne pulled back in shock, unmoving and speechless.

   You smirked at his silence. “Your cunningness is almost impressive, especially for a human. You manage to remain one step ahead of the mewling mortals who are left to crawl in your fading footprints. Bravo. Unfortunately for you, however, I am not one of them.” You waved a finger, from which a small ribbon of white magic followed.

   “Who the hell are you?” Ashbourne hissed.

   “A hero in the eyes of the people you have crossed, and the villain in yours.”

   Ashbourne scoffed condescendingly. Stupid bitch, you heard him think. “Speaking in mysterious riddles just makes you look stupid, missy. I don’t know how you know what you know, but it’s a bit too much for my liking.” He raised a hand, beckoning over the large men who had accompanied him.

   You sighed, unimpressed. Before they could so much as reach for their belt, you pulled the pistol from your garter stockings and fired silenced shots in between their eyes, before holding a dagger against Ashbourne’s throat. The speakeasy froze in horrified silence.

   With a small chuckle at the sudden shock and fear in Ashbourne’s muddy eyes, you called to Loki. “Darling, are there others?”

   “No darling, not here … but we can’t have witnesses, can we?” Loki sauntered up to you, kissing you on the head. He looked around at the few bystanders in the bar, terror keeping their feet rooted in place.

   “Loki, is that really necessary —”

   You were cut off by Loki launching towards the horrified bystanders like a cat pouncing on prey, his daggers slicing through their necks gliding ease. He finished off by throwing a knife into the bartender’s skull, silencing his terrorized mind that shrieked in your own so annoyingly. Loki looked back at you with an amused glint in his eyes, blood on every surface of the speakeasy, including Loki’s own body. Gesturing around him, he noted dryly, “They were dead in seconds, no suffering.”

   You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Ashbourne, who sat with eyes wide and mouth agape. You smirked and applied a bit more pressure to the blade in your hand, drawing small beads of blood. You snuffed out your cigarette and stood up, toying with his bowtie as your heel dug into his foot. You could taste the fear that drenched his mind. “What’s this?” You cooed. “Feeling scared?”

   “Ah, you’re so right, my love,” Loki smiled, looking around the room at the bloody mess he created. “Not using magic is so much more fun. I missed getting my hands dirty.”

   You chuckled lowly. You couldn’t help but stare at him hungrily; there was something in the way the blood splatter stood out against his pale skin that awoke an arousal in you. Shaking your head, you turned back to the man under your knife and cocked an eyebrow. “How do you think I should do this? Stabbing is too classic, going for the neck is too neat.”

   “Unzip him, dear,” Loki hummed. He shot a bolt of green magic towards the man, binding him in glowing ropes that wrapped around his pitiful body. Noticing your dry look, he shrugged. “I want a proper view of your handiwork, and I can’t have that if I’m holding him.”

   “Fair enough,” You said. After a moment’s thought, you waved your hands, making Ashbourne’s shirt disappear in a white flash of your own magic.

   “Wait, wait, stop. What do you want? Money? I have money. What do you want?” Ashbourne pleaded.

   “I want ...” you said coldly, “to hear you scream.”

   You stepped forward and sunk your dagger into his lower abdomen, slicing upwards smoothy, careful as to not sever any major blood vessels. Ashbourne screamed in agony — music to both yours and Loki’s ears. You grinned at the blood that spurted out to meet you, and tossed the dagger onto the surface of the bar. You looked at the open mess in front of you and sunk your hand into the open cavity, making Ashbourne wail.

   Loki smacked Ashbourne’s face with a deadly glare. “Stay awake, you.”

   You reached farther into Ashbourne’s gut, quickly finding the pulsating aorta. You looked up at Ashbourne’s paling face, cheek now sporting a bloody handprint from where Loki had slapped him, and pulled on the artery, which snapped and spurted hot blood all over you. Loki released his magic binds, leaving the body of the man to collapse like a rag doll onto the floor, very much dead.

   You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you discarded the shred of aorta in your hands onto the lifeless body. You turned to look at Loki, who was smiling back at you with a familiar, blazing fire behind his eyes. He reached over and picked up your discarded dagger from the tabletop. He looked it over once, then swiped his tongue up one side of the blade. You groaned in arousal at the sight.

   “The taste of justice, my dear,” He said, licking his lips.

   He turned his fiery gaze back on you, holding the knife out for your taking. Without breaking eye contact, you licked up the other side, the metallic taste of Ashbourne’s blood spreading through your mouth only adding to the wet ache between your legs.

   “Fucking hell,” Loki breathed, the large bulge in his dress trousers clearly evident.

   You took the dagger, swiping away the rest of the blood that stained it on your finger and licked it clean. A deep rumble escaped from Loki’s lips before he smashed his lips onto yours, your tongues trading the tastes of blood and saliva. With a sharp tug, Loki tore your dress down and pinched your nipples between his bloodied fingers as he backed you up onto the bar. While normally, he would take his time with you, tease you at a torturously slow pace, make you plead and squirm beneath him, he now was fuelled purely by an animalistic flame, his lips and teeth marking your lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones. You broke apart only for you to render the pair of you naked by way of a flick of the wrist and a flash of white light. You stared at each other, both of you breathless and admiring how the blood that drenched your clothing had stained your bodies in a beautiful pattern of death.

   “I love you so much,” You whispered.

   “I love you too,” Loki said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip lightly.

   In a flash, the momentary gentleness was gone as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them. You shouted out in pleasure, then gasped when you felt Loki’s tongue on your clit.

   “Fuck, Loki!” You hissed, throwing your head back and grinding deeper onto Loki’s fingers and tongue.

   The most audacious and obscene sounds filled the speakeasy as Loki twisted his fingers inside your cunt and attacked you with his mouth. You moaned unabashedly and Loki in return groaned against your body. His nips against your clit were anything but gentle, his fingers fucking your cunt so deeply, so gloriously, that your entire body sparked with invisible electricity.

   “You’re going to cum for me,” Loki growled, “you’re going to cum for me and make me drink it as you do.”

   You nodded into the air, gasping, panting, writhing under him. You clenched around his head, locking Loki into place, and came on his face, rolling and thrusting your hips against his mouth. Loki held your hips and drank your release until your orgasm finally finished washing over you.

  Before you could begin to catch your breath, Loki seized your neck in one large hand and pushed himself inside of you in one fluid motion, causing the both of you to moan loudly. He started moving his hips immediately at a quick and relentless pace, splitting you apart in pleasure. You reached up to wrap your arms and legs around him desperately. As he hit that sweet spot that no other could, you brought your nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood. All thoughts had disappeared from your minds, pure animalistic pleasure and arousal clearing everything else out. Your combined energy made the lights spark and flicker, furniture going flying as your grip on your magic became weaker. Loki slammed into you, your walls tight around him, his pelvis grinding in such a way that he moved against your clit. You were only barely registering how you clung onto him for dear life, the most indecent noises pouring from both of your mouths, bodies slick in blood and sweat sliding against one another. Your connection into each other’s minds let you both know that the other was just as close to their climax without speaking. Expletives punctuated your shared groans and screams, Loki’s grip on your body so tight that bruises were sure to follow, your teeth and nails marking his skin.

   “Loki, I — fuck — Loki!” You cried as you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

   “I know, I — ah! I know —!” Loki groaned, biting your neck.

   You exploded again with a scream and you slammed your hand onto the table, releasing a huge pulse of magic that levelled the room around you. Green explosions set off around you as Loki lost control and spilled into you with a stammering thrust and deep groan. Even though your eyes were both closed, you could see each other in your minds, totally blissful and exhausted, chests heaving. Loki’s lips found yours in a loving kiss.

   “We should ... we should clean up here before the others come by,” You said, still out of breath.

   Loki nodded wordlessly. He pulled out of you, causing you to whimper. We waved his hand, and the speakeasy righted itself in a glow of green light. Tables and chairs fixed themselves, light fixtures hung back up on the ceilings, blood and bodies disappeared, until the only remnant of your activities was the gore that still covered your naked bodies. You stood up and cricked your neck before cleaning yourself and Loki up, and dressing the pair of you in the dress and tuxedo you two were wearing. 

   “What will we say to the others when they ask about the sudden disappearance of everyone here?” You asked slowly.

   “Don’t worry, love,” Loki grinned, “we can tell them the truth. We’re both too valuable for them to kick us out of the group.”

   You laughed and took Loki’s outstretched arm, walking out into the cool night.

[lepusrufus]

Wrong victim

Pure comedic self indulgence because we all need a funny break before shit starts to really go down in To bargain for immortality. Set quite a few years after the game events, around 2025, and is pure ridiculousness so enjoy.

////

Her response to being unceremoniously shoved in the back seat of a car that looked like it's seen far better days was merely an annoyed grunt. It turned into an eye roll when the man that climbed in after her pulled everything out of her pockets. 

"Wouldn't want you calling anyone," he said with a toothy grin while waving her phone in front of her. 

"Trust me, that won't be necessary," she replied in a deadpan voice. It's not like she would call the police, she wanted them involved even less than her kidnappers probably did. As for other people she could reach out to, a phone call would be redundant really. "Do be careful with it, I'd hate to lose the photos of Daniela sleeping upside down." 

After maybe ten minutes of driving down the barely illuminated outskirts of the city, and having her pockets emptied, dagger included, the burly man driving pulled up inside a parking lot. It was large and overgrown with weeds and vines reclaiming spaces that had been left without human activity for who knows how long. The lamp posts were nothing more than useless concrete pillars as they provided no illumination, resulting in her pitiful captors having to use flashlights as they made their way into the dilapidated factory. 

Nicole sneered at the sight of collapsed walls and rusty metal walkways, reminding her of the one particular Lord she couldn't stand the sight of. She decided a distraction was needed from unpleasant memories. 

"Abandoned factory?" She whistled. "How many cliche movies have you guys watched?" 

She let out a chuckle when the man that had previously taken her phone shoved her ahead. Hopefully they wouldn't tape her mouth shut, there was so much fun to be had by mockery alone. 

It didn't take long before all three of them entered a dimly lit room, numerous candles placed all around, either on desks or candle supports nailed to the walls. The three more people inside were wearing long black robes and white masks covering their faces. Nicole had to laugh. 

"Oh so you're that kinda crazy." 

"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the man holding her hands behind her back said while pushing her into a chair. 

He then moved to a table and Nicole couldn't help but scowl at how unceremoniously her beloved dagger had been thrown on the wooden surface. Afterwards, he put on a mask not unlike the others, except with red streaks going down from the eye holes, and started to prepare something in the middle of the room. The others joined in on the task, all but the one man that had been put in charge of making sure Nicole stayed put. Because of course she could easily escape five people much bigger than her at any given moment. 

She decided to take a look around, at the various dusty books opened on pages she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting. A few pages were laying around, either with diagrams or with scribbled notes. Had she really stumbled upon a cult? She couldn't wait to have a laugh about it with her family. 

"So," she started, craning her neck a little so she could see her captor's face. "Who you gonna sacrifice me to huh? I wanna know before you slice up my throat or whatever you're planning on." 

A confused and suspicious look was thrown her way, surely due to the complete nonchalance she spoke with about what would surely be her untimely death. "The… the devil," was his unsure reply. 

Nicole let out a small laugh. "Oh trust me, you do not want to meet her. Though devil is not quite the word," she continued despite a few other pairs of eyes landing on her. "Maybe a pissy fungal overlord with an unhealthy obsession for crows. Yes that's more like it," she finished with another chuckle. 

The man with a slightly different mask, who seemed to be their self appointed leader, got up from where he was nailing something to the floor and walked up to her in a few long strides. His eyes were barely visible, but anger was clearly distinguishable. 

He pulled out a knife, old, rusty and with a black worn out handle so typical of a kitchen utensil, and so incredibly ugly compared to the beautifully ornate daggers that decorated her home. She had to laugh when the dull blade got pressed to her throat. 

"Will you shut up for one minute?!" He raised his voice slightly, as much as someone who was doing something they didn't wish to be caught doing would dare to. It didn't deter her though. 

"Oh sweetie this is just what foreplay looks to me," she started with a grin that made her wish she had fangs like the better part of her relatives. "But please do me a favor and stay quiet, there's no fun in hunting if my darling finds you within five seconds due to you screeching like a broken squeaky toy." 

The man blinked for a few seconds, taken aback both by the words and by the apparent passivity towards having a knife at her throat. He stayed like that until one person that was working with some ropes behind interjected. 

"Of all the people you could've taken, how did you find this unhinged bitch?!" 

"I'll take that as a compliment," Nicole said, bending slightly to the side so the person that had spoken up would have a clear view of her sickly sweet smile. 

After that exchange, her captors seemed happy to move things along quicker, working in silence and begrudgingly ignoring any remarks she would throw their way, including an observation on the downright dreadful quality of the rope they had. Quality that she regrettably got to experience when her wrist and ankles got tied to the nails in the floor, having her lay down in a starfish position. It kind of reminded her of sprawling on the bed she shared with Cassandra simply to annoy the brunette. 

After loudly reciting something in latin, the leader bent down, same rusty knife in hand, and tipped her chin upwards to expose the neck. She did let out a wince when the blade sunk deep in her flesh and got dragged downward, towards her chest, leaving behind a choking sensation and the taste of copper in her mouth. The knife however only made it to the base of her neck, before the sound of metal crashing caught everyone's attention. 

"What the fuck," the man whispered, thankfully pulling the blade out so her skin had the time to begin stitching itself back together. She still had to turn her head around and spit some blood that made its way into her mouth. 

Before anyone else had a chance to speak up, the door was kicked open, one of the rusty hinges breaking completely, to reveal a rather angry Cassandra with her sickle in hand, ready for bloodshed. 

There were a few seconds of stunned silence before the blade was unceremoniously thrown into the first person's skull, spinning through the air for only a few meters before getting embedded into the bone with a sloshing sound. Anyone else trying to escape through the one door was met with a similar fate. One person had their knees kicked inwards before a knife held at the same belt as the sickle came down to slash their throat. Another had their head smashed to bits against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye. And last, the burly man that had driven and kept an eye on Nicole, had his heart ripped through the bottom of his ribcage when Cassandra shoved him against one of the tables, scattering the books and papers that were by then stained crimson. 

The remaining man, the leader, got grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully shoved into the same chair she had been sitting in not too long ago. 

"Stay put and I'll let you live," Cassandra spoke, all the cruelty polished over decades upon decades of sporting the title of the family's most sadistic coming through those few words. 

He gulped and nodded, eyes glossed over by the pure human terror now so unfamiliar to both of them. 

She then turned around, expression softening like a switch had been turned behind golden eyes. "Nicole," she started, barely an edge of concern and irritation at the sight of her wife's bloody skin. 

"Hi babe." The self satisfied grin almost had the brunette chuckling while she retrieved her sickle and Nicole's things. 

The weapon was used to cut her free, a grimace pulling the corners of her black lips downward at the same quality observation her wife had priorly made, no doubt. A hand was offered to Nicole to pull herself up, while the other presented the familiar dagger that was gifted to her so many years ago. 

"Will you do the honors love," Cassandra asked, with that beautifully sadistic smile. 

"Of course," came Nicole's reply as her hand wrapped around the leather covered handle. 

With some of the wretched ropes gathered from the ground, Cassandra made quick work of the man's hands and legs, securely tied to the chair and voice frantic. 

"You said you would let me live!" 

Cassandra laughed, a low ominous sound, while grabbing the mask and throwing it on the floor. She did love to see the terror in her victims' faces after all. 

"Unfortunately my wife made no such promises," she finished with a forceful pull of hair that kept his head in one place as she moved to the back of the chair. 

Nicole approached with the dagger already out of its holster and tapped the blade's point against her lips in thought for a few moments. She could simply slice his throat and be done with it, or stab him and leave him to bleed out, choking on his own blood. A hum made its way past her lips. No, no that would not do. 

She grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling it up almost to the neck. After a few mental measurements and approximations were made, the tip of the blade finally found its way into muscle, drawing thin trails of blood and pained screams. It took a good five minutes to carve all the intricate details she wanted to, the swirling patterns cutting cleanly through skin, courtesy of her wife keeping the blade sharp and in top condition. 

After she was content with the level of detail, and screams subsided to pathetic sobs, she took a step back and, with a hum, looked at Cassandra for a reaction. 

"Oh dearest," the brunette said, looking over the man's shoulder and down at the bloody cuts on his abdomen and chest, forming a crude yet not unfitting replica of the Dimitrescu crest. 

At the adoration that made its way past the cruelty in her wife's eyes, Nicole smiled and gingerly took a hold of her unoccupied hand, bringing it close to her lips and leaving a small kiss and a barely visible blood imprint on each knuckle. 

"I take it that you approve of my… design choice," she asked with another glance down at the jagged lines that formed their family's symbol. 

"It's wonderful," Cassandra replied, fangs shimmering slightly in the low light, exposed from the proud smile that tugged at her lips. 

A gorgeous smile, really, that made something swell inside Nicole's chest no matter how many times she saw it. Truth be told, her rendition of the crest was quite lacking, never having had the artistic skills to quite capture the intricate details that formed it. Nevertheless, if it brought a smile to her wife's lips, she was more than content with it. How unfortunate that it had to be ruined. 

She let out a sigh, still holding Cassandra's hand. "Too bad those pigs at the BSAA would quite disapprove of us leaving such things behind. Oh well," she shrugged, bringing the hand she was holding over to the man's abdomen. "Better it be ruined at your hands." 

The next second, claws dug deep into flesh, slicing the muscle and everything underneath all the way up to the throat. It left five deep gashes over the fine cuts of her dagger, but the satisfaction did not dwindle. On the contrary, when the gurgling sounds finally stopped and the body went limp, her smile was still there, turning into light laughter when Cassandra licked her fingers only to visibly cringe. 

"Say what you will about the dungeons, but at least we feed our livestock well," she spat, taking out a napkin from a pocket and wiping her fingers clean. "But with that disgusting thing out of the way, let me help you with that," she continued, grimace morphing into a sly smile when her eyes landed on Nicole's still bloody neck. 

She gave her no time to disagree, not that she would, before she pushed her backwards slightly into the edge of a table. Nicole wasted no time in lifting herself up on the wooden surface, bringing their faces just a tad closer to being on the same level. 

Cassandra dipped her head down, lips leaving teasing feather-like kisses on her jaw before lowering even further so she could drag her tongue up the length of her neck. It made a shiver run down Nicole's spine, that turned into an impatient tug of her wife's hair when the motion was repeated again and again, until no traces of blood could be seen on her neck, save for the crimson stains that made their way to the hem of her shirt. 

Their lips met in a hungry kiss, full of fangs and smeared lipstick and the taste of copper so familiar to the both of them, albeit for different reasons. When Nicole's hands went to the first buttons of Cassandra's blouse, their kiss was broken with a sly smirk. 

"This is such a dreadful place for such things, don't you think," the brunette said, all too amused by her wife's exasperated sigh. 

"You started it," Nicole complained, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, she was tugged off the table and on the way out, ready to get back home and have a laugh about the irony of her capture. They would have to pick up where they left off at a later time.