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xxsycamore · 3 months ago

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╰┈➤ When you discover a mysterious hole in a restroom inside the Crown castle, you're ready to catch the ill-doers of whatever forbidden exchange is taking place and take them straight to Victor. Little do you know, your curiosity would lead you to give more and more of yourself to that ridiculous cause, night after night. And you might just end up enjoying it.

— William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Ellis, Jude, Roger, Victor x f!Reader

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Glory Hole; Anonymous Sex; Corruption; Hand Jobs; Blow Jobs; Oral Sex; Come Eating; Come Swallowing; Deepthroating; Masturbation; Dirty Thoughts; Smoking; Objectification; Overstimulation; Penis Size; Multiple Orgasms; Ruined Orgasms; Vaginal Sex; Vaginal Fingering; Size Difference; Large Cock; Creampie; Breast Fucking; Dirty Talk; Squirting/Vaginal Ejaculation • wordcount: 5,836 • masterlist

a/n: I've had this idea for a while now and here it is, finally. One of the longest smuts I've written and definitely one that I'm proud of. Enjoy!

⏮ ⏯ ⏭ NIN - The Wretched

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 2: Glory Holes

NINE NIGHTS.

Among the many things you've been warned about when you first started living at the castle, you couldn't help but be curious the most about one thing. That infamous communal restroom located at the very end of the left wing's top-floor corridor. Remoted and basically isolated from the lively parts of the castle, if it weren't for the obscene rumor Alfons shared with you, you might not have discovered such a place exists at all. Actually, you're still not convinced if it truly exists. It's all too much like the hedonistic bastard to mess with your head like that.

That's why you're on a mission to do a little investigation on your own.

Arriving at the dimly lit location, your anticipation is flattened by the lack of anything obscure to be found. The restroom hardly differs from the ones you've seen around the place: well-maintained and designed accordingly to match the elegant style of the castle. One side is for the ladies, the other for the gentlemen; two different entrances, a wall separating them right in the middle.

You don't know why you even bother going as far as peeking an eye inside the stalls, but nothing appears to be amiss there as well.

Apart from one thing.

You nearly missed it in the sparse light, but the cut-out hole in the wooden wall inside the second stall stands starkly against the otherwise well-polished surface of it.

Suddenly it all clicks, and you remember Alfons' words.

"Rumor has it that around eleven in the evening, people go there to partake in rather... scandalous exchanges. Both parties are provided with anonymity and everything that takes place inside the restroom stays there. We might be a modest group of inhibitors here, little Robin, but everyone has their needs. We don't judge which part of the partition you choose to be on."

This has to be about drugs! As outrageous as it is, it perfectly explains the hole - large enough to serve for the purpose of one such "exchange", the wooden wall in-between separating provider and client.

You chose to linger around here just early enough to be able to leave without witnessing what does - or does not - happen in the established hour, and just close enough to it in case if, for some reason, you'd want to stay and find out for yourself. This means you can perfectly well remain waiting in the stall, catch the culprit red-handed, and take him straight to Victor. You're sure he knows nothing of this, it can't be otherwise.

You don't have to dwell in your thoughts for much longer, because in the perfectly tranquil air around you, you're able to pick up the soft noise of the door opening on the other side. Readily, you prepare to grab hold of whatever is inserted through the hole and see if your hunch is correct.

Little do you know, the sight will make you reconsider at once. You blink your eyes several times when you look down.

It takes you everything not to scream, barely being fast enough to clasp a hand around your own mouth, as soon as you realize what you're looking at.

Whoever is on the other side of the restroom is currently giving access to a certain part of themselves, and by the way it stands erect and demanding attention, you can imagine just one possible scenario of what the person on your side of the partition is expected to do with it.

The breath hitches in your throat. Will you be found out if you were to exit right now? Even if you won't be seen, even if anyone else could have been here, in your place…

A very dangerous thought fills your head, and you know listening to it should be the last thing you do. Still, for the sake of getting to the bottom of this and not disrupting any of it just yet, you start to think it might not be that bad if you just…

Hesitantly, your hand reaches out until your fingertips can almost graze the very tip of the cock in front of you. Eyes falling closed for a second, nine different faces flash through your mind. Nine possibilities. It's as if this changes everything between you and the mysterious man on the other side, when in reality it changes nothing at all. You think back to your fellow Crownmates, as if trying to see if the thought of any of them pushes you away, but to no avail.

You might have lost your mind. Fingers slowly curling around the hot flesh in front of you, the initial contact is far easier than you thought. You start pumping the hardness in your fist right away, noting the way it slightly swells in your hand, despite already seeming quite aroused.

The slight tremble of your fingers is perhaps a welcomed side-effect of the adrenaline coursing through your system, as the cock in your hand is very receptive to your actions. You wonder to yourself if the person on the other side is used to this sort of thing. Or maybe it's his first time here too, his curiosity getting the better of him. Just like you, in a way. However, he's clearly being able to get off on that thrill. It must be contagious because you become bolder with your movements and your eyes are no longer shy to the sight in front of you. It's embarassing not to be able to take your eyes away, but you can't help it - there's something so fine about it; the size and shape of it, the saturated pink color of the glossy tip, the small bud of precum threatening to spill over with excitement on the next enthusiastic throb…

In just a couple more strokes, the object of your admiration closes the spectacle with a rather grandiose final act… The vigorous spurts of its culmination leave a milky-white trail down the crevices of your fingers as you marvel at the sheer amount he came.

Giving him one last base-to-top stoke, nice and slowly, you catch yourself being so captivated by the obscure display that you're almost disappointed when it all ends and you snap back to reality.

Time to splash some cold water on your face.

The sound of a grandfather clock announcing eleven in the evening is coming from afar but you still hear it without mistake. You've found yourself in this cursed place again, albeit with hesitation. Going back to the events of last night leaves you with mixed feelings. For one, you swear you're being fooled with. Is this Alfons' sick idea of having fun? Luring you to some shady place, provoking you to commit unspeakable acts… You bet there are no other parties even involved in this to begin with. Who knows what the hole really is for, but to use it the way he did… it truly takes an unhinged imagination, you have to admit. Now you just have to find him back at the scene of the crime - God knows they always come back - and this time you won't be so generous. It's not exactly a plan that you have but you'll do something, anything.

Still, you can't help but notice there was something off about last night's mysterious visitor. He didn't quite strike you to be anything like Alfons. Not that you want to spend too much time thinking about what he's supposed to be like down there, or the specific mannerisms you can tell him by, or…

Suddenly there's movement and you hold your breath in anticipation as you prepare to look down.

This is…definitely not the same cock.

This can't be.

Without thinking much, you grab a hold of the sizeable appendage as if to explore it more. Maybe the limited light is playing tricks on you.

Your thumb grazes a slightly protruding vein on the side, something you might have missed yesterday, or you might have not. Though the visual difference is becoming less and less the more you overthink it, the feeling of it in your warm palm is notably different. You don't even know how you get on your knees, but you try to make the most of the new angle.

The stranger, whoever he might be, seems to enjoy the way you're fooling around, much to your own surprise. Almost as if he wants to encourage you to explore more, to do whatever you want. Soon enough it becomes awkward to just examine him like that when he's probably here to feel pleasure. Even in your stubbornness to recognize him as the man from last night, you start stroking and massaging the girth in your closed fist. Stimulating the sensitive skin on the head makes it pulse so tantalizingly, and running the fingertip of your other thumb down the protruding vein almost tips him over the edge…You don't mind this reaction. What's more, you pretty much want to finish what you started.

Unexpectedly, the length of the stranger's cock retracts almost completely back inside the hole with just its head sticking out. The sturdy repetitive motion indicates that the man is taking care of himself while still giving you access to the product of his upcoming climax.

What does he want you to do with his cum? Does he want to paint your open palms white, or maybe if he could say so, he would prefer to color your lips white with his come?

The moment he finishes with what seems to be a glorious orgasm, your sticky fingertip has almost made it to your mouth in a rush of curiosity. You have no idea what's the use of doing something like this when he won't even be able to see it.

During your haze, you think you see a painted glossy red fingernail as you watch the cock of the stranger disappear.

You must be imagining things.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

You guess that the third time is saved for the shameless.

This is exactly what you are, as you find yourself kneeling on the cool tiles on another late night. The initial shock of finding yet another unfamiliar piece of flesh left at your disposal is washed away by the growing sense of thrill that you're starting to get familiar with, more with each passing night. Combined with just a little bit of "since you're already here".

You wonder how fast can you make this one cum. All this time and you're yet to use your mouth, maybe now is a good chance to try it.

Thankfully the other side knows nothing of the fever rising up to your cheeks. Not feeling eyes on you helps you be bolder with your actions, and you feel like an absolute tease. Once you pop the well-formed head in your mouth, your tongue shows no mercy to the painfully erect cock.

A few agonizing slow licks across the length of it seem to be the last straw for the stranger. But not in the sense you're expecting.

In a flash, your mouth is left to hang open and empty; like a lollipop's been taken away from you. A cold shiver runs through you. Did you go too far? Was it not to his liking?

You're not yet fully seated back on your knees in confusion before he gives you a "second chance". Almost as if you're starved, you hurry to take him in again, saliva overflowing from the corner of your mouth and lubricating him for some earnest bobbing of your head. You're going to pleasure him properly this time.

Except, this leads to the same result.

The pause is shorter now, and you get the impression that he's toying with you. Does he want you to please him, or does he not? Which one is the truth?

You fall for his tricks time and time again, because you just can't help it. Awaiting for him to stick his cock back into the hole is rather humiliating but each time your mouth salivates more with the eagerness to welcome him deep inside. He only stills when he's noticeably on the verge of orgasm, and you take him as deep as he lets you. You're a bit tense at this point - should he snap his hips and thrust further in, you're likely to choke on him.

Drinking down on every last drop of his come, you don't know why you're so relieved that his last gesture was not a lie. You just know that you're left to yourself once again. And the whole ordeal has made you horny.

Another day passes in your busy life as a fairytale keeper.

Most of the missions you're assigned are fast-paced enough to keep you fully occupied; senses being constantly put to the test, mind projecting gruesome pictures you've seen through the day and turning them into words at the end of it, once you sit in front of your typewriter.

Yet there are those little pockets of time when the world slows down for you and your fellow Crown members. Traveling from location to location; gathering in the foyer waiting for Victor… It's easy to zone out.

Your gaze moves from Liam's pretty lips curling in a small laughter as he conversates with Harrison, to Harrison stretching out while he listens; to Elbert's tall frame as he looks out the window next to them, to Alfons staring at him, putting one leg over the other as he stirs the steamy liquid in his cup. Which ones? Which ones of them have visited that place? You have very little to go off of. Someone's hand enters your field of vision. Delicate, long fingers drumming against a hard surface. You dart your gaze to another. Roughened palms. And another. Concealed by dark gloves.

Skin textures. Shoe sizes. Limbs stretching out.

It's not until someone asks you if you're alright - "You've been terribly quiet all this time!" - that you shake off your inappropriate thoughts and scold yourself for having them in the first place.

The next time you find yourself in the stall, you're almost glad to give head to someone who's clearly cutting to the chase. There's not much shuffling or repositioning from the other side of the partition, and you're able to focus on the weight in your mouth.

Tonight's stranger is no less well-endowed but you'd say he's a little more on the thicker side compared to your previous experiences. Accidentally grazing him with your teeth makes you hear an annoyed single stomp of a shoe against the floor tiles on the other side. This only motivates you to do better, and you truly do your best sucking him off.

Your ears pick up something different this time. This quick striking noise reminds you of a match being lit… Even with the task you're focused on, your senses remain sharp, and you swear you can smell cigarette smoke.

Here you are, sucking off some guy while he treats himself to a smoke. Things can't get any cruder from this point on.

But you don't mind it at all. This is of mutual interest for both parties, that's only fair. So you don't think much of it your hand makes its way down south, searching underneath layers of clothing until it finds aching hot flesh, begging to be pleasured.

Getting off to your scandalous adventures has been common practice for you the last few days, but it definitely feels better to claim your pleasure here, at the core moment of it.

The closer you get to your own orgasm, the faster your head moves back and forth. All it takes to send you over the edge is the feeling of hot cum being disposed in your welcoming mouth, and you join him by coming there on the floor, unknown to the stranger.

He loses no time removing his spent cock. You can hear the grinding of a heel as he stamps out his cigarette. And he's gone.

Now you're left to wonder why it feels so good to be used by someone on their smoke break.

Tonight sees you crossing yet another boundary.

Things are going on in a less formulaic fashion, with no hurry at all, and it's not that you're not enjoying it- quite the opposite - but you can't help being curious about something. How bad would it be if you were to gain just a little bit of pleasure for yourself from all of this? Surely you won't be found out if you were to share another piece of yourself with the stranger on the other side different from your mouth and your hands. You're far from the thought that some of the female staff don't know about this place. So you don't hesitate positioning yourself upright and facing the wall, close enough that your body is pressed against it.

You don't ask for much, just to feel that delicious hardness against your swollen folds. The very first contact shoots sparks of pure ecstasy through you. The angry-red tip of the man's cock graces against your clit and you nearly mewl out in pleasure. So you do that again, until you're practically grinding yourself on it like a tool conveniently left for your pleasure.

You'd feel selfish and guilty about this if it weren't for the fact that your actions are getting the stranger off as well. You've already slicked him up with your saliva thoroughly, given him attention which has been enough for others to reach their peak. This one seems to have a rather high endurance, but interestingly no other method of play gets him going the same way as you pleasuring yourself on him. Is this what he wants? You're afraid you're not able to stop now, at least not until you cum. Which happens all too soon, with your legs shaking from overstimulation as the cock underneath you remains swollen and upright and poking your folds again and again while you try to catch your breath.

And then he cums. Just like that, without assistance from your side… Or maybe it's your pleasure that did it for him? This is a strange one, for sure… But you like him.

The cock you're currently stoking with both hands is long and elegant, with a rather pale complexion, further emphasized by the blue-ish veins at the base. You can't help but be gracious with your ministrations as you pleasure it, and surely enough, it doesn't take enough to push the man it belongs to over the edge. He spills thickly in your hands and you kiss the tip of it, careful as not to overstimulate it too much… But when you expect an early end to tonight's rendezvous, it seems like it's far from it. Without any indication of him leaving, you realize he's still pretty much hard. So you resume your actions, albeit timidly at first.

It quickly turns into you full-on sucking him off, seeing that your hands won't be enough anymore. His ample length is a little too much for you to take, so you're relieved once he successfully fills your mouth of his cum, a lot less thicker this time. Except, it's still not over. Such a greedy bastard, exploiting you for greater and greater pleasures each time.

Taking in a large portion of breath and exhaling slowly while you contemplate something, you finally decide to take the next step. You can do what you did last night… but facing the other way around, and maybe, just maybe adding a little bit of penetration to the mix.

It takes little effort nesting him inside your tight core because of how wet you've gotten in the meantime, much to your own surprise. Fine, you can be greedy too. Leaning forward until your palms are flat against the opposite wall of the cramped room, you soon fall into a steady pace fucking yourself back and forth on the man's cock that's once again rock solid and pulsing deliciously inside you.

Despite the high libido of the man, he prefers remaining rather still while you move your hips on him, never breaking his reserved and elegant stance. Huffing out a weary emission of air as you're left to shoulder all of the work, you focus on your own pleasure instead, since you're on the verge of cumming.

Your orgasm is rudely interrupted by the other party's own orgasm as he slips out of you and sprays your aching folds with his emission. Already having taken what he was after, he soon exits your sight, leaving you to your own devices as you finger yourself to a rather unsatisfying orgasm on the floor.

Still holding a grudge from the previous night, your storm in the restroom determined to be as ruthless as you need to be and claim your own pleasure first and foremost.

Little do you know, however, that tonight is going to be another test for you.

You're making yourself familiar with yet another stranger tonight - despite being ready to bet that it's high time you're met with a repeat - as you test the waters on this new shape presented before you. He's thicker than any of the previous men. Hell, he's thicker than anything you've ever seen. The massiveness of it in your hands and how he dwarfs them honestly intimidates you. But you remind yourself of your resolve and decide to remain firm as you slowly take things further with him.

Spending too much time on oral is not a part of the plan as you don't want him coming too soon, but you discover that it has nothing to do with your plans anyway. Fitting him inside your mouth proves to be a challenge, and the pathetic way you just soak him in saliva and withdraw every time you take a little more than his head in your mouth makes you feel embarrassed.

Slowly rising to your feet, you accept that you might have to spend a little more time in here tonight. You hope your legs can take it, as you take off your underwear and stretch yourself open for the big intrusion.

Piercing yourself on his tan cock knocks the air out of your lungs as you feel so, so full of him. Without any option but to take it slowly, you massage and grope at your forms as you try to relax your walls around him as much as you can.

Suddenly the thick knob on the wall which you've been using similarly to the previous two nights becomes rather animated as he withdraws until nearly slipping out of your tight entrance, only to quickly thrust back in. Perhaps he got bored with your excuse of a service so far. Clasping both hands around your mouth, you have no choice but to receive his thrusts, the pace quickly building up, as you have to do your best to remain on your feet. Opting for leaning on the opposite wall instead, you have to choose between balance and keeping your mouth shut, as both prove to be hard to achieve at the same time. The man thrusts in and out of you, without a care in the world, and you don't notice how your hands are sliding further and further down until you're practically bent over the tiny space.

This man is an absolute monster. Time goes by in a haze as you find yourself cumming and again around the thick cock inside you, drenching him in your juices until they begin to run down your legs and onto the tiled floor. His stamina is insane - the fact that he can keep going while you're a wrecked mess is scaring you, and you don't know how much more you can take.

When you can't move anymore to meet his thrusts, thankfully his own pace becomes broken in telltale signs of his upcoming orgasm. You need his cum inside you like a trophy. You worked hard for it.

His load is nothing short of pure virility, copious amounts flooding up your insides and joining the rest of the fluids on the floor in a display of utmost obscenity.

You barely make it to your room on your doe legs.

The previous night left you with a pleasant soreness between your legs and the size you're working with today is too big for you to even think about repeating the same scenario. It's gifted in length; pinkish and with a lot of foreskin. Another new one, much to your surprise. And another absolute monster of a cock.

Since your wrecked pussy is off-limits, you begin to worry about pleasuring this one - especially when you think back to how utterly greedy the last two visitors were.

An idea pops into your head.

You start off with the usual, lubricating the shaft with the wetness of your tongue as you suck, massage and kiss every sensitive spot. And there seem to be plenty of them. It's been some time since you've had such a receptive cock in your hands. It's quite lively with its constant little twitches as you get distracted taking it further in your mouth, almost gagging on its generous length. But enough of that.

Using one hand, you unbutton your shirt while simultaneously stoking the cock in front of you, not wanting to ignore him for a second. Once your breasts are freed, keep your kneeling position but get closer to the wall, hotness rising to your cheeks. Carefully, you guide the large cock to the valley of your breasts.

Another enthusiastic twitch. It's like he falls inlove with your idea right off the bat.

You're happy to see that this works with him to say the least, trying to move your body up and down as you press your breasts together using both hands. The slickness you coated him with provides a nice slide, but for a good measure, you drool down some more of it, watching the erotic display of his cockhead peeking through the gap of your tits on every slide.

Oh, this one is more than enthusiastic. You can tell he won't last much, but you're ready to blame that on the method you use on him more than anything. Is he a boobs man? Would he be just as enthusiastic if you were to let him fuck the crux of your thighs?

"Ahhh! Nghh…"

You freeze for a split second as you swear you hear an audible moan from the other side. Everyone so far has shown so much self-control and was careful as to not let out a sound too loud, and yet this one seems to be unable to hold back.

Needless to say, it motivates you.

You don’t even have to keep going for much longer until the cock between your squeezed breasts erupts and paints your chest white. You lean your head down just a little bit more and you're able to give his angry-red tip a playful lick for goodbye. There's no urgency to satisfying your own need, as you're better off taking care of it in the plush covers of your bed back in your room, for a change. Somehow you're sure that your playmate for the night would have wanted that for you too if he could speak.

With a little over a week's worth of sinful adventures behind your back, you feel the need to take a moment and question how you got here. As scandalous as it is to think that there have been eight different members of Crown visiting that shady place for the same dirty purpose, you strangely find peace in the fact that there's at least one of them you're yet to have come in contact to, in this way.

In this very moment, you're still able to face each one of them individually and not die out of shame, because he could be the one.

So you have to leave it at all. For the sake of your sanity, you have to refrain from going anywhere close to that restroom again.

The cackle of the typewriter dies down as you're ready with the evening's workload of documenting Crown's missions, and now the call of your bed is all too strong to resist. You throw yourself face-first into the soft duvet and realize how cool and nice it feels against your skin. Have you overworked yourself, or is this heat trying to tell you something else? A familiar urge builds up in your lower belly, and you open your eyes just to see the wall clock's hands marking exactly eleven o'clock.

With the material you've gathered from those past days, it should be easy enough for you to find relief on your own. So once your hands slip inside your panties, each finding a point of interest, already soaked in liquid desire, your mind drifts off to a familiar place.

But nothing seems to work. As exciting as everything that has happened to you has been, it's nothing compared to the real thing. Since when you've become like this? A thrill-chaser, being only after what feels good without a care in the world. Much like a certain someone that got you in this mess, to begin with. And now there's a dangerous thought creeping into your head.

It's more of a gamble, to be fair.

Nine nights. The chance of all nine men visiting the hole one after another without a single one of them repeating or skipping is significantly small. Small enough to bet your dignity on it, it seems. Fingers still glistening with juices, you make a bold decision, telling yourself that if anything, you can try and resist touching the final ninth man, should he turn out to be tonight's visitor.

The hole in the wall is not occupied, and you admit to yourself that you feel disappointed. You're close to turning on your toes and going back to where you came from, but then you hear footsteps approaching, on the other side. Sleek dress shoes, if you're correct. He's taking his time.

Where you expect to find someone's aching hardness, you find an entirely different body part. You stare down in confusion as you see a gloved hand thrust out through the hole.

"I know you're in there. Why so hesitant?"

This is…Alfons' voice.

But why? It's taboo to break anonymity like this, and he's wrong if he thinks that you'd—

"You can remain silent if you wish, of course, given that you can hear me at all. Though I have this feeling that this might be no other than Miss Robin herself."

Your head gets dizzy. How does he...? No, you shouldn’t fall for it.

After a moment spent in silence, he chuckles.

"Of course you won't answer me. If you're wondering why I'm revealing myself, I'd simply tell you that not all of us are ashamed to admit they have needs, little Robin. Why, I'm sure the person supposed to be on your side of the wall must have far greater needs, no? That's why I decided to be generous tonight and offer nothing but pleasure to that lucky individual. Go ahead, I'm lending you a hand."

Clad in a shiny black glove, Alfons' hand makes a sultry come-hither motion at you, and you swear it looks lewder somehow than if he'd left you with something other than his hand instead. Your folds are still dripping, the heat in your lower belly prompting irritating tingles all over. It would be oh-so-easy to lift your skirts and descent right on his ready palm, your pussy already bare as you left your underwear all the way back in your room.

Hesitantly, you approach the wall and do just that, shivering a little at the unfamiliar texture. But unlike the solid slabs of flesh you've taken the previous nights, Alfons' fingers don’t behave. They don't wait to be ridden to completion while you get used to their shape in your insides. Right from the beginning, Alfons zaps and twists his fingers inside you, discrediting the generosity he so fondly talked about just a minute ago. It's exactly what you tried to achieve alone in your bed. But deeper. And so much more relentless. And exactly what you've been missing.

"That's a good girl. You're taking them in so greedily."

The naughty sounds of your juices muffle most of your whimpers as the flat of his palm repeatedly hits against your swollen lips. Even through the glove, he's scarily precise. He aims for your sweet spots and makes you see stars in no time, until you can no longer find meaning in the dirty things he says.

"Aww, are you squirting on me already? Here I was ready to bet you'd need far more than that. Have those gentlemen been neglecting you? Did you find them rather lacking?"

You hear the sound of water hitting the tiles but you pay little mind to it as Alfons keeps grinding his middle and ring fingers against your sweet spot, scratching something inside you that's been tormenting you for a week straight. You have no name for this feeling. You just know that he ruined you from the very beginning, by telling you about this place, by luring you in here.

The only thing you can think about as you succumb to a violent storm of an orgasm is how much better his cock would feel hitting that same place inside you. How long does he intend on keeping you here, if this is how you start out? The whole night? Would he want to make you do something perverse, fitting of his ways? You care little about that as pleasure spreads all over, making you feel so light.

You immediately get down on your hands and knees, a wicked idea on your mind already, as you're ready to deviously entice him by licking his digits clean. But they disappear before you get the chance to, making you almost whine at the loss. Your pussy still throbs, so well taken care of, yet so neglected at the same time.

"Now, wouldn't you like to finally see for yourself? If I'm one of them, I mean. The ones you've already seen here before."

Blinking your eyes, you feel the weight of his words coming down on you. You've completely forgotten about that at this point.

Even without being able to see him, just being able to pin a name to the person behind the wall makes you imagine everything so clearly. The facial expressions you've seen him do, how he reacts to certain things. The piercing stare of those dead fish eyes when he knows he's right.

"Too bad I'm not in the mood for that tonight. I guess that leaves you no choice but to come here again if you truly want to find out the answer to that question, no?"

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 8 months ago

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8: SURPRISE!

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Bucky's surprise birthday party provides more surprises than you had hoped.

Word count 3.2k

Warnings: Birthday boy behaving badly, Priya is the warning here!

Erik’s sexual intervention had released you of the tension you felt whenever you were around Bucky and you realized that his birthday was quickly approaching. You made it your mission to start working on Bucky’s birthday party. The previous year he had flat out refused to let you throw him any festive gathering and you had only accepted that on one condition: he would get one this year. You had no intention of letting him wheedle his way out of it this year. He had begrudgingly agreed but only if it was something small and intimate with his friends only.

You had given Bucky a withering look. "Trust me! I know you well enough. You’re going to like it. I promise!"

You felt like a kid in a candy store, who had been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s entire kingdom. Glee was written across your features, you wanted everything to be perfect for your best friend. Steve was your trusty accomplice and you had invited Priya into the fold as a way to make up for your misdemeanors. She had suggested that you order food from Sticks and Stones because he loved the food there and even convinced Victor to help with the catering.

A week before the auspicious day, you had pulled Steve aside to ask him if he would accompany you to pick up Bucky’s birthday gift.

"Did you find it?" Steve asked you.

"The Glenn Miller vinyl?"

Steve nodded.

"Yeah, I found it! It’s in a vintage records store in SoHo." You smiled.

"Bucky’s going to love it. His family would play them all the time, he was such a natural dancer. It would be nice for him to do that again."

"I’m glad it’s got Captain America’s seal of approval!" you quipped cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling relaxed and happy for once. "Do you want to go and pick it up now? I’ll drive. I can pick up my gift at the same time!"

"Oh that would be great, Steve! What did you get him?"

"You know that picture you took, the one of Bucky, you, me, Nat and Sam?"

"Yeah, I know the one."

"I painted it. There is a guy who said he would frame it and he texted me this morning saying it was ready to collect.

"Steve! I can’t wait to see it!" you squealed with excitement. "Let’s go!"

Both of you set off, climbing the stairs that led to the parking garage.

"Oh, Priya, hey! Didn't see you there!" you smiled at her as you noticed her presence at the top of the staircase.

Priya smiled back at you tersely.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Fine."

"Do you need a lift home?"

"No, I'm spending the night with Bucky."

"Ahh," Steve blushed at the implication of sex.

You rolled your eyes and tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Come on, punk. See you later Priya!"

March tenth came around quicker than expected. You waited impatiently for Bucky to arrive as his 'surprise’ party. Even though Priya was distracting him, Bucky knew about the events that had been planned. You knew he didn't like loud noises or jump scares, but he had promised to act suitably surprised.

Everything for the party went off without a hitch. The room was filled with dozens and dozens of black and gold balloons. Swing music was playing on the gramophone that Tony had purchased for the occasion. Sam cheekily had a cardboard cut out of Bucky made with his vibranium arm cut off so you could play ‘Pin the arm on Bucky’. You groaned but secretly you wanted to beat everyone.

Thor had made an appearance and was already half way through the bucketful of Asgardian ale, which he claimed to have brought for the birthday boy. Even Ayo, who you'd invited, had graced you with her presence. When she arrived, you flung your arms around the reserved Wakandan warrior. The Dora Milaje did not engage in public displays of emotion, but for you she offered a hug in return.

Things seemed to be going well. Bucky arrived with Priya and was greeted with yells and streamers. Bucky's surprise was convincing… possibly a little too dramatic, making Priya laugh and you groan exasperatedly. You stood on the side of the room watching everyone mingle, enjoying how Bucky's attention was demanded from everyone in the room. His friends were kind enough not to crowd him, or overwhelm him, but also make him feel special all at the same time.

It warmed your heart to see the light in his eyes, the enjoyment on his face. Priya was glued to his side, stroking his hair, whispering in his ear. His arm was constantly around her waist. She was the only thing that marred your perfect vision of the event.

"I am surprised that James chose that woman," Ayo appeared beside you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Jesus, Ayo. We've talked about you sneaking around. Don't make me tie a bell around your ankles!"

Ayo smiled. "Why isn't that you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you told James how you feel?" Ayo doesn't wait for your reply. "It could be you dancing with him rather than standing here looking like a wallflower."

"Maybe you could dance with me."

"I think not, Y/N." Ayo never used your nickname.

"Way to let a girl down gently, Ayo."

Ayo just rolled her eyes at you and ventured over to Thor who was challenging everyone to a drinking contest, one which no one was engaging in. Steve was beside him, sipping the liquor carefully enjoying the buzz he rarely got to experience. Wanda and Vision were lovingly embraced in each other's arms in a corner, dancing like the rest of the world didn't exist. Nat was behind the bar serving her own special cocktails and flirting with a blushing Bruce. Clint and Laura were laughing with Pepper, while Tony, Sam and Rhodey were playing cards and making the most outrageous noise.

You loved your little found family, even though you missed the one that brought you up. Coulson's S.H.I.E.L.D. team had inducted you into the world of violence and espionage and aliens and time travel. It was with them that you'd learnt to control your powers and become worthy to call yourself an Avenger.

Agent Melinda May was the only member of the team you saw regularly anymore since she worked close by in the new S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy HQ. She had been your S.O. for many years and held a special place in your heart, despite her prickly exterior. She often joked that you would make an excellent addition to her staff at the Academy and to ensure that you lived long enough to accept the position when retiring from ‘that Avenger gig’.

You were brought out of your reverie about the past by Priya, who was standing on a chair shouting about it being time for presents.

Everyone cheered and you were grinning like a lunatic now. You felt excited to give Bucky your gift. The first edition Glenn Miller record was safely wrapped in a solid casing. In the Mood was the last song that Bucky and his family had danced to while he had been on leave from the War. His last happy memory of them before he had fallen from the life he had known, before he had been thrust into a world of ice and torture.

About a year ago, you had caught Bucky using your Spotify to listen to music from his childhood and had offhandedly mentioned this piece of information about his past. You kept hold of this precious tidbit for the right occasion.

Bucky had already started ripping open wrapping paper when you ventured over. Wanda had knitted him a black scarf with golden threads to match his arm, which had made him smile. Next Sam handed him a small black box which Bucky opened to find a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

"Thought you could use some props, spice life up a little," he winked at Bucky. Sam had a way of pushing Bucky's buttons, but you could see the mild blush on Bucky's cheeks which deepened when Priya interjected.

"Thank you very much, Samuel, but James and I don't need such tawdry things in the bedroom."

Bucky shrugged apologetically at Sam and you wondered if he was thinking about your recent conversation.

Sam was pushed aside by Thor, who deposited a large vat of ale into Bucky's arms. "Many happy returns, metal man." He patted Bucky on the back so hard that Bucky almost dropped his gift.

Bucky was depositing the alcohol on the gift table when he was approached by Ayo. "Happy Birthday, James."

"Thank you for coming, it means a lot that you took the time."

"You look like you are doing well for yourself."

"Yeah, it’s good," Bucky smiled.

"This is for you." She handed him a simple box with padding on the inside. Bucky opened it to find a pair of ornately decorated blades made from vibranium. Everyone gasped at how beautiful they looked in the dim lights. They collapsed in on themselves and were discrete and easy to conceal. Ayo pointed out a small device which acted like a homing beacon so Bucky would be able to locate them if he lost sight of them.

"These are incredible! Thank you."

Tony didn't have many words but he did hand Bucky a beautifully ornate envelope which Bucky opened tentatively. Inside was an invitation to a magnificent moonlit dinner on a yacht on the Hudson. Bucky held the gift reverently in his hands, his vibranium fingers barely gripping, as though their strength might make the gift crumble. His eyes glistened in the party lights, a thin film of unshed tears. There had been a time where they were ready to kill each other, and even now they never spent any time alone together. You knew that this gift meant a lot to Bucky.

"Dinner on a boat? I think we'll have to pass on that, I get sea sick." Priya commented, gazing at the gift certificate around Bucky's arm.

A flicker of irritation crossed Tony's face, before he grinned mischievously. "Not a problem, it's not person specific. Manchurian Candidate here can take anyone he likes. Capsicle might not be a fan of the food, but I think Cricket would really enjoy the cuisine."

He turned to wink at you, making you blush. You couldn’t help but notice the scowl on Priya’s face, no matter how short lived it was and you knew you were about to meet your comeuppance when the glowering look she was shooting in your direction turned into a beaming smile.

"Jamie! It’s my turn, baby. I have a very special gift for you!" She hands him a thin square shaped gift wrapped in shiny golden wrapping paper. "Here!"

You felt a sudden weight on your chest, a feeling of dread washing over you. It felt like things were moving in slow motion, watching Bucky unwrap the gift. You didn’t know what you had been expecting when he pulled out a shiny record cover. It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you, except you were paralyzed. The color drained from your face as you realized what the album was.

‘The Very Best of Glenn Miller.’

Bucky’s eyes shone brightly as he dropped the wrapping paper and ran his flesh fingers over the cover reverently. "Priya," he gasped in a whisper. "I- it's perfect." Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and giving her a long, passionate kiss. "I love it! I love you!"

You barely noticed Steve sideling up to you, you couldn't hear him asking if you were okay. That was your gift. It was yours! If you didn’t have the vinyl you’d bought and so lovingly wrapped in your hand, you’d think she had stolen it from you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, every attempt you made felt futile, like the air around you had left the room. He had shared the same things with her, you thought he trusted you with his past, but you weren't as special as you thought you were.

Eventually you looked up when Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. He whispered, almost as though his words he was about to use were criminal. "Do you remember when we were talking last week? Before we went to pick up our gifts? You don’t think she overheard us… do you? And…"

In the end, it didn’t really matter. You knew in the moment that you’d lost Bucky forever. Everything felt far away, the room was suffocating, why were there so many people? Tears burned in your orbital sockets, drowning you from the inside out. You couldn’t face them anymore, seeing the happiness on Bucky’s face, knowing that someone else was responsible for that smile, that light inside him, was heartbreaking. Ultimately, you wanted him to be happy but you wanted to share that joy with him, you wanted to be the one to give it to him and watching that mantle being taken from you and bequeathed to another person was soul crushing. Gripping your present tightly, you slipped out of the room, Steve watching your retreating footsteps with sympathy, but knowing not to follow.

A few tears escaped as you found refuge in the kitchen, but you had no desire to explain red eyes and a blotchy nose to any of the other team members or party goers, so you wiped them away angrily, taking a few calming breaths before pouring yourself a strong drink. You sank onto a bar stool, shoving the record onto the chair to your right, you had no use for it anymore. There had barely been time for you to take 2-3 sips from your drink before Bucky popped his head into the room.

"Cricket? There you are!"

"Hey Buck! Having a good time?" You plastered a smile on your face, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Deception in this case was a futile attempt, Bucky was well versed in the movements of your face. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you lied. "Just getting a drink."

"There are plenty of drinks back there."

He looked searchingly into your eyes and the facade you had erected was crumbling. You looked away, dropping your head to try and hide your face with your hair.

"It was just a bit much, everyone there… I don’t know, I feel a little… overwhelmed."

Too much drain of the social battery, Bucky was familiar with that. He pulled out the chair on your left, almost giving you a heart attack because you had momentarily forgotten which chair you’d left the present on.

"If you want to give me my gift here, we can do it privately. Everyone else is done," Bucky suggested, leaning towards you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. Suddenly you felt angry that he was there, why couldn’t he give you a moment to grieve? Constantly invading your space, reminding you of what you couldn’t have, dangling the carrot but keeping it just out of reach. "Well you already have the perfect gift from your girlfriend, what more do you need?" You couldn’t keep the bitterness out of your tone.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. But the damage was done. There was a deathly silence between you where you were afraid to look at your best friend.

"You know, I thought I would have you both in my life; my best friend and my girlfriend. I feel like you’re making me choose you over her and it’s not fair, Cricket! I’ve tried, I really have but you’re making it impossible! So you know what, I’m going to have to choose Priya. At least she bothered to put some effort into getting me a birthday gift. I can have a future with her."

The worst thing about his words were the disappointment and finality in his tone. And with that he left you alone with only your thoughts for company. A storm raged inside you, a maelstrom of emotions; anger, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, loss, just outright pain. How could he? How could he choose her over you? After everything you had been through together, the bond you had forged, the absolute faith and trust you had put in each other. Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him?

Trudging back to your room, you sought comfort in your giant bed, hoping it would envelope you completely. Wrapping the duvet around your body and over your head, you buried your face in a pillow and allowed the tears to fall. Once the gates had opened, the trickle of tears became a flood as you sobbed into your pillow to muffle the sound.

Why did he have to choose? Why didn’t he choose you? The pain in your chest was unbearable, a physical ache that matched the emotional turmoil inside you. You had tried so hard to make things work, to give him a balance of your friendship with his relationship with Priya, but now it seemed like all your efforts had been in vain. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t with you.

As you lay there in your bed, the tears continued to flow, a never-ending stream of sadness and heartbreak. You felt like a piece of you had been ripped away, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its place. How could you move on from this? How could you ever trust anyone again, knowing that they could just choose someone else over you?

You sighed, you knew now that you would never be good enough for him. Everything you’d tried to hold on to, had done nothing but push him away. You remembered when you had first understood your feelings, you’d considered pulling away to protect yourself. But Bucky had reeled you back in, constantly asking if he had done something to hurt you. So you’d given in, telling yourself you didn’t want to hurt him. But in reality, it had been selfish, you had indulged in a fantasy and ended up hurting the man you loved and getting hurt in the process.

You startled as a door slammed shut nearby. It was Bucky’s bedroom door, you could hear Priya giggling and Bucky’s deep voice through the wall. Your body froze with shock, the last thing you needed right now was to listen to your best friend having sex with his girlfriend. You shoved your airpods into your ears and turned up one of your lo-fi playlists and closed your eyes.

The decision you should have made then, was far more clear to you now. Your friend and old superior officer from your S.H.I.E.L.D. team had repeatedly offered you the chance to teach with her at the newly formed Coulson Academy. She had taught you everything you knew and believed in your ability to impart the knowledge you’d gained to potential agents. It was time for you to take her up on this offer.

As you wiped away your tears and made a decision to move forward, you knew that it was time to focus on yourself and your own happiness. Bucky had made his choice, and now it was time for you to make yours. You couldn’t continue to dwell on what would never be, on the pain of rejection and heartbreak.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #my best friend's girl

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mrs-kmikaelson · 1 year ago

Text

Our Song and Dance²

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: not as long as before but still long, murder, violence, death, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, psychological "games," unrequited love, complicated relationships, suicidal tendencies (technically), complex mental health issues, and i make up small details ab smaller characters and some names (pls lmk if i missed anything) Words: 9.2K

Masterlist | Part 3

a/n: i just want to thank you all so much for the support! i was definitely insecure about this, but seeing all the love rlly makes it so worth it! this one is completely catching fire, then the next one is all mockingjay. hope u enjoy! also finnick and y/n's song is def american pie.

“Let The 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favour.”

Ten seconds later, a cannon fired and you were immediately jumping off the pedestal into the water. Once upon a time, you were a swimmer. This was your edge. You were good in water, as was Finnick, so your worry for him eased.

You swam until you reached rock, climbing on to it and running along the path like your life depended on it because it did. Once you were at the Cornucopia, you ran for your sword, grabbing it and then swiftly pivoting to stab the person coming up from behind you like it was instinct—and it was.

Your mind didn’t have to fully be there; your body knew what it was doing. You’ve danced this dance already, and you’ve perfected it. You stabbed another man from behind, letting him fall to the ground when you pulled your sword away. You grabbed throwing knives, running to find Finnick, and you caught him at just the right moment.

Katniss had just drawn her arrow when you came up from behind her, bringing your sword up against her neck. Alliance or not, you’d slit her throat if she posed a threat.

“Careful, Everdeen,” you warned, making her tense.

At that moment, Finnick held up his forearm, flashing his bracelet. He smirked, completely unbothered, and taunted, “Good thing we’re allies, right?”

Her breath was shaky but her voice was still menacing. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” You retorted, still holding the blade close to her skin.

You watched as the amusement on Finnick’s face disappeared, his gaze being directed away from you. “Behind you.”

You quickly moved your sword away from her neck without cutting her, spinning and bringing it down on another guy’s neck instead. You turned back to a gasping Katniss, ignoring her state that was much like the one you were just in. “Don’t trust 1 and 2.”

Cannons fired as Finnick walked around you. “I’ll take this side. You go hold them off,” he told her.

You nodded. “I’ll find Peeta.” You didn’t walk far before you spotted him, shouting, “He’s over here!” All three of you ran over, finding him in the water against a pedestal, fighting off a tribute.

Finnick jumped into the water, swimming over while Katniss drew her arrow, seemingly waiting to get a good shot, but then both boys were submerged underwater. She brought her arrow down, breathing heavily as a cannon fired.

You waited in anticipation, a body floating up to the surface. For a second, you thought the kid died, but then he emerged out of the water, panting, and you both let out a breath.

The look on her face as she thought Peeta died was more convincing than any other performance you watched them put on, more convincing than the kisses, and the engagement, and the sweet interviews. Whatever was going on between them, you knew now that it wasn’t all fake.

Seems that you had more in common with the Girl on Fire than you thought.

You glanced over at the island, seeing the sets of Careers standing together, forming an alliance as they usually did. Katniss noticed this, too, so as soon Peeta and Finnick were out of the water, you all went running in to the jungle.

This was a Quarter Quell. There was more to it than just changing up the reaping; the entire arena was special. The Gamemakers were sick. You knew that you were in for a hell of a ride.

Right now, you just had to keep running. You could worry about food and water when the time came, and you’d find Johanna eventually. She was smart; you knew she wouldn’t be one of the first to die.

You ran and ran until Finnick called for you all to stop, crouching down to make a game plan. It turned out that you were gonna need water a lot sooner than you thought with how hot it was. At least freezing to death wasn’t something you had to worry about.

Katniss stared at you and Finnick quite obviously. You weren’t sure if she was trying to be discreet or not; you weren’t sure if she knew how to be discreet at all. The firing of the cannon made her finally look away.

Even though you were just running for your lives, a smirk still made its way onto Finnick’s face. “Well, I guess we’re not holding hands anymore,” he chuckled. You snorted, but Katniss wasn’t as amused.

“You think that’s funny?”

You narrowed your eyes, answering before Finnick could. “I don’t know what you think this is, Everdeen, but in case you failed to notice, it’s kill or be killed out here.” You pointed to your ear. “Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. We don’t care about any of them.”

Her jaw clenched. “Good to hear,” she quipped, pulling a machete out of its sheath on her back. You scoffed at her pathetic attempt to threaten you.

“Look, you wanna face the Career Pack alone? Be my guest. It’s your funeral,” you shot. “Besides, what would Haymitch say?”

“Haymitch isn’t here.” She stared straight into your eyes and you stared right back at her, unblinking. In your peripheral, you saw Peeta glancing between you.

“Let’s keep moving,” he interrupted, standing up, but you didn’t look away from Katniss until she stood up first.

Once you were up and walking, Finnick put his hand on the small of your back, probably to calm you down. For some reason, he insisted on working with them, so you’d just have to stifle your urge to argue with her.

Eventually, though, you knew you would be doing a lot more than arguing. If Katniss and you were as alike as you thought, then you knew that she’d stab you in the back for Peeta, the same way you would for Finnick.

The actual tributes in the arena weren’t always what you had to worry about. You were reminded of this when Peeta hit the wrong branches and went flying backward, sending you all with him.

A wall where he hit was revealed, like a glitch, before it was replaced again with the glamour of the jungle. A force field, you realized. Then your attention was drawn back to Peeta by Katniss’ cry of his name.

You shuffled over to them as Katniss panicked. “He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing.” Finnick rushed over, pushing her out of the way.

She instantly reached for her bow, going to grab an arrow, but you shoved her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s saving his life,” you snapped. Her hand fell, realizing you were right as she watched Finnick give him CPR.

She looked like she took a moment to collect herself and then she crawled over. “Peeta? Peeta?” She cried. Finnick grunted, switching between compressions and mouth-to-mouth, continuously checking for a heartbeat that wasn’t there. “Please wake up. No,” she sobbed, “please wake up.”

For the first time since The Games began, you really did feel bad for her. If you were in her place, you didn’t know what you would do.

Just as you thought Peeta was dead, he gasped back to life. Finnick moved back, letting them have their moment.

“Be careful, there’s a force field up there,” he breathed.

She tearily chuckled, leaning in to kiss him. You and Finnick shared a look. Katniss was kidding herself if she didn’t think she loved him. You tuned the rest of their conversation out. Peeta could’ve died, just like that, and Katniss would’ve probably fallen apart.

You knew that if Finnick died, you died, too. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to protect him.

Little did you know, he was thinking the exact same thoughts about you.

Once Peeta could stand, you were all back on your feet, looking for freshwater while simultaneously trying to spot where the force field started and ended. After Katniss did a little experiment with an arrow, you figured out that the arena was a dome. You just so happened to be at the edge.

Didn’t matter, though, because there wasn’t a sign of freshwater anywhere. Since you couldn’t satisfy your need for water, you’d just have to compensate with your need for sleep.

“It’s getting dark soon. We’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp,” Finnick suggested. “Take turns sleeping. I can take first watch.”

Katniss gave a little scoff like he was saying was absurd. “Not a chance.”

You stepped forward, so fed up and desperately wanting to give her a reality check, but Finnick held a hand up, signalling for you to stop. The only reason you did was because you saw the look on his face. As much as you wanted to tear Katniss a new one, you’d much rather watch him do it.

He stood up, sticking the end of his trident into the ground. He was calm, but annoyance laced his voice. “Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called saving his life. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would’ve done it by now.” He picked up his trident. “Same goes for Y/N.”

Then he walked off, and you followed soon after hearing Katniss say something to Peeta about taking the first watch. If you were just watching The Games, then maybe you’d feel a little more compassionate towards her, but you weren’t watching. You were in them with her.

Your compassion sort of needed to disappear to ensure your survival, so all you were was annoyed. But she was a pretty good archer, so having her on your team didn’t hurt, unless you were counting how she was a pain in your ass.

However, your annoyance was quick to fade as you fell asleep, tired, hungry, and dehydrated.

When you woke up, it was to the sound of Panem’s anthem, pictures in the sky of the tributes that had died. Most of them were people you previously had conversations with in the Capitol, yet some of them were still people that you killed.

You couldn’t be friends with everyone in an arena.

You counted eight pictures in the sky. So there were sixteen left, including you four. If you were still mentoring, you would’ve probably been reflecting over how quickly those lives could just come to an end, but you didn’t have time to stop and think about the cruelty of life.

Your thoughts were directed away from the dead by a chime. You looked up to see a silver parachute, slowly falling to the ground. Katniss opened the silver casing, revealing some sort of metal tool and a note from Haymitch. You quickly identified the tool as a spile.

The three of you brought it to a tree, waiting to see if it’d work. Peeta came and found you not long after. You were just staring at it, praying for water. If there was a God, they answered, because water came pouring out of the spile like it was a fountain.

You were so relieved that you laughed, drinking and splashing some on your face.

After that, you were the one taking watch as everyone slept. Every year when The Games came, you had trouble sleeping more than a few hours each night. Now that you were back in the arena, you really couldn’t sleep at all. You’d make sure you got an hour every day, just to keep yourself sharp, but otherwise you’d prefer to let Finnick sleep and watch over him, anyway.

You were all startled by a loud banging, almost like an alarm. The only reason you could think of for its presence was to signal that it was midnight, but you were still confused. There were never alarms in any of the other Games. But, like you’d already figured out, this year was different.

Right after the alarm, you watched as lightning repeatedly struck the same tree in the distance. Nature didn’t work that way, and there was nothing natural about The Games, anyway. It wasn’t a coincidence, but you just couldn’t figure out what its purpose could be.

You spent the rest of your watch trying to put the puzzle pieces together, trying to figure out what the catch was with this arena, but you couldn’t make any of the pieces fit. You didn’t have enough. Katniss tried to stay awake, still distrusting of you, but she eventually succumbed to slumber, leaving you to yourself.

She hadn’t been sleeping long when you heard a different sound. You turned your head, seeing grey mist slowly crawl its way over to you. Your brows furrowed.

There were no natural occurrences in an arena.

You reached your hand out, like you were testing the waters, but you should’ve known better. As soon as the fog made contact with your skin, you fell backward, a scream leaving your lips. Your cry woke everyone else up.

Finnick immediately ran to you, but you shouted, “No, run! It’s poison- the fog is poison!” Either he was stupid or brave, because he ignored your warning and ran to you anyway, helping you up as quickly as possible before you followed Katniss and Peeta, doing your best to run, but the fog was following you, too.

It was harder to run fast in this part of the jungle. All of the branches and plants kept getting in your way, but you weren’t stopping, helping Peeta cut whatever was in your way.

You could’ve been running as fast as humanly possible, but the fog still would’ve caught up to you. It wasn’t nature at all. It was intended to kill.

You had to change directions as it suddenly appeared in front of you, too. It was like it was encasing you. Somewhere along the way, Katniss and Peeta ended up running on the path parallel to you. You skidded to a stop as you heard Finnick scream. Your eyes widened. “Finnick, come on. We’ve gotta go!” You ushered him forward, and then he went running to Katniss and Peeta who came to a stop, as well.

When you got there, Peeta was groaning on the ground, blisters all over the side of his face. “I can’t carry him,” Katniss panted. “Peeta, please, stand up. We have to go.”

If you could carry him, you would, but he’d crush you if you tried. Finnick was in no condition to carry Peeta alone, so you slung one of his arms around your neck, telling Katniss to get the other. “Finnick, go. Get ahead of us.” You motioned for him to go forward.

He looked hesitant, and in any other situation, he wouldn’t, but none of you had the time to argue, so he listened and ran forward, taking Peeta’s blade and cutting the branches in your path.

The three of you cried out as the fog hit the backs of your necks, but then you were all rolling down a hill that you couldn’t have noticed in the state you were in.

You were whimpering on the ground, so consumed by the pain that you almost forgot that you were supposed to be running. You turned over and, to your surprise, the fog didn’t come any closer, travelling upward instead of forward, like it hit a wall. And then it just disappeared altogether.

You let out a shaky breath, resting your head on the ground before you were reminded of where you were. Resting wasn’t an option. You’d rest when you were dead, and you weren’t gonna speed up that process.

So you crawled over to the lake a few feet away from you. This was a gamble, but you had to take some risks if you wanted to survive. Cautiously, you stuck your hand in the water. This elicited another scream from you, but the pain in your hand slowly faded as the blisters were practically washed away.

“The- the water,” you stuttered, “the water helps.”

As Katniss and Peeta made their way over, you pushed yourself into the water, moaning at the pain. Tears leaked out of your eyes, but after a minute or so, the excruciating pain subsided to just a sting.

When you were both okay, Katniss and you got out of the water, dragging Finnick over. As soon as the water touched his skin, he was screaming, trying to fight against it. “Shh, shh,” you hushed, holding him down. “It’s gonna help.” You ran your fingers through his hair, and a few more tears fell down your face, even though you weren’t in pain anymore.

Not physical pain.

But watching him struggle like this was a pain you couldn’t help.

You and Katniss helped him as he shivered while Peeta went and got your weapons. You stayed in the lake even after all your blisters were gone, just cooling off and getting yourselves together.

In The Games, your physical came first, but you wanted to keep an eye on mental health or at least not let it get to a point where it’d affect your body. Though, you supposed there was no healthy mind in The Games, and there certainly wasn’t after a victor left them.

Annie was an example of a worst case scenario, but you knew this because you lived it, too.

Finnick’s hand found yours as you sat together, holding it tightly. This was his way of making sure you were still there. Your way was putting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

After a while, though, that steady rhythm was interrupted and his heart started beating faster. This caused you to look up, and when you did, you were met with the sight of apes coming toward you.

Katniss grabbed an arrow while you and Finnick slowly stood up, bracing yourself by readying your weapons. You glanced around, seeing that they were coming in from all directions. Fucking Gamemakers, you thought.

You realized you could see the Cornucopia from where you stood, so all you had to was fend them off and make it there.

Suddenly, one jumped at Peeta, then the rest of them got up from their perched positions. Katniss was firing arrows left and right while you and the boys slashed away. If one got too close, you stabbed it.

Katniss was pulled underwater by one, but you killed it before she ran out of air. There were too many to just kill all of them, meaning you had to start running for the beach.

Peeta and Katniss both fell, so you ran to help her while Finnick went for Peeta. You stabbed the ape in front of her, grabbing her hand and taking her running with you. When you reached them, there was someone lying on the ground that hadn’t been with you before.

“Who is that?” Katniss questioned, but you recognized her by the face paint.

“A morphling,” Peeta responded, pulling her up. “Help me get her!”

You let Katniss help him while you helped Finnick get the apes closest to you, taking off as soon as you could. You both stumbled, rolling onto the beach, but the apes didn’t go farther than the edge of the sand. You held your blades out at them, but it was like you really didn’t need to.

You were reminded of the fog and it how was stopped by an invisible wall, the same way these monkeys looked to be stopped by something.

A cannon fired, and they retreated into the jungle. You swallowed, turning to see Katniss and Peeta leaving the water, the Morphling left floating dead. Like clockwork, a hovercraft came in, picking her up like she was an object.

You scoffed. Just when you thought you couldn’t think any lesser of the Capitol, you were proven wrong.

When Peeta spoke up, his voice was both defeated and confused. “She sacrificed herself for me and I didn’t even know her name.”

“Her name was Trayne,” you cut in, making them both look at you, but your eyes were focused on the hovercraft taking her out of the water. “Trayne Carter.”

They both paused, absorbing that. It was like, for the first time since you entered the arena, you were reminded that these people weren’t just your opponents. They were people that had lives.

Just like you.

A look then passed over Katniss’ face as she turned to Peeta. “You think she sacrificed herself?”

“Looked like it.”

Your brows knit together while she voiced your thoughts. “That doesn’t make any sense.” It didn’t, but you had a long list of things you had to make sense of and more pressing matters at hand, so you couldn’t busy yourself by thinking about it.

Finnick found fish that was edible, so you all sat in the shade and ate for the first time since before The Games started. This time, you were the one to reach out for his hand, holding on to it like you’d die if you let go.

You were pretty much in silence until a scream sounded from far away but close enough that you could hear it. You let go of Finnick’s hand as Peeta remarked, “That’s new.”

You all stood up, grabbing your weapons. In the distance, there was a rumble. Something was rustling the trees ahead of you. When it got closer, you realized that something was water. The wave came crashing past the trees and into the water, stopping once it hit the Cornucopia.

Like it couldn’t go past it.

Cannons fired, and the hovercraft returned, picking up bodies from the jungle while you all watched, captured by the sight. You were broken out of your trance by Katniss drawing an arrow. “Someone’s here.”

Her and Peeta ducked while you and Finnick waited to see who it was. It took you a moment since they were covered in blood, but you soon realized who it was. You let out a sigh of relief. “Johanna.” You jogged over to them. “Johanna!”

“Y/N?” She laughed as she saw you and Finn. Her tough exterior came down as she went to hug you, like she was just as relieved to see you. Once she let go of you, she even hugged Finnick.

You glanced, identifying that the people she was with were Beetee and Wiress, then looked back at her. “What the hell happened?”

Katniss and Peeta came over just as she started explaining. “Well, I got ‘em out.” She gestured to them. “We were all the way deep into the jungle where I thought it was gonna be safe.” A humourless smile arose on her face. “That’s when the rain started. I thought it was water. It turned out to be blood. Hot, thick blood.”

You narrowed her eyes at her explanation. Fog, apes, waves, blood rain. There was some sort of connection there, you just couldn’t grasp it.

Wiress came over, looking lost, mumbling, “Tick tock.”

“It was coming down-”

“Tick tock.”

“-it was choking us.” She scoffed. “We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind.”

“Tick tock.”

“That’s when Blight hit the force field.” She exhaled, shaking her head as Wiress continued to mumble. “He wasn’t much, but he was from home.” You reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder.

You understood what she meant. You’d felt the same feeling before, when the male tribute from district 4, Bay, died during your Games. You didn’t always know the person you were going in with, but you became bonded by the experience. That loss was unlike anything you’d ever felt to this day.

Wiress kept going on in the background, making you glance at her. “What’s wrong with her?” you finally asked.

“She’s in shock,” Beetee replied, coming out of the water. “Dehydration isn’t helping. Do you have fresh water?”

“Yeah, we can get some.”

“Tick tock. Tick tock.” You turned to see Wiress had grabbed onto Johanna’s shoulders. “Tick tock. Tick tock.”

Johanna grabbed onto her forearms, trying to get her off. “Listen- stop it!”

She had pushed her onto the sand when Katniss yelled, “Hey, lay off her!” She went and shoved Johanna, making you rush over.

You shoved Katniss away from her, pushing her hard enough that she staggered backward. “Back off, Everdeen!” you warned as Finnick held Johanna back from retaliating, but she shouted back.

“What’s wrong with you?! I got them out for you!” She struggled against Finnick. “Let me go, Finnick!”

Peeta came over to help balance Katniss. Her eyes were wild, like she wasn’t the one who instigated this. “For me? What does that mean?”

The question wasn’t directed at you, but you responded, anyway. “I don’t know and I don’t care, but you better watch it, Everdeen.” You stepped forward, looking her right in the eye as she stared back challengingly. You lowered your voice. “You’ve played with fire before, but I am telling you right now, I will light your ass up the next time you try me.” She opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “Don’t underestimate me again.”

You walked off before you could hear her reply. If she said another thing to you right now, it was highly likely that you’d do something you would or wouldn’t regret. You weren’t gonna test it.

You decided to take Wiress into the water and help her clean herself up to calm down. She smiled at you crazily. “Tick tock.”

You sighed, “Yes, tick tock.”

“Tick tock.” She repeated herself over and over again, reminding you so much of Annie. Wiress was one of the smartest people you had ever met, yet she was reduced to this every time she was in a bad situation. She won her Games through a loophole, and in turn, that loophole sucked her in until she was too deep to get out.

As you rinsed her hair, she gasped, “Tick tock. Tick tock!” Immediately afterward, lightning struck the tree in the distance, the same tree as the night before. You tilted your head. The tree, fog, apes, waves, blood rain. Wiress looked up at you. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” you echoed, eyes darting around the arena. The tree, the fog, the apes, the waves, the rain.

“Tick tock.”

“Oh, my God.” You cupped your hand over your mouth in shock. “It’s a clock.”

“Tick tock.”

You pulled her out of the water, engulfing her in a hug. “Wiress, you’re a genius!” When you let go, you ran with her to the others. “It’s a clock!”

They all looked to you. Finnick furrowed his brows. “What?”

“It’s a clock!” You pointed to the Cornucopia. “The arena is laid out like a clock!”

Peeta came forward. “Holy shit.”

You ran your hands threw your hair, all of the puzzle pieces falling into place. “It’s, um- there’s a new threat every hour. They- they can only stay in their wedge, though.” You pointed at the tree. “It starts with lightning, then blood rain, fog, monkeys- that’s the first four hours. Then at ten, that big wave hits.”

Finnick chuckled slightly under his breath. “Wiress, you’re a genius.”

Peeta then cut in, suggesting you all get to the Cornucopia, so that’s what you did. Just as you were getting there, he pointed out, “Look, the tail points to twelve.”

Katniss filled in the blank. “That’s where the lightning strikes at noon and midnight.”

Wiress sat down on the rocks, singing to herself while the rest of you gathered around Peeta who mapped out the clock in the sand and what you already knew.

You crossed your arms. “Okay, what else?” You turned to Johanna. “Did you guys see anything?”

She snorted under her breath, “Nothing but blood.”

Peeta replied, “Doesn’t matter. As long as we steer clear of whichever sector is active, we’ll be safe.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, safe from nature.” As if you jinxed it, Wiress gasped immediately after you spoke. You turned so fast you could’ve gotten whiplash, in time to see Gloss pulling a knife out of Wiress’ neck.

Katniss worked fast, shooting him in the chest, but he wasn’t working alone. Right after, Cashmere came running at her. Johanna pushed Katniss out of the way, embedding her axe into Cashmere’s skull.

The other half of the Careers revealed themselves, Brutus throwing staffs at you that you narrowly dodged. Katniss’ arrow missed Enobaria as she threw a knife at Finnick, grazing his arm.

“Bitch,” you swore, throwing a knife of your own at her head, cursing again when it hit her shoulder instead. You went running after her, chasing her around the Cornucopia, but you suddenly lost your footing.

Gamemakers.

The island spun around. You grabbed onto the rock as best as you could, digging your nails into it so hard that they started to bleed. You were determined to stay alive, to keep Finnick alive, but your hold wasn’t strong enough. A scream left your lips as your fingers slipped. Finnick yelling your name was the last thing you heard before you went flying into the water.

Once upon a time, you were a swimmer.

You never thought you’d die by drowning.

And you refused to let that be the way you went out.

You fought hard against the current, using all your force to get above water. You gasped as you surfaced, taking in a large breath of air and coughing as you swam to the rock closest to you.

“Y/N!”

Finnick came running over to you, pulling you up and crouching down to your level. He ran his fingers through your hair, eyes darting all over your body with concern. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, nodding, and then he immediately embraced you tightly. His heart was beating just as fast if not faster than yours. For a moment, you couldn’t hear anything but that beating. You couldn’t hear the water, or the birds, or anyone else around you. You couldn’t even hear the music.

It was just the two of you.

And then that moment ended far too quickly.

Johanna brought you back to earth, heaving, “Let’s just get what we need and get off this bloody island.” You nodded against Finnick’s chest, letting him help you up. You muttered to him that you were fine, but he completely ignored you, helping you walk.

He was good, you thought. You would’ve been good together, in another life. It would’ve been nice to have been loved by this man, but life was never so kind to you.

You made it back to the beach, sitting on the sand under a tree. You weren’t relaxing like before; the time to relax had passed. You were nearing the end of The Games; it was time to plan for survival.

“So, besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asked.

You looked right at her as you answered, “Maybe Chaff. Just those three.” You maintained eye contact with her, knowing that she was thinking the same thing as you. It wasn’t just those three. It was also all of you, sitting here.

Alliances always came to an end in the arena.

You knew Finnick must have caught onto this, but he pretended not to. “They know they’re outnumbered. I doubt they’ll attack again. We’re safe here on the beach.”

Safe for how long? you wondered. Even if the three of them were killed by the horrors of the jungle, you still wouldn’t be safe. None of you would be, as long as you were together.

“So what do we do? We hunt ‘em down?” Johanna questioned, looking to all of you for an answer of some sort, but before any of you could formulate one, you heard a girl scream.

A little girl.

“Katniss, help me!”

Katniss shot up immediately. “Prim!” You remembered that name from the year prior. That was her sister. Your eyes widened, trying to stop her, but she was up and running into the jungle.

You ran after her, hearing the others follow suit. “Katniss! Katniss, stop!”

She was running so far ahead of you that you almost lost sight of her, but you found her stopped, shooting down a bird. “Katniss!” She turned to you, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?”

Before she could even respond, you heard your own name being called. “Y/N!”

Your head shot up, eyes wide. Katniss was trying to talk to you, but it was like her voice was muffled to you. “Y/N-”

“Mom?”

“Y/N, it’s not real-”

It was almost like Katniss wasn’t there at all. You ran farther into the jungle, screaming, “Mom?!”

Katniss was shouting your name, but the only voice you could hear was your mother’s. “Y/N!” Katniss ran in front of you, grabbing ahold of your shoulders. “It’s not her! It’s just a jabberjay-”

You cut her off, shoving her away. “How do you think they got that sound, Katniss? Jabberjays copy!” Her eyes glazed over at your words, and then a new voice joined the mix, making her shake her head fervently.

Whatever she was saying now, you could barely pay attention to it, hearing someone else call your name, the voice of a person you never thought you’d hear again.

“Bay?” You gasped. Tears came to your eyes. It escaped you that Bay was dead, that you held him in your arms as he died. All you could focus on was just how real his voice sounded.

Jabberjays swarmed around you, the voices now louder than ever. Katniss grabbed your arm and you, not there, let her drag you away, running away from the voices instead of toward them.

Your mother’s and Bay’s voices mixed together, screaming your name, your mother who you hadn’t spoken to in years and the boy who you let down. You screamed, too, trying to drown them out, but they were too loud.

Soon, Johanna, Peeta, and Finnick came into your vision. They were saying things, but they fell upon deaf ears. You couldn’t hear anything but the screams.

You hit a wall, banging on it. Finnick stood on the other side, trying to speak to you, but you couldn’t hear it at all. The dam in your eyes broke, tears running down your face like a waterfall.

You sunk to the ground, hands on your ears, sobbing.

“Y/N!”

“You killed me!”

“No, no, no,” you wailed, but they weren’t stopping.

“You killed me, Y/N!” Bay.

“You broke my heart.” Mom.

“I’m dead because of you!” Bay.

“I lost my daughter.” Mom.

“It’s all your fault.” Bay.

“You’re a monster.” Mom.

“You killed me.” Bay.

“You’re not my daughter anymore.” Mom.

“You’re a killer.” Bay.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” Mom.

“You killed me.” Bay.

“You deserve to die.” Mom.

You don’t know when they stopped. You still heard the echoes of their voices in your head when they were gone. “Y/N!” Someone touched your shoulder, making you flinch. “It’s done. The hour’s done- it’s okay.”

You shot up, seeing Finnick right next to you. “My mom? Where’s my mom- Bay. Where’s- where’s-”

He grabbed your shoulders. “They’re not here, Y/N. It wasn’t real.”

You panted, shuffling back away from Finnick, but he didn’t let you get far, pulling you to him. You tried to fight against it, but he wasn’t letting up. Eventually, you gave up trying to fight, letting him hold you. He pet your hair, whispering to you.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You let the sound of his heart calm you down. It wasn’t real, you told yourself. Bay was dead. Your mom was okay. Finnick is alive. That’s what mattered.

After a few moments, you got up, Finnick watching you wearily. Johanna didn’t say anything, shooting you a look. You knew what she meant. You nodded, telling her without words that you were okay. You had to be okay. She nodded back.

You looked over, seeing Peeta still calming Katniss down on the ground. “Okay? They won’t touch Prim. Alright?” She shakily nodded, collecting herself.

“Your fiancé’s right. The whole country loves your sister.” You looked back to Johanna, seeing her standing on a rock. Her voice was both assuring and bitter. “If they tortured her or did anything to her-” she paused, chuckling, “forget the districts, there would be riots in the damn Capitol.”

She glanced to you and you saw the sheer fire in her eyes. Oh, you’d give anything to burn down that city with Snow in it.

“Hey, how does that sound, Snow?” She shouted, looking up to whatever cameras were in the sky. “What if we- what if we set your backyard on fire? You know, you can’t put everybody in here.” She turned back to you, seeing you all staring at her. “What? They can’t hurt me.” She shrugged, her voice was lowering as she looked to the ground. “There’s no one left that I love.”

You knew that Katniss and Peeta couldn’t have known the true depth of her words, but Beetee did. Finnick did. You did. Anyone watching at home- they couldn’t have understood. They must’ve thought she was crazy, but did any of them have even the slightest idea of who you all were? Did they know that she wasn’t always like this, that they made her this way? You were kids and the Capitol stole your innocence like it was nothing. For you and Finnick, they did it by selling you, and for Johanna, they did it by killing her family.

It may not have been fair to call Katniss lucky, she lost a lot, but at least her sister was alive. At least she still had a family. At least she wasn’t completely dead inside, like Johanna. Like Finnick.

Like you. Johanna ended up walking off, giving the excuse that she’d get you both water. You all made your way back to the beach after that. You sat there, staring off into the distance. This place could’ve been beautiful, you thought. But now blood had been spilled all over it.

What was beautiful about that?

You didn’t have all the answers. Right now, it felt like you didn’t know anything. All you knew was that the man you loved was alive, arm wrapped around you, heart beating. Did he know that he was the only “sure” thing you had? Did he know how much you loved him?

It felt like you were supposed to tell him. You were gonna die soon; The Games would come to end, and so would your life. It felt like he was supposed to know. If you were gonna die, then shouldn’t he at least knew how you felt about him, how in love you were with him?

The answer you came to was no. You weren’t gonna complicate things—God knew this was already complicated enough, this thing you had. You didn’t have time to learn new steps to the dance. You just wanted to let the music play and dance until you couldn’t dance anymore.

You had been sitting there for a little while when Katniss broke the silence. “Who’s Bay?” You turned to her, but she wasn’t looking at you, staring at nothing like you were.

“Katniss-” Finnick tried to interject, but you stopped him, putting your hand on his without looking at him. If you looked him in the eye right now, then he’d be able to tell just how broken you felt. He could read you so easily. You didn’t want him to read you right now when you didn’t have the energy to fake it.

You didn’t want him to see you getting ready to die.

You weren’t exactly Katniss’ biggest fan, and she wasn’t yours, but here you were, sitting together in the same arena. She was you. She was you before everything got bad, worse than it already was.

Soon, you wouldn’t be allies anymore. Soon, one of you would die. So you’d bring down the mask, just for a second. Before you ended up on different sides, you’d show her that you were just like her.

“Bay…” you faltered, “I guess I didn’t know him all too well. Lived in the same district for fifteen years, but I never even spoke to him before we were in that arena, and by then, it was too late.” A burning sensation grew in your throat. “He died in my arms. He- he was gonna take the money from winning and take care of his parents, make sure they didn’t have to worry. He didn’t get to. So I did. I took care of ‘em- didn’t even dent my pockets.” A humourless chuckle left your lips. “You know, my mom and I don’t talk anymore. Says I’m a different person, and she’s right. So, sometimes, I think Bay was just better off.”

Katniss finally turned to you. She didn’t say anything- she didn’t have to. You saw the look in her eyes; she understood. But you wished she didn’t. You wished that nobody had to understand. You wished that Johanna didn’t understand, that Finnick didn’t understand. You wished that you could’ve all just been kids for a little while longer.

That’s when you got up, walking over to where the sand met the water. You wanted to admire this place before you were gone.

You heard someone walk up behind you, immediately knowing it was Finnick.

His voice was quiet, even though you were far from everyone else. “You never told me about Bay’s parents.” If only he knew all the things you didn’t tell him.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you just said, “I know.” He didn’t say anything else after that, wrapping arm around your waist and pulling you to him. You stared off into the distance together, just like those cold nights at the Capitol you spent together.

Sometimes, saying nothing with him was the equivalent of saying everything.

Sometimes, it was better than saying anything.

You hadn’t been standing there for too long when Johanna came over, telling you guys that Beetee had a plan. You joined the others, listening to him explain how he wanted to lure the Careers to the beach then electrocute them as lightning struck the tree at midnight.

It was risky, and it all counted on the Brutus and Enobaria being at the beach in the first place, but you supposed it beat going into combat with them. You could take them if you needed to, but if there was a plan you could implement to avoid that, then you would.

If this plan worked, then the Careers would die instantly, leaving only the six of you in the arena. But only one of you would walk out, and it had to be Finnick.

Despite how the two of you had been at each other’s throats, you didn’t want to kill Katniss. You didn’t want to kill Peeta, the boy who reminded you so much of Finnick. You didn’t want to kill Beetee, who had made you laugh so many times you were at the Capitol. And you certainly didn’t want to kill Johanna, who was perhaps one of the only friends you had.

You hoped it wouldn’t be you, that you wouldn’t be the one to kill them. You didn’t want to kill anymore. You just wanted this to end.

You were so consumed by these thoughts that you missed the looks Finnick and Johanna shared and the look Beetee threw their way.

By nightfall, you were back in the jungle, making your way to the lightning tree. Beetee said something science-y, then you got started, wrapping the wire he invented around the tree.

“Typically, a lightning strike contains five billion joules of energy. We don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits,” he said, finishing one last wrap before walking over to you, coil in hand. “You three girls, go together now. Take this. Unspool it carefully. Make sure the entire coil is in the water. You understand? Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector. We’ll meet you there.”

You nodded, grabbing the coil as Peeta cut in, “I’m gonna go with them as a guard.”

You snorted, “What, golden boy, afraid we can’t protect ourselves?” Even in the dark, you could see the redness climb up his neck. “Don’t worry, your fiancé’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right. They can protect themselves just fine. You’re staying here to protect me. And the tree,” Beetee dictated.

You glanced between Katniss and Peeta, spotting hesitation in both of them. It was happening, you realized. They were already moving to the other side of the board.

“No, I need to go with her.”

“There are two Careers out there. I need at least two guards.”

“Finnick can protect you just fine on his own- Y/N and I could trade places.”

Katniss now spoke up, “Yeah, why don’t Johanna, Finnick, and Y/N stay with you and Peeta and I’ll take the coil?”

“You want to face the Careers by yourself?” You narrowed your eyes. Katniss looked to you, trying to maintain an unwavering expression. “You do realize that you’ve only been at this a year, right? Not only that, you’re from 12. These are people who trained their whole lives just to kill.”

Katniss didn’t have a response, just as you expected. Finnick must have caught onto the tension, questioning, “Is there a problem here?”

Beetee responded speedily, “Excellent question.” Katniss looked back to him, and you knew that she knew her fight was over. She was out of her depth here.

After a second, she replied, “No. There’s no problem.” Not yet, but knowing her, there would be one soon. You and Johanna waited for her to say her goodbyes to Peeta before getting ready to go.

You were walking away when you suddenly came to a stop. You passed the coil to Katniss, then walked back to the tree. Finnick’s brows raised as you beelined for him, but then his eyes just closed as your lips met his.

The music was louder than it’d ever been, like it knew that the beat could drop any minute now. This kiss was equal passion and softness. You kissed him like you’d never get do it again, and that could very well be true. He kissed back just as passionately, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him.

You knew Finnick didn’t love you. You knew he had a girl waiting for him back home, but if you were gonna die, then you just wanted to do that one last time. You wanted one last kiss from your one true love, even if you weren’t his.

When you eventually pulled away for air, he still didn’t let you go, resting his forehead against yours as you both breathed heavily. “I- I need to go now.”

He ran a hand through your hair, opening his eyes to look into yours. “I’ll see you at midnight?” You smiled, hoping he didn’t see how sad you were.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at midnight,” you said, knowing how probable it was that you wouldn’t.

Then you walked away.

The jungle was dead silent except for the sound of your footsteps and crickets. All you had to do was get to the beach, then get as far away from it as possible. You wanted to meet Finnick at midnight.

But that wasn’t gonna happen.

Katniss suddenly stopped. You looked to her, seeing her trying to pull the coil to no avail. “There’s something…” She pulled it again, and then the wire snapped.

You saw Brutus, knowing Enobaria couldn’t have been far away. You pulled your sword out of its sheath while Katniss drew an arrow, but before either of you could do anything, you were falling to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your head spun. You didn’t need to see it to know that you were losing blood—you could feel it. Get up, get up, get up, get up, you chanted, but it was as if your limbs were frozen.

You heard Katniss scream. You mustered up the strength to turn you head, seeing Johanna leaning over her, cutting into her arm. She shushed her, then looked up and cursed under her breath.

“Both of you, stay down,” she grit out, then she threw her axe at targets you couldn’t see, running away from you both. She did this, you realized. For some reason, you were shocked, but didn’t you always know this would happen? Didn’t you always know that you’d end up against each other in the end?

Didn’t you already know this would end in your last breath?

You did, but you still found yourself questioning: was this it? Was this how you died? Did Johanna just leave you to die?

Suddenly, you could hear Finnick, screaming yours and Johanna’s names. You wanted to scream back, to tell him you were right there, but it was like your mouth couldn’t form the words.

This was it. This was how you died.

You’d been preparing for this since the Quell was even announced, but you just weren’t expecting it, not yet. There were still people left.

At that thought, it was like the world stopped.

There were still people left.

You couldn’t just leave Finnick to fend for himself.

You shot up as if you had just been doused in cold water, reaching beside you to feel that your sword was still there. Your eyes searched for Katniss. She was just right next to you, but now she was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t even know that she left.

You shakily stood up, dots dancing around your vision the same way you were. You still had dancing to do.

A cannon fired, and you started running, screaming Finnick’s name, not caring if alerted anyone of where you were. You ran faster as you heard the sky booming.

Soon, Finnick came into your vision, Katniss not far from him, aiming an arrow up to the sky.

And then you saw nothing.

The last thing you remembered was being blasted backward, sparks everywhere, lightning.

And then the music stopped.

When Finnick woke up, it was like he almost forgot where he was, and then he remembered what happened. Katniss shot an arrow at the force field.

He ripped the IV out of his arm, pushing past the aching in his bones and sitting up, looking around. Katniss and Beetee were lying down in front of him, still asleep. He furrowed his brows. There was no one else.

His eyes darted around the room, looking for you, looking for a sign that you were here, but he couldn’t find one.

“Y/N?” His voice echoed in the empty room. You didn’t answer.

He got up, calling your name louder. “Y/N?” Still no answer.

This was impossible. You had to be here, you had to be on the hovercraft somewhere, you just had to. His mind went to the worst case scenario, but that couldn’t be. You had to be here.

He went for the first doors he saw, expecting to see you on the other side, but he was only met with Haymitch and Plutarch. His heart beat faster now. Where were you?

He ignored Haymitch completely, turning to Plutarch. “Where is she?” It should’ve been an easy answer, but the Gamemaker had an expression that Gamemakers rarely had. Sympathy.

No. This can’t be happening.

He stepped closer, venom in his voice. “Where is she?”

Haymitch intervened. “Finnick, maybe you wanna sit down-”

“Where the fuck is my girlfriend?” They both gave each other a look that infuriated him even further. “Is someone gonna tell me where she is or are you two just gonna stand here all day?”

“Finnick-”

“Where is she, Plutarch?”

The greying man stared at him like he was hesitant to speak, which was saying something, because Plutarch always said whatever was on his mind. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, like he was trying to calm down a rabid animal. “Her tracker was never removed-”

“Okay, so where is she?”

“We couldn’t get her, Finnick.” His ears rang.

They couldn’t get her.

“We couldn’t get Johanna and Peeta, either-”

All of a sudden, Finnick charged at him, but Haymitch quickly went and stopped him, holding him back. “You said you’d get her out! You told me she was gonna be safe!”

“Calm the hell down, Finnick!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” He pushed himself out of Haymitch’s arms, turning and glaring at him. “Katniss is here! Of course, you’re calm- my person is still out there!”

“She’s still alive.”

“Yeah, for how long?”

Plutarch cut in, “They won’t kill her, Finnick. They know how valuable she is.”

“You don’t have to make someone’s heart stop to kill them, Heavensbee,” he spat. “If anyone should know that, it’s you.” The Gamemakers were creative. He knew that the Capitol would spare no expense to hurt you.

After what they did, rebelling like this, you’d be the one to answer for it. Even though you didn’t know a thing about it.

“Listen, kid, you need to calm down now.” Haymitch looked at him with hard eyes. “You need to pull it together. When Katniss wakes up, she’s gonna be confused and angry, just like you. We need her. If you want any of this to mean something, if you want any chance of ever seeing your girl again, then we need her. So you need to cool it.”

Finnick ran a hand through his hair, mind moving seventy miles per hour. The Capitol had you. They had you. You were supposed to be here, and they had you, and he didn’t even get the chance to tell you. There was so much to tell you, and what if he never got that chance again?

Haymitch was right. If he wanted to see you again, to have that chance, to ever dance with you again, then he had to pull it together. He had to be strong.

For you.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?”

Your death was always expected, at least it was to you. When you pictured an ending in your head, this was it. You knew it was coming. What you didn’t expect was ever waking up again.

But you did.

Your eyes opened to a dark room, fluorescent lights flickering on the ceiling. This wasn’t the arena, but you’d soon learn that you didn’t need to be in an arena to play a twisted game.

Am I alive? you wondered.

Your question was soon answered. No, you weren’t alive. You were in Hell.

Because, sitting in a chair across from you, was the Devil himself.

President Snow smiled. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It appears that you and I have a lot to discuss.”

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies

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fatallyfalling · 1 year ago

Text

Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

@justtrying2getby

788 notes · View notes

mothergold · 10 months ago

Text

| That Boy is a Monster |

Pairing: Childe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dark Content, Hate Sex, Slapping, Heavy Swearing, Insults, Enemies to Lovers, Foreplay, Smut, Reader has a vagina and clitoris, Size Difference, Blood, Blood as Lube, Dubcon, Childe has a big dick, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Humiliation, Crying, Reader is implied to be a part of the Fatui, Mindbreak (?), Reader passes out during sex, Vaginal Fingering, Aftercare, Brief Fluff, 2.2k words.

A/n: I have not written for this freak in such a long time, but I had sm fun writing this. So, yeah enjoy <3 (p.s the title are lyrics to the song Monster by Lady Gaga)

Summary: You and Childe have hate sex after battling each other. That's it, that’s the post.

Tagging: @suyacho @auphelia @tighnarly @themovingcastlez

“Mmnh, fuck you taste good.” He moaned, pinning you down and shoving his tongue down your throat, again.

His body was large and covered in blood, towering over you like a bad omen. His eyes were dark and empty. You had nowhere to run, and there was no escape in sight.

You bit his lip and tried pushing him away, but he was much heavier and stronger than you. “Fuck you!” You yelled.

You slapped him in an effort to distract him long enough to get away, but it was futile. It was only fair that the victor of the match got to celebrate in their own way. You just didn’t realize that this was how Childe would celebrate his win. Still, as much as you hated him you couldn’t ignore the longing in between your legs. As he towered over you, you couldn’t help but feel a shiver crawl down your spine. The Fatui Harbinger had quite a way of convincing you to say yes to anything he asked, especially that. Regardless of how much you’d fight him, he would get his way no matter what. That was a cruel promise he intended on keeping.

He slid a hand in between your legs, bloodied and bruised, as he thrusted against his hand, adding a pleasurable amount of pressure for the both of you. You opened your mouth to let out a loud moan, feeling a rush of euphoria from his fingers playing with your bud. Now, staining even your most sensitive parts with blood. If you refused to give up the fight before, you would now. Continuously he played with your bundle of nerves as you tried to weakly push away his advances.

“Fuck, baby you feel so wet.” He groaned in your ear. Not knowing whether it was blood or cum he was rubbing back onto you.

He wasn’t wrong, you were soaking, but goddamn it felt amazing when he touched you down there. Hell, if he touched you anywhere you’d have been a wreck as well, but when he rubbed your sensitive spots all rationale went out the window. He slid two fingers along your folds, gathering up any precum so he could slip both fingers inside of you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, trying once more to fight him off, but at some point you had given up willingly right as the tip of his fingers pushed against your sweet spot.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He whispered against your mouth, his lips rough from cuts and dried blood.

You bite his lip as an act of rebellion, but that only causes him to fuck you harder, pulling moans out of your mouth one after another. Throwing your head back you let out a long and broken moan as you dug your nails into his back, leaving behind a trail of blood. Childe wasn’t wrong, it did feel good, but like hell you would ever admit that to him. Suddenly he slipped his tongue into your mouth, moaning against you like an animal starved of its bountiful feast. Again, you bit his lip, but this time with much more rage and forcefulness.

“Fuck you!” You spat back.

His eyes went dark as he let out a twisted laugh. “Oh, I plan to!”

He pulled back only to take his remaining hand and pin both of your wrists above your head. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and nothing but pure thrilling fun ahead of you. He continued to finger you, faster and faster, until he could feel your walls tightening around him. That’s when he increased the speed and harshness of how he fucked you, until the very moment in which you came all over his fingers. He watched you with glee as you thrashed against the hold of his hands, moaning and arching your back like it was the best you’d ever had. He pulled out slowly, grinning as he watched you come to reality, thinking that all was said and done.

“What are you doing?” You asked nervously. As you tried to back out his grip you ended up putting yourself in a corner that you couldn’t wiggle your way out of.

He unzipped his pants and then moved to remove your bottoms, pulling them completely off of you as he climbed back on top of you. “Oh, I’m not done yet.”

A horrific expression washed over your face as you realized what his words meant. You try to reason with him, say how he’s long since proven that he’s the winner and that you were sorry for rejecting his advances beforehand, but it was too late. He was already starting to line himself up with your hole when you had begun crying and begging for him to reconsider. Sadly for you he wouldn’t. Before you knew it he was entering inside of you and you had no choice but to brace yourself. You thought you could handle his size, the thickness of it, but Childe had very quickly proved you wrong.

Your limits were tested as he used his hips to push himself deeper inside of you. Grabbing onto his biceps and digging your nails into his toned skin you grit your teeth, fighting back the urge to pull away. It hurt like hell at first, feeling as if he was stretching you wider than was humanly possible, but soon you started to adjust his length and girth. Your body had begun to relax and your mind started to lose focus as you became all too aware of just how big he was. Just as you were starting to get used to the pleasurable burn at your core, Childe flipped you onto your stomach and positioned you onto your knees.

He licked his lips and groaned as he gave your ass a quick, hard slap. Chuckling at the way you whined in response as he pushed himself back inside of you. He grabbed your hips as he pounded inside of you at an unforgiving pace, biting his lip to suppress the excitement hiding underneath his tongue. Your body was on fire, electricity traveled up your spine in the most euphoric way possible. Childe was hitting that sweet spot of yours relentlessly and eventually it broke you in the best of ways. Your tongue fell out of your mouth and eyes rolled back as he hit that spot hard again and again. Fuck, you hated Childe so much, but even you couldn’t deny how good his cock felt shoved inside of your cunt.

You clawed at the dirt ground while Childe managed to fuck into you harder and faster with every thrust, something you didn’t know was even possible. With the combination of his bloody hands, the wetness of the dirt ground, and the freeing air which enveloped both of you; you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this. If it wasn’t for the way his tainted hands touched you then it was the vulnerability of anyone being able to walk by and see him deep inside of you. God, something about that made your body quiver. Everytime you heard a noise you held a small amount of hope that it was someone watching you with a satisfied grin on their face. Some part of you wanted the world to know how you belonged to Childe, someone you supposedly hated so much.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and groaned loudly. “Fuck, baby keep doin’ that shit and I’m gonna– ahhh!”

Pulling your head up by the fist full of of hair, he started to fuck you sloppily, his thrusts becoming frantic and uneven. You let out a pained whimper as you felt something rush in your chest, your heart beating fast as your number one enemy fucked the life out of you. You were being violated for the whole world to see and yet you couldn’t give a shit less, the pleasure far outweighing the consequences. Tears started to fall from your eyes as you felt the coil finally snap. Childe continued to fuck you through both yours and his highs, overstimulating you as you squirted all over his cock.

“That’s it, baby. Take it all.” He moaned, hunched over you as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

As he drained the last of his release inside of you fell limp against the ground, your eyes were barely open and yet you managed to see a group of lesser Fatui members pointing at you and smiling. Something about that felt so good, filling your core with desire all over again. Even as your cunt glistened from all the fluids you couldn’t help but grind against Childe for more stimulation. You knew it would probably hurt, still very overstimulated, but you needed to be by him now more than ever. Something about right now demanded to be filled with as much of him as he could offer, maybe even more.

In the process of everything he had flipped you back onto your stomach, wanting to look into your glazed over eyes just one last time before he removed himself. As he was about to slide out of you he noticed how you ground your wet pussy against his cock for more, and saw how you eyed the other Fatui members, too. He smiled fondly at you and kissed you gently on the lips.

He stroked the side of your face and shoved himself back into what little space was left between the two of you. “Don’t look at them, focus on me.” He reassured you as he started to roll his hips to press his cock deeper inside of you until he reached that sweet spot again.

The feeling you felt was one of instant relief, moaning immediately as your eyes locked on Childe’s. Although dark and empty it soothed you as he treated you with an entirely different etiquette. It didn’t take long for you to forget about the strays and focus entirely on Childe, wrapping your arms around his neck as he took advantage of the space, lifting your legs so that you could wrap them around his waist and giving him easier access to your cunt. Rougher and rougher he fucked into you until the both of you were a whimpering mess, already on the fast track to cumming all over again, but you didn’t mind.

As the both of you moaned and climaxed in symphony, something even you were surprised by, you felt yourself eventually lose yourself to the pure euphoria you felt. Suddenly, you slipped into a dark nothingness that was like a dreamlike state. It took some time before you had finally came to and when you did you were in a furnished room. You awoke laying in bed, fully clothed and warm, a strange contrast to before. Feeling eyes on you, you glanced to the side of you to see Childe propped upright watching you with a smile on his face.

“Good, you’re finally awake. You had me scared for a moment there.” He admitted, a tint of blush painting his cheeks.

You rubbed the back of your head in embarrassment. “Sorry ‘bout that, I didn’t realize that would happen.”

Childe continued looking at you like an obedient pet. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse.”

You sighed. “Yeah, I guess– I guess you have a point there.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence, the sound of the fireplace flickered in the background as your eyelids began to feel heavy once again. You tried fighting it, feeling a little awful about fainting mid fuck with your rival. If you could even call him that anymore.

“Tired?” He asked, pulling the blankets over your body gingerly.

You nodded. Letting him put out the fire before crawling back into bed with you, making sure to keep a safe distance from you as to make you feel more comfortable.

“Hey, Childe?” You asked.

“Hmm?” He hummed in reply.

“I still fucking hate you.” You replied in what you hoped was a cold tone, but Childe was not so easily fooled.

“Haha! Sure you do.” He replied with a laugh.

Something about his words and the laughter that followed caused you to feel something bubble in your stomach, something warm and exciting. It filled you with both fear and excitement, eager to find out what all this meant, but for now you’d rest your eyes and heal your battle wounds, hoping for answers in the coming days.

#childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #childe smut #tartaglia smut #genshin smut

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ethereal-blossom · 8 days ago

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Ikevil in an amusement park!

Includes general headcanons and romantic ones at the end.

General headcanons:

- Victor is the parent. He carries the heaviest and biggest backpack which is truly the emergency kit. Harry is showing withdrawal symptoms due to lack of sugar? Elbert forgot to put on sunscreen and is now at risk of looking like a walking lobster? You forgot your water bottle? No worries, Victor anticipated everything! He knows his beloved children so well.

- He walks with the map as well and if you split into groups, he becomes the one who you need to call if something happens. Also the one who plans where and when to meet, mostly at eating places so you can refill your stomaches together.

- William is the backup parent. He enjoys to mostly silently observe and is quick to notice the things like Harry being low on sugar and Elbert having forgotten to put on sunscreen. If you split up and it's time to meet but a group isn't back yet, his guesses of why are extremely accurate. Like hm, the ride Elbert and Alfons went to is fairly popular so the line must have been long, and isn't there a souvenir shop on its way here? Elbie must have gotten distracted by it.

- Elbert refuses to go in the big roller-coasters. He goes into visual focused rides and will often be seen in the souvenir stores. Does not care about the ridiculously expensive price tags and tires himself out by carrying so much bought stuff. If you happen to be someone who doesn't like roller coasters that much, Elbert is the one to hang around with and he'll surely buy you any souvenir you want.

- Alfons is everywhere and nowhere. One moment he is with Elbie telling him that the mouse ears aren't beautiful but overrated money grabbers, then he is joining Liam in thrilling roller coasters, and at times even Will shrugs when asked where he thinks Al is. Seriously, he has Victor panicking when it's time to go home and Al is nowhere to be found.

- Victor will bother/manipulate/pester/whatever works/does it really matter when you're that attractive Roger into using his ability to see if he can hear his beloved boys and robin from time to time.

- If you like to ride the wildest roller coasters, Liam is your guy. This man has no fear; only curiosity begged to be satisfied. Might actually get high on it and is tempted to use his ability to cut the line. It's his mission to ride the fastest and highest roller coasters this park has to offer.

- Some of the crown members are great at making friends in lines! Liam's enthusiasm is contagious and he's so easy to love. With his charisma and excitement, he easily starts a conversation which is needed with such long lines. Ellis is very gentle and caring, so when he sees someone needs help in the line or appears nervous he does what he can. Victor is a social butterfly with a joyful grin so that man will definitely start small talk. All three would entertain the kids who are in front or behind them if it's a long line, especially when the kids are getting annoying and the parents look tired. Victor is immediately in his element by performing magic tricks, Ellis would play with them, and Liam would start making the kids laugh with his acting. But this makes them immediately beloved by the people around them.

- Imagine Jude in the line with annoying kids who are bumping into him... The only reason he's there is because Victor promised him a good sum of money and he's either getting convinced by Ellis or you to go into rides or it was part of the deal with Victor, and then these kids keep bumping into his back. Doesn't yell at the children but sends a few nasty glances and let out some damn loud tch's directed to the parents who are too busy with their phones before he snaps. Will demand payment from the parents as compensation for this public disturbance.

- William will randomly walk up to people he sees are surpressing their desires to try a ride. Free Willam therapy sessions don't pause for no amusement park.

- Roger isn't interested in the visual rides; he doesn't find them exciting so you'll find him in roller coasters a lot. But also is a little bit like Victor and makes sure everyone stays hydrated and gets to rest when they need to. Like oh I see, the lil' lady wants to go to the next roller coaster even though her legs hurt from standing too long. He threatens to throw you over his shoulder if you don't comply, which he actually does and then sits you on a bench to treat you with a snack despite being a disobedient girl.

- Ellis, Victor, and William are everywhere too. They are in for every ride!

- Harry is the chillest. He mostly follows Liam and makes sure the curious cat takes a break every now and then. He doesn't join Liam in the extreme rides but will grab his Sherlock book and read while waiting. Will ask for a lot of sit breaks.

Romantical headcanons:

- William could not care less what rides you two are riding as long as you want to be in them. He has a fantastic time discovering which rides you prefer and will absolutely convince you to go into ones you want to but are also scared of. Same with finding snacks and good places to eat. It's a wonderful experience where you get to know each other even better, making this amusement trip feel weirdly intimate. I can see Will having a content and happy smile on for the entire day, and when you walk through the park together, I don't think he has his arm wrapped around you but he does have his hand on your farthest shoulder in a way that feels loving, supportive, and encouraging. When buying matching accessories, you both choose each an item after a minute of "What do you want, my little robin?" "I want what you want! " "Oh, what a coincidence. I want what you want" "...��Well, I want what you want me to want-"

- It's so chill being with Harry. There are some rides that secretly excite him but he got to say, this amusement park is more amusing with you next to him. He'll complain sometimes about how you're dragging him through the park, but when you ask if that's really how he feels he'll say he doesn't mind (translation: he enjoys it). Whenever you see a food place and it sells something sweet, you two are on it! "Let's get matching accessoires!" "Whatever, if that's what you want" (translation: he's flustered). Harry would like to simply hold your hand and stroll through the park, talking about everything and nothing. So simple but so serene. On the way home you'll ask him how it was to explore the amusement park together to which he answers, "not bad." (translation: he ducking loved it.)

- It really doesn't matter how curious about a roller coaster Liam is, if you don't join him this clingy cat will not go in it either. Being around you calms down his curiosity for thrill a lot. So don't worry if you're not into thrill because there is still so much to be curious about! You'll not be bored for a single second and because of that, his touches are very versatile. One time he'll hold your hand to excitedly lead you to a cool souvenir shop, then he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders as you walk through the park, your waist when it's crowded, your arm during rides... Almost the entirety of your upper body will have been touched by him. Very much in a similar boat as Will when getting matches accessoires so you both choose an item each :)

- Nobody takes matching accessoires as seriously as Elbert. You'll have visited every. single. accessoire store at the end of the day. Your eyes could have lingered on a wristband for one second and your man goes "Do you think that's beautiful? It'll look beautiful on you. I will buy it-" It's so much worse when Alfons makes his cameo cause he'll point at anything and be like "now this, my dear Elbie, this is beautiful" all to tease you. Elbert enjoys going into the visual rides with you! And I bet you could convince him to go into the tamer roller coasters. Has a hand on your lower back the entire time (at one point you guys had too many bags and Elbert was ready to leave three behind purely so he could keep touching you).

- Now Alfons is turning this into a freaking game. He makes you chase him through the entire park, slightly out of your reach but you know he's there. Why he enjoys you stubbornly following him throughout the park? He doesn't even have a clear answer himself... or so he likes to think. But, Al leads you to all places he thinks you will enjoy and he always stay at a place long enough for you to find him and enjoy the ride, shop, café, or whatever he thought you'd like together. During the times Alfons and you walk side by side he'll place his hand on your back which will slowly move lower and lower. Another man who pretents like he doesn't care about matching accesoires but once he wears it he'll randomly touch it with a hard-to-read expression (cat pretending like he's not THAT attached to his owner). Guys I swear this is not me but I'm 99,9% Al will try to finger you in a ride at least once even if it's only to get a reaction out of you no but if a ride scares you he'll definitely try to distract you in whatever way works.

- "Is this ride going to be scary?" "I promise it's not, Lil lady." Spoiler alert: it was scary and now Roger is saying how cute you look with teary eyes. He's not a fan of visual rides but will go into them for you and you know what, turns out he quite likes them because of your reactions and how easy it is to touch your thighs. The type to put his arm around or behind you in roller coasters! He definitely checks up on your heartbeat regularly to see how nervous you are for a roller coaster. If he thinks you got peer pressured into riding a roller coaster he'll get you out of there. Now, Roger's hand is either in your back pocket, on your ass, your hips, or your lower back. Roger didn't think he'd be into matching accessoires but again finds himself quite liking something because it's you. Love makes things glitter.

- Jude will be like "tch, look at how these people are bunched up together and... Lil' birdie where do ya think ya standin'?" *Proceeds to wrap an arm around your hips to pull you into him*. Jude only goes into a ride when you go into it. Literally, he doesn't leave you alone and will follow you everywhere except the bathrooms. You're the only who makes this trip bearable. If another crown member tries to sit next to you in a ride, let alone a stranger, Jude is like I ain't on this ride for nothing except my woman. Move or give me everythin' that's on ya bank account. Especially if it's Victor that bill will be through the roof. Also another man who pretends to not care about matching accessoires but funny how you'd have to rip it off of his dead body. Jude would walk with his hand on your lower back and maybe on your hips or waist.

- Ellis will let you take the lead and often ask what you want to do next. As long as he gets to hold your hand, he's happy. Really, Ellis is going to hold your hand the entire time. Especially when it gets crowded you feel his grip tighten. You two have the biggest fun trying all of the food and you immediately make recommendations for the other guys. "I want what you want" (matching accessories version part 3). Please he'd look so cute in matching accessoires, having a mischievous smile on his face cause he definitely sees this as a way for other people to see you belong together. He feels slightly bad for letting his selfishness get the better of him but that melts like snow in the sun when he sees how happy you are. Also secretly enjoys when you get scared in a ride because he loves it makes you clingy and depending on him, and it's an excuse to hold you tight in his arms.

- If Victor doesn't have an arm around your shoulders he's holding your hand and you'll be skipping to the next ride. He's also very flexible in what you'll be doing but he does like the occasional thrill of a roller coaster! But your comfort is his number one priority. Victor loves to see you so carefree with a child-like spark in your eyes as you explore the park together and he'll do anything to protect it. One time you accidentally bumped into someone and when they turned around annoyed and ready to shoot with words, Victor went "whoopsie daisy! I am so clumsy. Please forgive me." And when you want to tell him he shouldn't have, Victor picks you up and twirls you around, kissing you on the nose and ask what you should do next, unless you have something naughty in mind...? What a dirty mind his darling has, he's obviously talking about eating snacks that'll make your teeth rot with the amount of sugar that's in it. Loves the idea of matching accesoires so much that he can't choose and approaches you with 12 different items; it's a live-or-die situation for him. He dealt with loneliness before he met you and so wearing matching accesoires is a physical sign you're connected. Plus, he loves giving and could not care less about the price tag.

#Ikemen villains #Ikevil Victor #William Rex #Harrison Gray #Elbert Greetia #Alfons Sylvatica #Jude Jazza #Ellis Twilight

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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where have all the good men gone? | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Three

Chapter Summary | A date, supposed to get your mind of Javier, goes terribly, and he's the only person you can think to call that will make anything better.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, alcohol consumption, protective!Javi, misogynistic comments (not from Javi), (1) man being a pushy douchebag (also not Javi), swearing, mentions of the drug trade - nothing else I can think of.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Authors Note | I am truly having the most fun with these two and I hope you're enjoying their story so far! Things are definitely going to be heating up soon, so please hang in there, it'll be spectacular when they finally do get spicy with each other! If you're enjoying this then comments, asks and reblogs are my lifeblood and if you'd like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

“I promise he’s good fun,” Liv’s voice speaks through the phone, cradled to your ear by your shoulder as you skim through your wardrobe, “Nice, and age appropriate.” She teases.

“Shut up,” You grumble, still annoyed that you’ve allowed her to talk you into this at all, “This is still a terrible idea.”

“You were the one complaining about Javier Peña being a bad idea,” She defends herself, “And you also could have said no, too late now.”

You sigh because she’s right. You’ve been trying for the past week to convince yourself that finding someone else might make wanting Javier go away, even just a little bit. Someone your age, not entangled in your family dynamics, or at least you’re hoping anyway. Liv had suggested someone she knew from work, a nice boy, two years older than you, his head screwed on, a managerial position at work. Sensible.

“I have no idea what to wear.” You groan down the phone, there are plenty of dresses you could choose, but somehow, it feels like this person you don’t know doesn’t deserve that of you.

“Put those jeans on,” Liv speaks, crunching coming down the phone line, clearly she’s snacking like she always does, “The tight ones, makes your ass look phenomenal, and the lowest cut top you own.”

“Liv,” You chastise, “I’ve never met him before, I’m not fucking him tonight.”

“I didn’t suggest you did,” She chuckles, “Just give him a taste of what’s to come.”

“Unbelievable,” You mutter, but follow her advice anyway, pulling out a shirt that cuts low, scooping out your jeans from the drawer, “Right, I gotta go and get ready, but if this is awful, you’re entirely to blame, okay?”

“Hearing you loud and clear girl,” She chuckles, “Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Goodbye!” You chuckle, hanging up.

It’s still light out, so you opt to walk to the bar in town. It’s not all that far, and the air has cooled enough by the time you leave that it doesn’t feel too stiflingly hot. The bar is not one you would have chosen, one of the more upmarket establishments in town. You wish you could go back to your normal dive bar, with its slightly sticky floor and the smell of fried food. You give him the benefit of the doubt though, maybe he’s just trying to impress you and you can’t fault him for that, can you?

Liv told you he’d be sat at the bar in a blue shirt, and there’s only one person it can be when you get close enough, “Victor?” You ask, stood next to him.

“The one and only,” He smiles at you, standing from the barstool to give you a hug, which you allow, “You look hot.”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, sitting down on the stool next him, noticing a drink already there for you, it’s a cocktail, bright pink, and you know you’ll already hate it, and you do when you take a sip, wincing as the fruity blend moves down your throat, “Oh, it’s very sweet.”

“I thought it was a safe option, most girls love this drink.”

You’re tempted to make a comment about this clearly being his favourite place to bring his dates but you bite your tongue, working through the necessary small talk as you try and drink it as fast as you can so you can choose something you might actually enjoy.

“So, Liv told me you’re a journalist,” He comments, sipping his glass of whiskey, “What kind of things do you write?”

“I mainly cover news about the drug trade and how that affects the town.” You explain, taking the last sip of your drink, flagging the bartender down.

“Pretty morbid,” He shrugs, ordering himself another whiskey as you opt for a margarita, “Surely a girl like you should be writing about fashion or something.”

You scoff, “So I can’t write about things that are important to our town because I’m a woman?”

“No, I don’t mean it like that,” He tries to backtrack, “Just that it’s intimidating, is all, might put people off,” He chuckles then, “Although not me, like my girls with a bit of personality.”

You roll your eyes and don’t even try and hide it as you sip at your margarita, much better, you think. It carries on like that for another hour, Victor and his thinly veiled misogyny and his boring, surface level conversation. He tries at some point to put his hand on your knee, but you jerk away, moving so he can’t touch you.

“You want another?” He asks when you finish your third drink, “The night is still young.”

“No thank you,” You say, trying to be as polite as possible, “I have work tomorrow so probably best to head home.”

You try and insist that you pay for your part of the bill, but to his only credit, he insists on covering the tab but does then try and wrap his arm around your waist to walk you outside, which makes you want to hit him more than anything.

You stand next to him on the pavement outside the bar as the doors close behind you. You can still hear everyone else talking inside, but you have no idea what to do. You want to go home, but it’s dark, and you know you’d told your dad that Victor would walk you home, but you don’t want to spend another minute in his company.

“So, am I gonna get my goodnight kiss?” He asks, trying to take hold of your wrist to pull you into him.

He’s stronger than you, so he does sort of succeed in pulling you into his body, but you manage to put your palm against his chest to push him back.

“I don’t think so.” You cringe a little, trying to lean back as far as you can with his hand pulling your wrist.

“You’re joking right?” He scoffs, “I paid for your drinks, try and be interested in what you said and you’re going to refuse me?”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” You speak, trying to talk the situation down, “I just don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Don’t need to tell me,” He snaps, “Such a fucking tease turning up dressed like this, but you’re really just a prude.”

“Oh fuck off man!” You try and push him again, succeeding in doing it enough for him to let go of your wrist so you can put some distance between you, “I don’t owe you shit.”

“Forget it,” He turns around and walks away, leaving you on your own, “Probably would have been a shit lay anyway.”

You’re tempted to call back but realise it’s not worth it, so you let him wander off, leaving you on the sidewalk on your own with no idea what to do now. You would walk home, but if your dad see’s you on your own, he’s going to kill you for being silly enough to walk home alone after dark, and then find Victor and kill him too for being a jerk.

You slump against the brick wall of the bar, rooting through your bag, there’s enough cash to go back in and get a drink and try and calm down a little, then, your fingers brush against the card you’d slipped in there a few days ago. The name and the number, and the few coins in the bottom of your bag, draw you to the phone box at the end of the street. You’re putting the money in and dialing before you can convince yourself it’s a silly idea.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Peña.” It’s so formal.

“Javi?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level, but ultimately failing.

“Are you okay?” Is the first thing he asks, and he sounds frantic.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, I just-” God this seems so stupid now, mainly because you don’t want to admit you were on a date, you don’t want to make yourself seem unavailable to him, “I was on a date and it didn’t go well, he was meant to walk me home and well, I don’t want him to, but I don’t wanna call my dad.”

“He hurt you?” He seems cross, protective even, which makes your tummy flutter.

“N-no,” You sigh, “He got pushy when I wouldn’t kiss him but I’m fine.”

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the phone, can hear the jangle of keys, “Where are you?”

“I’m at the phone box at the end of Grant Street.” You say, you’re about to speak again when Javi beats you to it.

“Stay there, go inside a store or something and wait for me, I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” You nod, like he can see you, “Javi?”

“Yeah, querida?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare,” He scoffs, “Never apologise for needing my help, okay?” You can hear the sound of his truck engine in the background, “I gotta hang up to drive, but I’ll be there soon, promise.”

“Okay,” You sniff, “Thank you.”

You can hear the dial tone before he can reply, so you hang the receiver back up and head into the liquor store on the other side of the road. You smile at the clerk, who asks if you need anything, you shake your head, tell him you’re just waiting for someone and then spend the rest of the time looking out of the window.

He’s parking up in a worryingly short amount of time, and as you walk from the store you worry that he put himself in danger driving so fast to get you. He’s opening his door and climbing down from the truck. As soon as you’re close enough, he’s got his hands on your shoulders, searching your face to make sure you’re alright.

“I’m fine Javi, I promise,” You insist, holding gently to his arms, giving him a smile, “I’ve probably overreacted.”

He lets his arm drops and signals for you to get into the truck, following swiftly, “If he made you uncomfortable it’s not an overreaction,” He speaks, turning the truck back on and pulling away, “He still around?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

It makes you wonder if he means good because he won’t bother you anymore, or good because it means he won’t be tempted to do something about his blatant disrespect. You decide not to probe that one, but file it away for later. You’re driving down the street when your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you’ve not eaten since lunch.

“You hungry?”

“I could eat,” You mumble sheepishly, “I’m sure there’s something at home.”

Javi nods, but drives straight past the turning he would need to take you home, driving straight on instead and turning off a little later. You’re about to ask where he’s taking you when he pulls into the parking lot at McDonalds. He parks up and tells you to stay where you are.

You watch him as he walks away, perfectly broad back, shirt tucked into his jeans. He really is a vision in every way when you look at him. He’s striding back out a little while later, brown paper bag in one hand and a soda cup in the other. He passes them both to you as he climbs back into his seat.

“What’s this?” You ask, taking a sip of the cold soda.

“Cheeseburger, extra pickles and a Sprite with extra ice.”

Yet again, he’s managed to amaze you with his observation skills. There was a time where he’d taken a trip with you and your parents, just a day out of town somewhere, and you’d stopped to get food on the way home, you’d made this exact order, turned to him and told him it was your favourite, and somehow he’d filed that away for right now, when you needed it the most.

“Thank you.” You speak simply, reaching in for the burger, unwrapping it carefully before taking a bite.

Javi can’t help but watch out of the side of his eye as you eat. God, you looked beautiful. Jeans that looked like they’d been painted onto your skin, showing off all those perfect parts of you. A shirt that was enticing without being too much. Fuck, he wanted to reach over, use his thumb to wipe away the tiny bit of sauce that had gathered in the corner of your mouth, push it into your mouth and let you lick it off his thumb.

You ball up the wrapper your burger had come in once you’ve finished, dropping it into the paper bag, picking up the cup of soda to suck the Sprite through the straw, “You alright now?” He asks.

You look at him, small, sad smile on your lips, “Just can’t help feeling there’s something wrong with me.” You shrug, offering him a sip of your drink which he declines.

“What do you mean?” He asks, wanting to reach over to you, put a comforting hand on you, but deciding against it for now.

You shrug a little, leaning your head back against the seat, “No-one ever looks at me in that way, I suppose,” You answer honestly, and he wants to tell you it isn’t true, that he thinks of you exactly like that, no matter how much he shouldn’t, “I’ve been with one guy in my whole life and I don’t think he ever really liked me, was only with me because I was the only one left out of my friends.”

“Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to,” You shrug again, “He never really made an effort, never took me out, never really wanted to sleep with me much either, I guess I was just easy for him,” You say, “Convenient.” Is what you finish on.

“It isn’t you,” Javi speaks, turning his head to look at you, resting it against his seat in much the same way you are, “First of all, college boys are always idiots, don’t let that be your base line,” You snort and turn your head to look at him now, “What did tonight’s idiot do?”

You shake your head at him, “He was just a misogynistic asshole,” You add a shrug, “Apparently because I’m a woman I should write about fashion and not anything that actually matters.”

Javi scoffs, because in his experience, women make the best journalists, quiet, unassuming but they always knew how to pull strings and get what they wanted and he doesn’t doubt you’re the same, “Take it as a compliment,” He offers, “Sometimes it’s best to intimidate boys, and the ones that you don’t?” He asks as a rhetorical question, “Those will be the men worth your time.”

You chuckle a bit, rolling your head on the headrest behind you to look back out of the front of the car, “You’re just saying this to make me feel better.”

Javi reaches over, takes hold of your hand and gives it a slight squeeze before he’s letting it drop again, almost like he’s been burnt, like he knows he shouldn’t have done it, “I am saying it to make you feel better, that’s the whole point, but it’s true,” He shrugs a little in his seat, “Don’t feel like you’ve got to rush into that side of life either, you’re still young, there’s plenty of time for you.”

You hum in agreement because you know he’s right, it’s what everyone always says to you in these circumstances, but somehow, coming from him, it means more. He’s older than you and although you’ve no doubt that he’s known plenty of women in his time, he’s in just the same predicament as you are.

“Will you take me home?” You ask softly, “I’m tired.”

He nods, starting up his car, pulling out of the parking lot and finally driving you back home.

He pulls his truck up just down the street from your house, far enough away that your dad won’t be able to see, but close enough that he knows he’ll be able to sit and wait to watch you get in safely. He cuts the engine and turns to you, giving you a soft smile, trying to tell you that it’ll all be okay.

“Thanks,” You speak softly, “For all this, made a shitty night not so bad in the end.”

“Always,” He smiles back, “I mean it when I say you don’t ever need to worry about calling me.”

“I know,” You smile, and he feels his heart swell at the sight, “Well, goodnight Javi.”

He doesn’t really register what’s happening until it’s too late. You drag your body across the truck instead of moving to the door to open it and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It would be innocent enough if it wasn’t for the fact your lips press into the skin just far enough away from his mouth so as not to cross a line, but not right in the middle of his cheek either. It’s the softest way he’s been touched in a long time, and he can feel himself wanting to grip onto you, smash his mouth to your own and finally scratch the itch that’s sitting under his skin.

You pull away, but before you can open the door, he’s taking hold of your wrist and moving closer, pressing his own kiss to your cheek right back, further up your skin than you had done to him, but it’s a kiss to your skin none-the-less, one that floods his chest with hope, a feeling he hasn’t really felt in years. He keeps his mouth there probably for a little longer than he should, committing the feel of your skin on his mouth because he knows this is as far as he should push things, but he also knows that he now needs to know what the rest of your skin feels like under his mouth.

He pulls away and when he looks at your eyes, all full of hope and want, the same look he’d seen countless times in Colombia, whether he was promising a visa or led next to someone in bed, and he knows he shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have encouraged these kinds of feelings, but he’s done it now, he can’t take it back, wouldn’t want to if he could either.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, querida,” He says softly, “Nothing wrong with you at all.”

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rawr-mortgage · 22 days ago

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On Crown and Weapons and Fighting

Note/s: So I was speculating about which of the Crown members can actually fight, like who among them is actually good at it, has legit combat knowledge, and is capable of punching someone into the next century, and as a result, this post kinda got out of hand.

I initially meant this to be very chill and casual, but it turns out I have a lot to say and the ideas just ran off on their own, and I had no choice but to follow along to see where it took me.

I doubt I'd be able to make a proper headcanon post like this again soon unless someone suggested another topic, but yeah. Hope this turned out well >:3

Dividers and headers are by the super talented @natimiles ⁠♡⁠♡⁠♡

Content Warning/s: Strong language, mentions of canon-typical violence

Might be controversial, but I think William's more reliant on the use of weapons than his actual combat prowess.

As a noble, I think he learned fencing in his youth, and while he was good at it, I don't think he ever took it seriously until the day he decided to kill his father and establish Crown with Victor afterwards. He learned the intricacies of wielding a blade, and he even started to appreciate the art of swordplay during mock combat sessions with Victor.

Most of the time, though, he doesn't even need to use his sword because he can incapacitate someone easily with his power alone. His preferred method of dishing out punishment is still by ordering someone to take their own life because it serves to prove a point; it's to rob his victims of agency the same way they've done to countless innocents before they had the misfortune of being dealt with by him.

He rarely ever deviates from his trademark “Cut your throat”, but when he's feeling extra devilish and in the mood to prolong a target's suffering and instill the fear of God in them, that's when his extensive knowledge on human anatomy comes in handy. He knows all the places to cut that can effectively kill a person in a matter of seconds, so if he purposely avoids them, there must be a special place in hell waiting for you once he finally decides to send you there.

I have a gun-user Harrison agenda, and this is the perfect time to mention it! That sword that's strapped to his hip at all times is nonexistent to me. He carries a gun, bitch (maybe even two), and he's not afraid to use it. Also, his main weapon being a gun is, in my opinion, a perfect reference to his abandoned dreams of becoming a cop and joining the police force (such a real missed opportunity there cybird).

I like to imagine he does regular target practice with Roger in the garden. They line up all manners of ceramic and clayware, then use air guns and pellets to avoid accidentally killing someone or themselves. Roger would prefer the target practice to commence at dawn, but he knows he has a better chance of convincing the Queen herself to join him in the flesh than for Harry to be up and functioning during the early hours of the morning.

Roger also probably invites him to go hunting with his dad when it's the season. It's my way of giving Harrison a proxy father figure because God knows he needs a new one, but I also just really like the idea of them being good friends. Just a couple of book-smart intellectuals with a penchant for firearms.

But combat-wise, he's in the same boat as Will in that I don't think he knows anything beyond basic self-defense and how to effectively disarm someone. Like he knows how to throw a punch, sure, but his overall martial prowess isn't anything noteworthy or that impressive, to be honest.

Liam is a bit of a wildcard when it comes to fighting. His greatest strength lies in his ability, which enables him to disappear at will, allowing him to sneak up on enemies and immobilize them even without having to make his presence known.

He can use it from the jump or even in the midst of a scuffle to neutralize a disadvantage in skill or physicality on his part by virtue of having the element of surprise and the unpredictable factor it gives him. Imagine how embarrassing it would be, too, because if he's invisible for most of the fight, it's going to look like you're fighting air and losing.

While I don't think Liam has had any formal martial arts training that would put him a peg above Harry and Will in terms of combat, he's quite difficult to defend against given the no-limit-or-drawbacks-of-any-kind invisibility, not to mention he also moves rather swiftly.

He's light on his feet, has good instincts, and possesses cat-like agility. You'd be hard-pressed not to feel a bit paranoid when you're up against him because he can easily swoop in and go for the kill to stick a knife in your back or slice at your throat, and you wouldn't even be able to brace for it. Although maybe sudden death is more merciful than the unfortunate alternative of being a victim to one of his fits.

Frail Victorian Child™. Bro is an aristocrat with an abysmal appetite. He eats so fucking little, a plant probably consumes more sustenance than him during the course of its much shorter lifespan. Every time he sneezes, the others are probably in awe at how he doesn't disintegrate on the spot.

What combat? This man is fighting to stay alive and not die of starvation and/or dehydration on a daily basis.

With that said, it's my personal headcanon that he probably took up fencing after the doctor incident as a proper way of defending himself in case something similar were to ever happen again.

Despite being constantly at risk of getting blown away by strong winds, he has his moments where the monomania kicks in and the uncharacteristic strength and energy the resulting single-mindedness lends him enables him to accomplish and acquire pretty much anything he sets his sights on (as demonstrated in his route).

I'm just gonna put it out there, this man can't fight. Can't throw a punch, an elbow, a kick—nothing. He can't throw anything, but he's probably very adept at tossing someone's salad.

He doesn't like performing any kind of manual labor because it reminds him of his atrocious childhood. And he harps on Roger for being burly and brutish because one of Roger's hobbies is learning how to beat someone up for fun.

The best he can do is probably bitch slap someone, but even then he's shaking off his hand to get rid of the sting. He's fortunate that his ability is like Will and Elbert's, where he's able to incapacitate someone without expending much effort on his part, because he is not at all inclined to build muscle or learn the art of combat whatsoever.

Can and will punch your lights out; no questions asked. He's been frequenting bars and pubs all his life; it's probably a dream of his to get into a brawl at one of them for any reason at all, but no one's insane enough to pick a fight with him on account of his immense height and intimidating build.

Fun fact: the average height of men during the Victorian era was around 167 cm. Roger's height is 183 cm. Bro is several inches taller than the average English gentleman. Not to mention he's swol as fuck, too. A good deal more muscular than a regular doctor has any right to be.

I'm pretty sure he's capable of killing a man even with just his bare hands. Like just punching someone to death, I'm sure he could do it if prompted, but it's not a level of violence he would ever sink to nor indulge in.

Weapons-wise, I think it's interesting how he's essentially the sharpshooter in Crown despite being one of the few proficient members at hand-to-hand combat. Like it makes sense because he can identify targets at a distance due to his enhanced hearing, so a long-range weapon is a no-brainer. Very practical given his ability, but at the same time, kind of funny because of his poor eyesight. Luckily, that's what the scope is for.

Has demonstrated countless times in canon that he can fight. He's tall and gangly, but swift and agile like an acrobat, and he probably trains with Roger and asks him to give him pointers on top of that.

He's employed by Jude as well as a two-in-one bodyguard/assistant, so I bet he's somewhat motivated to maintain his skills and physicality due to that fact, but I get the sense that he also just really enjoys it.

His natural athleticism gives me the impression of a kid who used to climb up trees in their yard growing up, even though his parents kept telling him not to. I think it's cute to imagine him as a rambunctious kid with a surplus of energy that he had to burn by climbing trees as high as he could and constantly chasing his twin brother around, or else he'd be restless and making his parents lose sleep come nightfall.

Ellis' gentle demeanor actually works to his advantage because it's hard to imagine someone so calm and soft-spoken being able to commit murder so swift and easily at the behest of someone else. Jude could order him to carve someone up like they're cake about to be served at a birthday party, and he'd do it with an air of perfect serenity.

You must have a death wish if you want to square up against this motherfucker. Ellis isn't even necessary, the man is fully capable of winning his own battles. The only reason he has Ellis as a semi-bodyguard is because he doesn't have the time nor the patience to knock someone's teeth in himself.

Like, oh, you have a personal vendetta against him and are looking to settle the score? Yeah, well, so does everybody else; get in line and kindly wait for his assistant to duke it out with you. Very sorry that he can't address your grudge personally; he has places to be and people to extort—I mean solicit.

If you insist on having your grudge satisfied by him and him alone, so be it. Although, truth be told, you might've preferred being handled by his assistant had you an idea of the sheer hell your persistence would be awarded with beforehand. Jude knows how to fight and he's not at all reluctant to get dirty with it.

If you think he's above kicking someone who's already down, you're wrong. If you think he knows when to call it quits and stop to say someone's had enough, you're wrong. If you think lopping off a limb or two just 'cause he can is extreme and twisted and kind of psychotic, you're right! But he doesn't care; this is what you asked for, and he's all too happy to finally silence the buzzing of persistent pests.

Jude is already menacing and dangerous on his own; weapons just multiply his deadliness tenfold. He'd be the type to wear steel-toed boots as his everyday work shoes just to make it hurt all the more for whomever is at the receiving end of his kicks. He enjoys causing pain not only as a result of his Curse, but also because of the cruelty the world has imbued in him. He's looking to repay that hurt to anyone foolish enough to cross him.

Victor is bit of an enigma. He's a weapons enthusiast in canon and has what I assume to be an impressive collection of varying blades and daggers and guns and even unconventional weapons like axes, machetes, and whips. The real question is whether or not he knows how to use all of them or if he's only mastered a select few and is actively working to have the rest down pat.

He doesn't go on missions anymore like he used to when it was just him and Will because it's no longer necessary after acquiring so many new and deployable members, and it's better for him to be able to attend to the Queen's every beck and call as her trusted aide.

But on that front, I like to think that what William lacked in combat prowess, Victor had in spades. Apart from helping Will hone his skills with a sword, Victor taught him how to trade blows, evade punches, and the fastest way of knocking someone flat. It's been many years since Victor joined him on the prowl, but Will is still mindful of his lessons, and he even shares them with the others whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Also, if you missed out on certain events, he has this thing where he touches the back of someone's neck and they immediately crumple to the ground, unconscious. I don't know if that's his special ability or if it's just a neat trick he knows how to do, like the metaphorical button on someone's jaw you can hit in order to make them go cold. Either way, Mister Grim Reaper, sir, please tell us more of your secrets.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are appreciated (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠) ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

#me? make a formal headcanon post?#who could've seen this coming #some creative spirit possessed and compelled me to write all of this down #thank you to whatever divine force enabled me to become yappatron 3000 for the blorbos today #ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil headcanons

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nibeul · 1 year ago

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there’s a lot of talk about Snow seeing Lucy Gray in Katniss which is true to an extent, but I think there’s a gaping flaw with a 1:1 comparison and it’s this: if Snow truly saw Katniss as Lucy Gray, then he wouldn’t have spoken to her the way he did throughout the series. elaboration under the cut because I have a lot to say

the most interesting thing about snow and katniss’s dynamic is that snow, on some level, respects her because he believes she is like him. Lucy Gray did not have that respect from him—he said it himself that he did not expect her to win the game, but that he hoped she would be successful enough that her appeal to the audience would boost his own standing:

“Coriolanus had never really considered her a victor in the games. It had never been a part of his strategy to make her one. He had only wished that her charm and appeal would rub off on him and make him a success.”

and another quote that makes his feelings toward her clear:

“Here in the capitol, it was given that Lucy Gray belonged to him, as if she’d had no life before her name was called out in the reaping.”

to Snow, Lucy Gray was always a means to an end. he loved her in the sense that he loved the success she brought to him, in a deluded manner where the power and her existence went hand in hand. Lucy Gray’s existence to him was as a tool and something to own, not as an actual person, and when we look at Snow and Katniss, that distinction isn’t there. here’s a quote from Donald Sutherland (Snow) that I find really interesting:

“Katniss Everdeen is the first person who has excited Snow, who has stimulated him. By the time you get into the, maybe the end of the second one, he's in love with her. Not sexually. No, my God, no, no, no, no: he recognizes in her everything that he could have been.”

In Peeta and Katniss’s relationship, through the eyes of Snow, Katniss is him, and Peeta—who is charismatic, knows how to play to the people’s heart, charms the capitol, etc—compares better to Lucy Gray. Yes, Snow places himself in the shoes of Peeta when he asks Katniss when Peeta realized her indifference (as he felt Lucy was indifferent to him), but it really goes the other way around. To Katniss during the first game, Peeta was a tool for her survival. For Snow, Lucy Gray was a tool for his.

despite this comparison, however, Katniss and Peeta are not what Snow and Lucy Gray could have had, but rather what Snow never was; even though the love between Katniss and Peeta was used as a tool of survival during their first game together, they continue to stick by each other and look out for each other as things get rough. Katniss is a survivalist, like Snow views himself, but she is also caring and loving and these are attributes that Snow never had (but someone like Sejanus did). Snow believes that humans are naturally violent, and he believes Katniss is like him, hence why he tries to prove that Katniss and Peeta are not in love at every step of the way.

when he is finally convinced of their love, he then views it as a weakness and punishes Katniss for it. it’s likely he hoped Peeta would kill Katniss, but I would also argue that he wanted Katniss to turn on Peeta too as he turned on Lucy Gray—another effort to break this love that he saw and warp it into something else. ultimately, we know this is unsuccessful, and I think that’s why the final conversation he and Katniss have went the way it did; he had lost at both games, the game of politics to Coin (briefly, though obviously we know he gets the last laugh with this one), and this game of love and identity to Katniss. Katniss is everything he was not, and it was at this point that he finally respected her enough to acknowledge that he lost.

#hence why he tells her about coin etc etc #mind u I’ve only read part of the ballad of songbirds n snakes #n have not. read the hunger games I want to though #I’m going off movies and snippets #the hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #yes there is mockery in the way he speaks to her esp at the beginning #but he still speaks to her one on one which is more than he affords most people #he KNOWS she is intelligent #Katniss isn’t lucy gray but she is the legacy #somethn somethn

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miley1442111 · 9 months ago

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remember me.- f.odair

a/n: MY FIRST FINNICK FIC. I love finnick so much, he's such a king. this wasn't intended for a fem! or male! reader so imagine what you like :))))

summary: after being taken by the capital you're brought back to district 13. you remember the real finnick, right?

pairing: finnickodair x reader

warnings: general hunger games topics, feeling broken, mentions of pain and hurt, mentions of wounds and general capital hijacking.

You sat up in your hospital bed, a familiar brokenness in your mind. Who were you?

You were a victor. You were a capital darling. You were a product.

You felt the restraints on your wrists and sighed in discomfort. When would you be free? When would you ever be allowed to live? You knew someone had taught you that dream, the dream of being free, but you couldn’t remember who. He had… blonde hair? White teeth? A sweet tooth? You had also been taught that that same man had hurt you, that he’d left you to the capital, left you to die.

The images and pictures of your broken and bruised body they’d shown you. Shown what he’d done to you. They flashed in and out of your brain, a constant torment. Everyday he visited you, but never came in. You could see him against the glass, watching you cry and scream. Watching you beg and plead for them to take him away.

You had been badly beaten, at least that’s what you’d heard from the nurses. You had broken bones and stab wounds, and severe mental damage. They assumed you had been sleep deprived, psychologically abused, and ‘hijacked’.

A woman walked into the room, a kind smile on her face, and behind her was the man. The man who'd left you to the capital.

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t let him in, I-I didn’t do anything, I-I th-thought it was s-safe here. Why is he here?!” Tears streamed down your face as you pleaded with the nurse and he started crying too. Why was he crying? He hurt you. Right?

“Darling, please,” he pleaded, clenching his hands. “Remember me.”

“Y-you hurt me…” you trailed off, a real memory coming back, one of him and you at a beach. Him running up to you with a surfboard under his arm, the warm sun on your skin, making the swimsuit you were wearing bearable. He smiled at you and kissed you, then brought you to the water and helped you onto his board, teaching you to surf. When you fell he’d held you to him and kissed you, whispering words of encouragement and making bad jokes to bring a smile to your face. His hair was soft, even when it was wet.

Soft, that’s what he was. Your finnick was soft.

Then everything came back, all at once. Finnick had fought tooth and nail to save you, but couldn’t get to you in time, he had to be pulled off of the person taking you away, just to keep him safe. “Finnick?” You shouted and his face whipped up, shock evident. “Finnick, you’re ok!” You braced your hands against the restraints and the nurse quickly unlocked them. He stalked over, picking you up in a tight embrace. It hurt, the bruises and wounds on your skin, and the broken bones inside all ached to be left alone. But he wouldn’t put you down. You didn’t want him to. “You’re ok,” you repeated, trying to convince yourself of the fact. Finnick was ok. Finnick was here. Finnick was here to keep you safe. You were safe again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry darling, I couldn’t get to you in time- I-I shouldn’t have-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. This kiss was a promise. A promise that you would be together no matter what. That any flaws or shortcomings would be forgotten and dismissed. A promise that you loved each other. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, tears falling from his pretty eyes, you brushed them away and kissed his cheek. “We’re ok again.”

“We’re ok again,” you echoed, a sense of determination for your dream. Your dream of freedom.

#finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #hunger games finnick #finnick x you #thg finnick #finnick odair #the hunger games #hunger games #thg #thg series

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lili863 · 9 months ago

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Yes, all yours.

AN: Welp , I am finally writing for Sebastian Sallow. This was fun to write knowing how his personality is.

Warning: MDNI, SMUT, 18+, Enemies to lovers, DARK, DOM! SEB

TW: Slight Dubcon, a little blood involved (literally)

Sebastian Sallow.

The most charming boy I've met, he's witty, fun loving and just such an adorable flirty dork. In fact if I would have asked him to court me if only...he wasn't such an insufferable, arrogant, hard headed human being that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He's a walking contradiction to better put it.

Just a week ago we were laughing and making our way to the library after sneaking out of detention and then in a span of 7 days I found myself firmly entrenched in his shitlist when he figured out I was communicating with a goblin in my investigation about Ranrok and Victor Rookwood.

Since then, it's been an onslaught of cocky remarks, disdainful glances, and thinly-veiled jabs. Oh, the joy of camaraderie among wizards.

I could tolerate all of it, really. After all, navigating the intricate social dynamics of Hogwarts has become something of a specialty of mine. But things took a turn for the worse when he had the audacity to label me as ignorant and then failed to extend even a semblance of an apology.

Initially, I empathized with his frustration and understood his misplaced anger. I made excuses for his behavior, attempting to rationalize his actions. But my patience wore thin faster than I anticipated.

Merlin, if I had known how stubborn he was going to be I would have given up hope of reconciliation a long time ago.

And it all started right after I had convinced myself that perhaps extending the olive branch should fall upon my shoulders.

I found him by the great hall. There he stood among a few of our friends: Natty, Garreth, Ominis, and Amit. A small smile crept onto my lips at the sight, hoping that this apology, however undeserved, would set things right. But just as I neared earshot, his words struck like a dagger.

"Can you believe her? The audacity. She parades around as if she's the font of all knowledge just because she's the apple of every professor's eye when she's barely scratched the surface of our world".

The words hit me like a ton of bricks as I stood there shocked.

"Sebastian, perhaps you're being a tad harsh," Natty interjected, her voice tinged with a hint of reproach. "She's many things, but ignorant isn't one of them."

Nods of agreement rippled through the small gathering, Ominis adding his voice with a weary sigh. "I'm inclined to agree. You're letting your temper get the best of you."

Sebastian's sneer sliced through the tension like a blade. "Of course you would agree, Ominis," he retorted, the bitterness palpable in his tone.

It dawned on me then that this matter held more significance for him than I had realized. I knew he was angry with me, but to this extent?

"Seems she's got all of you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't it?" he said, his gaze flicking between them with contempt.

"That's enough," I interjected sharply, drawing all eyes to me, including Sebastian's.

"You know, I would have taken your words more seriously if you had the guts to say them to my face," I challenged, closing the distance between us with purpose.

Sebastian turned to face me fully, his eyes zeroing in on mine. His deep frown transformed to a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Well, here I am, aren't I? Besides, your back is just as good a place as any for such heartfelt conversations, considering that's all I was faced with the last time."

I pressed my lips together, determined not to let his cutting words pierce through my resolve, though I could feel their sting like a sharp slap across the face. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed the group behind us watching with wide eyes.

Damn it. The last thing I needed was to turn this into a spectacle, but Sebastian was making it impossible to keep a level head.

"Funny, because I was about to say the same. Grow up, Sallow. I could handle you being a jerk any day, but immature as well?" I lowered my voice, drawing closer so our conversation couldn't be overheard. "We both know that everything I'm doing is for the greater good, including your sister."

That smile disappeared as quickly as it came, as a shadow crept over his features.

Slowly, deliberately, he closed the space between us, each step a calculated move. Startled at his demeanor I started backing up otherwise I was sure our bodies would've collided.

"Don't you dare pretend you're doing this for the good of everyone, especially my sister, when you're the one cozying up to a damn goblin."

Backed against the wall, I felt the weight of his presence looming over me, and it was precisely that moment I realized how much of a threat he could have been if he wasn't someone I knew.

He disregarded the stares of onlookers, his focus solely on me as if nothing else existed in the world.

I never saw this look on him. So scary. And so unforgiving.

My nostrils flared, and I clenched my jaw to tyring to ignore everyone gathering around us "But I am. And whether you like it or not, Lodgok is not the same. I understood your anger at first, truly, but enough is enough" My voice now ringing with authority I continued "Now back off".

He didn't move a muscle. I swear if looks could kill, I'd be 6 feet beneath the dirt right now.

With a glare, I pushed off the wall when his hand suddenly planted firmly against the wall besides my head, stopping me effectively.

His eyes darker then before trailed over my face and down to my lips "You know"... I shivered at the low timbre of it.

" For a so called prodigy you sure do run away a lot. Especially when your one marching in here telling me to man up".

My resolve wavered for a moment, but I steadied myself, meeting his gaze head-on. "Careful, Sallow," I warned, my voice laced with defiance. "Just because I choose my battles doesn't mean I'm afraid to fight."

Sebastian's lips curled into a menacing grin, a small scoff escaping his lips.

Amidst the murmurs of the gathering crowd, I turned my gaze towards them, trying to ignore his taunts.

"Well, while you're busy choosing your battles, you're losing the ones that matter"

Damn it, why is everyone here—suddenly, a calloused hand gripped my jaw, forcefully turning it back to face him.

"With me."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart pounding in my chest, eyes trailing back and forth between his.

He really did have a way of making every encounter feel like a fight for dominance and now I knew I was trapped. "Back off Sallow, now".

"No."

"I said back off"! With a hard shove I pushed him away from me, earning gasps and exclaims from the crowd gathering around us, all excited to see what was going on.

A sinister chuckle escaped his lips, his head thrown back in complete amusement, while I stood there, flushed with embarrassment. Whether it was from the fact that he barely moved an inch or from the proximity of his presence, I couldn't tell. He on the other hand reveled in the attention, knowing full well that I despised being the center of such spectacle.

But I wasn't about to let him see me falter. "You want a battle? Fine. Since you're so desperate to get on my bad side"!

A mocking nod was all he could offer at my not so threatening threat "Bad side, huh? And what does that entail?"

"Mopping the floor with your arse in the courtyard, for all to see. Perhaps then I can show you just how well being a teacher's pet pays off." I spat.

"Well, let me tell you what my bad side entails, since you're already on it."

I huffed, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips as I shifted my weight, a hand on my hip. "Do enlighten me."

As tension crackled between us, Sebastian's breaths came slow and measured, the controlled rhythm of his chest betraying the intensity of his emotions as he stood before me.

"When I emerge victorious from this duel," he whispered, his voice dripping with controlled menace, "You won't forget it. I'll ensure it. And it won't just end there. I'll make your life a living hell, and believe me, darling, it won't be a pleasant experience."

My heart dropped, and my hands fell to my sides as I looked up at him in shock. "Sebastian..."

Maybe it was just my imagination, but a flicker of something passed by his face. His gaze softened, but his face remained expressionless.

"Do you really think you can just come into my life and pretend to care about everything? To care about my sister and then just dump it back in my face, as if all the things we went through together meant nothing?"

I shook my head, my eyes wide as saucers, but before the words could come out of my mouth, he beat me to it. "You'll regret it." Cedarwood and pine filled my senses as he stepped closer. "I'll make sure of it."

Speechless. That was what I was. Turning back around, he faced our group of friends, all of whom were confused, and started walking back towards them.

"Tomorrow after classes, tell Lucas I'll be there at 5," he said. He really was going to duel me.

"Oh, and..." He turned back around, and the smirk on his face irked me. "Bring plenty of Wiggenwald, darling." My stomach churned, and I felt nauseous. I wasn't afraid to duel him, but now, I am not so sure. This was a much bigger deal to him then I thought it would be. And considering this involved his sister... maybe I underestimated the weight of it all.

And that smile on his face... the normalcy after that terrifying expression... it was as unsettling as it was unexpected. And I was going to have to face the full wrath of it tomorrow...

______________________

"Bombarda"!

Sparks flew as spells clashed in midair, casting dazzling lights and shadows across the courtyard. I dodged and weaved, my movements being fluid and controlled, but his relentless barrage of spells were uncannily precise.

There he stood, a calm look to his face as his spells were coming faster and more ferocious with each passing moment.

It's come to my attention as soon as this duel started that I might be royally screwed. Along with the insomnia I had suffered last night and eating next to nothing in the last 36 hours I was in a bad shape.

But what really threw me off was that he had dramatically improved from the last time I dueled him.

In fact he was arguably one of the best duelers in this school at the moment. I am, ashamed to say, it was more challenging with him then anyone I've encountered in my missions, including the trials.

Though in my trials I was fighting knights, not a actual human being so, I cant just use my ancient magic to spear a lighting through his head.

With gritted teeth, I unleashed a wave of fiery infernos, the flames dancing and twisting towards Sebastian with menacing intent. The crowd Oohs and aahs only got louder and more excited at my display of magic.

Too bad it only lasted about 3 seocnds before he countered with a powerful Shield Charm, the flames dissipating against the barrier with a hiss.

A surge of panic washed over me as he unleashed a dark hex, the ancient magic stirring within me in response. With a desperate effort, I summoned a powerful shield to deflect the attack.

As the spell collided with my shield, I felt the impact reverberate through my entire being, threatening to shatter my resolve. I staggered, barely managing to stay on my feet, disbelief etched into every line of my face.

Sebastian stood there, his lips slightly curling at my reaction.

He knew.

That would have been impossible to counter if it hadn't been for my ancient magic.

I heaved for breath, my chest tight with apprehension as I watched the young slytherin, seeing the powerful dark aura radiate off of him like smoke.

Shit...

He just flung a dark hex at me as if the very notion of it being forbidden never crossed his mind.

He stepped close enough for me to hear him say "Did you ever learn that while being a teacher pet"?

I growled, gripping my wand tight. I did not go through trials involving deadly knights, goblins and trolls to lose to an egotisical boy.

"Is this really how you wanna play Sallow"? I sneered.

Sebastian predatory eyes swept over me as I ignored the tightening feeling in my stomach. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips in anticipation.

"You know exactly how I play fifth year". He purred.

With a swift incantation, I conjured a dazzling array of illusions, each one more intricate than the last.

To my utter joy Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise as he struggled to discern the real me from the phantoms that surrounded him.

But he was quick to recover, his own spells flying fast and furious as he sought to break through my defenses. Bolts of lightning crackled through the air, sending shockwaves rippling across the courtyard as our magic clashed in a spectacular display of power.

The crowd's cheers and gasps melded into a deafening cacophony, but amidst the chaos, I could only focus on the piercing ringing in my ears. I gritted my teeth, my eyes narrowing as I prepared to unleash my most powerful spell yet. With a flick of my wand and a whispered incantation, I summoned a whirlwind of energy that engulfed Sebastian and everyone else in a blinding vortex of light.

Everyone gasped covering their eyes and as the brilliance faded, I braced myself for the next onslaught, but nothing could have prepared me for what came next

Suddenly I yelp, feeling the tip of a cold wand pressed to my neck and a warm yet menacing presence press against my back.

To my utter horror, Sebastian stood behind me out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around my waist, keeping me perfectly still.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, unleashing a wave of blood to my core. It's almost laughable, the way fear grips me now, rendering me hesitant to face him. I just know what hes going to look like, and I am not sure I could take it.

I try to cast something as his lips brush against my ear, and he whispers "Expelliarmus".

My wand flies out of my hand instantly, bouncing on the ground before rolling away as the crowd watched in stunned silence.

Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead as I watched my wand disappear into the distance. And then it hits me.

Fuck.

How could I forget.

I taught him how to apparate last week...

_____________________

"Sebastian, please," I pleaded, struggling to keep pace with his brisk stride. Every two steps felt like a hurdle, but his iron grip on my arm prevented me from face-planting afterward.

"You've won, alright," I conceded, feeling defeated.

With a forceful tug, he yanked me forward and pressed me against the wall, eliciting a grunt from me.

"And yet, you're still defending a goblin," venom dripped from his words, saturating the air with its malevolence.

I hadn't known he was capable of such intense hatred. Part of it, I suspected, had something to do with his dalliance in the dark arts.

Melting into the wall did nothing as Sebastian stepped in to close the distance.

"He's provided more information than any other creature I've encountered, Sebastian. He's the reason I can move forward in this investigation." I pleaded.

"Yeah, and how do you know it's not all a lie?" he retorted sharply.

"You're acting as if no one else, or any other creature, hasn't lied to me before. How is it any different if a goblin does?" I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.

"You know why!" he exploded, pushing against me, his frustration palpable.

Ragged breaths escaped me as I struggled to remain steady. His hard abdomen was smashed against mine with no disregard for personal space. I was caged.

"I understand your anger, Seb. But only to an extent. Not all goblins are bad, just like not all humans are good. Victor Rookwood is scum, yet there are trusted relationships with all kinds of creatures and humans."

With a scoff like laugh, his fingers began to trace its way down my cheek, "You're adorable, living in your little fantasy world. But reality is much harsher than your dreams."

I let out frustrated grunt but before I could respond I felt his wand press against the side of the my lower thigh. "Goodness know mine is hell, your precious goblins saw to that when they decided my sister should be 'seen and not heard'"

With a hitched breath I felt him raise his wand, sliding the smooth wood closer and closer to core.

Oh.my.goodness.

It was like my brain shut down as I realized what was happening.

I squeezed my eyes trying to concentrate on the conversation, a very important conversation.

"I am sorry Sebastian. I-I really am, I am most definitely not defending all goblins here, especially the ones who cursed Anne-"

"Oh yes you are. You even fought me for it". A cruel grin spread across his lips.

I started to step on my tippy toes instinctively to avoid the thin wood making it way under my skirt.

"You'll never understand will you"? His unsettling voice rattled me and thats when a tinge of fear seeped into my brain. This was not the Sebastian I knew.

"Seb..." My voice tremebled.

The tip of his wand disappeared under my skirt until I jumped with gasp when the tip pressed firmly on my core.

"You betrayed me".

I gasped, arching back, my hands shooting straight for his in an attempt to stop him as he began to move the wand up my clothed slit.

"I-I didn't-"

Through quick glances, I could see him observing my reactions without a hint of shame. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering at the sensation as the tip of his wand halted atop my clit before he started twirling it.

Despite my tightening grip on his hand, he remained unmoved. All I could do was throw my head back with a cry, feeling a tight knot forming in my stomach

"Seb s-stop" I whimpered.

"Are you sure you want me too"? His cocky tone showed now remorse as he watched me fall apart.

"Tell me the truth," his lips pressed on my to my cheek. "You wanted this from the day you met me didn't you"?

"W-what? NO-"

"Thats why you did what you did. Because pissing me off was the only way to get my attention" He chuckled. But it was hardly humorous.

I wanted to slap him, but my legs were shaking, my own wetness beginning to drip down my thighs.

His wand dropped instantly, rolling away from us. Panting, I thought maybe this was the end of it until his hand dove beneath my skirt, forcibly making its way down my underwear.

Gasping, I clutched his collar for dear life, feeling his calloused hand slide across my slit, rubbing my soaking cunt. As if my dignity wasn't hanging by a thread, my hips started to roll on their own, meeting his fingers.

"Ahhgh-Seb"!

Thats when his other hand swung around to grab to my ass and squeezed a handful of it. Hard. "Look at this"

I faced him finally. A smug grin draped over his face.

"You act all righteous but in the back of your mind all you wanted was a good fuck"

Suddenly, all sensations within my body halted. Without a second thought, my hand connected with his cheek, the sound of a slap reverberating through the dark hall.

His cheek swung the other way as he backed off slightly. I stood there, breathing hard, eyes wide, and clenching my thighs. If he thought I would just stand there and endure his vulgarity, he had another thing coming.

A small bruise formed at the corner of his lip, where a hint of blood emerged. However, what made me tense up, gripping the wall behind me, was his gaze slowly returning to mine—dark and hungry—as his tongue darted out to lick his lips over the bruise with a smirk

Clenching my jaw, I gritted, "You're a bastard."

Then I see the glint in his eyes

He charges towards me, "Well, if I'm a bastard, then you're my slut."

His lips crashed onto mine, pinning me against the wall. I groaned, attempting to navigate the kiss, but I couldn't keep up. His lips switched angles every few seconds, exploring every inch of me in a frenzy. His chest pressed against mine, his hands diving under my thighs, pushing me further into the wall as he devoured me.

I couldn't push him away, even if my life depended on it—which now it definitely did as I struggled to breathe. With no choice, I pulled my head back, opening my mouth to breathe, but he shoved his tongue in.

I whimpered breathing him in as forcifully as he made me. It was dizzying it, if he didn;t keep me upright I was sure I was going to fall from lack of oxygen. His finger went back to my gushing core as he slipped a finger in, pumping it rapidly. I pulled back gripping his jaw with a moan, barely able to stand right as he finger me harshly

Sebastian lips moved down to my neck pressing searing kisses "Your so wet baby" He murmered against my skin.

Then he brought his head up, pupil exploded with lust. I was sure I looked the same too hazy from the pleasure he giving me.

"Give me a taste huh"?

Nothing was registering in my mind. "Wha-"

Before I could finish, he finger, drove out of me with an audible pop before he yanked my panties down.

He fell to his knees, and without hesitation, his head disappeared under my skirt. Then the most startling sound escaped my mouth as I felt his warm tongue envelop my cunt, sucking and licking with desperation. No teasing, no foreplay, just an explosion of sensation.

My hand tangled into his hair as I cried out, hunching over as if he was sucking my energy. It didn't take him more than a second to find my clit as his tongue circled the hardened nub.

His other finger found my cunt, ramming in two fingers this time. The dark hall was filled with slopping sounds and loud squelches; if that didn't send a message to any poor classmate who happened to walk by, then my screams probably did.

Finally, with two more harsh thrusts, I became undone, crashing my weight onto his shoulders, my world spinning. My cries were silent with how intensely the orgasm hit me. Sebastian knew it too when his head popped out from under my skirt, licking the remaining juices off his lips. He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, his smile, anything but friendly

No. I could tell he wasn't done.

My legs finally gave out as I kneeled before him. "Hang on, darling, I'm not through with you," he teased, his tone doing nothing to prepare me as he grabbed my waist and pushed me onto the ground, dirt be damned.

Oh fuck.

I realized I was going to be taken right here, in the middle of this damn hall, and no one was going to stop him. I knew I couldn't. Because hell, I needed him too. He nudged in between my legs, spreading them wide enough for him to see everything.

"You're so fucking pretty," he breathed heavily, his mouth still glistening from earlier. I went completely red.

No, not here. If someone walks in, I'd sooner get eaten by an Acromantula

"Stop, Sebastian! What if-"

A sharp slap to my thigh silenced me instantly before he loomed over me. "You don't want me to stop," he accused, slipping his hands beneath my shirt.

A sob-like cry escaped me as his other hand smoothed over the red mark on my thigh. I hated how good it felt, but what I hated more was that he knew

One last lie. Maybe he'll believe me and I can end this fever dream and not have to deal with the consequences after.

"I do".

Sebastian looked at me, studying my face scrutizing every aspect I tried to keep indifferent when he grins.

"Your cunt certainly doesnt". And he makes a point to show me by smashing his lips on top of mine as I taste myself.

Why is that I am always out of breath whens he kissing me? I breath him in hard.

Everything about him is overwhelming.

As pulls away with my bottom lips between his teeth. He unbuckles his trousers and I dare to look down...

"Sebastian".

His hand immediately grips my jaw bring it up to face him.

"It'll fit. Ill make it fit".

I shake my head, another excuse brewing in my head when he pauses what hes doing and rips open my shirt button flying everywhere.

A shaky sound leaves him he gazes at my breasts "Is that for me".

He was talking about the lacy bra I decided to wear today, and I realized, that today of all day I decided to wear it, because of him.

I gulped "No.."

He smirked, pulling the bra down. "Liar. Keep it up though; I love catching you and seeing the blush all over your face," he said, aligning himself over my entrance and pushing his blunt head in.

I flinched, grabbing his neck and pulling him down. "The least you can do is distract me from the pain..." He smiled, moving a strand of hair out of my face. "I don't think so; perhaps you're forgetting this is punishment," he said, his long, nimble fingers wrapping around the nape of my neck, keeping my head in place.

"Let me see those tears, baby, and don't you dare move your face"

I squeezed his shoulders, a pleading look on my face "Your being cruel".

"Only cause you made me" With that he pushed his length is as I gasp, a strangled noise leaving my throat.

Before I could adjust, he began thrusting into me. The room filled with the sound of his hips slapping against mine. I bounced on the cold stone floor, my breasts moving in tandem. He seized one in his mouth, and I cried out, closing my eyes tightly, feeling utterly helpless in his grasp.

Both of his hands gripped under my thighs and stretched my legs nearly to my stomach as he rammed into me at full speed. My screams and half-moans likely echoed throughout the castle as I flailed on the ground, arching my back, nails scraping against the floor, sweat slickening my skin.

Sebastian groaned as he observed one of my hands reaching for my breast and teasing my hardened nipples

Any pain I felt at the beginning was replaced by sweet utter bliss, it was powerful, and so blinding.

His length reached inside me and pulled out sqelching each time, as if there was a pull stopping him backing all the way out.

He grunted before proceeding to grab my wrists and pin them above my head, putting most of his wright atop of me.

Leaving hot wet kiss all over my neck, he faced me watching my tear stricken face, "Do you want to make this up to me".

I hear those words and immediately nod my head, knowing he would never accpet lodgok no matter what.

"Then promise me your mine. Promise me from now on you'll come to me whenever I summon you whether its the restricted section or in the middle of the damn dark forest. You'll come and do whatever I ask whether thats spreading your leg for me or giving me a taste of that sweet cunt of yours".

I gushed, my eyes nearly rolling at the back of my head with the speed he was going.

"Se-Seb" I whined. "I am-gonna c-cum"

"Promise me sweetheart. Or we stop this. Now".

I am no fool. I knew he what he was asking of me nothing short of being slave to all his desires. But he would never call me his girlfirend. No.

Thats my punishment.

"Seb, I- thats too much"

He clicked in tonghe, an annoyance washing over his features.

"Unless you perfer me to tell other professors what youve been up to. You know, sneaking out in the middle of the night, slaying goblins and ashwinders..."

The cruel grin made it way to his face when my eyes snapped up at him.

"Tell me" He leaned in pressing a soft kiss to my lips and everything I hated about him melted. "Tell me your mine" He murmed against my lips.

As if he knew extactly what to do to get wheat he wanted, his finger dove down to my clit, pressing the nub and rubbing it harshly.

I screamed arching my back as it all hit me. The blinding white pleasure that had me see stars. He wrapped my legs around his waist holding me tight, watching me and convulse against him in pure bliss. As it came over me in waves, I fianlly open my eyes to stare up at his. I cant believe I am saying this.

"Yes.."

His forehead leaned on top of mine a knowing smile on his lips.

"I am all yours..."

#sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian x you #sebastian x mc #sebastian x y/n #hogwarts legacy #hogwart legacy headcanons #headcanon #drabble #hogwarts legacy drabbles #hogwart legacy imagines #sebastian hogwarts legacy

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sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw · 3 months ago

Text

Day 1 | Toys - Alfons

Kinktober masterlist

Gender-neutral reader (genitals not specified)

Word count: 2k

18+, slight modern au (I made it vague for everything except the toy), sex toys, teasing, public stimulation, orgasm denial, semi-public sex, fingering, minimal editing

How did you let him talk you into this? When you’d be on a mission, of all times. It was the worst time possible to let him convince you to stick a vibrator between your legs.

It was covered by your clothes. But your eyes darted around like someone would see. You took a deep breath. Just keep walking. Thankfully, it wasn't on. Yet.

Alfons, on the other hand, seemed downright cheery. At least as much as he could be. You swore he had a bounce in his step. And his hand was perpetually in his pocket. The one that had the remote to the vibrator in your pants.

You gritted your teeth and cursed yourself for ever letting him have that. He certainly wasn't going to give it up now. The fact he hadn’t used it yet only made you more anxious. He could flick it on any second. At any intensity.

“Oh my, what's wrong? You seem very stiff for someone about to go on a date with your beloved.”

You shoot a look at him. You wait, expecting him to flick it on just before you speak, but it never comes.

You simply plaster on a fake smile. “I’m just fine.”

You kept your eyes forward and walking toward the restaurant. You tried to relax. Everyone would have to believe you were actually a couple once you got there.

Crown had learned a drug dealer was going to receive a package at a restaurant. Intel said it was new from another country and it was in Crown's best interest to prevent its distribution. The only way to get a reservation close enough to his table, was to get a table in the section reserved for couples.

You took deep breaths as each step brought you closer.

Eventually you came to the door. He opened it for you.

“Allow me.”

You paused, eyeing him with suspicion as you slowly stepped in. Nothing happened. Relief swept through you and the tension left your body. Maybe you should keep your guard up, but the sight of the interior snagged your attention.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings. It was a higher end restaurant. If you messed up you would stick out like a sore thumb. You pulled and tried to smooth out your fancy clothes Victor gifted you. But clothes didn't change the person.

Your chest was tight and all of the tightness in your muscles returned. Fit in. You can’t let them know you’re pretending.

Your anxiety only peaked when an employee came your way. You stood to attention. You couldn’t breathe. Get this right.

“Reservation?” he said. Glancing at a list.

You forced a smile on your face. Stand straight. Don’t look nervous. He was going to see through you. He was going-

A sudden vibration cut through your thoughts. You jolted, and clamped your mouth shut. Going through where you were sensitive, making it ache. Keep your legs locked, you just had to focus on keeping your legs locked. Don't keen over and moan.

Alfons stepped in and gave your fake name the reservation was under.

The man skimmed a list. He smiled and nodded.

“Follow me.”

His back turned. You tried to glare at Alfons, but the buzzing was still going through you and you were sure you just looked pathetic instead.

He just smiled.

“Come now, dear,” he smiled and held your arm as he guided you.

You forced your trembling legs forward as each step shifted and changed the angle of the toy. You bit your lip. Thank god you had him to lean on, even if the sadistic bastard was the cause of all of this.

In only two steps, you blinked as the thrumming faded. Not completely it was still there. You nearly breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had the sense to at least turn it down. You held back the thank you on your lips. He was the reason your legs could have given out and caused a scene.

You continued to hold his arm. Walking past the patrons to be eventually led to your seat. Coincidentally you were too busy keeping your reactions to a minimum to even worry about having to fit in with them.

You sat down and breathed in. Scanning the room, your eyes landed on the drug dealer. Your eyes shift to Alfons. He's not looking at him and you remember you can't stare.

You take a drink of the water served to you and mumble out an order.

Even if it wasn't as bad as before, the vibrator was still going at it. Still where it ached. You shuffled in your chair. Breathe. Bite the inside of your lip. You glanced back up at him. An amused glint in his eyes.

You glared. This was just fucking entertainment to him.

“Oh? What’s that cute look for? Did I do something wrong? You were clinging to me so tightly just a moment ago.”

“You know.” It was still buzzing against you. Your clothes were starting to feel hot.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest clue. Could you please educate me?”

Your fingers clenched around the table cloth.

“You're supposed to be focusing on the mission. And I have to make sure they don’t realize I’m not-” your whispers grew faster and faster before you were cut off.

“They won’t. Everyone is far too busy with their own matters and worries. The common annoyances of life are enough on their own and yet they keep creating new things to worry about. I would be surprised if they don’t have enough wits about them to be able to worry about anyone else from another table. All you have to do is relax. Short of standing up and declaring our purpose of being here, you have no reason to fret.”

Somehow his words comforted you. You let your back hit the chair. You hadn’t realized you were sitting that straight.

“Smile. Remember, you’re my date.”

Right. You did have to convince them that you actually liked him. You forced a smile onto your face and looked up at him with as much love as you could muster. Your heart squeezed at the thought of even showing even that bit of vulnerability to him. Every other time you did so he made you regret it.

Your eyes searched the rest of the room. Were any of the waiters looking in your direction? You didn’t think they appeared suspicious of you.

You barely caught Alfons sighing. Then a slight click.

Your thighs squeezed together and your eyebrows knitted together. You shot him a look.

He just smiled.

You glanced at the drug dealer. Unfortunately, you had to wait for the right moment, and the package hadn’t even come yet.

Alfons leaned in to you and whispered. “The wait is boring, is it not? Why not have some fun.”

You blushed. Your eyes drifted to the floor. It would make the wait less boring.

You took a deep breath.

It was hard to tell if it was fun or painful. The whole time Alfons kept playing with the intensity, over and over again. Just as you’d think you’re starting to get used to it, he changes it. You dug your nails into your palms and tried to ignore it. Pretend you don’t feel yourself throbbing against the vibrator. Take deep breaths. Your body twitched with anticipation, always getting worked up only to lose it when it dropped back down.

Since then the person with what you assumed to be the package arrived, but you still had to wait.

You just kept gripping the fabric of your clothes under the table. While Alfons kept smiling and enjoying his meal like there was nothing strange at all going on. All the while you were squirming in your seat.

“Are you okay?” a waiter asked.

“My partner appears to have eaten something bad earlier. Made me promise never to take our dates to that establishment again afterwards.” He took a forkful of food and swallowed it down. “The food here seems to be much better anyway. My compliments to the cook.”

You held your stomach to sell it. The way he said it didn’t fail to make you feel embarrassed, but at least you had an excuse now.

“Thank you,” the waiter said and left.

Your jaw was clenched. Another deep breath filled your lungs. Between the vibrator and embarrassment it felt far too warm. You took another sip on the water only to nearly drop it. But not for the reason you’d been dealing with the whole night. Your eyes widened as you realized it turned off.

Your gaze snapped up to Alfons.

He chuckled softly. “I thought you deserved a little break. Did you not want it?”

You shook your head. “I want the break. Thank you.” You instantly cursed yourself for saying it by habit.

He rested his head in his hand and smiled warmly. “You’re welcome.”

You braced for him to immediately flick it on again. But he didn’t. You braced a little longer, and he still didn’t.

Relief and joy should be flooding through you, but it felt like something was missing. You were still aching. After all of that, it felt like you were painfully understimulated now that it stopped. Your gaze shifted as your finger tapped absentmindedly on the table. You couldn’t believe he stopped it after he just gave you a perfect excuse. You couldn’t believe he made you want it back. You didn’t have to worry about your reactions anymore, but you felt so needy and needed it back. You squeezed your thighs together and looked for a clock.

The food on your plate was nearly gone when the second man left the table you’d been secretly eying. It seemed he conveniently forgot to pick up the briefcase he brought with him. You wouldn’t have even noticed if you weren’t watching.

Then the faint click again.

You nearly yelped and sharply bit your lip. It was worse than ever before.

“Alfons, what the fu-uck?” you barely managed to hiss.

“Wait here a moment. I’ll be back for you soon, my adorable lover.”

The choice words you would have said were you anywhere else.

The words in your head gradually devolved to be much less coherent. Much more embarrassing ones. Until there were no words left in your head at all. Just a need. Your chest was heaving. You needed- You swallowed hard. You just had to keep breathing. Stop yourself from grinding into it. You just needed to wait it out. It hurt so bad and good. Fuck him. You needed to-

Your jaw clamped down on your lip and you tasted iron. Stifled every moan.

Finally a moment of reprieve came and you let out a long exhale while your parts screamed. You looked up to see he was back.

“Perhaps we should leave before the gentleman realizes his briefcase isn’t there.”

You weakly nodded.

You left as quickly as you could. Casually strolling out. But every inch of you still trembled with need. Until your pride was overruled. The second you had the opportunity you dragged him into an alleyway to make him fix the mess he made.

“What the hell?” You hissed, practically jumping onto his fingers after your clothes were out of the way. “Look what you did to me. You're going to take care of it.”

His surprise had only lasted a second before he indulged you. Letting his finger slip inside. Curling it and pumping it inside of you. Drawing out a moan.

“If you insist,” he smiled.

He took the vibrating toy and pressed it to where needed it most. All the while his other hand continued. Dragging against and stretching out your walls just right. You sucked in a breath. This time you could finally let it go. Finally able to cum.

You thrust yourself into him faster. Move your hips trying to finally get there after what felt like hours. You grit your teeth.

“Fuck! I hate you.”

“Funny to hear you say that when you're the ones bouncing on my fingers. I'm hardly doing a thing.”

“Shut up!”

Just a second later your muscles tensed. Tears pricked in your eyes. You throbbed against the toy and clenched around him. It finally snapped and your orgasm rushed through you. Your knees nearly buckled and you slumped against the wall. The exhaustion hitting you all at once. His hand held you up.

You rested there for a bit before heading back.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #smut #ikevil smut #ikevil alfons x reader #alfons sylvatica x reader #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikemen villains #ikevil

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kiyaar · 4 months ago

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Possessed by Light: An AI Tony Exchange CREATOR REVEALS!

POSSESSED BY LIGHT: An AI (Steve)Tony Exchange has come to a close! Thank you to our creators, our cheerleaders, and our esteemed pinch hitter. Here is a masterlist of 13 delicious works (4 art, 9 fic) featuring our sad blue boy. This exchange was designed to generate more comics SteveTony works, so most works feature 616, but we do have 2 Noir works and 1 Ults work! We hope you enjoy this feast and please remember to show your chefs some love in the comments! Works under the cut:

art: Ballet Aérien by @oluka for @tinystark616

Tags: superior iron man, digital art Summary: SIM has taken an interest to AI Tony.

art: PbL: Dissonant Messages by @somekindofsheepl for @mserm

Tags: hydra steve rogers, hurt no comfort, tentacles, sharing a bed, these tags are a mess Summary: Tony has a little bit of a headache. Don't worry about it, everything is fine.

art: artificial intelligence out of time by kenobleeaaarrrgghh for @ayapandagirl

Tags: alternate universe, role reversal Summary: my fill for the AI tony exchange! for the prompt: [noir universe]'s version of AI tony

art: "Error 1610 File not Found" and "Wired to Obey" by badworldgood for @somekindofsheepl

Tags: Possessive Steve Rogers, Creepy Victor von Doom, Victor von Doom Being an Asshole, Cancer, Angst, Fanart , Ultimates, 616 Summary: UltsTony saves himself from the brain cancer by becoming an AI...or so they think. File corruption becomes an issue / AI Tony ends up in a damaged Doombot. Doom may grow attached, Steve is not happy once he finds out.

fic: no happy endings by @mserm for @kiyaar (8.8k)

Tags: choose your own adventure, POV second person, unhappy ending, everything feels wrong and nobody is ok Summary: AI Tony's greatest fear is that he'll be replaced by flesh-and-blood Tony. What will he do to stop it? That's for you to decide.

fic: hold me (like it's the last time) by @tinystark616 for @ralsbecket (3.8k)

Tags: hydra steve rogers, pining, angst with a happy ending, getting together, fix it, I mean first I made it worse and then I fixed it, sad AI tony, alternate universe - canon divergence Summary: Hydra Cap attempts to convince AI Tony to stay with him with promises to make Tony real. Tony wants to be real, but he wants the real Steve back even more.

fic: You don't have to be a ghost here amongst the living by @ayapandagirl for badworldgood (3.2k)

Tags: secret empire, existential crisis, transhumanism, artist steve rogers, modeling, timeline what timeline, AU - canon divergence Summary: AI Tony Stark struggles with identity and Steve offers a novel approach to the problem: modeling.

fic: Imagine Being Loved by Me by @ralsbecket for @rowantreeisme (2.5k)

Tags: established relationship, touch-starved, frottage, pining, references to depression, implied/referenced alcohol abuse, angst, hurt/comfort, ambiguous/open ending Summary: He lifts his hand, fingers hovering just over the slope of Tony’s nose and side of his cheek, blue light washing over it. There’s a hesitation there, in Steve’s eyes, as he inquires, “Can I touch you, or…?” Tony can guess what Steve doesn’t have the heart to finish: Can I touch you, or will I pass through you like you were nothing?

fic: body and mind and sun by @dirigibleplumbing for @oluka (5.2k)

Tags: secret empire, hydra steve rogers, AI tony stark, AU - canon divergence, transhumanism, body horror, body modification, angst, dark, forced intimacy, ambiguous/open ending Summary: Steve's engineering team insists that learning Stark's secrets is a waste of time. What can he offer Steve that they can't? Hydra has a spy in the resistance. They are on their way to completing the Cube. What more could he want? He wants Tony.

fic: do iron men dream of warm flesh? by ves.larkinson for @dirigibleplumbing (21.1k)

Tags: Transhumanism, Comic Book Science, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, action/adventure elements, Coming of Age as an AI, Attempt at Humor, Philosophy, Existentialism, Time bullets, Identity Disability (sort of), tony is de-coma'd just before steve is de-HYDRA'd, Queer Themes, Civil War, Amnesia, Guilt, Betrayal, Post-Marvel Comic Event: Dark Reign (2008), Post-Marvel Comic Event: Secret Empire (2017) Summary: The artificial intelligence called Tony Stark is in it way over his head. The “real” Tony Stark is isolating himself, trying to ignore his part in the Civil War and the Dark Reign that followed it; and Steve is falling into guilt over his part in the Secret Empire. Tony has no history, and his human counterpart has too much. Somewhere between them, there might be a way forwards—for all three of the men in this shitshow.

fic: fate, commitment by @rowantreeisme for kenobleeaaarrrgghh (40.5k)

Tags: Edwin Jarvis, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, World War II, Comic: Iron Man Noir (2010), Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Nazi Germany, Pre-Slash, Time Travel, Espionage, Canon-Typical Body Horror Summary: Cell fate commitment: the process through which a stem cell becomes committed to it's final state, and the means through which this is determined through genetics and molecular signalling.

fic: Similitude by @winnifredburkle for ves.larkinson (1.5k)

Tags: BDSM, armor kink, dubious consent, selfcest Summary: Tony gives AI Tony control of an Iron Man suit. For sex purposes. It doesn't quite go how he expected.

fic: Eidolon by @kiyaar for @starvels (22.9k)

Tags: established relationship, threesome - f/m/m, intellectual strap sucking, a dead celestial is sometimes a home, consent issues cockwarming, electroplay, secret empire, civil war II, canon compliant, angst, alcoholism, wistful flesh hunger, transhumanism, not-a-fixit, unfixit Summary: "What if we fucked," Carol says, "and we also fucked Steve." "I don't know if I can take that kind of rejection right now," Tony says.

You can view all of the works in the Ao3 collection here. You can join the endless AI Tony conversation in the 616 Steve/Tony discord here. And, as always - you can thank your creators by circulating their work and leaving comments and kudos on ao3!

#aitonyexchange #possessedbylight #616 #stevetony #capiron #stony #superhusbands #ai tony stark #tony stark #iron man #captain america #steve rogers #fandom event #fandom exchange #masterlist

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mrs-kmikaelson · 5 months ago

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Our Song and Dance⁵

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader, Katniss Everdeen x platonic!reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: LONG, brief descriptions of torture, mentions of forced prostitution, exploitation of minors, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, violence, murder, sick games, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, grief, and unhealthy coping mechanisms Words: 24K

Masterlist | Part 6

a/n: so here it is! 5 days later than i said, but it's here! and um, had the same problem w my hotch fic, but tumblr only allows 1000 blocks per post, so i had to cut this short. i'll be posting the rest w the ending shortly, but for now, enjoy! ly!

As far as you knew, love and pain were one and the same. You weren't sure exactly when this fact had been established in your mind; maybe it was with your mother, when she hugged you as she cried. Maybe it was with Finnick as you stood from the sidelines and watched him be in love with another woman. Maybe it was that love, the love Finnick and Annie had, that made you realize it, a love between two people who could never be together. Maybe it was the star-crossed lovers on TV, having no choice but to fake a love that they were too young to know.

You were too young to know it, too.

But the pain aged you, made you into a person you didn't know, a person you didn't like. That's how you knew that Finnick would never love you.

How could he love you if you didn't even love yourself?

How could he love you if no one else did?

You knew that—oh, you knew that so well. But your heart couldn't handle that right now, to accept what your brain already knew. That's why you were avoiding Finnick at all costs, why you turned him away the other night. He had the power to turn you into putty in his hands, and you had to be stronger than that right now.

You had a nation to save. You didn't have time to save yourself from drowning.

As far as you knew, the revolution was going along smoothly. It'd been about two weeks since you all went to 2, and in that time, Coin and Plutarch had been strategizing, planning out their next moves. For now, you were recuperating, adjusting to life in 13, which was easier said than done.

You barely slept, often ending up in the training room late at night when it was supposed to be closed. The guard knew, you think, but he never came out to stop you. Sometimes, Katniss was already there by the time you arrived. Neither of you questioned it.

Something told you she couldn't sleep, either.

Couldn't.

Wouldn't.

You avoided common areas during the day, doing everything in your power to steer clear of the beautiful blue eyes you once adored- still adored. You didn't want to see Finnick Odair. You didn't want to see the victor of The 65th Hunger Games. You didn't want to see the charming playboy. You didn't want to see the convincing actor. You didn't want to see that boy who loved to swim as a child. You didn't want to see the hopeful soldier. And most of all, you did not want to see Finnick, your Finnick.

Because he wasn't yours.

And he never was.

You didn't say it out loud to her, but a part of you thought that maybe Katniss knew this. Maybe she was learning to read you just as you were learning to read her. So you'd end up eating in one of your rooms together, away from everyone else. Sometimes Johanna would join you, only sometimes. Things were different now.

You could tell that she wasn't used to this, and she didn't want to get used to it. It was always you, her, and Finn. And now, you couldn't stand to be around him for reasons you couldn't tell her.

But you think maybe she knew, too.

Maybe a part of her always did.

Sometimes Prim would join you. Katniss' cold exterior would melt and she'd smile larger than you'd ever seen just with her sister's presence. Primrose was innocent and sweet, too sweet for this world. She didn't know it—you didn't talk about these things—but she gave you a little bit of faith in humanity, day by day.

And seeing her and Katniss together gave you a lot more than just a little bit of faith. Seeing the way they were with each other made you wonder how things would've played out if you had a sister, a sibling to care after, a sibling that could've grown up with you, been there with you through your childhood before you stopped being a child.

In a way, you were glad that it was only you, that there wasn't another person who had to share in your pain. But sometimes, you thought, maybe it wouldn't have been so painful if you weren't alone.

Katniss was lucky. And so, you told her that. But unlike that day in the training centre, you didn't tell her out of spite or to taunt her. You told her because she was lucky, and she deserved to know that.

"You know, I used to be jealous of you," you said. The brunette looked up from her food, brows furrowed while your eyes were still trained on the door that Prim had just left from.

"Jealous of me?" She echoed, confusion lacing her voice. A ghost of a smile grew on your face.

You're lucky, you know.

How so?

"You have a family that really loves you, that beautiful sister of yours. At the time, I would've killed to feel a love like that, a love so unconditional." You thought of their mother and your smile widened ever so slightly. She may not have been mother of the year, but she was there. And, really, that's all you ever wanted. That's all anyone could ever ask for. "My mom was, uh... she was never really like that, I guess." You chuckled a bit. "And you already know how our relationship ended up."

The room was silent. The sound of the vent lightly thudding in the background was the only thing you could hear, accompanied by your song. Sometimes, around Katniss, the song got quieter.

And sometimes, around her, it got louder.

After a moment, she spoke. "You have that, Y/N."

Not expecting her to have responded, you turned to her, meeting her eyes staring at you intently. "Hm?"

"An unconditional love," she repeated, her eyes soft as if she were afraid of setting you off. "You have that."

At her words, the smile on your face dimmed. Finnick.

You're my world, Y/N.

You blinked the memories away, trying your best to ignore his face flashing beneath your eyes every time you did so. It was surreal, almost, to think that it was his eyes were what kept you anchored while you were in the Capitol.

And now his eyes kept you anchored as you tried to swim away.

You sighed. Katniss was still so young. She didn't live the victor's life long enough to understand, and you were glad she didn't. There were some things that she never had to experience, things she never had to know, things about you that she couldn't conceptualize, so you tried to put it all into words.

Even though you knew that no words could ever convey what you'd been through.

"I can see why you'd think that, Girl on Fire, but Finnick and I were never... fireworks."

"He told me."

Your head shot up at her reply. You waited for her to add something more, to say she was joking, but the punchline never came. Your breath got caught in your throat. "He told you?"

She hesitated, looking half like she regretting saying anything. "He told me about how you guys started." She paused, letting your thoughts run wild, memories swimming through your brain the same way you used to swim through district 4 waters.

Can we- can we just be together tonight?

"He loves you, Y/N."

What do you mean? We are together.

No, I mean- can I- I want to hold you.

A small, humourless laugh left you, the same laugh you held back when you met young kids, telling you they wished they could have a love like that. You held back the laugh and the tears and didn't tell them that they should be saving their wishes for something better.

The Prince and Princess of Panem.

If only the kingdom knew that this story didn't end in happily ever after.

If only they knew this wasn't a love story at all.

"No." You looked back up at her, smiling bitterly. "No, he doesn't, Katniss. I'm sorry our act was so good that it actually fooled you." It almost fooled me, too, you thought. But you'd been dancing long enough now to know better.

Y/N, I swear to you on everything I believe in that I'm telling you the truth.

It's impossible.

I l-

"It wasn't an act," Katniss cut your thoughts off, latching onto your hand tightly. You resisted the flinch. "I could tell you loved each other—anyone could."

Her eyes were desperate, and you couldn't figure out why. For some reason, she believed in what she was saying. She believed in this love, this love that did not exist, but why wouldn't she? Nobody knew what happened behind closed doors. Nobody knew that you and Finnick only started dating to try and save yourselves from the something that was something bigger than you. Nobody knew that he called out to Annie when he had nightmares.

You weren't even sure that he knew it himself.

"You underestimate Finnick's acting capabilities," you said, suddenly wishing you had a drink in your hand.

She was quick to reply. "You underestimate how much he cares about you."

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The look on her face... she almost looked offended, appalled that you didn't agree with her. At the same time, she looked like she knew something you didn't.

But you knew a mountain of things that she didn't, that nobody knew.

So you didn't respond, opting to continue eating your food, pretending that this conversation never started. Pretending, pretending, pretending...

Katniss looked at you for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, before she looked back down at her food, too.

Eventually, you got up and headed for the training centre, conversation forgotten.

And she never mentioned it again.

You were walking down the halls when you saw her. You had just been to see Coin; she told you no, that you and Katniss wouldn't be going to the Capitol.

Part of you was angry. How dare she tell you that you couldn't do this? How dare she say no after all you'd been through? This was your fight. It was your right.

But the other part of you was amused.

Maybe it was going through The Hunger Games twice, or maybe it was just every other fucked up thing that'd happened to you in life, but you found her funny. It was laughable that she thought she could tell you what to do; you'd respect her for everything else, but not this. She couldn't tell you what to do about this.

You were going to kill President Snow with your own sword.

And nobody was going to be able to stop you.

That was the thought running through your head when you turned a corner, and suddenly you were face to face with a redhead you hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime ago.

Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to me, supposed to be me.

Annie.

She stopped in her tracks, eyes going wide. She looked like she hadn't aged a day.

So why did it feel like you hadn't seen her in years?

Why did it feel like you were avoiding her?

Before you could answer your own questions, you felt arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly. Your body went stiff. It's Annie, you told yourself. So, after a few seconds, you hugged her back just as tightly.

This was your friend. This was the woman you volunteered for. And more importantly, this was your soulmate's other half.

This was Annie.

You heard her sniffling as she pulled back, voice cracking. "I've missed you so much. We've missed you so much, Y/N." We.

We.

You didn't know how to respond, so you did what you did best. You didn't say anything, just pulling her in for another hug. You blinked away the tears threatening to well in your eyes.

And Annie didn't know this. You may never grow the courage to say it out loud. But even though seeing her broke something in you, right now, she was helping you more than you're sure you ever helped her.

After seeing Annie, you spent the rest of the day together. For a day, you forgot about Coin, and Snow, and the revolution all together. You forgot you were the Princess. You forgot that this was the woman Finnick was in love with. For a day, you were just with your old friend.

You shared memories of district 4 together, ignoring the fact that it was all rubble now. You talked about her art, how she'd had so much time to create in 13. Part of you envied that, but the other part was just proud and happy for her.

She'd come a long way from the girl crying in your living room, inconsolable and repeating the same words over and over again. Her cheeks looked fuller and there was this light in her eyes that you never thought you'd see again.

You were enjoying yourselves.

Until she said it, and your bubble broke.

"I met someone."

At first, it didn't really register, and then your breath suddenly halted, but Annie was none the wiser to your state of shock, smiling and staring off.

"He's- he's perfect. He's everything." She looked back at you, her eyes twinkling. "I'm in love. Oh, I'm so in love with him."

In love.

With someone else.

You half-composed yourself, stuttering, "W-with who?"

"His name's Julian," she told you. "He's from 12. And I know I haven't known him that long, but Y/N, he's the one." She brought her hand out in front of you, letting you see a ring you hadn't seen before. And now, you were sure that your heart stopped. "He proposed. And I said yes!" she squealed.

You couldn't breathe.

Music filled your ears.

Annie was getting married.

And it wasn't to Finnick.

You realized you'd been quiet too long and mustered up some sort of smile. "Annie, that's- that's incredible. I'm-" shocked "so happy for you."

She was so delighted that she didn't notice your demeanour, grabbing onto your hand. "Y/N, I want you to be my maid of honour." What? She continued, "And Finnick's gonna be Julian's best man. I want both of my best friends up there with me."

You couldn't breathe.

But you responded, nonetheless, because your problems didn't matter. What you felt didn't matter. This was about Annie.

You plastered on a smile and lied, "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

Annie clapped and then went on and on about the wedding as the music just got louder and louder.

You're my world, Y/N, echoed in your ears.

Little did Annie know, your world just came crashing down.

You paced through the halls of 13 aimlessly, even though a part of you knew where you were going. Music thumped loudly in your ears, and even if you had no destination, your mind was only dancing to that music.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

You ran a hand through your hair, heart rate speeding up. You didn't know what to think.

There was a perfectly crafted image of what you and Finnick were in your head—and that image was nothing. You were nothing. You were "together" out of obligation, to protect your families. And now that your mother was dead and his family was safe, none of that mattered anymore. The picture was ripped to shreds and the frame had shattered to pieces.

This image was sometimes foggy, and sometimes you may have gotten confused, but through all the smoke and confusion, you still knew what this was. It was all a part of the game, a game with no referees but a guarantee in death if you didn't play right.

And if your punishment wasn't death, then you'd wish it was.

You knew that better than anyone else.

But now, now Annie had taken all those shredded pieces and put them together without even knowing it, creating a picture that you didn't know how to interpret.

You didn't understand.

You saw the way he looked at Annie—you saw it the moment you met her.

Rapid knocks hit your door as you were fixing up boxes upstairs. You'd just moved in with Finnick and were organizing your things. You raised a brow, putting a box down and heading downstairs.

The knocks continued up until you opened the door. A girl with red hair and porcelain white skin stood on the other side, a pretty smile on her face. Your confusion only grew. This girl looked like she couldn't be any older than 16.

What was a pretty teenager doing at your door?

She spoke like she was reading your thoughts. "Hi! I'm Annie." You were taken aback by her bubbliness as she held her hand out for you to shake it. You looked down, scanning it before deciding on taking it just to be polite.

"I'm-"

"Y/N." She cut you off, then sheepishly pulled her hand back. "I- sorry, I just- everybody knows who you are."

You intook a sharp breath, doing your best to smile and thwart her comment. Everybody did know who you were—you needed no reminder about that.

She kept talking. "And you're, uh, you're Finnick's-"

"Annie?"

You turned to see Finnick walking up to the door, wiping his hands with a towel. He must've been in the kitchen, you thought.

Her nervous ramblings stopped as her smile widened. "Hey." She glanced back at you, brows wiggling. "I just met the girl."

"Oh, uh- yeah." He awkwardly cut himself off, coming to stand next to you. And your confusion just heightened.

Annie held something out in her other hand that you hadn't noticed before. "Your watch," she explained. "You left it the other day."

His watch?

"Oh, thanks." He took it from her grasp, and you watched as their fingers brushed. And then you looked up at his face and saw a sparkle in his eyes.

It was almost unrecognizable. No one had ever looked at you that way.

But you knew what it was.

And that's because you were starting to look at him that way.

They continued talking but you had tuned them out by that point, dull music ringing in your ears.

You should've known better.

Of course, there was a girl. A girl who was sweet, kind, and pretty. A girl who was nothing like you.

The girl Finnick loved.

He said something to you, asking if he could walk her home. You just nodded. It wasn't a question, no matter how he phrased it.

Annie said goodbye to you and then you watched as they walked out the door, almost forgetting to shut it behind them.

You put a hand on your chest, something akin to a laugh leaving you.

Someone had told you that you were heartless once.

That was funny.

Because, at that moment, you felt your heart hurting just fine.

The memory made your eyes foggy and your breathing irregular. You were hyperventilating.

If Annie was getting married, then what was that? What was that memory? What were all the looks, smiles, and sleepless nights? What were the past eight years for?

What the fuck did any of that mean? What was that supposed to mean to you?

Was he letting her get away— after everything?

Another part of your brain whispered, what if he never had her in the first place?

No. No.

You changed course, walking to the training room. You weren't going to think about this anymore. Thinking about this only made your head spin, spinning the record faster.

If that record spun any faster, it just might break.

And you had no idea what'd happen then.

Soldiers filed out of the room you stood in front of, each saluting you as they went. You gave a nod back, resisting the urge to say something. You knew that, no matter what you said, they were still going to treat you like royalty.

It was better than your treatment in the Capitol, you supposed.

But, to the better part of you, this treatment was just a stain reminding you of the blood shed.

Plutarch stood at the end of the soldiers' line, ushering you inside. "Princess," he greeted, putting his hand on your back.

You ignored the disgusted shiver that went down your spine, greeting him back. "Heavensbee." You glanced at the greying woman seated at the long table. "Madam President."

"Y/N." She got up, shaking your hand. "Lovely to see that you're doing well."

You gave her somewhat of a smile, or at least hoped that you did, but didn't say anything.

The three of you sat down after the unpleasant exchange of pleasantries. You would ask where Katniss was, but she already told you that she'd be going to see Peeta. You didn't ask to come with her.

Not yet.

Besides, you knew that she needed this. They needed to talk.

You didn't know what happened when you guys came back, what happened between them, nor did you fully know what they did to him in the Capitol, but if it was anything like what they did to you, then it was bad.

Coin's voice broke through your thoughts. "I think the only thing left to say... is thank you."

You looked up at her, spotting the look on her face and realizing that you weren't going to like the rest of this conversation. "I need to be in the Capitol," you stated, adding, "Katniss and I."

Coin was shaking her head before you even finished your sentence. "No, you have done your job. You've been very successf-"

"There is no such thing as success until Snow is dead." At my hands.

Alma pursed her lips, no doubt at the fact that you interrupted her. You'd apologize, but you really didn't have the time or energy to care about that right now. You'd been apologizing for your presence for years, respecting every Alma Coin or Capitol resident that came along.

You were done.

"And that will happen," she affirmed. "But you need not worry about any of it." You opened your mouth, but she kept going. "You've helped unify the districts in a very short amount of time, for which I thank you, but now we just want you to rest. And to heal."

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She was pushing you aside.

"The last the rebels saw me, I was lying on the ground with a bullet in my chest."

Plutarch took your attention. "Y/N, we won't let this momentum go to waste. We'll shoot more propos, right here in 13, showing them that you're alive."

"No, I should be down with the troops-"

"It'll be like being on the front lines-"

Coin interjected, "As far as the soldiers know, you survived a bullet to the heart." Her voice was earnest, but if you knew any better, which you did, then you knew to look past her voice to the calculation in her eyes. "I think they'll understand why you're not with them."

You held back a scoff. "And Katniss? What's the excuse for her?"

Coin's resolve only hardened, a smile appearing on her face, a smile you didn't like. "Look, Y/N, when we win this war, we'll fly you both in for the surrender. We'll need you for the ceremony." She paused, nodding to herself. "You're very valuable to us."

Valuable.

Like an artifact.

You thought of saying something but thought better of it, hiding your true thoughts like it was second nature to you—and it was. You nodded, smiling back at her. "Well, whatever it is you need me to do, I'll do it." The lies flowed from your lips smooth as honey.

You got up, shaking her hand once more and bidding your farewell to the both of them. As you left the room, the thousands of things that'd been on your mind left and only one thought remained.

You were gonna watch Snow take his last breath, and you'd be the one to have taken it from him.

No matter what.

Annie's wedding came faster than light, making you break your promise to yourself not to think about it. With Finnick across from you on the stage, it was impossible not to think about it.

You could feel his gaze burning into you, but you ignored it—at least, that's what it looked like to him. To you, you weren't ignoring anything. To you, he was at the forefront of your mind.

Hell, even as Annie walked down the aisle, Finnick was all you could think about. Your relationship, or lack thereof, was all you could think about. The day you met, the nights in the Capitol together, the days when you lost a tribute, the dinners, the nights you slept together, the times he'd kiss you without a camera in sight, the way he calmed you down during the Quell— your whole life together.

SImultaneously, the stolen glances at Annie flashed through your mind, too. The way he'd call her name as he slept, the way he fell apart when her name was called in the Reaping, the way he broke down with her in your living room, the way he'd kiss you for the cameras and then go to see her later that day.

What were you supposed to make of that?

A part of you thought it was comical. There was an entire revolution happening, the weight of the crown and Panem on your shoulders, but with just the simplest thought of Finnick, all of that dissipated into thin air and got magnified at the same time.

He had the type of power over you that a shepherd had over his sheep.

Did he know that?

Annie's voice sounded, breaking you from your trance. "From this day forth, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. I promise to love and cherish you each day."

You looked towards them, seeing her hands intertwined with the boy's, sincere smiles on both of their faces and love-crazed looks in their eyes. They looked at each other like it was just them in the room. "I, Julian Cinder, take you, Annie Cresta, as my wife from this day forth," he proclaimed, quiet resolution in his voice. "Whatever happens from this point onward, together or apart, we will always be united. One life, one purpose, one destiny."

"You may kiss the bride," the officiator told him. Julian didn't need to be told twice, reaching downward for Annie's lips immediately, kissing her gently.

Applause overtook the room. You wiped at a tear underneath your eye before joining them, clapping and forcing a smile.

You were happy, you were so happy that Annie was in love and that the boy she was in love with loved her just as much. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you were crying out of happiness.

Your tears weren't happy tears.

Julian's vows were beautiful. The love that they shared was more beautiful than any painting you had ever seen, any song you had ever heard, any place you'd ever been to. And it was real.

It was beautiful.

But it was more beautiful and real than anything you'd ever get to experience.

As the reception started, you didn't stay long to watch the newlyweds' first dance. Music started playing, but it did nothing to silence the music already playing in your head.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one leaving the wedding early.

Your heels clicked rapidly against the floors, silent footsteps following you. You had just made it to the hallway your room was in when you were spun around.

Like a reflex, you automatically brought your fists up without even thinking, about to swing when you saw the perpetrator.

Finnick.

You lowered your fists, bringing one hand to your chest and breathing heavy. You couldn't tell if your reaction was from being touched or from being touched by him.

He held his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth, but you weren't letting this happen again. Not during these times, not today, not now. Maybe not ever.

You couldn't.

You went to turn, but this time, as if he'd learned from last time, his hand latched onto your arm. Your heart rate sped up, and suddenly, there was a pit in your stomach.

Was it butterflies?

Or was it fear?

You tried pulling away your arm, but his hold was like steel, unrelenting. "Y/N, we need to talk-"

"No." You refused to meet his eyes, pulling your arm harder, seemingly for no reason.

"I need to talk to you."

You shook your head. "No. We-" Fuck. "We have nothing to talk about."

"Yes, we do-"

"No, we don't." Water built in your eyes. "I have nothing to say to you." Liar.

"Y/N-"

"Stop it."

"We need to-"

You exploded. "You let her get away!" You looked up at him, and just like that, the dam in your eyes broke. Because the look on his face split your heart in two. "You-" your voice cracked "you let her get away."

Finnick went silent. His hold loosened, but you didn't notice. You didn't even notice the tears in his eyes.

His voice was no louder than a whisper. "Y/N-"

You cut him off. He wanted to talk, so you would talk. You had enough things to talk about that it'd make your voice go hoarse, enough words stuck inside to you to fill scrolls and still have something left to say. "A-After everything, you just let her go- just like that."

"Y/N, baby, please-"

"Why," you asked, but your words sounded nothing like a question—and they weren't. You were demanding the truth, not asking for it. You wanted to know why. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you."

Your breath was knocked out of your chest.

And for the first time since the Quell, the first time since you met Finnick—the first time since when you won The Hunger Games, the music stopped entirely.

And then it picked back up like it never did before.

The music was loud, swirling around you like mist, like you could feel it, like it was pushing you to dance as your feet were glued to the floor. Finnick just stood there, staring at you helplessly. He said it so quickly that you almost thought he didn't think about it—did he? Did he think about his words before he said them? Did he think about the words that had the power to break you and build you up?

Did he think about the words that made you feel like you were alive and dying all at the same time?

Three months ago, you would've been overjoyed to hear him say that—to hear him say anything like that. But now it just felt cruel.

So your response was like nothing you would've ever imagined.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Finnick's face dropped. A part of you, the part of you that got butterflies when he said what he said, felt bad. That part of you felt terrible. That part of you wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and for him to love you.

But the other part of you had learned that Finnick being happy and loving you did not exist in the same universe. The other part of you wanted to make him happy but had already accepted that love was not in the picture. This other part of you would go to great lengths to make him happy, like volunteering for deadly games and adding gasoline to the fire that was this revolution. But this part of you refused to pretend anymore.

You weren't going to play anyone's games anymore.

Nothing like the Finnick you once knew, he stammered, "I- I said I love you."

You scoffed. "Love? You think you love me?"

His eyes narrowed, like he was getting angry. "Yes, Y/N, I love you."

Your eyes hardened, tears no longer falling. "Oh, is that what this is? Are we in love now?" He opened his mouth to speak but your sudden laughter cut him off.

Someone told you that you were heartless once.

Wasn't that funny?

You went on, "So, the sleepless nights I had, waiting for you to get home—was that love?" You stepped closer to him. "The nights when I knew you were with her, the nights you'd hold onto me and I could still smell her, the nights when you called. out. for her in your fucking. sleep.—is that love, Finnick?" You paused, laughing again like you were crazy, and maybe you were. "I didn't even know that we were in a relationship, let alone in love."

He shook his head rapidly with conviction, looking like you had just stabbed him. "No- no, I was never with her, not like that-"

"Oh, of course not-"

"You're talking about it like it was all bad! It- it wasn't, I- I fell in love with you, Y/N." He moved his hand up from your wrist to grasp your hand, picking up the other one and holding it, too. And for some reason, you let him. "What about the nights we spent together, the days in, the dinners, the last eight years-" he cut himself off, breathing heavily and staring into your eyes. "You can't tell me that we weren't in love."

Finnick's blue eyes were like a whirpool, sucking you in yet again. He looked like he truly believed in what he saying, so much so that you almost believed it, too. You wanted to. You wanted nothing more than to believe that your time together meant something, that he felt the same way you did.

If you were still that same woman, you would've believed it. But even she was a swimmer.

You were not going to be sucked into his whirlpool. Not again.

Not after it tore you apart last time.

You snapped, "It was fake! All of it was fake!" You held back onto his hands, tightening your grip. Finnick's eyes may have been a whirlpool, but yours were a storm. "I remember that; it was my idea. And I am sorry- I am so sorry for the years I have stolen from you, but I had people to protect back then" mom "and I don't anymore." You stepped closer to him, if that was even physically possible. "Don't you get it? I have lost everything. But I never lost you." You shook off his hands, and even as such anger coursed through you, a tear raced down your cheek. "You can't lose something you never had in the first place."

Finnick recoiled. For a moment, he looked sick until he regained composure, reaching for your hands again but you quickly stepped back. "Y/N-"

"You know, you're half right, though." A humourless smile came to your face. "We may have never been in love, but I know that I was." And I still am.

Without waiting for him to respond or giving him the opportunity to suck you in again, you turned and quickly went into your room, locking the door as soon as it closed.

You ran for the toilet, expecting vomit to rise. You sat there, waiting for it come, but nothing came up. Suddenly, you errupted into laughter, the kind of laugh that made your stomach hurt, and then those laughs slowly turned into loud sobs, tears running down your cheeks.

You're fuckin' heartless, 4.

Oh, how funny that was.

Maybe they were finally right. Maybe you were heartless now.

Because your heart had just been ripped out of your chest.

You didn't leave your room the rest of the day, except to congratulate Annie and go to the training room later at night. Katniss met you there, dull. You didn't ask her what happened, and she didn't ask you, either. You sparred and pretended that the last few hours didn't happen, that Finnick didn't let the woman he loved get away, that he didn't say what he said.

You already cried to yourself for hours. You didn't need to reflect on it anymore.

You were fine.

"No, you hold it with both pointers facing outward, like a bat." You corrected the position of Katniss' hands on the sword. She may have had a gift for the bow, but anyone with eyes could see that, that wasn't the case for swordsmanship. My God, she's helpless.

She scoffed, "You're acting like I'm inept. I can wield a sword just as well as you can shoot an arrow."

"Sureeee."

Katniss rolled her eyes but continued doing what you were telling her to do. She said she was curious. Little did you know, curious meant terrible.

Once her hands were in position and she was holding properly, she took a swing. You held back the urge to wince. She wasn't that bad, but it was pretty damn bad. "No, see- you can't swing like that. Way too slow, not enough force—have you seriously never wielded a sword before?" You grabbed one, holding up it and demonstrating. "You swing like this. If you swing the way you're swinging, then you're not gonna be able to slice anything."

"C'mon, this'd knock someone down."

"Well, the goal isn't to knock someone down; it's to kill them on impact."

"What, so you went into your Games with the mindset that you'd just kill immediately?"

You intook a breath, your bubble of pretend breaking. No, that wasn't what you went into your Games thinking at all. After a moment, you responded, "No." Pause. "I actually didn't think I stood a chance." Katniss went silent, but for some reason, you kept talking, eyes on the wall. "I would've been the youngest that year, but um... Bay was younger than me. And he wanted a longer life, a better life, so I fought for him. It was him and my mom." And now they're both dead. You cleared your throat, turning back to look at her and faking a smile. "So I decided ruthlessness was the only way to survive in there. And then when I got out, it wasn't ruthlessness that kept me alive; it was being royalty." You chuckled.

Never would you have ever imagined this being your life when you were younger, that you'd be Princess. But here you were, alive and well.

Or at least as well as you could be in your position.

Some had it worse.

You were fine.

You turned, about to move on and keep going when Katniss' voice broke the silence. "Aren't you tired?" You turned your head back to her to see the sword hanging from her hands, a look of exhaustion hiding behind her seemingly empty eyes, despair in her undertone. "'Cause I am. I don't know about much anymore, but I know that I am tired."

You stared at her, this time really looking at her. It was so easy to forget how young she was, that she was practically still a child. You supposed that a victor just grew into their role.

You did.

You were just fifteen.

After a moment, you lifted the corners of your lips as best as you could, trying to genuinely give her a smile, even if you could barely bring yourself to. "I am tired, Katniss," you affirmed. Despite the contrasting look on your face and the feeling in your heart, you didn't feel tears form, not for this; you had accepted this by now, and as wrong as it was, she needed to, too. "But it is not ours to be tired."

You turned around, not turning back this time until you'd replaced your sword for a bow. You turned back, switching Katniss', too. "Here," you said. "Let's switch back to the archery since you're shit with the swords."

She looked at you for what felt like forever but was really only a few seconds. And in those few seconds, the illegible book that was Katniss Everdeen became crystal clear, scibbled writing turning to print. A million emotions ran through her eyes: exhaustion, anger, devastation. But a single emotion rose above all, and you knew this because you lived it: the thirst for blood—a thirst that could only be quenched once you accepted that you were thirsty at all.

Finally, she looked away, nodding. "Okay." She looked back up. "But I'm not shit at anything."

A breath left you, like a weight that'd been lifted off your shoulders. You were back to normal. "Whatever you say, Everdeen."

And then, just like that, you resumed, and everything was fine again.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it never was.

But that wasn't the point.

In this reality, if you said something was nothing, then it was. If you were supposed to be the Princess and lead a revolution, then that's what you were going to do. If you said you were fine, then you were fine.

Weren't you?

Whatever you say.

You and Katniss retired to your rooms after a few rounds of shooting and one round of sparring. You made it all the way to your door, but never opened it. Your feet kept moving, moving past your room and all the others until you made it to the nuclear weaponry.

You weren't going back to your tonight.

Or ever.

They were shipping supplies to the Capitol tonight from hangar 2. This was your window. Coin didn't want you in the Capitol on the frontlines, but that was exactly where you needed to be. You couldn't let someone else fight your fight. You needed to do this.

You'd said your goodbyes. You just saw Katniss, and though Johanna may not have directly said it, she knew you were leaving, too. She was the one who even told you they were leaving tonight. Peeta was getting better; he wasn't totally there yet, but he was getting there. Annie was happy, finally happy, living the life of her dreams amongst the nightmare you all lived in. Everyone was accounted for.

And Finnick... well, you'd said goodbye to him, too.

It was time.

You crept past any guards with ease, only stopping to pick up your go bag. Like a snake, you made your way through the many bombs and missiles, ignoring the fact that there was a metaphor in there somewhere. Just as the hovercraft opening was closing, you jumped in, rolling on impact.

Once the door closed, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Boxes and cargo filled the room, but it was otherwise empty. You let go of a breath you didn't even know you were holding. You were in the clear.

Might as well settle down, you thought. It was a long way from 13 to the Capitol.

You sat down in a corner, despite having the place to yourself, and brought your knees up to your chest, momentarily closing your eyes. You weren't gonna get much rest in the next few days, but you couldn't sleep now and risk not waking up. Yes, you were tired.

But tired was not a possession that someone like you could own.

You opened your eyes, opting to distract yourself by looking through your bag.

You were lucky Katniss didn't question the absence of your sword in the training room earlier, nor did she notice that some of your shared arrows were missing along with your crossbow. That was because everything you needed was in the bag: weapons, gadgets, and clothing. But none of that was of any real importance to you.

What you pulled out wasn't one of the many pristine articles in the bag. It was damaged. The paper felt delicate in your hands, fragile. It was peeling, ripped around the edges, but maybe that was just because you brought it with you everywhere.

A photograph.

A photograph of yourself when you were younger. Before your father died. Beforen your mother went crazy. Before your name was pulled in the Reaping. Before you killed ruthlessly to survive just to end up wanting to die, anyway. Before you met a boy that made you want to live.

You were still a child here. Your smile was real, tugging at your full cheeks. You don't remember the exact day this was taken, but you remember that you were happy.

Tears threatened to reach your eyes, but you blinked them away. You used to pull out this photo to make yourself feel better, but now it seemed to have the opposite effect. Now, it just reminded you of everything that you'd lost.

But that was the point.

You didn't pull it out to cheer yourself up anymore. You pulled it out for that reminder, to remind yourself what you were fighting for.

Your childhood was stolen from you. Every good thing you could've possibly ever had was ripped away from you, all because of who you happened to become, all because of the world you happened to live in.

You'd be damned if you'd let another child go through what you went through.

If you had your way, no child would ever go through that again.

And you would have your way.

No matter what.

It wasn't long enough before you felt the hovercraft lowering, the pop in your ears telling you that you were landing. It wasn't really noticeable. You'd felt worse pains in your life.

You peeked your head out as the door opened, quickly turning back and intaking a shaky breath. It was a full crowd out there, and you could bet your ass there'd be cameras.

"It's okay," you murmured. "You can do this." You'd been through two Games, forced sex work, and President Snow's personal torture. A crowd was the least of your worries.

However, this time was different. This time, you weren't gonna walk out there with a smile. You weren't gonna twirl or make your sleeves go up in flames. You weren't gonna dazzle anybody.

No.

This was real.

This wasn't a show anymore. It was still a game—a different game, but a game, nonetheless, and you were nothing if not a great player.

You could remember your first Games like they were yesterday.

"You're fuckin' heartless, 4."

You laughed. "Oh, am I?" You swung at the boy's torso with your sword as he narrowly dodged it. "That's not what the papers are saying," swing, "are they?"

The boy and you danced around each other in a circle, danced, and danced, and danced, but only one of you would walk away singing.

"You killed her," he spat at you, anger and desire shining in his eyes—the desire for revenge. "You killed Myrto."

You scoffed, "What, was that 6's female tribute? Be glad I made it quick." You swung again, this time cutting flesh, resulting in a hiss.

You were acting. Dancing. You knew Myrto's name and you knew she was from 6. You knew the names of everyone in the arena, but pretending not to made it easier. Pretending you didn't see Myrto hug the boy in front of you when you were at the Capitol made it easier when you snapped her neck.

Myrto and Spyros, 6's promising tributes. They were close. But he shouldn't have let her go off alone. He shouldn't have let you do that, even if you were doing her a service. Nobody in here would've given her as quick of a death as you did; many wouldn't have cared about the light in her eyes. Despite Spyros' words, there were many that were more heartless than you.

Or so you told yourself.

He swung back at you as you sidestepped, countering with a swing of your own, metal hitting metal. He looked you dead in the eye. "She was scared of you. She saw you kill that guy with your bare hands and was terrified the same would happen to her."

You leaned in, sneering in his face, "That guy came at me first, and then he touched Bay. You don't touch what's mine."

"And what? The crown is yours now, too?"

"Yes." Without another second to waste, you lifted your sword and plunged it into Spyros' stomach before he could blink. His sword slipped through this fingers in shock. A flicker of remorse flashed through your eyes. "No hard feelings, but I need to go home."

You ripped your sword from his skin, looking away andletting him fall to the ground. A few moments later, the cannon sounded ,and you knew he was dead.

A sigh left your lips. Twenty-two down.

One to go.

You shook yourself out of your reverie, shaking your head as if you could still feel the blood on your skin. Blood seemed to consume your thoughts. Theirs. Yours.

No more.

"No more innocent blood," you whispered to yourself. It was funny, almost. You could remember wanting to win so badly, and then as soon as you got out, you wished you let Spyros kill you. If you did, you wouldn't be living with this guilt. You would've never been sold, you would've never gone through what you went through at the Capitol. And you would've never met Finnick, either.

But you couldn't decide if that's really what you wanted.

With one more deep breath, you walked out of the hovercraft, dragging your feet that felt like boulders and forcing yourself to go forward. The cold air of the Capitol hit you like nothing else, as if knives were biting into your skin, but you'd felt worse.

No one recognized you immediately, but soon, murmurs followed. You kept your eyes on the ground. "That's her," someone whispered. "That's the Princess."

Eventually, the crowd went silent and so you looked up, being met with every face in the area. All eyes were on you.

They were rigid, like statues, until one person got down on one knee. Your eyes darted over to him. Even from so far away, you could see his eyes. You saw admiration, respect, and gratitude, but most of all, you saw hope. He bent his head down, bowing. Suddenly, everyone followed. Men, women, and children collectively got down and bowed.

For you.

Your breath was taken away. You didn't know how to respond, but whatever words you were going to say died on your tongue when Boggs came into your line of sight.

"Y/N," he greeted, the slightest bit of surprise lacing his stoic voice. "President Coin didn't tell me you'd be meeting us."

"I know," you said, and you said nothing further than that.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but after a second, Boggs nodded, softly telling you, "Come on." You followed him wordlessly, meeting Commander Paylor again before she went up on stage.

She was a good speaker, that you could tell, but you weren't truly listening. The crowd clapped and cheered but you were motionless. You could feel Boggs' eyes burning into the side of your head. He must've thought you were crazy, and maybe you were.

You were fixated on the one thing you'd wanted more than anything else, so it was a bit difficult to pay attention to speeches, no matter how good they were.

After Paylor's speech, you followed Boggs out of the area to where you were stationed. Now that he found you, it only made sense that you'd work together. You could use the ammo, anyway.

You got to your post, still not really focused on anything, but then all of your distraction flew out the window when you saw a head of brown hair, not in a braid but in a ponytail just as similar.

Katniss.

So you weren't the only one with the idea of sneaking out.

"Great minds really do think alike, don't they?"

At the sound of your voice, Katniss turned around and a smile graced her face, and this was one of the few times you'd ever seen the sight. "Y/N," she breathed, and in three strides, she was embracing you in her arms.

You tensed but soon reciprocated the hug, basking in the irony that you once thought you'd never befriend this girl. Yet, now, she was the only one who stood by your side.

You hugged for a few seconds before letting go—both of you could only handle so much affection—but she held onto your shoulders. The smile was still there, but it had dissipated. It wasn't so bright anymore.

She nodded towards a tent, and you nodded in response.

You needed to talk.

Katniss led you into an empty tent and you both sat down. The time for pleasantries had passed—the gun on your hip and the sword hitting your leg had reminded you of that.

Out of habit, you glanced around the small tent. There wasn't much except for the little she'd laid out, along with her bag, stuffed with food. You nodded to it. "That's more food than I've ever seen you eat before."

She barely looked up. "Tryin' to be prepared-"

You cut her off, humming. "C'mon, Katniss." You shook your head. "Don't insult me."

Finnick was hard to get a read on these days. Johanna wasn't the same, and Peeta barely showed emotion. But if you knew anyone, it was Katniss. You were Katniss. So you already knew what she was planning.

After all, it was the same plan you had.

She finally looked up at you. "I'm gonna be fine, Y/N."

"Of course, you are," you affirmed. "'Cause I'm coming with you."

She sighed, "Y/N-"

"Be smart, Katniss. If you're going off alone, you need backup." You left out the fact that your plan involved no backup, either. "Besides," you added, "you know I want this just as bad as you." Maybe even more.

She stared at you for a few seconds after that, maybe a minute, before she eventually nodded. A sigh of relief left you, but before you could get anything else out, your names were being called.

"Y/L/N, Everdeen." Your eyes went to the woman outside of your tent. "Come meet your new unit."

You got up, crouching under the tiny tent opening and walking out until you were with everyone else, the woman who called you right in front of you. She sized you up with a stony expression.

"I'm Lieutenant Jackson," she introduced herself. Her voice was as emotionless as her face, though you recognized a hint of irritation in her eyes. "And I want to introduce you to your squad." She pointed to each person as she went. "This is Second Lieutenant Mitchell, best sharpshooter in Panem. These are the Leeg sisters, first combat division. And this is Corporal Homes."

You nodded to each of them in greeting, even though Homes and you had already met. Jackson introduced all of them to you, but not you to them; though, you supposed it was unnecessary. By now, everyone in Panem knew your face.

You went to say something, but as a familiar face came into view, you forgot whatever it was in a heartbeat.

Finnick.

Katniss' words echoed your thoughts. She left your side and made her way over to him, but you were frozen in your spot. "Are you with us?" she questioned, her back turned to you but her smile audible in her voice.

"Looks like it," he responded, wrapping his arms around her. You looked away, feeling the phantom sensation of his arms around you, your feet stepping synchronously with the song that was back playing in your ears.

Love? You think you love me?

Yes, Y/N, I love you.

Involuntarily, your eyes travelled back to them only to see blue eyes already pointed your way. Your mind shouted at you to look away, but your eyes couldn't follow the instruction. This was your first time looking at him without tears filling your eyes.

And, God, was he beautiful.

Was it his face that shocked you or was it his presence? Was it your history or the chapter you were in right now? Did it matter?

All of the questions you had went unanswered as Boggs entered the canopy. "Gather round," he ordered, forcing you to peel your eyes away. Your unfortunate love affair would have to wait.

If you could even call it that.

"Squad 451, you're my unit." He looked around at you, the so-called 'best of the best.' And while you were the best, in many ways, you weren't truly put together because of your skills. Katniss had a way with a bow, and you and Gale were next in line in that area. Finnick and you had both mastered close combat. Mitchell was a sharpshooter, and everyone else had miles of experience. But that still wasn't why you were chosen.

He continued, voicing what you already knew. "Each one of you is elite in some form of combat. But we are a non-combat unit, so we'll be following days behind the frontline troops." Katniss and you shared a brief glance.

"You're to be the onscreen faces of invasion. The Star Squad," a woman declared, arms crossed. Cressida, you think her name was. You met her in the Capitol once. She was almost gonna direct a show for you and Finnick, and you thank the heavens every day that it never happened. "It's been decided that you're the most effective when seen by the masses."

It appeared that you and Everdeen weren't the only ones with qualms about this regime. "So we're not gonna fight?" Gale spoke up.

Boggs' reply was swift and prepared. "You'll do whatever you're ordered to do, soldier. It's not your job to ask questions."

He held his tongue and nodded, an affirmation leaving his lips, respectful but clearly reluctant. And why wouldn't he be? You were fighters—all of you. Kids thrown into the arena or the streets. This wasn't about pride, though, so you understood the establishment's point of view on this one.

But it wasn't about pride for you.

It was about revenge.

"Our instructions are to shoot propaganda footage on the battle-scarred streets of the Capitol." Boggs went on to explain that, even though you were a propo team, you were still in the middle of a war zone. "It is likely that we'll encounter both active pods and Peacekeepers." He paused. "You're considered high-value targets to the Capitol." His eyes momentarily darted over to you, making you stiffen. "In the event of capture, you'll be given a nightlock pill." Another pause. "A poison that acts immediately."

You felt Katniss' eyes on you as Jackson passed the pills around, the glare of scissors flashing through your mind, beautiful scissors that never got to kiss your skin.

My hair. It's- I want to cut my hair.

I'll help you.

You took the pill and stowed it away, ignoring her stare. You were thankful for her interruption that day in the bathroom, but you'd gone this far without mentioning it and you'd go a lot farther in the same state.

As far as you were concerned, that day never happened.

You're not suicidal, your brain whispered, and you vehemently agreed. But if things ended the way you wanted them to, the way the way they were supposed to, then dying wouldn't be too bad.

That nightlock could go a long way.

"Our unit has been given a Holo, a database that contains a detailed map of the Capitol and a list of every known pod." That caught your attention, making you look up at the device he placed on a container, a hologram of the Capitol shooting out with little orange indicators everywhere. "These pods can trigger anything from bombs to traps to mutts. We cannot move without this device. There's no guarantee that our database is complete; there could be new pods that we're not aware of. Because we don't want the Gamemakers to know we have this intel, it has a self-destruct on it. You flip this switch, say nightlock three times, and it blows itself and anything within a ten-foot radius." He paused, making eye contact with each of you and enunciating slowly. "Stay within our unit. Even with the Holo, it is likely that new pods have been set. Whatever they contain, they are meant to kill you."

Fuck.

You glanced at Katniss to see her already looking your way, clearly thinking the same thing that you were. If you wanted to stay alive long enough to kill President Snow, then you needed that Holo.

Without meaning to, you consequently glanced at Finnick, seeing that childlike glint in his eye that you hadn't seen in ages; albeit, it had no place in war.

But that didn't mean that you didn't miss it.

He leaned towards Katniss and you like nothing had ever happened, making you tense. It was almost like he was playing a game, and you suppose that's exactly what it was because, not a second later, he spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The 76th Hunger Games."

Explosions went off in the distance that you tried not to be affected by, smoke and rubble surrounding the once pristine Capitol. It almost looked the footage you'd seen of 12—you imagined the other districts were the same. As you stood there and filmed propos, it almost looked like home.

Almost.

You stopped in an abandoned restaurant, sitting down to rest. You didn't really feel like resting, but it was nice to stop and strategize.

Katniss and you sat off to the side, away from everyone else, but you could feel eyes burning into the side of your head, eyes that were likely blue. It took everything in you not to look his way.

"We're not getting across this minefield," you remarked.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "Not without that Holo. And we're not gonna get it off him while he's awake."

You nodded, repressing the urge to glance over at Boggs to avoid suspicion. "Let's make sure we're on the same watch tonight, then."

Allies until you weren't. Same team until the time came.

Just like The Games.

The sound of wheels on rubble made you stand up simultaneously, hand on your weapon in quick succession. "Is that Peacekeepers?" someone said.

Jackson radioed something into base before putting her walkie talkie away and ordering, "Stand down, everyone. It's friendly."

You snorted. Friendly was a nice choice of words. But it made you wonder who could possibly be there that hadn't already shown up. Johanna, maybe, you thought. Then the door opened and the person that walked out wasn't Johanna at all.

Peeta.

Katniss drew an arrow from her quiver automatically, making you press a hand to her shoulder. She held the bow down but kept the arrow; you think that if you hadn't stopped her, she would've shot that arrow instantly—and you didn't know if you could blame her.

That Golden Boy that walked into the Quell never came out, nor did Panem's troublemaker from 7 or the Princess. You were changed. And you were fucked up, you knew that—you didn't need a therapist to tell you that. But you were broken before; Peeta wasn't.

You could still hear his screams when you closed your eyes, entangling with the beat of the music. You danced to those screams in the Capitol for weeks on end.

And then they hijacked him. President Snow was the Devil, and he collected Peeta's soul like it was pocket change, turning him against the love of his life.

You saw what he did to her. She never talked to you about it, but the rings around her neck and red in her eyes were impossible to miss when you came back.

So, no, you didn't know if you could blame Katniss for wanting to shoot him, but none of you could let her do that. Because, if she shot hijacked Peeta, she'd be shooting the Peeta with a heart of gold, too.

He walked towards you slowly, soldiers behind and around him as you all stood with baited breath. He mumbled something to himself quietly that you couldn't make out, eyes trained on the ground as if wishing it'd swallow him whole.

He walked until he got too close and Katniss pulled back her bowstring. You widened your eyes, whispering, "Katniss-"

"Okay, stop," Gale warned, holding up one hand like he wanted to keep the peace but the other was on his gun, finger on the trigger. How convenient would it be if he finally got a reason to shoot the only other competitor he had? It nearly made you scoff.

"Hold up, everyone relax." You froze at the voice, seeing Finnick walk forward with his arm held out to the rest of you, like he was holding you off. You couldn't spot even the slightest hint of hesitation in his actions.

He continued to walk towards him, even as Boggs ordered Jackson to cuff him. Only then did Katniss lower her bow. You gave her a cautionary glance but didn't say anything more, following her back inside. She kept quiet about you and Finn; the least you could do was offer her the same luxury.

Back in the restaurant, Boggs explained that they wanted to add Peeta to the propo, show Panem that he was on your side now.

But he wasn't.

You knew that. Katniss knew that. And President Coin certainly knew that, too.

A message to The Mockingjay.

"He's not in control of himself," Gale said, a blank look on his face.

"I say we schedule an around-the-clock watch on him," Jackson proposed, as if Peeta wasn't ten feet away, in perfect earshot of the conversation. "The Leegs 'til 1700, Homes and Mitchell 'til 1900."

Katniss startled you by her quick intrusion. "Give me a watch."

Clearly, the others weren't expecting that either, judging by Jackson's head tilt or the brief flash of emotion in Boggs' impassive demeanour. "And if it really came down to it, you think you could shoot him?"

"I wouldn't be shooting Peeta," she replied, her voice cold as ice. "'Be killing a Capitol mutt."

She didn't mean that. She really didn't. You could still remember how hysterical she was when she thought Peeta died in The Games. She loved him. But he didn't know that.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peeta's eyes fall to the ground. "I'm not sure that kind of comment recommends you for the job either, soldier."

Boggs cut in, "Put her in the rotation." Jackson looked up at him, then he walked away. There, said and done. Katniss wouldn't have been Katniss if she hadn't followed him outside, but you didn't tag along for the questioning.

You stayed inside, walking away from where you sat with Gale to another area in the building. His thoughts were loud, too loud for your own. Peeta was here now, and that changed a lot for him. It changed a lot for Katniss, too, and you.

Because, now, you were stuck here.

There was no way you'd be leaving now.

You were on your own in a secluded part of the restaurant, thoughts filling your head the way water filled district 4 one summer in your childhood, an unstoppable flood. That flood didn't leave any part of the district unaffected, and now you could feel this flood taking hold of your brain—and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"C'mon, Y/N. We all know this is a sham. I mean, I've never even seen you speak to Finnick Odair, and now you're dating?"

You rolled your eyes at the Capitol's 'Favourite Son,' your disinterest doing nothing to deter him. Augustus Braun was nothing if not persistent, especially when it involved you. He won the year before you and thus made it his mission to pursue you ever since, so when revealed that you were dating Finnick, it clearly caused a stir.

You tried to brush him off. "I don't know what you want me to say, Augustus. I didn't see it coming either; it just happened."

"It just happened?" he echoed.

"Yeah. I mean, you can't control love." The words sounded so faux coming out of your mouth, even to you. It was times like these when you wished Finnick was here; he was a much better actor.

"That is so bull-"

Another voice interrupted. "Augustus." You both turned to see Cashmere, one of his mentors, walking toward you, a feline smile on her face. "Leave the lady alone. You know we only fight when The Games are going on."

When The Games are going on, she said. You could be friends all year round, but as soon Reaping Day hit, that camraderie ceased to exist. Regardless, you were never close with victors from 1 and 2. You couldn't really trust anyone that would volunteer for those games just to bring glory to their name.

You had that glory.

And you would do anyhing to give it back.

"Aw, Cash, I was just talking our princess here," he nudged your shoulder, "about her make-believe relationship." You wanted to punch him.

She laughed. "Oh, but the Princess wouldn't dare lie, Aug. She's too good for that." Some would call the look in her eyes a star's twinkle. You called it a malicious glint hiding in plain-sight. She turned to you. "It's the truth, isn't it, Y/N/N?"

You plastered on a fake smile that looked more annoyed than anything. "Of course, it is. What could I possibly gain from lying?" There it is.

The glint in Cashmere's eyes disappeared. She looked to Braun, but he didn't share her glance. He didn't look any different, but you knew that she got it. Because she knew what you could gain from lying.

All the same things she could gain, too.

So you watched as she put on a smile and defended you. "I believe her." Augustus' groan was loud, but it was inaudible to you as you silently thanked her with your eyes. "Now tell us how you and your prince met."

"Could I get a penny for your thoughts?" A voice broke you out of your trance, a voice you recognized all too soon.

Finnick.

Here he was, trying to talk to you, as if he didn't just let Annie walk away. As if he didn't tell you he loved you. As if he didn't just upend your entire world.

You didn't want to speak to him. You thought you made that clear already, and you did, but he was ignoring that. He wanted to talk to you, so he was gonna talk to you, regardless of your feelings.

You didn't look at him as he walked up to stand next to you, continuing to stare out the window. The destruction outside matched your mental state, grey and ruined, but it was still the Capitol, the same way you were still the Princess.

And he was still the Prince.

The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "Do you remember how we said we met?"

You were met with silence, not because he didn't remember but because he did. After a beat, he responded, "I do." You felt his gaze burn into the side of your head.

A humourless chuckle left you, false memories lighting up behind your eyelids as you blinked. Of course, he remembered. He had it memorized just as well as you did—he was the one who came up with the story.

You might've been the storyteller, but Finnick was a better liar than you could ever dream of being. He lied so well for years. So when he goes and tells you something like he loves you, that's all you can remember.

That he was a liar.

"We said that we met in the Capitol," you recalled. You had a reminiscent smile, but your eyes that were trained ahead of you betrayed the façade; you were bitter. "I wasn't watching where I was going; I was nearly hit by a bus, but you pulled me back last minute, saved me." Another laugh. "I was oh so grateful. You told me that you already knew me, that you'd seen me around before and you'd been working up the courage to come speak to me." You shook your head. "And then there: screen fades to black, and the rest was history, right? Love at first sight—God, they loved that, didn't they?"

"Y/N-"

"But it wasn't love at first sight," you cut him off. "It wasn't really love at all."

Finnick went to put his hand on your shoulder but you jolted away, finally turning to look at him. For a moment, it was like looking into a mirror: his eyes were sad, too.

But why? This was his story. Were his own lies getting the best of him?

Yes. They were.

With that realization, your eyes hardened. "We didn't meet that way. We were not in love—there was no love story. This is not a love story, Finnick," you emphasized, stressing every syllable of every word, your voice nearly cracking on his name. You averted your eyes, composing yourself and taking a step back. "So I don't want to speak to you for the rest of the time we're here."

"What? Y/N, I just-"

"Please respect that." Whether he was gonna abide by your wishes or not, you didn't want be stick around to find out.

So you walked away, leaving him there just like every other time it was just the two of you. It was funny, almost—it was always just the two of you, but now you couldn't handle it to be alone with him.

Perhaps that was because you knew you were right. This wasn't a love story.

It was a tragedy.

And this tragedy wouldn't have a happy ending.

You wondered what it was like to live in the Capitol, to be born into a life where food and shelter was always guaranteed, a life where you could raise children knowing that they wouldn't be taken from you by a slaughter that rich people would call a game.

A normal life.

Those kids went to school and made friends, they fell in love because they wanted to, not for survival.

You wondered where those kids were now, as their home was turned into a warzone. What were they thinking? Were you the bad guys in their mind? Did they even understand what you were fighting for?

You heard Snow had a granddaughter. You wondered about her, about how she must've felt. And then that caused you to wonder... was evil an inherent trait? Was it like a disease that somebody had to be born with, or was it something that bred over time?

Suddenly, the sound of somebody sitting across from you at the table cut off your train of thought. When you looked up and saw Panem's Golden Boy, you found your answer.

Maybe evil wasn't an inherent trait, but good had to be. Because Peeta Mellark had the most pure heart you'd ever seen, so pure that Snow had to work twice as hard just to taint it, that his love for Katniss was so strong that it persisted—even if he didn't realize it yet.

Good had to be natural.

You had to believe that.

You greeted him softly, but not too soft. "Peeta."

He took a minute before responding, seeming to take in your appearance. "Y/N." Pause. "You look different."

That nearly wrestled a laugh out of you. "So do you," you replied, followed by a quirk of your brow. "But that's not why you're here to talk to me, is it?"

It wasn't.

You had a feeling he'd be coming soon. It was only a matter of time since he arrived. When you got out, the first thing you wanted was to talk to him, too. The only thing that stopped you was the white, locked room that kept him detained.

His room and yours were right next to each other in the Capitol.

That changed things.

You didn't expect him to speak so soon—you certainly couldn't find the words—but before you knew it, he was asking, "How do you do it?" He didn't need to explain further.

How you do this. That's what he was asking.

Peeta had trouble with eye contact since he arrived, but right now, he was looking you right in the eye, awaiting an answer you weren't sure you had—pleading for it. How did you do it? Were you doing it at all?

You wanted to give him the perfect answer, the same answer you were still seeking, but that wouldn't be fair. You didn't want to lie to him.

You were sick of lying.

"Honestly?" you questioned. "I don't know if I even know what I'm doing. Haymitch, uh, he told me I was still standing because I had to fight for the people that couldn't, show that them that they could." You paused, pondering over it. "And that's true. But there's more to it than that. It's not just about them anymore. It's about me, about us. I want-" you intook a deep breath, looking down momentarily. When you looked back up, it was with a new resolution shining in your eyes. "I want to show Snow that he didn't knock me down. And I want to make sure that no other pawn gets knocked down by a king and his crooked version of a game."

You didn't know if that was the answer he was looking for. You didn't know if that would help him—you didn't know if anything would.

But then you saw a look in his eyes, a new light that hadn't been there before, dim but present. It was accompanied by fear, but you could see it. A light shining through all the darkness.

His voice was quiet. "Do you think we'll ever be free?"

You knew he wasn't talking about the war or the Capitol. He wasn't talking about Snow's hold on all of you. He was talking about the shackles of your own minds.

That took you back to the other blond boy you were accustomed to, his words reverberating through your head. We will never be free, Y/N.

Not long ago, you believed that wholeheartedly. The thought crushed you. You had accepted it as reality, that you were trapped and had nowhere to go, that this was your forever.

But maybe it wasn't.

"Yeah," you replied. "I think so."

You couldn't sleep that night. It would've been better if you had a shift taking watch—that way, you would've at least felt useful, but you didn't.

You weren't sure if it was a matter of if you couldn't sleep or wouldn't. Every time you tried to close your eyes, you were brought back to places you didn't wanna be, saw things you didn't wanna see.

That's why you were lying on your side, facing the wall instead of the ceiling. It was harder to sleep that way. And it also meant you didn't have to look at Finnick Odair.

You told him you didn't want to speak to him. Meanwhile, you loved him an unimaginable amount, so much so that he consumed your thoughts, even as you were in the middle of a war, hiding out in an abandoned restaurant as the enemy wanted your heads on a platter.

The enemy.

You thought of Coin then, how she sent Peeta here knowing it'd cause chaos, knowing it'd just bring both of the lovers grief.

Wolves liked to masquerade as sheep.

Maybe the enemy was closer than you thought.

In your own thoughts, you didn't even notice the stirring of limbs until a raspy and hushed voice sounded. "Katniss?"

Your immediate reaction was to stiffen, but you quickly stopped yourself from doing anything to give up the fact that you were awake. Because that was Finnick's voice.

He sounded just like that whenever he woke up.

You didn't see the brunette, but you already knew she wasn't sleeping either—though, chances were, she wasn't hiding it. "Yeah?" she muttered.

There was a beat of silence. You wished you could lift your head to see what was going on. It wasn't like Finnick not cut to the chase. Then again, you supposed it also wasn't like him to give spontaneous admissions of love.

Eventually, he got to it. "Do you and Y/N have a plan?" It almost sounded like his voice was filled with genuine curiosity.

Now it was her turn to respond. The turning of her gears was nearly audible to you. She couldn't tell him the truth, that you were really here to kill Snow and not to shoot propos. "Yeah, it's this plan."

There was no pause this time. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Well, it's what I'm talking about," she bit back.

You knew she had more questions than this. You knew she was wondering why he was asking her and not you, wondering whatever it was that happened between you earlier or even back in 13.

She had questions.

But out of respect, she would never ask them.

"I'm worried about her." Oh.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. It seemed that Finnick continued to surprise you with every encounter, even though this wasn't an encounter with you at all. His voice got quieter, but he still spoke with purpose, the same purpose you watched from a video out of a box where he exposed Snow for the monster that he is.

He always did have a way with words.

You just weren't used to hearing those words about you. Not without a camera shoved in his face or eyes glued to your forms.

"Y/N?" she asked, even though she knew who it was. "Don't be. She's the strongest person I've ever met." Oh.

Katniss defended you without a second thought, and for some reason, that was surprising. It shouldn't have been, but it was. You weren't used to friends or people to coming to your defense. Johanna was one of your closest friends, but you weren't with her enough to ever get used to it. Katniss, on the other hand, was someone you felt like you'd known your whole life.

Maybe because you had.

"I know that," he responded, almost offended she'd think he didn't. "Her strength is incredible- enviable, even." Pause. "But I still worry about her." Another pause. "If anything happened to her, I- I don't know what I'd do."

Your breath hitched.

I said I love you.

Katniss must've been thinking of what to respond but Finnick barely gave her a chance. "Just- look out for her for me, okay- and I'll do the same for you." There was another pause, and then a shuffle, and then silence. "I have your guy. And you have mine."

It was a wonder you didn't make a sound.

A few seconds passed by, then she agreed. "Deal."

And when you got up a couple hours later after no sleep, you pretended the conversation never happened.

The team was walking around looking for a good spot to film when your first pod was found.

"Split. Take cover," Boggs ordered. You did as he said, retreating to the right pillar with Katniss, Gale, and Cressida as he threw a random rock into the walkway. Immediately, shots went off, loud and repeated.

You ducked your head into your knees, covering your ear with one hand while clutching onto your bow tightly. They're not people; they're just guns wired to go off, you reassured yourself. Somehow the thought of real people was scarier.

And that thought was scary in and of itself.

The guns went off until they knocked down a structure ahead of you yet you were still wary, even when Boggs gave the okay. "All clear. Gale, Homes, with me. Leegs, take the wings."

You slowly stood up, now holding onto the arrow with both hands just so your hands wouldn't shake. Katniss shot you a look, not needing to speak. You okay?

You nodded, sending her one of the same nature. What about you?

She nodded back. And even though neither of you were entirely convinced, you both still dropped it.

When you turned to your left, you saw Peeta still on the ground, empty rifle in hand, hitting his head against the butt and mumbling to himself under his breath. He sounded like a madman. That's when you turned to Katniss again.

For a second, she almost looked like she was gonna go over there.

And then a bomb went off.

You jumped, nearly losing your grip on your weapon. Katniss went running despite Jackson's call of her name. You wanted to follow her but it was like you her cemented to your spot. Your eyes were stuck on the floor, ears ringing.

Please, please- no- no!

You harshly shook your head as if it'd shake the thoughts out of your head, and then you booked it in the same direction, ignoring Jackson's protest.

Turned out that you'd only spent a few seconds losing it. You crouched down next to Katniss while Gale went straight to look at his legs. You didn't look get a good look at them—you tried not to—but you didn't think they were even there anymore.

"It's okay," Katniss muttered, even though she knew it wasn't the truth.

He's gonna die, you realized.

Boggs realized this, too. "The Holo," he croaked. "The Holo."

You widened your eyes, going to grab it while Katniss held his hand. He pressed some buttons and used all of his strength to tilt himself upward, panting, "Unfit for command. Transfer- primary security clearance-" He looked to you, eyes wild yet resolved. "Say your name."

If you thought your eyes couldn't get any wider, you were wrong. But you didn't have time to question this decision or get him to explain his choice, so you spoke without realizing what was happening. "Y/N Y/L/N." Your breathing got faster. "What did you just do?"

He didn't answer you, just looked at you with the strongest stare a dying man could muster. "Y/N, don't trust them-" his eyes darted to Katniss, "n-neither of you. Kill Peeta if you have to. Do what you have to do." He stopped talking then, but his eyes were still open.

"Boggs?" No response.

You tried. "Boggs?" No response, either.

He was dead.

Katniss gently set his head down. You just stared at him, taking shallow breaths.

He was dead.

Homes was still trying to triage his wounds—he didn't even realize it until Gale said the words out loud. "He's gone." It was almost compulsive of him to repeat it. "He's gone."

There was a collective moment of silence. Boggs was willing to put his life on the line for this revolution, and he did it. Now he was dead.

Weren't you all just dead people walking? Soldiers, just waiting to fall into your own carefully curated traps. And perhaps that was exactly why you were so okay with it.

A part of you knew you were already dead.

In the silence, groaning suddenly became audible to you. With a slight turn, you saw it was one of the Leegs. The blast hit her, too. When the other Leeg saw, she immediately got up and went to tend to her sister, but on her way, she stepped on a tile that sunk down on her weight. Her eyes went wide, but it was too late.

Immediately, large gates that you didn't even know were there started to close in on the areas between buildings, effectively encasing you in the courtyard. In the blink of an eye, oily black tar was flooding down, billowing between the buildings.

Someone screamed. "Go, go, go!"

You took off running, the others not far behind you. Gamemakers were creative. You didn't know what that was, but you knew that if it didn't obliterate you first, it'd drown you.

You were running to higher ground, Katniss right next to you when you saw her being yanked away out of your periphery. You spun around to see her on the ground, just barely rolling out of the way as Peeta slammed his rifle down on the ground in a flurry of rage.

"Finnick!" she yelled, but someone else got there first, tackling Peeta to the ground before he could try hitting her again. You were there right after, pulling her off the ground and then holding her back from running into the sludge when Peeta pushed Mitchell in.

A net shot out of the ground with his body in it. Finnick came rushing before Peeta could come back to finish his task, holding him back.

"Come on, come on, Katniss, we gotta go!" You pulled her out of the way before the tar came crashing into you, running for the closest building.

Homes shot down the door. "Everybody, inside! Go! Upstairs! Go! Hurry up!"

You all went running up either flight of stairs, stopping in the middle just to see that the lower and upper half had been disconnected. You were stuck. And tar was filling downstairs at a speedy rate.

"Shit," you cursed.

You ran a stressed hand through your hair. On your right, one of the Leegs was moaning in pain, and on your left, Finnick was trying to calm Peeta down, holding him tightly. You looked away when he ended up pressing a needle into his neck, swallowing.

Now's not the time for memories, Y/N.

The tar continued to fill the building, making a bubbly sound that made you feel nauseous. "It's slowing down," Cressida noted.

And she was right. It stopped just before hitting your landing, rippling at the stairs. You let out a sigh.

"Gamemakers are still putting on quite a show," she remarked.

"That they are," you mumbled—though, you were unsure it was loud enough for her to hear you.

Meanwhile, Jackson radioed in. "451 to base. Over."

"Hey, we better move," Homes cut in. "If Peacekeepers didn't know where we were, they do now. Those surveillance cameras caught us."

She just radioed again while you looked down at the Holo in your hand. "451 to base. Come in."

It was Gale speaking up now. "This is a bad spot. We need to move now."

"451 to base. Over." Jackson got frustrated, flipping her radio shut. "I can't get a signal," she said. "But I can get us back to base. Y/L/N, give me the Holo."

For a second, you didn't even know she was talking to you. Whether it be the shock or just the fact that she had barely spoken to you this entire time, it didn't register. When it did, you met her eyes looking at you expectantly. "Y/L/N, what did I just say? The Holo. Come on, let's go."

Boggs' words resounded in your head as all eyes turned to you. Don't trust them.

Your grip on the Holo got tighter. You didn't break eye contact as you told her, "Boggs gave it to me."

Jackson paused her movements, stopping to give you her full attention. "What are you talking about?"

Katniss backed you up, stepping forward and closer to you at the same time. "He did. He transferred Y/L/N his security clearance. Homes, Gale, and I saw it."

Jackson's gaze was unwavering, her voice colder. "And why would he do that?"

You were a great liar. When you were younger, you wanted to be a storyteller, so it made sense when you grew up to spin lies like clockwork. A liar, an actor, a victor, a dancer. You came up with a lie quickly. "I'm on special orders from Coin."

You maintained her stare as she questioned, "To do what?"

"To assassinate President Snow for all of Panem to see."

It wasn't too far-fetched of a lie, but you had a feeling that no matter what lie you gave, Jackson wouldn't have believed it anyway.

"I don't believe that for one second," she deadpanned. "As your new unit commander, I order you to transfer security clearance to me. Now."

Allies could only last so long before survival and power came into play, and you were in the Capitol. Power was the only thing that was important here. But this wasn't about power.

This was about the people.

You weren't gonna let anything or anyone get in your way.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The 76th Hunger Games.

You kept your voice soft as you asserted, "I apologize, Lieutenant Jackson, but I cannot and will not do that."

Jackson stared at you for a second, almost like she was challenging you to redact your statement. When you didn't, she reached for her side. Guns were immediately drawn before she even pulled hers.

You were staring down a barrel as Katniss, Finnick, and Gale had their weapons pointed at her. One of the Leegs had a gun pointed their way, too, while everyone else just stayed still, glancing between you.

It almost surprised you when Finnick was the first to speak, and you didn't know why. "Woah, now," he warned. You could hear the smirk on his face in his words, so similar to that dangerous boy in The Games who laughed at any obstacle. "Let's not be too hasty."

Jackson ignored him, doubling down. "I'm not asking you again, Y/L/N." Her glare was menacing. "Give me that Holo."

She may have shot you then and there when she saw you weren't gonna cooperate, but before you could find out, Cressida was stepping in front of you. "She's telling the truth." What?

She continued, "Plutarch wants it televised. He thinks if we could film the Princess assassinating Snow, it'll make the Capitol surrender before the casualties get too high."

"Look, while we're in here pointlessly arguing, there's 100 Peacekeepers on their way here right now to confirm that we're dead." Finnick's voice was rugged as he cut in, impatient. But only you could detect the undertone of worry.

Jackson seemed swayed but not swayed enough. Her grip on her gun didn't falter. You had to say something before there was a bullet in your skull and this was all for nothing. This couldn't all be for nothing.

"Boggs wanted this," you pressed. "And he wanted to help me."

You saw the waver in her eyes despite the gun still raised for your head, and you knew you got to her. You maintained her stare, silently pleading that she'd put it down. Eventually, she did.

You let out a short breath you didn't know you were holding. Jackson looked down, and then she nodded. "Alright, soldier." She looked back up at you. "Holo's yours."

You nodded back to her in thanks. The tension in the air didn't fully dissipate, but the guns had all now been lowered. Gale went for the stairs, cautiously stepping down on the first step to see nothing happen. In the time you were arguing, it appeared that the sludge had dried.

He turned back to the rest of you. "I don't think we're gonna leave any footprints. We should move now. And those cameras outside should be covered up the oil."

From next to the Leeg in the corner, Castor interjected, "She can't move forward like this. Her leg is too bad. We have to evacuate her." She hissed and whimpered as he spoke. Then he realized what words lingered in the air, the conclusion you all had reached but didn't want to voice.

You had to leave her here.

At the realization, an apology was tumbling out of his mouth, but the girl's sister cut him off. "I'll stay with her."

Jackson reassured her, "As soon as we make contact, we will send somebody back. I promise you." Katniss' stare was so intense you could almost feel her thoughts.

If we make contact.

"Alright, everybody move out. Let's go!"

Any guilt you had for leaving the Leegs there had to be diminished; you had to focus. You and Katniss moved out side by side. In the background, you heard Finnick asking Peeta if he could walk.

Gale was right; the cameras outside were completely shielded by the tar. It had dried up everywhere like frozen ice—your own little winter wonderland. Except, in this wonderland, you had nightlock instead of potions that made you grew taller, guns instead of playing cards, and the mad hatter was a ruthless dictator trying to kill you all.

What odd music you had in wonderland.

But you danced anyway.

The net with Mitchell's body hung over you like a cloud, but none of you had time to pause and pay your respects. Gale and Jackson led the flock. You got far enough away from the building you were in to another in the same vicinity.

He shattered the glass with the butt off his crossbow. He and Jackson went running in first, checking the place to see if it was empty. Your immediate task was closing the curtains, but once you turned around you were stunned by the house's sheer beauty.

It wasn't a family home—you could tell, but it was so big for one person. Holographic walls, a decor mirror, a lavish velvet couch and matching armchairs surrounding a block television protruding out of the ceiling.

Not even your house in Victor's Village had been so luxurious. Even the curtains looked like they cost a year's salary from back home.

"Wow," a voice drawled. "Well, didn't we get lucky?"

Finnick's sarcasm was so familiar you went to roll your eyes, but the sound of tires on the ground cut you off in motion. Your guard flew back up as you discreetly peeked out the window.

Peacekeepers. Dozens of them. Big cars, too. All of them armed, and all of them going for the building you were just in.

You didn't have time to make the connection. They just started firing.

Oh, God.

Finnick's voice was now devoid of anything unserious. "It's the Leegs."

Oh, God.

Those shots might've been enough to kill them. But if they weren't, then the missile they launched certainly was.

The building came tumbling down, falling to pieces as you all simultaneously fell, too, crouching down. You felt your heartbeat strong, rattling against your ribcage, hearing it beat in your ears, mingling with the beat of the music.

As soon as we make contact, we will send somebody back.

That was a lie.

They were dead.

You weren't even sitting with information for a minute before a beep sounded, followed by the fanfare. Slowly, your head lifted.

MANDATORY VIEWING. ATTENTION ALL PANEM RESIDENTS, the screen read. Soon, the blue sreen faded into Caesar Flickerman, and you were clenching your jaw, white hot anger running through your veins and electrifying every part of your body.

"You've got to be fu-"

"Good afternoon, I'm Caesar Flickerman," he cut Finnick off, resulting in a scoff. You could imagine him rolling his eyes, too. "Here with our continuing coverage of the defense of the Capitol." Now you rolled your eyes.

Every single word Caesar spoke was complete and utter propaganda bullshit. You wished now that you would've decked him when you had the chance, given him the finger and told him to go poke and prod in someone else's life.

He was nothing more than a mutt at Snow's disposal.

"Today, as our Peacekeepers valiantly hold off the rebels, our story... takes a surprising twist."

Following his statement, footage of all of you played from when you were running away from the oil. "Y/N Y/L/N, the girl we once deemed our Princess, and Katniss Everdeen, our once favourite daughter, have now infiltrated the city with some of the victors, whose names are all too familiar." You rolled your eyes again at Caesar's deliberate pacing and dramatic word choice.

This was the man who once nearly praised you on a daily basis. He's the one that made that God awful nickname stick. Yet here he was now, turning his back on a group of people he once claimed to cherish.

Had you become too human for his liking?

"Finnick Odair and Peeta Mellark." He emphasized Peeta's name with careful precision, just as he came on screen, pushing Katniss to the side and trying to bludgeon her to death. You intook a sharp breath, glancing to Katniss first; she was already looking at Peeta. Her eyes were now more betrayed, like seeing it on TV was different, and his eyes were still glued to the screen, like he couldn't even believe he did it.

"Hm. Clearly, some alliances don't last forever."

Katniss' eyes slowly flickered away, and without really thinking about it, you grabbed onto her hand, squeezing it tightly just to show her you were there. She surprised you by squeezing back with the same force.

Caesar's voice suddenly got more smug. "Take a look at what happened just a moment ago, when our Peacekeepers cornered the former Princess and her band of foolish rebels. Whatever arrogance brought this treacherous girl back to us, you are about to witness a great victory, not only for the Capitol, but for Panem."

Video of the destruction from across the street played onscreen. You watched yourselves supposedly go up in flames.

Supposedly, you were dead.

"So there you have it. Y/N Y/L/N, Panem's Princess, a girl who inspired so much violence, seems to have met a violent end herself." A light chuckle escaped you against your will. You were dead? "Stay tuned for more information. Caesar Flickerman. Thank you."

Caesar ended with a smile that was so creepy it was comical. You felt like laughing again, but decided that propbably wasn't appropriate. Jackson didn't like you very much as it was, likely because of the title Caesar so eloquently gave you.

Royalty. You didn't feel so royal lying in sheets with men old enough to father you, men that were fathers.

Somehow, you didn't feel so royal lying on a cold metal slab, either

"So now that we're dead, what are we gonna do?" Gale questioned.

Peeta spoke up. "Isn't it obvious?" All eyes turned to him. No one had expected him to speak—it was his first attempt since nearly killing Katniss and actually killing Mitchell. "The next move is to kill me."

Katniss took a step forward, but you don't think it was concious. You don't think anything about what she felt toward that boy was conscious.

His voice was wrought with guilt. "I murdered one of our squad members." He paused as if trying to come to terms with it. It was the first time any of you had even acknowledged it. "Katniss is right. I'm a mutt. And it's only a matter of time before I snap again." They made eye contact for a second until he broke it, looking away. "I'm not in control. I need a nightlock pill, so I can die when I need to."

Gale's interruption was sharp and honest. "If it gets to that point, I'll kill you myself." You got the feeling he'd do it regardless.

His admission sliced through the room. He got up moments after, walking to somewhere else in the large townhouse. It was really so big that you didn't understand how it could still be called a townhouse. Kids back home would call this mansion.

You didn't let Gale get lost in it, though, standing up and following him to the kitchen. He entered the pantry; you were right behind him, closing the door.

You narrowed your eyes. His face was impassive but you could see the slighest bit of surprise in his eyes. That just pissed you off even more.

From the moment you met Gale Hawthorne, something didn't feel right. It wasn't that he was a bad man, just that you knew he'd be willing to do bad things for a chance of the right outcome. And you could understand that—you understood him most of the time, but that was out of line.

So you told him that. "You didn't need to say that to Peeta. Not like that."

He scoffed. "I said what needed to be said. No one else would-"

"You twisted the knife, Gale!" you loudly whispered, eyes now narrowing into slits. "It's called compassion—try it."

"You heard him, Y/N—he's a mutt," he argued, not bothering to match your low volume and throwing his arm out, nearly knocking over a box of cereal in the process. "What kind of compassion does he deserve?"

At that, you took a step closer to him. "You have no idea what it's like." You pointed your finger in his face, consumed by anger. Anger for Peeta, for that boy you saw on TV with Finnick who was willing to kill himself for The Girl on Fire. For the boy who was nervous to meet you. For the boy whose screams you heard for nights on end. A fire burned in your eyes, a fuse now lit that couldn't be contained. "It was hell here. Peeta, Johanna, and I went through hell. You can't expect him to be all fine and dandy after that. And I know how you feel about Katniss, I do. I care about her, too, Gale—she's my person, and so as her person, I am telling you that knocking out the competition won't score you any points with her. Let her come to the decision herself." You went to turn but then added, "And leave Peeta alone."

You didn't want to see the guilt painted all over his face after that, opening the door and leaving him in the pantry by himself.

You weren't excusing what Peeta did, but you knew that he needed time. He needed the time to find himself again. He wasn't the same person. And neither you were you.

You may not have known it, but you needed to find yourself again, too.

The lot of you sat in the living room of the house for some time, waiting it out until it was safe to move. Until then, you ate marshmallows and other little treats stashed in this person's home.

You eat like this, you'll believe anything, Gale had said, and you thought he was right. If you lived like this, grew up like this and were born into this life of opportunity and opulence, then you were sure that you'd believe almost anything, too.

But genocide? you wondered. Perhaps the sun shines brighter here.

Perhaps it blinded them.

Suddenly, the fanfare started, making you all look up to the TV to see the Capitol logo fade into faces—your faces. A showcase of your deaths, like you were fallen tributes.

Finnick's face came onscreen. You heard his snicker from somewhere in the room. Then came you. You shook your head at the ridiculousness of it all.

Didn't they know? You were still dancing.

You'd be dancing until your song ended with Snow's dying breath.

After Peeta and Katniss' pictures played, the montage transitioned into Snow's face. An involuntary shiver overtook your body.

You heard his voice before he even started speaking.

Oh, sweet girl. I will make you wish that you died in that arena.

"So, Y/N Y/L/N, a girl we gave the world, a disgrace to our nation, is now dead. And Katniss Everdeen, a poor unstable girl with nothing but a small talent with a bow and arrow, joins her in the ground." He sounded pleased of himself. "Neither of them thinkers, nor leaders. Simply faces, plucked from the masses—a silly girl with a crown and a deranged one with a song."

You scoffed at the smugness in his tone. A silly girl with a crown. It was funny that you weren't laughing.

"Were they valuable? They were extremely valuable to your... rebellion. Because you have no vision, no true leader among you," he lectured. "You call yourself an alliance. But we saw what that means. Your soldiers are at each other's throats-"

Snow was cut off from his rant by random glitching. Not random, you realized. Your lips curved upward just the smallest bit. Beetee.

Alma's face graced the screen, replacing Snow. "Good evening," she greeted. "For those of you who don't know me, please allow me to introduce myself. I am President Alma Coin, leader of the rebellion. I have interrupted a broadcast from your president in which he attempted to defame two incredibly brave young women." She paused, collecting herself. "'Faces, picked from masses,' he called them. As if any leader, a true leader, could be anything else."

The emotion and conviction in her voice nearly made you believe she actually liked you. "I had the privilege of knowing a small-town girl from the Seam in district 12, and a girl from the water in district 4, both of whom survived the Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell—and rose up and turned a nation of slaves into an army." Her voice raised at the end; she sounded like she might cry. "Dead or alive, Y/N Y/L/N and Katniss Everdeen will remain the faces of this revolution. They will not have died for nothing."

From the seat beside you, Katniss muttered under her breath, "I had no idea I meant so much to her."

You huffed a barely-there chuckle. "Me neither."

Coin continued, "Their vision and ours will be realized. A free Panem, with self-determination for all. And in their memory, we will all find the strength to rid Panem of its oppressors." She took a breath. "Thank you. And be safe."

The screen then faded to pictures of you and Katniss, a whistle playing in the background. It was from The 74th Games—it belonged to a girl named Rue, you think. You could remember watching her hide away from everyone in training, knowing that she wouldn't last.

A 12-year-old girl, sent into the arena to die.

That thought spurred you into drive. You got up. "Snow is in his mansion," you said. "Where is that?" You placed the Holo down on the coffee table, pressing a button and watching it illuminate with the Capitol's hologram.

The others gathered around you. Cressida pointed to spots on the map, informing you, "That's us. That's the City Circle. It's at least, 70- 75 blocks north."

That appeared to catch Finnick's attention. "75 blocks?"

Without thinking about it, you responded, "Nobody knows we're alive. This is our chance." Your eyes met his, and just then did you realize that you were talking to him. You quickly averted your gaze, switching the topic. "These buildings," you pointed, "Do these look over Snow's gardens?"

Cressida was unsure. "I..."

"They do," Castor replied.

"Well, if he goes outside at all, we could get a clear shot." You glanced to Katniss who nodded back to you. It was undecided between the two of you who'd get to deliver the final blow. You wanted to, so badly, but if there was anyone who deserved it just as much, it was her.

When the time came, you'd decide.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves here. Whether they're looking for us or not, we are pinned down," Jackson cut in, subsequently instructing you to hit the middle button to scan for pods.

When the map lit up, you sighed. "That's just about every ten steps."

"Yeah, and that doesn't even show the new ones," Gale reminded you.

Finnick's voice was tired. "So we can't go anywhere in the streets."

"And the rooftops are just as bad," Jackson added.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pollux tap Castor, pointing his finger down. Realization dawned upon his face. "There might be another way."

Tunnels.

Unanimously, it was decided that you'd take Pollux's suggestion. He said he knew the tunnels well, and it was a good way for you guys to go undetected.

So you packed up what little you had, strapping yourself with weapons, and grabbing the Holo. And just as quickly as you all were there, you were gone, slipping into the night.

The tunnels were huge and spacious. It was surprising that you'd never been down there once, that there were still so many parts of the Capitol you hadn't seen. It didn't feel that way after sleeping in so many Capitol beds.

If that could be called sleeping.

You walked with the Holo in hand, navigating your way through. Everything was fine until you heard the sound of a train's engine.

Like lightning, you all ran to the side, hiding behind the wall and out of the train's sight. You exhaled once it passed. You could only pray it didn't catch a glimpse of you.

But prayers couldn't be enough. You turned to Pollux. "We're too exposed here."

He nodded then gestured forward with his hand. You let him take lead, following him to a door. The door opened to another ladder that you went down without further question.

It was darker, and there was half-dried up liquid all over the floor, but one quick check of the Holo told you that this place was clear. For the time being, at least.

Smoke went off in one of the hallways that spooked you, but it was fine once you realized that it was just normal smoke. You could still remember that smoke from the Quell, how it felt as it licked your skin.

But you're fine, Y/N. You're not there anymore.

You willed yourself to believe this was a war, not a game.

You refused to be someone's chess piece any longer.

You eventually came across a little tunnel where Jackson suggested you rest, electing herself to take first watch.

You sat down, glancing at Finnick and looking away before he could notice. Your eyelids got heavier. It'd been nearly two days since you last slept.

You were tired.

No, you were exhausted.

Unknowingly, your eyelids started to droop shut. It wouldn't hurt to get a few hours of shut-eye, you reasoned. You needed to be sharp for what lied ahead of you.

So, within a matter of seconds, you drifted into an abyss of nothingness.

"Y/N, my dear, it is so lovely to see you again."

A smile was etched onto your face, like you were a puppet and the puppeteer that stood before you controlled your every move. The puppeteer made you extend your hand and shake his own. He pulled at your strings and got you to sit at the chair in front of his bureau.

Then he forced your mouth to open, spilling rehearsed pleasantries that you didn't actually mean. "President Snow, it is always a pleasure."

It wasn't. Nothing about meeting Snow in his office was pleasurable to you.

He sat in his red chair that was akin to a throne, higher than you. It was a reminder—a reminder that, even though you had won your Games, and even though you now basked in riches and fame, you were still beneath him. You were still beneath every person in the Capitol you would ever meet, and he sought to make sure you'd never forget it.

"Pleasure," he repeated. "That's an interesting word, isn't it?"

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he was getting at. "I... I suppose so."

He hummed and just took to staring at you. Was his goal to make you squirm under his gaze? You were certain it was, but you didn't. You kept your cool and maintained his stare. Whatever President Snow called you in for, you were determined to show you could handle it.

You wanted him to like you.

And what a mistake that was.

"Y/N, I am sure that, by now, you've been made aware of the... infatuation people have with you," he started, tilting his head like it was a question. It wasn't, but he did expect a response.

"Yes, I've heard chatter."

He tilted his head again, feigning interest. "What kind of chatter, dear?"

You swallowed. What did he want you to say? Somehow, it felt like no matter what your answer was, this was a trap. "I- people liked my performance, they like my personality. They think... they think that I'm-"

He cut you off, "Captivating? Note-worthy? Attractive?" His last adjective elicited another swallow from you. The word sounded slimy coming out of his mouth. "All-encompassing, Y/N, you are desirable."

Trap. This was a trap. Still, you questioned, "Desirable? What does- what does that mean?"

He didn't answer you, going back to his stare from earlier, but this time it spoke to you. You know what it means, his eyes read. But you didn't. You didn't want to.

You were regretting coming here. You wanted to go back home to lie in your bed, curl yourself up in the covers you never had as a child and sleep. You had a doctor now, one you could afford, that prescribed you medication just to sleep; you wanted to use it right about now.

Then Snow made you wish you had just downed the whole bottle when you had the chance.

"I have a deal for you."

A deal with the devil.

And soon enough, you were stuck dancing his dance 'til the end of time.

"Y/N."

You were shaken out of your dream by someone tapping your knee. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jackson crouched down in front of you. "It's your watch," she informed you.

You nodded, masking how thrown off you were by standing up, moving to go sit toward the opening. Your legs felt shaky against the ground, but you willed them to move.

You ended up sitting across from Peeta. Finnick was right next to him, his head lulled forward, eyes closed. Good, you thought, they both deserved the sleep.

Finnick always had trouble sleeping in high-stress situations. He had trouble sleeping regardless, sometimes more than you. You caught him awake more times that you could count, nursing a glass of something strong and staring at nothing instead of trying to sleep.

You should've known this time would be no different.

You were staring at the opening when you heard his voice. "Y/N?"

Instantly, your head snapped toward his. His head was upright now, no longer lulled over, and his eyes weren't closed—they were trained on you. A shaky breath left you, from being either startled or frustrated.

Why can't he ever leave well enough alone?

You opened your mouth to reiterate what you already told him, but he was faster. "I know." He paused, staring at you in that way you hated. His voice was quieter now. "I know. You don't wanna talk to me."

"So then why?" you asked, pleading for him to tell you the truth. "Why do you keep doing it?" Why did he insist on continually hurting you?

You were already in love with him. He already had your heart in the palm of his hand, so why did he feel the need to crush it?

It was already broken.

There was something about Finnick's expression you couldn't decipher, something that almost looked pained, and that pained you, too. For a moment, you almost thought you were spared, that he'd pretend to go back to sleep and you'd pretend to believe it, just like old times.

But when was the universe ever so kind to you?

"I do remember the night we met," he revealed. His eyes were sincere; you wanted to look away, but yours were locked on his. The two of you had never talked about this before. "The- the real night. But that wasn't the first time I saw you." He paused, swallowing. "I saw you win. I saw you back home. I saw you in the Capitol dozens of times, but- that night... I don't know what changed. You always looked beautiful, but that night you looked like an angel, Y/N." Your throat tightened, water welling up in your eyes. And then he went in a different direction. "But you were drinking. You looked... sad. And I- I wondered to myself, how could such a beautiful girl be so sad?"

You had to cut him off. "Finnick-"

"So I went up to you," he continued, ignoring your protest. "I had to. Something pulled me to you like a- like a magnet. And up close, you didn't just look like an angel anymore—I saw a goddess. A goddess whose voice dripped of all things sweet and bitter at the same time." He sounded breathless, his eyes glazed over like he was reliving the memory just as you were. "You enchanted me, Y/N."

You were speechless. You didn't know if you could speak even if you had the words. It was almost certain that, if you spoke, you'd cry.

Not once did he look away. Not once. God, he looked like he meant it. And that just made it hurt all the more.

"That was the night we met," he affirmed. "I remember the pretend, but the pretend isn't what I thought about while you were gone. What I remember best isn't the pretend." His gaze got heavier. "It's everything real that we had."

Real.

This felt real. And the tear that raced down your cheek felt real. The hoarseness in his voice felt real. The weight on your chest felt so real that you almost thought you were suffocating.

Do you want this to be real, Y/N?

Yes, of course, you did. A part of you did.

But did you really?

If this was real, would that make the pain easier to manage?

You didn't get to finish that thought. You didn't get to respond. There was a thud far off, something dropping in the water that caught your attention.

Simultaneously, both yours and Finnick's heads turned to the opening. It was complete and utter darkness—there was nothing there.

Then another drop. That made you brace your bow, your other hand going to wipe your cheek. Your eyes suddenly felt much drier.

Finnick got up before you could, going to the opening. You shot upward right after. "Finnick."

He held back two fingers without turning around. "Hold on. Just let me check it out."

You didn't listen, following him into the cavelike tunnel with the Holo turned on. It began chiming immediately, but the light you shined everywhere didn't pick anything up but dirty walls.

If you listened hard enough, it was almost as if you could hear your own name being whispered and bounced off the walls, drawn out purposefully.

You tilted your head and closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds entirely. Water droplets and Finnick's footsteps could be heard, your own breathing, and then you heard it again.

Y-Y-Y/N.

Your eyes flew wide open. "Do you hear that?"

Finnick turned to you but then a shuffle from back inside the tunnel interrupted whatever he was going to say.

"Katniss."

Both of you turned back to see Peeta waking up, the others not very far behind him.

Jackson, who you couldn't see, questioned, "What is that?

Peeta came to the answer faster than either of you, rushing, "We gotta go. We gotta get outta here now."

"Keep your voice down-"

"Mutts! They released mutts!"

Shit. You quickly re-entered the tunnel. "Pollux, what's the fastest way out?"

Without another word, Pollux was up and leading the way. Gale stood next to him, shooting an incendiary down the path before you went down.

Fire. Clear. It was safe to continue. You walked slowly, Jackson covering the back.

There was another tunnel on your left. Fire. Clear. Nothing.

On your right was a much more narrow tunnel, ending in a very small opening. The rest of you lit up the way while Pollux crawled in. Nobody spoke as he checked the area. It was silent except for your laboured breaths.

Then you couldn't even hear that. Your breath hitched as he went out of your view. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10-

Ten seconds. Ten seconds and then he was back. You exhaled as he came back into sight, signalling that it was clear to come in.

Gale and Katniss went first. Then you, then Finnick, Peeta, and the others. Jackson was the last to come in. She shined her flashlight on the path you came from until she decided it was okay to enter.

As soon as she put her flashlight down, your stomach dropped.

No-

Jackson spun around, revealing dozens of mutts with pale, slimy skin and grizzly teeth. They didn't have eyes, but you saw their claws as they took her to the ground.

You gasped. Katniss immediately drew an arrow and shot at the opening, launching an explosion that sent you both backward into the water.

"Go! Go! Go! It's mutts!"

You took the hand that was outstretched to you without even looking at who it belonged to, and in a flash, you were up and running. Peeta screamed, "Pollux, lead us out of here!"

You ran like hell, but the mutts caught up to you. Briefly, it registered to you that there could've been tens and tens more.

One knocked Castor into the water behind you, leaving Cressida to scream his name. You barely noticed Finnick shooting one at your side as you knelt down, drawing an arrow and shooting, lighting them up like candles.

But Castor was still there. He was screaming.

"Y/N, come on, move!"

Finnick shook you out of your stupor, grabbing you and practically dragging you upward. That removed you from your trance, sending you running.

You were going straight until another horde of mutts came your direction, forcing you to turn to the tunnel on the left. They're coming from all sides.

You stopped as you ran into a larger area, spinning around and firing another explosive arrow into the tunnel you just came through. There was a ladder here—you just had to fend them off long enough to get there.

Katniss and you stayed on the ground, firing arrows left and right, trying to stop them from getting inside. She turned and one jumped down at her, leading you to shoot at it. She shot one coming from behind you; you shot one from the front.

But they were fast. You didn't see one coming until it was coming right at you, too close for you to fire. Your eyes widened as it pushed you against the wall; the only thing stopping it from mauling was your bow cushioned between it and your body.

Reflexively, your free hand went to the sword on your side. You raised it into the air and brought it down right on its neck, simultaneously kicking it away from you. Just as that one was gone, another came running from your right. You stabbed without a second thought.

Another got too close from your left. You hit it over the head with your bow, backing it with enough force to snap its neck.

Too slow, you realized, quickly sheathing your sword and hanging the bow on your back, replacing it with the 9mm strapped to your thigh, promptly shooting the mutt in front of you.

You spun, seeing Katniss trying to fight off a mutt on top of her. You shot it with precise aim, killing it immediately.

Before you could even go to help her up, you were being knocked to the ground, your gun flying out of your hands.

You shuffled backward on the platform using the heels of your hands, eyes wild with the realization that it was right in front of you, but then just as it was about to come down on you, it was impaled from behind, a familiar trident glinting in the light.

A sigh of relief escaped you as Finnick threw the mutt to the ground, swinging at the next one like clockwork. That gave you the second you needed to get your bearings. You unsheathed your sword a second time, running up and covering him, slashing away at mutts on auto-pilot.

Your feet moved with a mind of their own, dancing with relentless determination. Finnick and you stood back to back, killing mutts like it was nothing.

The area was almost empty; just about everyone had gone up the ladder already, everyone but you, Finnick, and Katniss. She was on the ground, a mutt in front of her. You ran to her, sinking your sword into it and tossing it away before pulling her up. "Go, go, go!"

She followed your direction, running for the ladder. You hacked away at another one just as you heard Finnick scream, "Katniss!"

Immediately, you spun around, watching him throw his trident at a mutt trying to pull her down. Shit. He was weaponless.

A mutt crashed into him, and you wasted no time to pull out your second gun, shooting it in its centre. You ran to him, shooting two more on your way, and pulled him up. "Come on! Let's go!"

He rapidly nodded back to you, and you booked it, him running behind you. You made it to the ladder, climbing up like your life depended on it because it did. You were almost there when you heard Finnick scream, a mutt biting into his shoulder, but he stabbed it and pushed it to the ground.

You made it up to the top, looking down to see him up two-thirds of the way when a mutt jumped up and grabbed his shoulder. Your eyes went wide. "FINNICK!"

He lost his grip, and your hand shot down at the speed of light, grabbing his. You surprised yourself at your own strength, pulling him up. Katniss quickly reached down to help you.

You don't know what the sound left you was; it was like a sob. He's okay. He's okay.

But if you were one second later, he wouldn't have been.

Without thinking about, you threw your arms around him. He reciprocated immediately, hugging you just as tight. Another sob left you. He's okay. He's okay.

I love him, and he's okay.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on! Let's go!" That brought you back to your senses, making you let go of him despite every bone in your body that said not to. "Keep moving! Keep moving!"

Katniss shot an arrow down the ladder just to slow down any mutts that'd follow you, and then the three of you were off once more.

You ran into the train station, and immediately, you were met with bullets flying your way. Not mutts this time. Peacekeepers.

Katniss pulled you behind a pole with her, soon realizing there were Peacekeepers attacking from the side, too. She shot an arrow at them, causing them and the escalator they were on to explode.

We have to run. It was either run or stay there to die. You pulled at her sleeve; she got the memo, running with you to the side.

One of the lights flickered before shining even brighter, like a spotlight. You soon realized its purpose when Messalla ran underneath it and was instantly vapourized, becoming nothing more than ashes.

Cressida stopped, her mouth falling open. You had to force yourself to yell at her. "Keep going! Keep going!" She got out of her shock and then started running again.

You didn't have time to stop and mourn over the life lost.

You raced through the station, shooting behind yourself periodically and dodging the light traps as you went.

But that wasn't enough. Not enough to satisfy the sick fantasies of a Gamemaker.

The ground behind you broke, and then it was coming at you like wave of rubble, forcing you to run faster than you ever had.

With all of your might, you jumped onto the platform, breaking your fall with a roll. Panting, you got back up, and you would've kept running had you not heard Cressida scream Peeta's name.

You turned around, seeing Katniss already running toward him. He was knelt forward, hands covering his ears. She crouched down next to him. "Peeta, we have to keep going!"

"I'm a mutt-"

"We have to keep going!"

"I can't keep control!"

"Yes, you can-"

"Leave me, I'm a mutt!"

Katniss kept wrestling against him. "Look at me!" She grabbed his face into her hands. "Look at me." Within a split-second, her lips crashed into his, kissing him like he wasn't breathing and needed CPR.

Anyone watching could feel the love she had for that boy.

You glanced at Finnick to see him already looking at you, then you promptly looked away. This wasn't about you.

When she finally pulled away, she was nearly begging him. "Stay with me." And when you saw the look on his face, you knew that she got to him.

"Always," he whispered.

Katniss nodded, and then she pulled him up and you were running out. It was snowing when you got outside, a thin layer covering the ground.

"I know where we are!" Cressida shouted, turning back to you. "I know a place. Up those stairs!"

You followed her, running up the stairs and passing a portrait of Finnick on the way, the words WANTED written on it in bold. There were likely similar ones all around the city. Your theory was proven correct when you ran past another post, this time with your own face.

Cressida ran forward to some dress shop, banging on the door. It almost looked like it was empty until you saw someone's figure behind the pixelated glass.

A woman opened the door and you all immediately ran inside, Cressida exclaiming, "Shut the door, shut the door!"

Katniss immediately raised her bow at the woman, drawing an arrow until Cressida assured her it was okay. While Finnick and Gale went to secure the perimeter, you stayed and examined the woman, getting a good look at her.

She had a tiger pattern tatted, framing her face and going down all the way to her neck, with whiskers. The orange, furry coat she wore completed her appearance. She looked familiar; you just couldn't pinpoint from where.

Cressida walked up to her. "Tigris, do you remember me? I'm with Plutarch's underground." Tigris just stared at her blankly. "We need your help."

In the background, someone shouted that it was clear. You watched as Tigris' eyes then locked on you. She didn't stare long before she acquiesced, leading you to another part of the shop. The boys met you on your way there.

She lifted a quilt off the ground, revealing a hidden trap door. It opened to a flight of stairs, and then the puzzle pieces suddenly clicked.

"I- I know you," you said. "You were a stylist in the Games."

She paused, removing her hood. "Until Snow decided I wasn't pretty enough anymore." Her hands ended up on her hips.

Pretty enough. That was all shades of ironic to you. How could such an ugly man decide what was beautiful?

Your mouth moved on its own accord. "We're here to kill him."

Tigris was impassive, but if you looked hard enough, you could see the slight curve of her lips.

You went down the stairs. She closed the door once the last of you was down. You were cemented to your spot by the stairs, listening to the sound of Pollux cry. His brother was dead.

The Leegs. Jackson. Castor. Messalla. Even Finnick almost died, and you don't know what you would've done if that happened, if he died due to decisions that you made.

This was your fault. This wasn't a game, but you played it like one. Now everyone that was dead was dead because of you.

Cressida said something about Gale needing stitches, along with Finnick. Slowly, you turned around, swallowing. This is my fault.

The words came tumbling out of your mouth. "I made it up." All eyes went to you. No take-backs now. "Everything." Your voice cracked. "There- there is no special mission from Coin, it's just- it was just my plan." Don't cry, Y/N. Don't cry. You don't deserve to cry. "Everyone that's dead is dead because of me—I lied."

"We know," Cressida said. "We all knew."

Your brows knitted together. They knew? "Wh- the soldiers from 13?"

"They did, too." They knew. "Do you really believe that Jackson thought you had orders from Coin?" Her voice wasn't accusatory, nor was it intended to be hurtful. It was genuine. She looked down. "She trusted Boggs and he clearly wanted you to go on."

But why? Why did Boggs trust you? Why did she lie for you, and why did any of them go with your plan?

"We had your back, Y/N." Your eyes darted to the new voice, meeting Finnick's blue eyes from across the room. His voice was soft, just as soft as it was earlier before the mutts came. "Always have. Always will."

Tears came to your eyes. Don't cry, Y/N. You sniffled. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I-" you cut yourself off. Don't cry, Y/N. You turned to Pollux. "I'm so sorry, Pollux. I'm so sorry."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry-

"Glimmer. Marvel. Mags." You looked to the side, seeing Peeta with his eyes trained on the ground, reciting, "Clove. Wiress. Rue." He looked up at you. "Bay." Your breath hitched. Bay. "What do all those deaths mean?"

You couldn't answer—because you didn't know. That was a question you'd been asking yourself since you were thrown into the arena at 15.

"They mean that our lives were never ours," Peeta said. "There was no real life, because we didn't have any choice. Our lives... belong to Snow, and our deaths do, too."

Finnick's voice echoed in your head, words playing in your head that you had thought about a thousand times before. We will never be free, Y/N.

"But if you kill him—if you end all of this... all those deaths, they mean something."

Your will was broken, a tear falling down your cheek against all your best restraint. Meaning. Every death since you were reaped for The Hunger Games and every death that came before it, they could all have meaning.

"Cinna. Boggs. Castor. Jackson. They chose this."

Katniss spoke up from beside you. "They chose you, Y/N." You turned to her, seeing the silent words that lied in her eyes. She nodded, as if confirming it for you. She was giving it to you.

Snow's death. It was yours.

So it was decided. You would kill President Snow. You would put an end to this, and you would give those deaths meaning.

No matter what, even if it killed you. That didn't matter.

Your death would have meaning, too.

You were dressing Finnick's wound, wincing every time he hissed like you could feel the pain yourself. He didn't deny you when you sat next to him, a first aid kit in your hands.

You stitched him up like it was muscle memory, which it was. Your father taught you. I'm not always gonna be here, Y/N, he said, so there are some things I need to teach you so you can take of yourself. And your mother.

And you did. You took care of yourself and her for six years. Then you took care of yourself out in the wilderness in The Games, going as far as to kill people just to stay alive. When you got out, you continued to care of your mother, even as she refused to look at you. You sold your body and gave up your innocence so she would stay safe; you gave her your home.

Now where was she? She was dead.

But Finnick wasn't. He was still alive. He could've died right before your eyes, but he didn't. You couldn't let him die.

Your mother, she died without the two of you ever reconciling. You refused to let that be the case for you and Finnick. All of the grief and trauma between the two of you, it would be resolved. It had to be. Or, at least, it'd be as resolved as could be possible.

Maybe there was too much too broken to be fixed. Maybe Finnick Odair and Y/N Y/L/N were doomed from the start.

But at least you had this. You had goodbye.

All of a sudden, he spoke up. "The plan was always to pull you out." You stopped what you were doing, your hands freezing in their place. "You were never supposed to be in The Games, Y/N. The Reaping was rigged."

"What?" Shock laced through your voice.

"You were supposed to stay in 4," he told you. "You were supposed to stay home, and then people from 13 would come pick you up." A breathless chuckle left him, one that you were sure hurt his ribs. "You were never supposed to volunteer."

Memories flooded your head.

Why would you do that?

Finn-

Why would you volunteer?

You intook a sharp breath, realization hitting you like a truck. The hiding away at the gala, talking to Plutarch, the way he wasn't surprised when the Quell was announced, the sheer anger he had when you volunteered. And then the insistence that you would be fine, that you were both gonna make it out of that arena.

Except you didn't.

"So that plan changed. Johanna was supposed to cut your tracker, but she didn't get the chance. Then Katniss shot the force field, and I-" his voice cracked, "I wanted to find you, but I couldn't move."

Stop. "Finnick-"

"I was gonna tell you." He turned around, facing you. "After The Games, I was gonna tell you that I loved you. But then they had you and I couldn't. But I do, Y/N." He grabbed onto your cheeks, and you let him. His eyes begged you to believe him. "I love you."

A shaky breath left you, the words reverberating through your head. I love you.

He loved you.

And this time, you believed him.

You rested your forehead against his. "God, I-" say it. "I love you, too."

In a heartbeat, Finnick's lips collided with yours. You didn't even have to think about before you kissed him back, your lips moving together in unison, dancing to the song you'd danced to for years. You realized this was your first time kissing him since the Quell, and you realized just how much you missed this.

Whenever Finnick kissed you, you felt loved, even if you knew he didn't love you.

Except this time, you knew he did.

When you pulled away, you couldn't help the smile that came across your face. When you opened your eyes, you saw that his face was no different.

This. This was what home felt like.

Even if you might not feel it again, it was nice to visit just one last time.

"When, um," you paused, running a hand through his hair. God, I missed this. "When all this is over, we can talk about everything."

His grin got wider when you thought that wasn't possible. "Okay. I can wait—I'd do anything for you." Your smile got a little hollow. I hope you let me die.

You were lying. You knew you wouldn't be here to talk about everything—you'd be dead by then. But you wanted to just have this, this one last moment. You wanted one last moment with Finnick, doing what the two of you did best. Pretending.

So you pretended everything was okay, and you made promises you couldn't keep.

"I love you, Y/N Y/L/N."

You smiled. "I love you, Finnick Odair." You'd love him to the end of time. You loved him to death. Soon, he'd realize that.

Goodbye, Finnick.

I love you.

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additional a/n: ru happy i didn't kill finnick?! it was very tempting, guys, but i had this planned out from the beginning. ALSO, bc i am skeptical that every tag on this taglist works, here is an additional taglist of everyone new that has asked to be on it.

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