#and having to realize and grief the same thing with the relationship with his father all at once at all

[qcomicsy]

Everytime I think about Dick Grayson having to constantly beg after Ethiopia to Bruce act like a father not only for him but all of his siblings I want to open a crater in the ground with by bare nails.

[sabertoothwalrus]

here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.

I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:

- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon

- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they��re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.

- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕

- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.

- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.

- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.

- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.

- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.

- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.

- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.

- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)

- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝐁𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐢��𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨) ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC  Part 9 of Betrayal Oh my god Summary: Azriel’s Mother comes to visit Warnings: Domestic abuse, Azriel’s Father, Unhealthy family dynamics, Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, Grief, Betrayal

Azriel loved his mother. Even as a boy locked in a darkened cell, the hour he got with her always made him feel like he was the luckiest to call Aisling his mother. The second he got the chance, around 100 years old, he had taken Rhysand and Cassian with him to force his father’s hand, freeing his mother from the Camp Lord’s abuse. He had thought their relationship would become even better, had thought he’d finally get a taste for what it was like to have his mom with him for more than an hour a week. But he hadn’t taken into account that as much as she loved him, as much as she wanted to finally be there for her child, Azriel looked like his father’s son. 

That was part of the reason his father and step family hated him so. He looked so much like his father, far closer to him than either of his cruel half-brother’s did. Looked like him so much that in Aisling’s weakest moments, she couldn’t stand to look at her son, wearing the face of their shared abuser. 

It hadn’t been something he had been prepared for. Years of fighting, of torture, of trauma, and his mother bursting into tears and throwing things at him in her worst of times had almost killed him. So he stayed away to protect her.

Even though she had gotten to the point where episodes like that were few and far in-between, Azriel had needed far more convincing to visit her. They had restored their relationship a lot in the past few hundred years, but any time he looked at his mother, he knew what she saw. The same thing he saw every time he looked in the mirror. 

Whether it was a divine intervention of some sorts that took pity on the Shadowsinger, or whether his sheer hatred had done it alone, he had grown to resemble his dad far less. Where Azriel was classically beautiful, his father was brutally and cruelly so. Still, Azriel could never feel anything but hatred and resentment for that man when he looked at himself. 

Nesta quickly left, deciding it was better to give the two a private reunion. She walked down to the room that had been quickly converted into a dining room, so the Inner Circle, as well as Helion, could stay close to both Az and Adelaide.  

“How was he when he saw Aisling?” Rhysand asked. Nesta almost didn’t answer him, still extremely mad at Rhys for his treatment of both the Shadowsinger and Addie, but the look of pure despair and concern, along with the slightest glint of hope, pushed her to reply.

“He looked shocked, so I left quickly to let them hash it out.” She said as she sat down next to her mate, who put a comforting arm around her shoulder. 

“Wouldn’t he be happy to see his mother? Why hadn’t she come sooner?” Feyre asked. 

“They have a complicated relationship. Because of Azriel’s father’s abuse-” The High Lord of night began, till he was cut off by a bread roll thrown at his head.

“It is none of her business.” Mor hissed out. 

Since the betrayal, even for a while before, Feyre hadn’t been on the best of terms with Adelaide. While Addie had been nothing but kind, Feyre saw her as an obstacle keeping her from her mate. When Feyre’s ill treatment towards her had reached its tipping point, causing Addie to run to Az in tears, Azriel had been less than amicable with his brother’s mate. It was also clear Feyre had seen his attempted resurrection of his best friend as nothing but an attack against her. She had become slightly more empathetic and understanding in the past few weeks, but that had only been because any sharp words from her about either of the best friends had led to fights with any of the Inner Circle, but especially Rhysand, who had been keeping his promise of working towards doing right by those he wronged. 

Feyre huffed when she realized Rhysand wasn’t even going to speak an explanation into her mind, finding his mind shields impenetrable. 

“Thesan said he had checked in with his mother at Rosehall to see how Aisling had been doing when we requested her presence. Apparently, she has been much better, but had been worried about Azriel when her letters went unanswered.” Helion spoke up. 

Cassian deflated at that, he had seen Aisling’s letters piling up, knew that Az hadn’t been in the right state to answer. He should have known that his mother was probably the right person to call. 

“She is here now. So we must make plans on what to do next. The High Lord has delegated enough work, both of you must go back and run your court.” Amren stated, staring down both Rhysand and Feyre. The youngest Archeron wanted nothing more than to return to her court, but Rhysand had been more weary, not wanting to leave Azriel vulnerable like he had before. 

But now it wasn’t like before, not really. Rhysand knew Az had been in a dark, depressive state for months after Adelaide’s death. He had done nothing but the occasional check in or inquiry, to which he never got an answer from the Shadowsinger himself. Now, Az had hope that he would soon be reunited with his best friend. While he wasn’t in good physical condition, mentally he was on the mend. Plus, he had the best healers and scholars in Prynthian working around the clock to help the two of them, along with the Inner Circle to offer familiar comfort. 

He knew he had to leave. He knew it was best to leave Az with people he actually wanted to see. Rhysand would have to work on gaining Azriel’s forgiveness later. 

Right then, Aisling herself popped in, looking tired but content. 

Only Rhysand and Cassian had met her, Amren knew of her existence and couldn’t truly say she wasn’t interested in the woman who created a son like Azriel, but she didn’t think it was her business, so she never cared to inquire more. While the Archerons had been left out of the loop for the most part, Nesta had learned of her existence and Azriel’s protectiveness over her after making a sharp comment about how the fact he never spoke of her must mean she wasn’t a very good mother, a comment she still deeply regretted, even though he had forgiven her a few times over. Mor on the other hand, had begged to meet her. Azriel had enthusiastically agreed many times, but Rhys had always intervened, knowing it was unfair of her to request to meet someone so deeply cherished by Azriel when Mor was knowingly playing with his feelings for her. 

No one spoke as they waited for Aisling to break the silence. Popping down next to Cassian, who she had often referred to as her second son, she let out a somber and exasperated laugh. 

“I will never understand it.” The Illyrian woman said.

No one spoke, until Feyre lost her patience with all the secrecy, “Understand what?”

Several glares from the Inner Circle were directed at the High Lady. 

“His capacity for love.” Aisling answered. Once again the room fell silent, the reply like an arrow to the heart after their negligent treatment of the Shadowsinger. “I have no idea where he got it.” Cassian laughed, a clear ‘obviously he got it from his mother’ displayed in his expression. “I’m serious. Even before…” she trailed off, making vague hand gestures. Everyone knew what she wasn’t saying out loud, even before the abuse. 

She took a deep breath and continued after a few moments, “I never truly believed in love as strong as his, never knew it was a possibility. Maybe it was Illyria, maybe it was my environment specifically. Maybe I wasn’t meant for romantic love. But Azriel had every right to grow up cruel, to end up hateful. No matter what bullshit he gives about the things he has done, he loves with his entire being.” 

As she let a tear fall, Cassian reached for her hand on the table. “You look well, Aisling.” 

She laughed, “Azriel makes me look young.” She hadn’t been prepared to see him, it had been decades since they had last met in person. After 50 years without communication with Rhysand keeping the Inner Circle stuck in Velaris, both had been weary as to how Aisling seeing him would go. They restarted their letters, promised to meet again “soon”, but when Adelaide died, Azriel had gone silent without any answer. Cassian and Rhysand had vaguely filled her in on why her son wouldn’t answer but with Az not talking to either of them, they couldn’t give much information. When she saw her son, he seemed to have aged hundreds of years in their time apart. 

“Didn’t you have him when you were young? You are hardly older than any of us and far younger than Amren.” Helion inquired. 

“I was 16 when I had him.” Several at the table shuttered at the thought. 

Once more the room was filled with silent grief, a depressing situation getting far more depressing with each second. That was till Nesta spoke up.

“You mentioned romantic love. Does- Is Azriel in love with Adelaide?” The question seemed to suck all the air from the room. Of course he loved her, but was Az in love with Addie? The thought made Rhysand nauseous. 

“I asked him. Seeing him look at her now, it isn’t the same as before.” Tension mixed with impatience made everyone unable to move. “He doesn’t know anymore. He said he didn’t before, or doesn’t believe he did. He just said he ‘woke up differently’. I’m unsure what he meant.” She explained.

Before anyone could speak up, a healer, who had been by Azriel’s side after his mother left, ran into the room. “She’s awake” was all that could be heard before a loud crash sounded from Adelaide’s room.  

A/N: Aisling is pronounced Ash-Ling. 

[hazbinwhoree]

Adam x f!reader

after a one night stand with Adam, around a month or two later she reveals she’s pregnant with his kid..

his reaction and maybe his life when the baby arrives him failing at changing a diaper

him falling asleep on the couch watching tv with his baby on his chest with a tiny spot of drool on his shirt 🥹

bonus

Lute holding the child and then the baby pukes on her

Father Adam

Adam and (Name) had been friends for a long time. Just friends. Until one drunken night, they can’t pretend anymore, and they hookup. The one night stand shakes their friendship, and they don’t talk nearly as much over the next two months.

That’s why Adam is so surprised when he opens his door to find (Name) in tears.

“(Name), what’s wrong?” “Can I come in? You should maybe sit down for this.”

Adam has absolutely no idea what (Name) is about to throw at him, letting her in and sitting next to her on his couch. (Name) pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to Adam. Adam felt the world stop. It was a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.

He’s silent for a long minute before shakily asking, “You’re sure it’s mine?”

(Name) hits his arm. “Yes, I’m sure, you’re the only guy I’ve fucked in like a year.”

Adam is silent again, before snapping out of his daze and taking (Name)’s hands into his. “I… I love you.” The tension that had been between them since the one night stand was finally put into words.

Tears poured down her face as she threw her arms around Adam’s neck. Adam pulled her into his lap and (Name) buries her face in his neck. “I love you too.”

The nine months flew by, Adam and (Name) learning to live as a couple before they had to learn how to live as parents.

Luckily, years of friendship made it easy, and their relationship had very few bumps.

Adam was fast asleep when he was abruptly awoken by (Name) shaking him, telling him when he woke in a small, scared voice, “My water broke and I’m having contractions.”

19 hours later, their son was born. Adam, the egotistical bitch he is, insisted on naming their son Adam as well. (Name) allowed it, and they celebrated the arrival of Adam Jr.

They took him home a day later, and Adam basically went through the five stages of grief. He loves his kid and he’s proud to be a father of a child he actually wanted, but he realizes he has no idea how to be a dad, and is now worried he’s going to fuck up his son.

(Name) assures him he won’t fuck up their child and Adam finds himself believing her.

The first night, Adam sleeps straight through the baby crying. The second night, the same thing happened. The third night, (Name) shook him awake and grumbled “Your turn.”

Adam drowsily made his way to the nursery, and crying baby at three in the morning was now his least favorite thing. He sighed, picking his son up out of his crib and carrying him with him to the kitchen.

He bounced and shushed baby Adam while he prepared a bottle of milk. Thank god it was simple enough, all he had to do was heat it up. When he was done and bringing the bottle to his son’s lips, he immediately stopped crying and Adam sighed in relief.

Adam never woke up from the baby crying, he slept like a rock, but (Name) would wake him up and they took turns with the night feedings.

Once Adam half woke up to see (Name) breastfeeding their son in bed next to him. “Me next,” he murmured, before promptly passing back out.

The one thing Adam couldn’t seem to get a handle on was changing diapers. His son had peed on him twice. And something about baby poop smelled especially bad, and he gagged everytime he had to change a poop diaper.

He was such a baby about it that (Name) did most of the diaper changes.

Three months in, and (Name) had two favorite memories.

The first one was when she’d come home from the store to find Adam asleep on the couch, baby Adam asleep on his chest. Despite being knocked out, Adam still had a secure grip on the baby. They were both drooling. Like father like son.

The second was when Lute was holding baby Adam and finally getting comfortable holding a baby when he suddenly threw up on her shirt.

Adam thought it was hilarious. Lute did not.

Adam isn’t the world’s greatest dad by any means, but he’s trying his best.

[fallenclan]

wow! it feels weird for this moon (and ravenstar's leadership/arc to finally be over)... i have some Thoughts, particularly about the exiled trio!

patchback -- i like that, of the three, she's the only one who looks genuinely angry. the same is true when ravenstar is killed. levi and sleepydawn look more surprised in that instance as well. given her history, this is the SECOND time patchback has been exiled. i imagine that she enjoys being a part of a clan. possibly, being exiled for the first time was the worst thing that ever happened to her, so when cherrystar gave her a chance, patchback chose to try and "adapt," to be whoever cherrystar would accept. but then ravenstar gave her the room to be herself... surely, with his support, and levi as deputy, then patchback will never have to fear exile again? ha! wrong.

levi -- levi only joined fallenclan after realizing an opportunity to hold power awaited him. i highly doubt levi cares about clan life. i think he's disappointed/annoyed, but not particularly "devestated" in the way that i imagine patchback is. levi will just... move on with his life, and try to find power somewhere else. i think he and patchback will stick together, since they're friends, and there's power in numbers. i believe levi likes power, but doesn't like to be the one making decisions (he likes his second-in-command spot imo). so, with ravenstar gone, patchback becomes his first-in-command. better yet, i imagine levi enjoyed ravenstar, but didn't like him. levi actually likes patchback, so being her second-in-command, backing her up, or better yet, being her partner is especially appealing.

sleepydawn -- he just looks numb. after ravenstar's death, i imagine he quickly resigned himself to what his fate would be. it's also noteworthy that his mate, ashblink, won't be joining him. ashblink could easily have chosen to leave with sleepydawn, but didn't. their relationship felt very shallow from the beginning. while i do think they care about each other, i think sleepydawn's loyalty to ravenstar would always come over his affection for ashblink, and ashblink would ultimately realize that sleepydawn isn't looking for love. within their interactions, ashblink is shown being caring/supportive (as best he can) towards sleepydawn, who looks bored/disinterested or rebuffs him. sleepydawn doesn't know how to be in a relationship. he needs to sort his own shit out before having a boyfriend. i think there's a 50/50 chance that sleepydawn will set out on his own, and try to "find himself" while also seething in bitterness and grief, versus deciding to throw in his lot with patchback and levi.

silly idea: patchback starts her own clan (ravenclan? after the first cat to ever """accept""" her for who she is) with levi as deputy. sleepydawn joins. teeheehee. it would be funny, but in all likelihood, i think the three of them will just have to face reality and Cope rather than getting any sort of resolution they would have hoped for.

anyway, yay wolfstar!!! yay kestrelfeather! yay pondshine and flamefall and cloudtuft!! yippee!! i love how happy wolfstar looks for once, and i was delighted to see broccoli and pepperswipe <3 i know sweetclover is so proud... but also trying to be there for her parents

also finchbeak kits next moon! is the father chumtail or flamefall? or a mysterious, third cat... comment down below! /j

-🐉

MY GOD dragon once again you have hit the nail perfectly on the head... i don't even need to make an explanation post you got it in one. incredible

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance⁶

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: mentions of torture, mentions of forced prostitution, exploitation of minors, suicidal thoughts, war, violence, murder, mind games, religious references, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, and grief Words: 12.8K

Masterlist | Series Soundtrack

a/n: ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for! (greatest showman reference, not excluding my enbys y'all). here it is! this is the end! just for clarity, anything in present tense means r is thinking (as always), and there's an additional a/n at the bottom. love u guys!!

When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller. This wasn't your first time dwelling on that fact, but now you wondered if it'd be the last.

There was a saying your mother used to say, before your father died and she went mad. You reap what you sow. It was ironic how backwards it was in your life. First you were reaped, which then subsequently sowed the domino pieces to your fake life, all falling down to lead up to this moment.

Yes, backwards it was.

You'd barely gotten a wink of sleep before faraway booms were waking you up. You didn't flinch this time; you could tell they weren't close, but Finnick's hand on your shoulder still tightened, like he was reminding you that he was there if you so needed it.

"Mortal shells," Gale informed you, looking up at the basement's ceiling. "It's not ours. Peacekeepers must be shellin' the rebels outside of the city."

It surely didn't sound like it. Cressida must've came to the same conclusion because she soon piped up, "That's not outside the city."

Inside, then. They were inside the city. 

That meant it was show time.

You separated yourself from Finnick without a word, going to prepare. In his mind, you must've just been so focused that you couldn't speak to him. In yours, it was that you were so unfocused that you wouldn't.

For the last eight years of your life, you'd been spinning stories with Finnick like there'd be no tomorrow, and now that was about to become a reality. That's why you couldn't speak to him. This was the last chapter, the last dance before the song came to a stop.

So you got ready, screwing arrowheads onto their shafts and strapping yourself with guns, moving slowly as if you were frozen in time with knowledge no one else had. 

This was the end of your story.

This was the end of the song.

Music beat loudly in your ears, but it was quieted by the sound of beeping. Your eyes were drawn to a black box on the table in the corner, similar to the one you once watched Finnick from, now projecting a mandatory viewing. There was no fanfare this time, as if Snow was now realizing that there was no need to sugarcoat what was happening.

The rebels had already invaded the Capitol. If its citizen's didn't know the severity of the situation before, they sure did now.

Finnick lightly snorted behind you as Snow's face came onscreen, making you resist the urge to swat him and laugh. You wouldn't have been laughing at Snow, though—you were much too angry for that—just at the boy who still found the courage to laugh in such terrible times.

You'd miss that.

Snow began speaking right away. "To all Capitol citizens more than a half mile outside the city circle, I am announcing a mandatory evacuation." Your brows knitted together. What? A quick glance at Katniss told you that she was just as confused. "Come to my home," he beckoned. "I am promising you shelter and sanctuary. All refugees... come to my home. There, you will be provided with food, medicine, safety for your children... and you will have my solemn oath to protect you until my dying breath."

Cressida made a sarcastic quip that you didn't hear, like your head was underwater.

This doesn't feel right.

"Our enemy is not like us," he continued. "They do not share our values. They have never known our comfort and our sophistication."

Somewhere in all the muffledness you heard Finnick mutter, "No shit," but it barely registered. Your eyes were trained on the image as if it'd unravel and reveal something to you. You didn't know what there even was to reveal—everything was laid out in the open now.

So then why do I feel like something's hiding in plain sight?

"And they despise us for it. Make no mistake." Snow's voice was filled with certainty and a spite so sharp it could cut through flesh.  "They are not coming to liberate us. They are coming to destroy our way of life. They are coming... to bury us." He put emphasis on his last words before the stream ended, his image cutting out with a flash.

What an interesting choice of words he used. Bury them. The people in 4 had been buried underneath rubble, so much so that you couldn't bury your own mother.

Katniss cut off your thoughts. "Is he still in the mansion?" You turned toward her, seeing her eyes already on you. 

You had to clear your throat before you replied, "Yeah." You'd been in that God-awful room enough times to recognize it, even in your dreams.

She nodded absentmindedly. "Okay, where's that?"

Pointing to a map she pulled out, Cressida answered, "About five blocks away. We're right here, off the avenues." She pointed to another far-off spot. "Mansion's here."

You crossed your arms. That was a long distance. "What about the pods?" you questioned.

Cressida motioned to another part of the map. "Well, they'll probably deactivate the pods around here for the residents' safety." 

"That could work." Katniss looked up at you, that same fire shining in her eyes that reminded you of her nickname. "We could get close enough."

That was the problem. You could get close enough—you could really do it.

But that felt too easy.

You didn't voice your doubts; Gale did. "Every Peacekeeper's gonna be waiting."

"Next to our faces on every billboard," Cressida cut in.

You shrugged. "Well, Snow's offering shelter to all the refugees." You could feel everyone's eyes dart to you, but you kept yours on Katniss. She understood your message right away. This was your shot. 

You had to take it.

The two of you were in agreement and that's all that mattered. Nobody was going to stop you.

Katniss got up, and then after grabbing the last of your weapons, you were heading upstairs.

One shot. You had one shot.

The extravagancy of Tigris' shop was lost upon you as you threw on a large coat, listening to Cressida's directions. There would be thousands of refugees; all you had to do was join them and keep your head low.

She wished you good luck, and then you found yourself hugging this girl you'd barely known for more than a few days. But she gave you trust when you needed it, and you wouldn't ever forget it.

You knew you weren't gonna see any of these people ever again, so you might as well say goodbye.

You were halfway through thanking Tigris when Peeta's voice suddenly sounded. "Katniss, let me come with you, okay?" You saw her face fall out of the corner of your eye.

He wasn't asking; he was begging.

"I can be a good distraction. They- they know my face—"

She firmly cut him off. "No, I'm not losing you again."

"What if Peacekeepers are searching the houses?" Gale spoke up. Whether it was out of spite or concern, you couldn't tell. "And if he's captured—"

He barely got to finish his sentence before Peeta was hurriedly interrupting him. "Then give me a nightlock pill, okay? I'm not going back."

You inhaled a sharp breath. Unconsciously, your hand went to the side pocket you'd tucked your pill in. Peeta's words had reignited a fear in you that you thought you'd expelled, bringing back memories you didn't want to have at that specific moment.

Please- please, I don't want to play anymore.

You didn't know you had closed your eyes until you reopened them to Gale handing Peeta his nightlock pill. Katniss went to unlock his cuffs, and that's when you looked away, getting the feeling you were intruding on something private.

Instead your eyes went to the very person you were avoiding. You met Finnick's blue eyes easily. Pretty blue eyes the colour of the ocean, your favourite colour.

Your favourite person.

A smile crept onto your face without your knowing. This was exactly why you were supposed to be avoiding him, but as you watched your best friend with the boy she loved, disregarding everything just to say goodbye, you couldn't help but want to do the same. You knew you already said goodbye to him, but you were already running out of time; why waste what little of it you had left?

One last time, you told yourself, just one last time to drown in his ocean.

You made your way over to him across the room, and before you could even get a word out, he said, "I want to come with you, too." You opened your mouth to protest— "But I'm not gonna ask you to."

You furrowed your brows. "Wha—"

Finnick lazily draped an arm over your shoulder, yet at the same time there was nothing lazy about the action at all. That, coupled with him brushing strands of hair out of your face, made you go silent. He was quiet, too, just staring at you.

The way he was looking at you reminded you of the way he examined his surroundings in the Quell, trying to remember where everything was.

It was like he was trying to commit your face to memory.

After a moment, he explained, "I know you won't let me." Of course, you wouldn't.

You weren't gonna let him watch you die.

You sighed, "I'm sorry—" 

With his voice as soft as silk, he chided, "Don't be sorry." His lips quirked upward while he caressed your hair. "Just come back to me in one piece so we can have that talk?"

You tried your best to reciprocate his smile. "I will." Liar.

Terrified that he'd see through your façade, you pulled him in, wounding your arms around him tightly. He held you just as tight. Only when your face was no longer in his view did you screw your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

You'd stay like this forever if you could.

But you couldn't.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, which meant your time was up. You had to go now.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from Finnick's body, wanting to hold onto him for as long you could. By the time you fully let go, you felt like something was missing. And there was.

Finnick Odair would always hold your heart in his hands.

You flashed him one last smile before you turned around. You wouldn't say you loved him before you left, and perhaps you'd regret that, but if you heard him say it back, you didn't know if you'd have the willpower to leave.

Déjà vu crashed into you like a tidal wave. You lived this moment before, saying goodbye then turning your back and walking away.

I'll see you at midnight?

Yeah, I'll see you at midnight.

You didn't see him at midnight. But you came back. It wasn't the same you that came back, but you did, eventually.

You came back before.

This time, you wouldn't.

You and Katniss set off, finding the crowd immediately. It was a sea of people, impossible to miss. You joined them easily; if you were tentative, you'd get caught, so you had to march with them like you belonged.

There were dozens of Peacekeepers lining the sides of the path. When you glanced up, you found even more on the balconies of buildings, which quickly made you duck your head back down.

If you so much as removed your hood, they could identify you. And you refused to die before Snow did first.

The two of you were silent as you moved forward. There was that feeling in your chest again, the feeling that you were supposed to be saying something, but if anybody recognized your voice, you'd both be as good as dead. Katniss must've felt that pressure, too, but she didn't speak up about it, either.

On a whim, you glanced up ahead of you. You immediately regretted it when a child's eyes locked on yours.

Shit.

She was clutching onto a woman's shoulder—her mother's, you assumed. You prayed that she was too young to recognize you or too tired to make the connection, but then her head lifted up and you knew it didn't matter. 

She recognized you.

You glanced away from the kid before looking back. Her gaze didn't move but neither did her mouth.

She recognized you, but she wasn't going to say anything.

You were about to breathe a sigh of relief before Katniss tapped your arm, motioning ahead. Your eyes travelled to where she was gesturing, and you could've sworn your heart stopped.

Peacekeepers. 

They were checking people. You wouldn't get past them and you both knew it, so you swiftly turned around without another word. Except they were behind you, too, sweeping through the crowd.

Fuck.

You turned forward again, your heart and your mind racing in tandem to find a way out of this. You don't know what you could've possibly come up with.

You don't even think you were breathing.

Your fingers were inching their way to the gun on your hip just as a hand went to your shoulder. But before either of you could do anything, a loud boom sounded, sending you to the ground.

People were shouting everywhere all at once, mixing in with the music so you couldn't hear a thing. Your ears rang but you could still hear someone bellow, "It's the rebels!"

You glanced backward, and their yell was proven correct. A mob of rebels marched forward in a line, shooting at every guard in white they saw.

Another explosion reverberated through the battlefield, making you cup your ears. You couldn't hold back the pained cry that left you.

You looked forward, your eyes finding the same little girl from earlier, her yellow coat now tainted with dirt. She was kneeling above her mother's body, screaming. Tears sparked in your eyes.

That girl's mother was dead.

But you couldn't end up like her.

Quickly, you gathered your bearing, ushering Katniss up. "Come on!" She was stagnant, but as soon as you pulled her up, she was back from wherever she'd gone to. And then the two of you were running.

You jumped behind a barricade, only stopping momentarily. There was a Peacekeeper lying on the ground in front of you. Good, you thought. You could use his gun.

You untangled the rifle from his hands, kicking him down when he started moving. Then you were running forward again.

You ran like never before, stopping only to check that Katniss was still with you. Explosions went off on your way, shaking the ground. Some were too close, but you kept running.

Whether it was your sheer will or the adrenaline pumping through your body, you couldn't stop, not when you were so close. The gate was in your view now. You pushed through the crowd, not caring if your hood fell off in the process. There was too much chaos for anyone to notice.

The people were restless, a robotic voice trying and failing to pacify them. You were so busy climbing up a tank, trying to get a better a look at the palace, that you barely caught it. The gates will open momentarily, it was saying. The children will be received first. Stay calm. Bring your children forward.

That... that didn't sound right.

No, it did. It did sound right. It was right to bring the children forward first.

And that's exactly why it sounded wrong.

President Snow had never cared about children—why would he start now? It was puzzling; it didn't make any sense. But you couldn't make sense of it. You're forgetting why you're here, Y/N.

You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to your objectives and not watch as the Peacekeepers lifted children from their parents' arms, but then something else caught your attention.

Whirring.

Your eyes shot to the sky where there was a lone hovercraft flying, Panem's emblem painted onto the wings. Not one of yours.

The hovercraft flew by. You don't know what you could've possibly expected, but you certainly didn't expect for it to drop parachutes in its wake.

"Gifts from the Capitol!" someone cheered.

The pit in your stomach returned, no matter how hard you'd just tried to get rid of it. The parachutes fell like they were in slow motion. You couldn't tell if they were truly moving so slowly or if was just you.

The world seemed to stop. The dance seemed to stop. And then everything clicked.

But you were too late.

Your eyes widened. "No—"

BOOM.

You were thrown through the air, landing somewhere hard. The wind was knocked out of you. At first, you were choking on nothing until you finally gained the ability to wheeze. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

This time, you couldn't hear anything. No screams, no more shooting. No more music at all.

The music came to a screeching halt. The record didn't skip. It just stopped.

It occurred to you then that the fucking needle must've just scratched the vinyl, because the music restarted. But it wasn't the same.

You shot upward, coughing your lungs away and waving dust out of your face. You stumbled as you got up—that was a misstep. 

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing— 

Katniss. 

Where's Katniss?

Frantically, your eyes darted everywhere. She wasn't beside you. She wasn't in front of you. You spun around, dancing, and she wasn't behind you either.

You wanted to scream her name, but you didn't. She's fine, you reassured yourself. She had to be fine—she was right next to you when the bombs went off. You just had to find her.

Your eyes scanned the scene in front of you, just now really looking at it. Bodies littered the ground, medics and Peacekeepers alike rushing to the wounded. So many wounded. You'd never seen so many bodies in one place.

You looked for a woman in a blue cloak among them. You didn't find her. But you did find someone else that was oddly familiar.

A blonde. A young blonde in a medic's uniform.

You know, I used to be jealous of you.

Jealous of me?

No, that couldn't be—

You have a family that really loves you, that beautiful sister of yours.

You blinked as if it'd make her disappear, but when you opened your eyes, she was still there, not a figment of your imagination at all. She was there.

And then she wasn't.

You had just opened your mouth, but the words died in your throat. "Prim—"

It all happened faster than you could register it.

You saw the flames first. Light travelled faster than sound. Then you heard it—the explosion. And then you felt it. You felt it more forcefully than any of the other ones, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then you felt nothing.

The last time you awoke in the Capitol, you could feel that something bad was about to happen to you. Dread flowed through your veins like it was blood, infecting every part of you. It was as if a dark cloud hung over your head, a voice in your ear telling you to keep your eyes closed for as long as you could, to enjoy the rest while you still had it.

This time, your eyes fluttered open on their own accord. Your eyelids weren't as heavy. Your body wasn't as sore. But there was a still a weight on your chest.

The dread was still there.

Then the memories flooded back to you.

Bombs. And Primrose Everdeen.

No. You had to have been hallucinating.

With that thought, you blinked, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. The lights were fluorescent, but they weren't blinding like typical hospital lights—and there was an incessant beeping noise, but it wasn't very loud. You gathered that this wasn't a hospital room; it was more like a triage centre.

There was a shuffling to your right that you directed your attention to. It was a blonde woman tending to a sleeping brunette's wounds. You blinked again, and then you realized that brunette was Katniss. 

You let out a sigh of relief. She was okay.

Your eyes then immediately flickered to the other presence in the room. Haymitch stood between yours and Katniss' beds. He was already looking at you.

You didn't greet him; the two of you were past that. "Is it—"

"Yes." He seemed to understand without any explanation. Your eyes fell shut for a moment then, taking it in, and he let you.

The war was over.

You won.

But this didn't feel like winning.

When you opened your eyes, Haymitch seemed to already know what you were thinking. That's what you liked about him: no nonsense, no bullshit, no trying to sugarcoat something that was so clearly sour. Just straight to the point.

"It was over after the Capitol dropped those bombs to defend the Palace. Rebels took it right after." He paused, eyes glossing over with a look you knew all too well. "Everybody felt it—Peacekeepers, Palace guards... kids. It was, uh... it was over after that."

You could remember that. The children reaching up in the air, trying to grab what they thought were gifts from their beloved Capitol. Bombs exploded in their faces. You wondered if they were strong enough to kill on impact.

You hoped they were.

Children crying for their parents. Parents crying for their children. All of the sounds melded together eventually.

But you won. You won, didn't you?

Didn't you?

He changed topics. You think it was too hard for him to talk about, too, and that was almost absurd. You never thought you'd see the day that Haymitch Abernathy shied away from anything, yet here you were.

"Your injuries are minor," he told you. "Damage is superficial. You got off unscathed." Did you? "They wanted to take you right to the Palace, but I figured you'd want to change your own clothes." 

He said it casually, but the implication was there. That made you crack a smile, or at least the best smile you could give. "Thanks, H."

He nodded in acknowledgement but otherwise didn't mention it. The victors didn't talk about those sorts of things, not up until recently. You knew what happened to him, to his family, his girlfriend. And he always knew what was happening to you, but it was never spoken out loud. The things that happened in the dark were never meant to be brought under the spotlight.

So Finnick brought out the sun. And now, every secret, every body, and every monster under the bed was out in the open for everyone to see. 

You just never thought the sun would burn so much.

Your gaze travelled over to the blonde woman, still at work, applying some type of ointment to Katniss' neck. She hadn't said a word.

You suddenly realized that you were staring at Carine Everdeen.

You looked back to Haymitch, then Carine, then back at him, a question lying silently in your eyes. You opened your mouth, but you didn't need to. Haymitch just nodded, a solemn countenance overtaking his face. At his confirmation, you felt yourself physically deflate.

You weren't hallucinating.

Prim was dead.

You sat there with that information for a bit, unknowing of what to do with it. Katniss' innocent little sister was dead, caught in the crossfire of a fight she should've never had to live through. 

Katniss only ever volunteered to spare her sister.

And now she was dead, anyway.

She deserved to be acknowledged. You didn't know what to say, but she deserved the effort. Prim deserved the world.

Your voice was just barely above a whisper, hoarse from either the lack of use or remorse, perhaps both. "Mrs. Everdeen?"

Her hands paused mid-movement. She slowly turned around to look at you. Only, she wasn't looking at you. She wasn't really there.

You could count the number of times you spoke to Carine on one hand. It'd only ever been in passing, a hello here and there. She wasn't close with Katniss, therefore, she wasn't close with you. But right now, it didn't matter how close you were at all.

Somehow, everyone felt so faraway.

You swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

She was silent, but you could see every word she wasn't speaking in her eyes. Sadness, regret, anger, devastation. Grief. For a second, you could see her come back, but she was gone just as quickly as she reappeared.

"Me, too."

The ride from the triage centre to the Palace was all a blur. Somewhere in between everything, you got dressed into your own clothes, not the ones from 13. You briefly wondered how they got ahold of them.

Katniss was still there, sleeping. Maybe she woke up by now. You just needed to get out of there. Haymitch had told you that Finnick was en route, and you asked him to help you get out before he got there, to just tell him that they'd taken you to the Palace right away like they originally planned.

You didn't know why you did that, but you just knew you couldn't talk to him. Not yet.

They gave you a random room then left you there after you asked them to. You were sure they weren't supposed to do that, probably on Coin's orders, but the glare you sent them must've been real bad because they went scurrying out like mice.

You exhaled when they closed the door, finally alone. For a second, you felt like you could breathe again. And then you caught a glimpse of the bed and it was back to feeling like you were suffocating.

Crimson red sheets, gold accents. A ginormous velvet head board. A huge comforter that would likely warm you up— God, you were still so cold.

But you'd lied on a bed just like that before. And you were just as cold then, even with the warm body lying right next to you.

You cupped your mouth, knees buckling, but your other trembling hand grasped onto the chair right in front of you. You held onto that crest for dear life, simultaneously holding back a sob.

Calm down, Y/N. Just stop.

You were trying— you were fucking trying. But then your eyes zeroed in on items on the table in front of you. They blended in with the rest of the extravagant decor of this room, but once you saw them, it was all you could see.

A crown.

And a vase of fucking roses. 

You screamed, letting go of the chair and throwing the vase the ground, not caring if any of the shards hit you. The crown was next. Then you were tumbling down to the ground, too.

The dam in your eyes broke, tears flooding down your cheeks with no sign of stopping. Sobs wracked through your body.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. Not your legs. Not your back. Not your ears. Your heart. You clawed at your chest relentlessly, pleading for the pain to go away.

"Please," you cried. "Please make it stop." You don't know who you were crying to. You hadn't prayed in ages— you didn't even know what you believed in anymore. All you knew was that you were on your knees, begging for any God to listen.

But nobody answered.

You might've sat on the floor of that room for hours—you truly didn't know. You cried until you didn't have tears anymore, until you were numb. You just sat there after that, staring at the ground, at the crown you threw.

So much power that a single object had over you. It was a mask. A contract. A lie. A trick painted in gold. Your legacy.

It was your fucking poison.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they said. 

They didn't know the half of it.

After a while, you got sick of staring at it, forcing yourself up and immediately turning to the door. You were exhausted, sure, and you'd sleep eventually, but not on that bed.

You turned the knob on the door and shut it behind you, knowing it was unlikely that you'd return to it. You made your way through the Palace like it was second nature; you knew this place well. Dozens of parties and faux appearances would do that to you.

The Palace only held poor memories for you. Here, your life as a marionette began, and you hadn't known anything different since. What person would want to stay in a place like that, a place that symbolized the moment their life changed forever?

Getting reaped might've been when your life went downhill, but your life became Snow's the second you stepped into his home.

You found yourself pulling the French doors to the backyard open, wanting to feel a cold that didn't come from your own body. The ground was covered in a blanket of white that crunched beneath your feet. Only a thin jacket protected you from the air sharply licking your skin, but you welcomed the feeling.

You didn't know what you were doing, but when you saw two men guarding the Rose Garden, you couldn't help but be pulled to it, like you still had strings attached to your limbs.

You were just reaching the doors when one of the guards stepped in front of them, his hand out. "Sorry, Princess. Can't let you pass."

His statement caused you to intake a deep breath, whether it was from the actual statement itself or the name that so happened to spill from his lips. You had half a mind to argue with him—you weren't sure if you were in your right mind at all—until a familiar voice ordered, "Let her in." 

You turned your head, seeing Paylor stood on the steps you had just walked down.

If you were in a better state of mind, you might've smiled.

"On my authority. She has a right to anything behind that door."

You didn't smile, but you settled for a nod. You weren't sure if your eyes translated correctly, but when she nodded back, you knew she received your message.

You weren't just thanking her for this.

Without another thought, you turned back to the garden. The guards opened the glass doors for you, letting you in. Immediately, your nostrils were flooded with the rich scent of earth. Green plants and bushes were everywhere, the most vibrant colour of green you'd ever seen in your life. You wondered if light hit differently in the Capitol, allowing people to see colours you didn't have back home.

Then you thought back to how people here had ignored the black tendrils engulfing the city for so long, and you realized that: yes, light must have hit differently here. It was impossible to ignore the darkness otherwise.

White roses were everywhere. It made you sick, but you stopped the bile from rising. There were so many. You used to wonder why Snow seemed so obsessed with flowers, why he wore them on his person at all times, but you supposed it was no secret anymore.

Help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal.

Your eyes were trained on one of the roses when a voice cut through your daze. "That's a nice one."

Instantly, every part of your body stiffened, but you ignored every instinct screaming at you to spin around. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

"The colours are lovely, of course. But nothing says perfection like white." 

Your jaw locked, and you made good effort to relax it before you turned around. Seeing him there with that smile on his face nearly made you crumble, but you stood tall, echoing, "Ironic, isn't it? How a man so tainted tries to fool the world with an illusion of purity."

His grin only widened. "I was hoping you would find your way here. I knew you would." You wanted to slap the grin off his face and strangle him until the smugness in his voice disappeared. Your hands clenched by your sides, and judging by the way his eyes twinkled, he saw. 

He sat down on a ledge, musing, "You always were my greatest achievement."

The words were being spat from your mouth before you could stop them. "I am not your anything."

He tilted his head just ever so slightly, staring at you with pools of condescension as if telling you that wasn't true. It wasn't true, and he knew you knew it.

"I have a feeling your visit will be brief, so let's not waste our time, shall we?" You hated the way the word our rolled off his tongue, but you didn't show it on your face.

Snow cut himself off with a cough, bringing his handkerchief to his mouth. When he lowered it, it was spotted in blood. "Please offer my condolences to Ms. Everdeen about her sister." He tutted to himself. "So wasteful. So unnecessary."

You scoffed a humourless chuckle. "Really?"

"Why, yes, dear," he replied, shaking his head for effect. "Anyone could see the game was over by that point. In fact, I was just about to issue an official surrender when they released those parachutes."

A scowl crawled onto your face. "What the hell are you on about? You released those parachutes."

"You really think I gave the order?" He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes peering into your soul. You didn't once look away. "We both know I'm not above killing children. But I am not wasteful." He stressed the word like it was disgraceful to him. "I take life for... specific reasons. And there was no reason for me to destroy a pen full of Capitol children— none at all—"

He was cut off by another cough. It did little to disturb you; you were already disgusted from the moment he began talking. Every word he spoke was careful and calculated. Listening to him explain his rhyme and reason wasn't something you were interested in. What reason could he possibly have for what he'd done?

He took the lives of everyone he met. Every person you cared about had fallen victim to his schemes. Katniss. Johanna. Peeta. Finnick. He took your mother's life— he took your life.

There was nothing he could say to ever make you understand his perspective.

Once he stopped coughing and looked back up at you, the smile was right back on his face like it never left. "I must concede, it was a masterful move on Coin's part," he admitted. The second he uttered Coin's name, you tensed even more than you thought possible. Humour laced through his voice. "The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children to hold back the rebels... it turned the last of my guards against me. There was no resistance left inside the Capitol or the mansion." He leaned forward again, like he was letting you in on a little secret. "Do you know it aired live? There's a... particular savvy in that, isn't there?"

You were afraid that, if he kept talking, you wouldn't be able to hold back the bile in your throat. He's crazy. This was Coriolanus Snow, a man who rose to the top by knocking down anything or anyone that stood in his way. You couldn't trust a word that came out of his mouth.

Yet you were still compelled to listen to him.

The moment you met Coin flashed behind your eyes as you blinked. You felt the sensation of shaking her hand all over again. Every encounter you ever had with her ran through your mind.

You thought back to when you were in 2 and her and Commander Lyme disagreed.

You've been underground a long time, Madam Coin. This isn't like the rest of Panem. Support for the Capitol runs deep here.

Then there is no sacrifice too great.

Snow pulled you out of your trance. "I'm sure she wasn't gunning for that Everdeen girl, but... these things happen in war." It was as if he could see the gears in your head spinning out of control.

Spinning, spinning, spinning— 

"My failure was in being so slow to grasp Coin's plan," he proclaimed. "She let the Capitol and the districts destroy one another, then she stepped in to take power with 13's arsenal. Oh, make no mistake." He chuckled. "She intends to take my place now."

Your skin was crawling. You felt the urge to rip it off.

Something about his smile became more harrowing, like he was placing down his final piece on the chess board. "But I've been watching you. And you watching me." You dug your nails into your skin. "I'm afraid we've both been played for fools."

No. 

No.

"You're lying." You didn't even sound convincing to yourself.

He tutted once more. "Y/N, my dear, I may have done many things, but have I ever once lied to you?"

You were gonna be sick. You turned around before he could see the tears gathering in your eyes.

This was over.

You went for the door, but just as you were about to knock on it and alert the guards, Snow stopped you in your tracks. "I see so much of myself in you, Y/N."

You felt your lips tremble, but not a single tear raced down your cheek. You didn't allow it.

Slowly, you turned around, your voice quiet but firm. "I am nothing like you," you avowed—to him and to yourself.

You didn't spend another second wasting your time looking at him, going to knock on the door as he broke into a fit of coughing. That coughing transformed into laughter.

Snow laughed maniacally as you left the garden and didn't stop. You could hear him laughing as you powered through his backyard, echoing in the empty space.

And even when you were back inside the Palace, his laugh still followed you.

You found a random hallway in the mansion, the first one that didn't remind you of anything, and you immediately went to the wall closest to you, leaning your forehead against it and inhaling a shaky breath.

Get your shit together, you scolded.

You already broke down once today. You didn't deserve another breakdown— no, you couldn't afford another breakdown. You needed time to think.

Did you believe Snow? Was this just his last way of fucking with you before he died, trying to get the last laugh by absolving himself of the blame? He had to know that he'd reached the end of the line, that he'd be dying at your hands.

He lost, and you won. The war was over—all that was left to do was kill him.

Katniss' voice suddenly rang through your head. This isn't right, she'd said, mourning the possibility of innocent life being lost before it even happened. You remembered your response to that, too.

It's fire catching, Everdeen.

A shiver ran through your body. Was this what fire catching looked like? Children dying. Hundreds of people with their lives forever altered—hundreds of people injured or killed by those bombs going off. Fire caught onto them.

This didn't feel like a win. Mulling over Snow's accusations in your head, it all made sense. There were no victors in an arena. You deluded yourself into thinking this was anything other than a game while Coin was playing her winning card.

You remembered what it was like in the arena, surviving off of ruthlessness, uncaring of what'd happen to anyone else as long as it meant you got to win.

But this wasn't meant to be a game. 

I see so much of myself in you, Y/N.

You didn't want to be like that anymore. You didn't want to play anymore.

"Y/N?"

You turned around, being met with the Girl on Fire standing across from you on the other side of the hallway. That was the name Caesar gave her from her first Tribute Parade, but you no longer found it appropriate.

The Girl on Fire was the girl who volunteered in place of her sister.

The woman that stood in front of you now had her sister killed by the very thing that once defined her.

You made it a point to never call her that again.

Katniss Everdeen was her name. She was The Mockingjay. And somehow, she became your best friend. So then and there, as you stared at one another, you knew that you had to tell her what Snow said, regardless of what you believed.

Softly, you told her, "We have to talk."

Yet no matter how soft your voice was, you don't think anything could have ever softened the blow.

Katniss took you to her room, and there, you told her everything. When you were done explaining, she looked so empty but so full of so many emotions at the same time. 

Do you believe it? she asked you.

I don't know, you responded. I don't know.

You sat there with her and gave her time to absorb it, not saying another word. The two of you sat there in silence until Gale came and fetched you, saying that Coin wanted to speak with you both.

You got up and left the room but closed the door on your way out. She wanted to talk to him—she needed to. 

You were there waiting for her when she was done, and you pretended you didn't watch Gale leave the room with tears in his eyes. 

Side by side, you walked to Snow's cabinet room with you leading the way. No one told you it'd be there, but you had a strong suspicion that that'd be Coin's choice. When you found two armed guards in front of the double doors, you were proven correct—and you didn't know why that unnverved you so much.

About 20 feet away from the doors, you held your arm out in front of Katniss, effectively stopping her. You had sat in silence with her for who knew how long, but now was one of those moments when you felt like you had to say something, and you were gonna take it before you got within earshot of those guards.

You stepped in front of her slightly so you could look at her, and for a moment, you lost your footing. It wasn't like you saw Katniss anything other than indifferent often, but this look struck you to the core. 

Perhaps it was the thin line of her lips. Maybe it was the emptiness in her eyes, no emotion in sight. Or maybe it was how you felt like you were staring into a mirror.

But she deserved so much better than being you.

Katniss Everdeen deserved the justice you never had.

You didn't know how to say all of this, nor did you know if she was in the headspace to listen, so you made sure she was looking at you when you spoke. "Do what you have to do," you whispered.

She stared at you for a few seconds, empty, but in all the darkness of her eyes you could see a faint light shine. Clarity.

She understood.

She gave you a small nod, and then you were moving out of the way, finishing your walk to the conference room. You might've been vague, but you knew your point was received. Whatever she wanted to do from this point forward, you'd stand by it.

The ball was in her court now.

The men in front of the doors gave you short nods of acknowledgement before stoically opening the doors. When they did, you weren't met only with Coin. This was a room full of victors.

And even though you suspected they hadn't been chatty before you entered, they were now radio silent.

Your eyes immediately locked with Finnick's, and you would've exhaled if you weren't under the microscope. He's okay. He's okay, and you knew that already, Y/N. You knew he was okay, but being told that wasn't the same as seeing him in person.

You didn't think you'd get to see those blue eyes again.

But you were.

Finnick flashed you a soft smile. It wasn't his classic Finnick smile, the one he'd throw at cameras and crowds. He was visibly exhausted, but he still found it in himself to smile at you.

It was the least you could do to smile back, even if it wasn't as dazzling as his.

"What's this?" the brunette beside you questioned, knocking you out of your trance. Her voice was cold and detached, but you noticed something now that wasn't there before. Deep underneath that ice was red, hot anger.

From Coin's response, you doubted she caught it. "The remaining victors." She gestured to the table. "Won't you join us?" Behind her, Johanna held out her arms, too, a mocking smile on her face that would've made you laugh if you weren't so tired.

You followed Katniss' lead, taking the last two seats at the table while also taking a cursory glance of the room. Beetee, Enobaria, Haymitch, Johanna, Finnick, Peeta, and Annie. You frowned. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon, not back in the Capitol—probably never back in the Capitol. But she glanced at you and you smiled, anyway.

"I have invited you all here for several reasons, but first, I have an announcement." Both Coin's words and her tone of made you look back at her, but then something else caught your attention.

Even under the glare of all the chandeliers in the room, you could still see the glint in her eye.

"I have taken the burden and the honour of declaring myself interim President of Panem." 

Oh, you could've laughed. Even though there wasn't a single thing funny about it.

You settled for narrowing your eyes; meanwhile, Haymitch scoffed. "Interim? Exactly how long is that interim?"

Coin's hands remained clasped on the table, and she didn't flinch. "We have no way of knowing for certain. But it's clear that the people are far too emotional right now to make a rational decision." Her voice was calm and collected, if not condescending. "We'll plan an election when the time is right."

You hummed, and even though she undoubtedly heard you, she ignored it.

"But I have called you here for a far more important vote." She finally look her hands off the table, leaning back. "A symbolic vote." 

Everyone in this room is a symbol in some way, you thought, but you held your tongue. Symbols didn't mean much to people who had been turned into nothing more than just that, but the thought must've escaped her.

"This afternoon, we will execute Snow. Hundreds of his accomplices also await their deaths. Capitol officials, Peacekeepers, torturers, Gamemakers. But the danger is, once we begin, the rebels will not stop calling for retribution." Dread crept into your stomach. Whatever she was going to propose, you wouldn't like it. "Thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy. So... I offer an alternative plan. Majority of five may approve it— no one may abstain." She gave you a pointed glance. "The proposal is this. In lieu of these barbaric executions, we hold a symbolic Hunger Games."

Somehow, the room got quieter.

You fought to keep your face impassive—though, you were unknowing if you succeeded. You could only hope that the years of pretending paid off.

In lieu? What the hell did that mean? She wanted to spare a horde of evil people in exchange for the lives of innocents? That didn't make any sense.

But then you realized, powerful people. It'd be sparing powerful people. 

Johanna broke the silence with a laugh. It bounced off the decorated walls like rubber. "You wanna have another Hunger Games with— the Capitol's children?"

Peeta monotoned, "You're joking."

"Not in the slightest," Coin responded.

You glanced at Katniss. She was mute, just staring staring straight at Coin. They all might've thought she was in shock, grieving, but you knew the truth.

It was all falling into place for her.

Finnick let out a scoff. "Is this Plutarch's idea?"

If you didn't know any better, you would've thought the look on Coin's face was offense and not pride. "It was mine." There was another scoff in the room, probably from Haymitch that time. "It balances the need for revenge... with the least loss of human life."

The least loss of valuable of human life.

"You may cast your votes—"

"No," Peeta cut her off immediately, voting first. "No, obviously not. This is crazy."

"I think it's more than fair," Jo chimed in. "Snow's got a granddaugter. I say yes." You didn't judge her for that answer, even if you didn't agree with it. All of you had felt pain at the hands of the Capitol, but you couldn't possibly imagine condemning anyone else to the same fate.

Capitol children or not, they were still children. They weren't symbols; they were human. And you refused to join any line of thinking that said otherwise.

"So do I," Enobaria said, her red lips curving into a smile that made you remember when those lips were once coated in blood. "Let them have a taste of it."

"You guys, this way of thinking is what started these uprisings." Peeta's voice was incredulous.

Annie spoke up. "I vote no. With Peeta." Despite the decision in her tone, she cast a worried glance your way right after. Why haven't you said anything? her eyes read.

You looked away from them.

"No," Beetee voted. "We need to stop viewing each other as enemies." 

Finally, the voice you were waiting for sparked. "You have to be kidding me right now." Finnick had a baffled smile on his face, and you had a feeling he was going to start saying a few choice words.

And you didn't know why just yet, but you couldn't let him.

Before he could get his vote in, you blurted, "Yes." His head immediately snapped to yours, and you felt instant regret when his eyes met yours. In the swirls of all the blue, you could see betrayal.

The bile that you worked so hard to suppress earlier was back rising, but you wouldn't let it leave. He had to understand. You had to make him understand. 

You kept your eyes on his, no matter how sick it made you feel, pleading to him silently. His own words echoed through your head.

Please just trust me.

Trust you to do what?

I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please. Trust me.

You did. You trusted him, even when you didn't understand it at all, and now you were just begging him to return the favour.

You closed your for a brief second. Please just trust me, Finnick.

"Yes." Your eyes flew wide open to see him already looking at you. He maintained your stare before looking back to Coin. "You've got my yes, too."

He said yes. But really, he was saying so much more than that.

I trust you.

Coin nodded, disclosing, "It's down to Katniss and Haymitch." Majority of five. Only one of them had to say yes for her plan to take off, and you already knew which one of them it'd be.

Coin's eyes narrowed while Katniss remained expressionless, and in that moment, it was clear that The Hunger Games wasn't the one Coin was proposing. It was this, and President Coin was the Gamemaker and engineer behind it all. This was a game of cat and mouse.

Only Coin wasn't the cat.

After a beat of silence, Katniss finally spoke. "I get to kill Snow," she dictated.

A few pairs of eyes flitted to you, but you only focused on one of them. Coin glanced at you, and when you didn't object, she obliged, "Of course."

The room was back to silence, but your mind was anything but. What you heard were strings, brass, percussion, and a whole orchestra of instruments. A cacophony of noise and voices singing about a necklace of hope, only getting louder, and louder, and louder, and louder—

And then the beat dropped.

"Then I vote yes." That's five. For the first time since you entered the room, there was a crack in Katniss' voice. "For Prim."

That was nearly a warning, but if Coin caught the edge to her voice, she didn't say anything about it. You think she was so consumed by satisfaction that she wouldn't have been able to notice, anyway.

She turned her attention to Haymitch if not just to stay true to her words. No one may abstain. "Haymitch?"

Katniss and Haymitch shared a gaze for a few seconds, and then he looked to you, and to Finnick, before he was looking back to Coin. He didn't agree with this, but he still lied, "I'm with the, uh, Mockingjay."

Coin nodded, poorly stifling a smile. You wondered how anyone could smile at the news of a slaughter. "That carries the vote. Excellent. We'll announce The Games tonight after the execution."

And that was it. She got what she wanted. She won.

But as you glanced at Katniss to see the emptiness returning to her eyes, you had a feeling that wouldn't last very long.

Stylists brought you to your room and did your hair for you, taking the locks and forming them into the braided updo that the people had grown to love. It was a crown—that's why they liked it so much. You would've preferred to leave your hair as it was, but you compromised that you'd do the hair if they didn't make you wear that ridiculous costume.

Cinna was an impeccable designer, but if you could go forever without wearing that suit, it'd still be too soon.

On your way into your room, the stylists ignored the broken glass on the floor, stepping over it and sending each other looks that they thought were discreet. They weren't.

When they saw the crown lying on the floor, too, they didn't dare ask you to wear it.

They left soon after little small talk, though you didn't think they blamed you. You looked like shit before they got to fixing you up, making you look like you'd actually slept. 

Your lips were no longer pale, coated in lipstick that didn't look like lipstick. You supposed the "natural" element was part of the Princess façade. They did something that made your cheeks look less hollow and more rosy, and they concealed the bags under your eyes pretty nicely.

Now, you looked like the Princess.

But she doesn't exist, a voice reminded you. She's not you.

You tilted your head at the woman in the mirror. She wasn't your reflection; she was a mirage. You didn't see yourself in any of it, but you didn't see yourself before they added all the glamour, either. 

Who are you, Y/N?

You swore to yourself you'd find out.

After slipping on your coat, you left the room, promising never to see it again. You were walking to the front when you saw a woman in five inch heels and silvers tassles exiting a room, a big blonde wig on her head with sharp silver ticks pinned into it that looked like they could stab her if she fell the wrong way.

She glanced to the side and saw you before you could greet her, beating you to it. "Oh, Y/N!" A big grin came to her face as she marched her way over to you, heels clicking against the floor adamantly. You think she would've skipped if she could've. 

Her arms wrapped themselves around your frame before you could even think about protesting. "How lovely it is to see you!" she exclaimed.

Your humour trumped your discomfort, making you laugh and reciprocate the hug. "Hi, Effie." When she pulled away, you were quick to cut to the chase, knowing she'd talk your ear off for ages if you gave her the chance. You nodded to the doors she walked out of. "Is Katniss in there?"

"Oh, yes— yes, dear!" She ushered you to the doors. "Go right ahead!"

"Thank you." Effie uttered something along the lines of 'no problem' before opening the doors and practically closing them within the same breath.

The smile that was on your face promptly dropped when you saw Katniss, looking no better than earlier, but you made quick work to bring it back. "Hey, Everdeen." You tried to make your voice light, but the heaviness in the air didn't dissipate.

She turned to you after just a second too long, almost like she hadn't heard you. A grimace crossed her face, but you could tell it was her attempt at a smile.

You stood there for a bit, keeping your hands at your sides. There wasn't much more to say—this was it. After this, you didn't know what'd happen. What would life even be like without being crushed by the Capitol's thumb? Would you go home? Did you even have one?

You didn't know how any of this would play out, but you did know that whatever ending Katniss wrote, it would likely end in the two of you separating. You'd both go home, and you'd no longer see the girl you got so used to. Realistically, you'd only been in close quarters for a month, but before that, you were isolated. Katniss helped you get acclimated with the revolution and gave you hope for a better world, and now you'd be going into it without her.

She wouldn't be at your side anymore, but you wanted her to know that you'd be standing behind her regardless.

In two strides, you were embracing her in your arms before you could think better of it. She froze, stiffening, and you were just about to let go and apologize when she engulfed you with the exact same fervour.

Your lips curved upward, and that time, it wasn't forced.

Eventually, you pulled back, resting your hands on her forearms. Her eyes didn't look so empty anymore. 

You wanted to thank her for everything she'd done for you without knowing it, for saving your life in more ways than one. You wanted to tell her you loved her.

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off before you could even try. "I know." She nodded, the slighest quirk of her lips visible. "I know." Pause. "Me, too."

She knew. You didn't need to say it, and neither did she. 

Things weren't okay—they probably wouldn't be for a while, but in that moment, you knew they'd get better one day, even if you wouldn't be around each other to see it.

You nodded back at her, and you squeezed her arms one last time, whispering, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Katniss."

And then you were letting her, walking away and leaving her alone while you still could. If you'd stayed any longer, you don't know if you would've left.

There was nothing left unsaid, and those were the best kinds of endings. But it was an ending, and that left you with bittersweet feelings you couldn't name.

Deep down, you knew you probably wouldn't see her again, and perhaps that was why you didn't meet the cars waiting for you at the front. If that was the last you saw her, you wanted that to be your last encounter.

And, so, your last memory of Katniss Everdeen was in that room.

The word revolution, in the least words possible, meant change. That's what'd been happening for months now, if not years, and your reality was on the cusp of being turned on its head.

Yes, things changed.

And yet some things never did.

West of the city, there was a big lake; you found yourself there when you were supposed to be watching Snow's execution. A certain part of you was disappointed that you wouldn't get to watch him die; it was all you wanted ever since you got to 13, your sole motivation for staying alive.

But the other part of you was relieved. He would die, yes, but he wouldn't see you again before he did. He wouldn't get another chance to exercise his power over you ever again. So instead of being there, you were here, watching the water.

It reminded you of home. Back in your days at the Capitol, you didn't get do much sight-seeing of the city. You'd be brought in for a day or two, really only for the nights, and then you'd be sent back by morning. But once you met Finnick, he started walking around with you, and some nights you'd end up here.

You'd stare at the lake together in silence. Back then, the water was as close to freedom as you'd ever get. You supposed that was one of the things that did change.

You were free now.

What does that mean?

You pondered over that question for a while. For so long, you dreamed of even just tasting freedom; the thought was unattainable for so long, but now it was in your hands and you didn't know what you'd do.

The war was over.

But it wasn't.

The fight was over for you, but that didn't mean it was over for anyone else. Homes were destroyed. People were dead, and even more people were left here just to grieve. The nation was broken.

What did that make you if you just went home and left things like this? Maybe you'd done enough. Maybe you should just go home and retire the crown, finally get the rest you'd been longing for. But you didn't want that.

Who are you, Y/N?

Maybe you could be more than Panem's Princess.

"Y/N."

You were startled by the call of your name, spinning around. When you were met with eyes that matched the water behind you, you were calmed down.

"Finnick." A smile graced his face, eliciting one from you like it was contagious. "Hi."

"Hi." So many words to say, and yet that was the only one that either of you said. 

He walked up to you, turning his gaze to the lake, and just like old times, you did the same. Just like old times, the two of you stared out at the water without saying a thing. Just like old times, for a little while, you were just Y/N, and he was just Finnick.

And just like old times, all of that came to an end eventually.

"You weren't at the execution," he said at one point.

"No," you replied. "I wasn't."

"But you already know what happened." It was set up like a question, but it wasn't.

You turned to see him already looking at you. His eyes weren't angry; they were just curious. You quirked one side of your lips upward. "I had a feeling." Judging by his statement, your feeling was correct. Your lips quickly drooped downward. "Is—"

He nodded before you could finish. "Katniss is alright." A breath of relief left you. "Paylor's gonna pardon her eventually. She'll probably be taking over." That confirmed it.

Coin was dead. And Snow was, too.

When you got your bearings, you shrugged. "I'd vote for her." You might've said it just to bring some humour to the conversation, but it wasn't a joke. You had no doubts that Commander Paylor would lead the nation with courage.

Finnick chuckled, agreeing, but as soon as he stopped, the light disappeared, reminding you of the weight of the conversation you were about to have. You didn't think you'd even be alive to have it, but you were, and now there was no avoiding it. 

He must've seen the shift in your demeanour. "Y/N—"

"I love you," you breathed, cutting him off. If you were gonna have this talk, then that was the way you needed to start it. "I love you, and I have loved you for years. I'm so happy that I get to say it out loud now, because I never thought I'd get to, but Finnick, I—" the quivering of your lips made you stop. Realization dawned on his face, and that made tears come to your eyes. "I don't think love is enough."

He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hands. You let him. "Y/N—"

A tear raced down your cheek. "I don't know who I am when I'm not pretending. I lost myself trying to love you," you confessed, more tears falling down your face, but in the blur, you could see tears in his eyes, too. "I need to find myself again. I'm not— I'm not in the right headspace for a relationship right now, and it wouldn't be fair to you to jump right into one like everything's okay." Your voice shook. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

You were just about to pull your hands away when he squeezed them tighter. "No, I can— I can wait."

Your chest tightened as you held back a sob. He was so frantically trying to hold onto you when he shouldn't have been. You shook your head. "No, you don't understand. I need to stay here— I need time—"

"I can give you time!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking, simultaneously cracking your heart. "I can stay here— I can wait. Y/N, I will wait forever for you if you need me to."

This time, the sob did leave you, and there was nothing you could do stop it. "You shouldn't have to! You should just go be happy—"

"I can't be happy without you," he argued, stepping even closer to you like his every action was begging you to see his perspective. 

At his interruption, more sobs fell from your lips, and he promptly pulled you into his chest. Instinctually, your arms wrapped around his torso, and his hands went to your head, caressing your hair as you cried.

You cried, and cried, and cried, and he held you all through it, letting you soak his shirt with your tears. He held onto you tightly, and not just physically, either.

Finnick Odair would never let you go.

Never again.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, you calmed down. You don't remember when you did or what happened after that, but eventually, your eyes were fluttering open to a white ceiling. Your hands grasped at your surroundings, feeling linen scrunch beneath your fingertips.

You glanced to the side where a big window was, light shining in from the moon. You furrowed your brows. How long were you out—and where were you?

Slowly, you stood up, soreness hitting your body immediately. You held back a hiss. Sleep must've given the bruises time to marinate; you decided to ignore it.

You walked through what was clearly a bedroom and opened the door. It opened into a hallway; noise was coming from the left, so that's where you went.

You didn't know what exactly you were expecting when you reached the end of the hall, but it certainly wasn't Finnick in front of a stove, frying something out of view. 

"Finnick?"

He turned around, eyes widening. "Oh, hey— let me just—" your brows raised as he turned back to the stove, picking up the pan and dropping its contents onto two plates on the counter. Eggs. You blinked, and memories flashed underneath your eyelids of scenes just like this one.

You didn't think you'd ever see him cooking again.

When you opened your eyes, he was back to facing you, a sheepish smile on his face that looked just a touch out of place. "Sorry, I was cooking us some food." He gestured behind him then added, "Since you can't."

You scoffed, almost like you hadn't just been bawling your eyes out, almost like you were back at home and everything was still fine. "Okay, first of all, screw you—" he let out a chuckle, "second of all, thank you. And third of all, where the hell are we right now?" Your eyes scanned the area; this wasn't a hotel room. It was an apartment. "Last I remember, we were at the lake."

"This used to be Cressida's old place," he explained. "Said we could crash here as long as we wanted. She doesn't really wanna be here either way."

"Oh." We. We could crash here, he said. You were brought back to reality. "Finnick—"

"Let's eat," he cut you off, an easygoing smile on his face. Easygoing, but not easy. You could see the nerves churning behind his expression, so with a sigh, you nodded, letting him lead you to the dinner table and pull out your chair.

You told yourself you did it for him. But really, you wanted to prolong this for a little while longer, too.

He put your plate and cutlery in front of you. You wondered how he managed to procure eggs that weren't expired, but you didn't ask him aloud. You just picked up your fork and started eating.

Whether it was your hunger or your desire to hold onto this, you stayed silent as you ate. You even caught Finnick eating slower than usual; he wanted to hold onto this, too. He was determined to do so.

You and Finnick did what you did best: you pretended. You pretended that you didn't just lose it and cry yourself to the point of passing out. You pretended that you didn't have to talk after this. You pretended that you were still living in the life you had before the Quell, eating dinner every night just like this. And in remembering those dinners, you pretended that you weren't pretending then, too.

But you couldn't pretend forever.

You finished your food first and waited for Finnick to finish his. He took his time, and you let him. You let him twiddle with his fork when he was done, and then you let him take your plates and wash them afterwards. And once they were on the drying rack and he had no more excuses, you stood up from your chair with reality ready to spill from your lips.

"Finnick—"

He took no more than second to get to you. "Please, just— hold on." 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "We can't avoid this forever."

"I know." Despite the shake in his voice, there was undeniable resolution in it. "And if... if what you said is really what you want, I'll give it to you." Out of sheer surprise, your eyes opened. The face you loved so much looked pained, but he still gave you a smile. This time, you could tell it wasn't real; it was purely for your sake. "There are countless things I need to apologize to you for, and I'd spend the rest of my life making it all up to you if you let me, but I'd do anything for you. So if what you want is for me to walk out that door right now, I'll do it." He swallowed, like he was scared out of his mind. "I just want to ask you one thing first."

The rational side of your mind screamed at you not to entertain it, to say no and get him to leave while you could both still bear it. He was willing to give you an out—that's what you wanted.

Was that what you wanted?

No, what you wanted was to feel better, and sometimes, Finnick did that, but other times, he did the exact opposite. Most times, the rational you corrected. Most times, he made you feel worse. But the happiness he gave you in those few times overrode everything else.

The other version of you, the one that remembered the good just as equally as the bad, nodded and gave him the greenlight.

He enveloped your hands in his, and the warmth made you realize just how cold you were. "Dance with me," he pleaded. "Dance with me and then decide."

No. Don't do it—

Transfixed by the way he was staring at you, you found yourself agreeing and ignoring your inner voice. "One dance," you told him.

The smile on his face became a grin. Real. This time, it was real. "That's all I'll ask," he promised. You took his word for it.

One last dance. 

He led you to the open area between the kitchen and the living room, keeping your hands in his hold and pulling you closer. You rested your head on his, listening to his heart rattle against his ribcage. God, you missed that sound. 

You missed this.

Finnick swayed you slowly to the music, nothing external or tangible, but the music you were dancing to was more real than any song you'd ever heard.

You realized now that the rational you was right. Finnick set his trap, and you lied in it. Because now that you remembered what this felt like, how could you willingly give it up? How could you ever leave?

The song might've been filled with heightening moments, and there might've been times when you just wanted to throw the damn record player into the wall, but it was your song. 

And this was your dance.

Minutes passed before you pulled away. Finnick's hands immediately tightened on yours, and you squeezed them right back. You were pulling away, but the song wasn't over.

It wouldn't be over for a long time.

You warned him, "It's gonna be a lot of work, Finnick."

"I'm okay with that."

"We had a life back home— you had a life. I wouldn't be blaming you if you wanted to go back to it." 

He was shaking his head before you were even done speaking, eyes earnestly poring into yours. "I'll build any life so long as it's with you."

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt or lying but found none. When you were sure that you believed what he was saying, that he believed what he was saying, you released the smile you were holding back.

"Okay."

His eyes widened. "Okay?"

An involuntary giggle left you. "Yeah. Okay—" without warning, he picked you up and was twirling you around, making you squeal. "Finnick!"

Your laughs resounded throughout the apartment, and when he put you down, it was just to engulf you in his arms again. You wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to kiss you, but you'd have to work your way back up to that.

And eventually, you would.

No, your song wasn't over.

It was just restarting.

In district 12, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark stood inside their home. They started to live together after some time had passed, and while they weren't a couple at that moment, they were still together. That was more than enough for the both of them.

Katniss chopped up vegetables for the dinner they'd be having later with Haymitch while Peeta read her a letter, addressed to them both. They didn't get mail often, not in 12, so they didn't know entirely what was happening with everyone else, but this letter informed them of all that they'd missed.

You'll be happy to hear that Katniss' mother has been training new medical units in the Capitol. Thanks to her, we'll be able to heal many more people at a much faster rate.

Gale has been promoted to a captain in district 2 to help keep order and security. He's doing well there.

Johanna has gone back to district 7 where she is taking the healing process one day at a time. She'll take as much time as she needs.

Annie and Julian are back in 4, along with Mags. They spend every day loving their son the way we all should've been loved, and it's a beautiful sight to see.

I am in the Capitol. I run a centre for children all over Panem who have lost their parents. One of the children has been staying with me personally for a while; she reminds me of you, Katniss. I'm thinking of adopting her.

Finnick has been here with me. We're happy together. One day, not any time soon, but some day, I'm gonna marry him, and the two of you better be there for the wedding.

We've all suffered so much. But we owe it to the memories of everyone we've lost to do our best with these lives. 

I hope you're both finding some peace.

As Peeta read the last lines, Katniss smiled for the first time in a long time.

Sincerely,

Y/N

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons @hnslchw @unholyhuntress @aclmagic @gloryekaterina @ayme301 @lem0ns77 @kisskittenn @onlyangel-444 @moonagedaydream505 @spderm4nnnn @satellitespeirs @glitzcute @iammirrorball @corpsebasil @forever-sleepy-sloth @omwtkydttfym @divinelovers @maggiecc @i-am-a-simp1 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @nelliereadsstuff @how2besalty @dreaminglandsworld @eilaharmonia @catvader101 @lexa138 @h0neylemon @dakotali @hermionelove @theseerbetweenus @whosscruffylooking @yourdailymemedelivery @emma-andrea1 @s1lngwns @meenyminymoes-blog @roxi-reid @rattertatter @sunnybunnyy2 @just-levyy @amaranth-writing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @joshhutchersonisdaddy @my-name-is-baby @hehehe13356 @quazsz @chloecharms23 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thehairington86 @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @ment1tavoid @hereliesme @tayrae515 @mottergirl99 @blackdxggr @giverosespls @erindiggory @feyretopia @bibliosaurus @sleila @soursonnets @blackoutdays13 @lovelyteenagebeard @nj01 @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @marimba375 @willow-g-1 @blahablah2 @inatimate-icarus @shoebillcuicui @scoliobean @awritingtree @h-------n @yoonki-bored @miserablebl00d @iloubr @fairytales007 @beannnnnnnn @dominicfikexoxo @aclmagic @helaenaluvr @ravenmedows @bigdolldoeeyesgirl to all taglist members, tell me if you want to be added to my finnick taglist overall! thank you for reading my fic, and thank you for enjoying it enough to even ask to be on the taglist.

additional a/n: see what i did there at the end—our song and DANCE ;) you guys, this is it. the song is over (for us at least). i'm in a mix of like pride and sadness. this has quite literally taken a year to finish. it's one of my fav things i've written to date, and at one point, it was the only thing i was writing. to those of you that have stuck around to the end, thank you. i really hope u enjoyed the series and its ending! i'm thinking of writing little blurbs for this and whatnot if ur interested, all revolving around their journey. eventually, i'll post a list of canons ab y/n and where i think she ends up. once again, thank you all so much for your support. reading your comments has never failed to make me smile. i love you!! have a great day.

[fluorynn]

✮⋆˙ 🩻 — 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐥. 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲

✮⋆˙ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : lo’ak 〤 omaticayan!reader

✮⋆˙ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : in which 4 years have passed after the incident. Change was normal to occur, but so was loss and grievance within that change. Change was something that had occurred within the youngest Sully boy when the RDA returned, when he had to flee from home and leave you behind, when the incident happened. When the Sullys returned after two years, Lo’ak instantly seeked for you, yet you’ve noticed he had changed both for the better and worse, and sometimes, most days, it had become for the worst. You’d given him many warnings throughout the year, as both of you have now reached adulthood and have committed to a relationship that at first begun with the constant lovesickness for one another, never ending touches, stolen kisses, but that was when you were mere teenagers, and as time went by, as change and grief and war came upon you, your relationship took a shift. Harsher he became, more reckless, impulsive, ignorant, inconsiderate, yet he promised he’d change for you. After every act and word, he promised to search within himself, within the past to try and find the Lo’ak he once was, the proper mate you deserved soon, the Lo’ak who you adored with your entire soul. Yet if you were to be sincere, you knew that after all these major events that happened to Lo’ak and after the months of not seeing him, he would not be the same, especially after the loss of Neteyam. You wanted to hang onto the sliver of hope, of sanity for yourself, because Lo’ak had not been the only one to have lost something, someone, yet it seemed that everyone always excused him for his behavior, nobody cared, especially Lo’ak. He was constantly out flying, ‘on patrol’, never returning to the hideout the Omaticaya People still had to endure, and his excuses only became more and more unreasonable. His father said the boy’s just under a lot of pressure, Kiri said he’d come around, but Neytiri did not; while she too grief, she too experienced major changes, it did not give her son the excuse to treat you with such heartless behavior. You loved Lo’ak, and you loved him ultimately and beyond compare. You loved him too much however, to the point where it blinded you from seeing the harsh reality that this indeed was not your Lo’ak anymore. The strong substance your people had, he somehow always found a way to consume it, practically reek of it without his family knowing — and you didn’t dare ‘rat’ him out. He wasn’t yours anymore, and every ounce of pain, of grief, of sadness you felt for him soon disintegrated. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, he was supposed to be the one bound to be your mate when the time came. But now, it seemed that he wasn’t suitable for you, and while 14 year old you promised his 14 year old self to never leave, you realized now why promises wound up empty. Everyone reaches a breaking point, and you are now finally acting upon it.

✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : aged up!lo’ak, ANGST, 18+, thigh riding, fingering, grinding, mild kuru play?, overstimulation, soft!lo’ak, teasing, drinking/alcoholism — lo’ak’s insecure, stubborn, harsh and grieving still but masks it a bit well, reader is slightly sensitive, fed up w him, gives in to one more chance w him tho — italics in dialogue signifies they’re speaking Na’vi!

✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : pretty long, lol

✮⋆˙ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @bambithewriter @lilghostiequinni @pandoraslxna @avatarloverfrfr @strongheartneteyam @talanyra

✮⋆˙ author’s note : Just in my feelings rn, LMAO. Neteyam series prologue will be posted soon ( hopefully….I just want to make sure it’s good and there’s enough but not too much detail to give away what may happen in future chapters — it’s one of those things where I’ve written the following chapters just not the one I should have actually put time in😭 —) but just thought I’d drop this — Lo’ak lovers, rise up! I hope you like it! Please don’t hesitate to comment, reblogs are appreciated! <33

“Good. You are up here.” You are met with his back facing you mere feet away, the unkempt pattern of his stripes and the tense rise of his shoulders is more than enough for you to know it is him, especially when knowing that this spot is the single one reserved for him. Lo'ak Sully was left in a state of utter bewilderment, a feeling he thought he had long surpassed. Over the years, he had honed and heightened each of his senses to such an extent that no ordinary being could startle him anymore. However, you were no ordinary being, and that was precisely what captivated him. Your ability to always bewilder and astonish him in unexpected ways kept him constantly alert and intrigued.

He gave a subtle glance to the object in his hold — a minor wooden cup filled to the brim with an alcoholic beverage — naer — one the Na’vi can smell before even spotting it for its scent is strong, vigor. At this point, there is no trying to hide or deny it from you. Even if he did try to throw it off the large branches he sat upon, the scent would be there, reeking around and on him. He had given you the vacant promise to back away from it, or very least try to yet make no effort in doing so. This drink that, while it tips one over for a bit of time, it also deprived feelings you could no longer do. Whatever had happened in his life, each burning drop down his throat and to his mind managed to fix for a minimum amount of time. Of course Lo’ak would not give this up — the opportunity to not feel anything to the bone.

“Your father said you did not show up for your training.” Your tone of voice was deficient of its common disappointment and despair, simply uttering as if you didn’t spare a care for it anymore.

“My father should learn to mind his own business and worry more about leading his People and fixing the damage done from the Sky People.” Lo’ak finally spoke, voice curt and Na’vi language gaining a thickness as he heard your subtle footsteps against branches. “I am not a child anymore.”

“You are right. You are not. But he is still your father, he worries for you. So does your mother.” You reminded him as if it were not known, reaching your spot next to his sitting frame only to see what you have already suspected in his hold, taking in his physical state.

“Yeah well, he shouldn’t. He has no reason to, and neither does she.” His quip made your lips squirm down but said nothing as you observed the drink in his hand, the way his ear flitted from his own words, from your words in adding onto that his mother worries. A quirk settled between your browline but held your tongue for you did not want to start some meaningless quarrel. But Lo’ak could feel the distaste radiating from you, how you’re fighting the urge to scold him for his incapability to uphold his fair share of promises. What he doesn’t understand is why have you not done so?

“You look very pretty. Sevin ( pretty ).” He softly stated.

A small smile was all to be offered — one filled with slight remorse. His legs had been dangling down the edge of the thick glowing lodge, and you pondered on doing the same as you have always done since you were children; swinging them above the small lake of water at the same pace he would, teasing him with a light nudge of your foot. But this time was different. Instead, you settle beside him, knees bent beneath you and slightly tilted your body towards him. Lo’ak’s blazing irises scrutinized you the way he typically does, recognizing the strain your shoulders formed, as if you were on edge because of him. So, he took one more small swig of the liquid before his face started inclining forward to plant a light kiss on your lips. One that was fleeting – everything tied or related to Lo’ak was always fleeting.

Lo’ak’s lips very often suffused your mind from thought, so incongruous from right and wrong.

One moment Lo’ak offered his physical affections and pretty words.

The next, not even a split moment, he was the cause of your suffering stars.

You now pondered where exactly this little act would land the both of you in.

You were the first to retract away from Lo’ak, not wanting to fall into his patterned act. The kind of act of loving Lo’ak too destructively that overflowed everything with a single touch, and tug you back into him.

“What iss wrong?” He inquired, dark brows quirking.

Your coils lightly sway at the head shake given, yet he knew before you could have a chance to verbally utter the lie. “Lying is not a good look for you.”

“I am not lying.” You were quick to snip out before you could contain your tone, palms pressing into your thighs that indicated the falseness of your words.

“Right.” His eyes rolled and bit, “There’s something you would like to say?”

You can’t help but blink a few times. This was an opening, to say what was in your chest. “Srane ( yes ).”

A hum of boredom rang through the air. “You could have just said that then. No need to take the hard way around.” His golden eyes were drawn to the liquid in his hold, watching its faint glow swirl with the light flick of his wrist, and you wondered just how far gone was he. Normally, Lo’ak would have some sort of facade going on, one that’s filled with his now dry jokes and teasing smiles despite the fact that the both of you knew it was just a show. Yet now, he was unfazed by your presence as he brought the cup to his lips, throat bobbing with the largest swings he took.

Perhaps if you were standing, you might’ve tipped over and fallen into the lake. He simply saw it written in bold letters right across your face. “I am not here to fight with you.” You quietly started.

“Then don’t.”

An exhale flared your cat-like nose at his crossed tone. “Okay, I will not but I am going to need you to drop whatever tone it is you are trying to achieve with me, Suli.” Lo’ak, despite the abrupt changes spiking in him, was still your Lo’ak, so when he heard your warning, his ears pinned down by the sides of his head and eyes strayed to the ground below as an act of regret. This gave you some sliver of hope.

Not necessarily did you want Lo’ak to be unstable or uncertain with himself, it made you quite content that he has grown into his fierceness. What was bothersome to you were his drastic changes, and it seemed what once went as two souls that twined perfectly for one another was now misplaced — your presence within his life was not necessary any longer. The intoxication he was constantly washed in came with a smell too strong for your liking, too nauseating, too overwhelming for your senses. Tears swelled up in your eyes, yet you contained them. “I had thought you were going to quit.”

“If we are speaking truthfully, I told you I would try.” He corrected, smug voice paired with a stupid smirk.

“Hm, and have you?” You retorted and his brows hitched beneath his two thin cascades of braids. “Have you tried to quit?”

“And you have got proof that I haven’t?” You despised this, despised the person he’d become, despise that he seemed to knew precisely what he was doing and didn’t give two fucks about it.

“Let us see — there is Kiri, there is Spider, oh there is even Tuk who tells me this!” Your voice carried a feign sweetness and surprise, watching how his brows crashed together with your sneered words. “This is the brother you wish for them to see? This is the person you want your future People to see, Lo’ak? Their possible future leader, the Tippling Olo’eyktan?”

“And what the hell is it to you, huh? We already know I am not suited to be Leader.” His spiking temper was one to shut you up, but you did not fail to notice the light lash his tail made. “You are not my mother, you are not Tsahik, and you are certainly not my mate. I do not need you worrying over me. And I do not need your constant annoying questions.” Your body shuddered, more so because of the harshness of his tone rather than the biting air. Your knees dug into the branch’s crippled surface, fingers winding into fists as your eyes quickly averted from him. Eywa was witness to the sensitivity you had gain over the years, the years Lo’ak happened to be in.

“It is not common for some warm body to ask this much from their future Olo’eyktan either.”

Lo’ak’s added on words striked you with force, causing you to physically and instinctively recoil from the sharp sting of it. The deep slice within your heart, cleanly tearing into two parts. Perhaps in some pieces, some hindsight, it could have been described as that if you did not add onto the fact that the both of you grew up together, the fact that he did not have the simplicity of courage to call you by the true title he once proudly uttered you as; his. His bound-to-be mate, his love.

“A warm body? That is all I am to you?” You questioned, and Lo’ak — rethinking whether his mistake was to tell you the definition of those words in human terms or perhaps the true, more common mistake he noticed that was clearly etched in his features — gained regret behind those lax-colored eyes of his. But it was masked, tightly trapped beneath this filthy portrayal of pride, egotistical, brash and reckless man. Not even a man, a boy.

“Lo’ak!”

Instead of giving you a proper answer, he threw you a side glance, one filled with provocation. The scoff emerging from your throat was inevitable, and you nodded. If this was how he wished to act, then fine. It will make the forthcoming situation much easier for you then. The only way to get through with this was if you treat him as if he was nothing to you. “We must speak.”

Push through the heartache, the pain, the way it tore you apart. You must start to truly see him for who he was in this present moment.

And what you saw was not your Lo’ak.

Lo’ak was listening, you could tell by how his ears slightly flitted up, but he said nothing. Simply awaiting for you to proceed as he took another sip.

“I…” You felt the affliction that tried clawing its way up your throat, your eyes fixating on the ground and you stayed quiet for a while.

“Just spill it already.”

“I have come to say goodbye, Lo’ak.” His slamming shock is beyond thrilling. You had been seeking for some, any type of sign that would prove Lo’ak’s care for you — and perhaps this was the answer; the high perch of his ears, the broadening of his eyes, the hitched breath. Nonetheless, it was too late. He had created his situation, and now he would have to accept the consequences.

“What do you mean g-goodbye?” He stammered, and the cup was now abandoned and falling to the ground that was far below the both of you.

“Ah, so now you can speak!”

“Enough,” he inhaled deeply. “And answer the question.” The audacity this skxawng had. You are firmer with your words “Srane. Goodbye, Lo’ak.”

“And where exactly are you going? And when exactly were you going to tell me?” He spat out in distaste and disapproval, body fully turning towards you.

“The Tipani Clan.” You responded with an edge of sass. “I am telling you right now, aren’t I?”

His response was immediate, loud and he shook his head despite your answer was to be expected, knowing that one of your deceased parents descended from there. “The Tipani Clan? What about—” He halted his sentence from speaking of himself, of how if you left, you would be tearing away a part of him and taking it with you. But fear of vulnerability halted him from doing so, so instead he dodged it. “What about your duties here? I thought you promised to be here for your People in case the Sky People returned. To help rebuild.”

“Lo’ak, I am telling you that I am leaving and all you care about speaking is duty? Are you serious?” He instead looked away from you, too stubborn to answer, so you said his name again. He ignored you.

“Lo’ak, fucking look at me.” It was the rarity of hearing you speak English and the vulgar word thrown in the mix that caught Lo’ak’s attention, gold orbs flickering towards you in an instant and you immediately notice the diversity of emotion pooling them.

“So all that matters to you, is my duty to the Omaticaya? For me to not be here as a fixer upper for them? You only care about that being broken instead of this? Is that the only thing that matters in that head of yours?”

No. The response was, should have been a fierce no. You were constantly, always in Lo’ak’s head. He yearned for you extravagantly, and besides staying alive for the sake of his family, you were one of the few things he could find himself caring for. There would be many cold and curt swears to never trust, to never care or love after losing someone who not only qualified as a good mate, but a loving one, is what Lo’ak thought, he knew it. If you left him — when you left him, he would be done with it, with the twinge of good, of hope. He would be completely shut off from ever seeking a mate to be bonded with under Eywa’s will, he would not care of continuing the legacy of his name despite him now being the only son. His heart, the heart you once saw as fearless and strong, would be guarded by much thicker, massive walls, and that small space left would only become constricted by the waves of his tears. While you were everything to him, you were not sufficient enough to spare him the grief. At least not alone.

While he has grown, while he has sculpted his abilities and became nearly as mighty as his big brother, under all that was still a broken, hurt boy filled with guilt. He could not allow himself to get rid of that part of himself. He could not shed enough tears to move past everything that happened, that he had seen and lost.

Lo’ak loved you, he is deeply in love with you. And perhaps another thing that has changed was that he could not depend everything on you. No one should carry the responsibility of one’s whole happiness. There is no fairness in that.

So instead he found need in other things, distractions despite it being selfish. He needed to fly because it could get him away from the ground and connect to the closest thing that felt like Neteyam, he needed to drown himself in that alcohol the Na’vi made because it drowned away all the pain and misery his family went through, the burden to try and add up to something, someone he will never be able to fill. But while he was engulfed himself in all that, he could pretend that his family was not broken. That it was the same, once happy family it once was 5 years ago. The one that still had Neteyam’s presence, the one that still had a father rather than a commanding leader. In this minor haven of numbness, he could still pretend that those once fond memories were fresh, remembered the way they were supposed to be reminisced. He could not just let it go.

Meanwhile, Lo’ak’s silence was tearing you apart, fragmenting your heart into pieces. But now you knew, you saw the truth. You could not keep a desperate grasp around old words and acts anymore, for now they were faint. Empty. Pointless gifts of a said courting that was going nowhere. Loving phrases and charming grins he more than knew could accomplish in capturing your heart.

But now it was clear as day that it meant nothing to Lo’ak. You meant nothing to Lo’ak. He did not love you as much as you loved him.

His throat cleared, and thickly spoke in English. “Your place is here, Y/N.” His eyes refused to meet yours, jaw narrowed enough to demonstrate he was clearly upset, though you’ are not certain why.

“It was.” The correction you gave his words finally made everything click. His gaze lingered on the lake’s neon glow before lifting to look at you, trying to catch your own. The pretty decorated braids that framed his face moved with the motion of his head slanting to the side. He repeated your word, squinting before shaking his head and more so whispering to himself, “You’re leaving.”

Sharply exhaling, you finally uttered, “I am also here to end things between us, Lo’ak.”

Again, he was bewildered, and the cut breath he released made it known. Eyes darted over each feature upon your face, as if trying to commit it all into his memory, panic slowly seeping within him. “Can … I can say something, right?” His tone still carried its infamous jeer, but you suppose that was the last you deserved. You were the first to engage in this conversation. When you grant him the permission to speak, he wasted no second in taking advantage of it.

“W-where’s this coming from?”

You’re more than certain more inquiries will follow, and one or two questions will satisfy his little interrogation.

“What’s the motive behind all this, huh? How long you’ve been planning this, to leave me?” Lo’ak’s voice was one that never faltered nowadays — he, much like his father, was a fierce speaker. You knew that Lo’ak did not like to be kept in the unknown, in hiding. But now his voice was rather meek. His once honed gaze turned rounder, emphasizing that he may cry. What you despised most in this moment, was that it unphased you. Before this, all the trouble and conflict spiking between you and your Lo’ak, his tears were your least favorite thing in this entire existence. Out of everyone, you once believed Lo’ak was the least of them all to deserve the brim of tears. That he deserved happiness. The sight of them always managed to tear you bit by bit with every fallen droplet, and now it hardly mattered. While you do still very much believe that he indeed deserved happiness, you have reached your limit. You have devastatingly accepted that you could not restore that happiness in Lo’ak.

“Few weeks. A month maybe.” You answered faintly. You use the best of your abilities to keep a firm composure. It would be miserable to cry, especially right then and there. Lo’ak stumbled through his repetition of your answer, dubiety twisting your features, mind and heart. You cannot seem to comprehend the sudden shift of his act. The authentic perplex and strain to recall what went wrong as if he never saw this coming from you.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry, Y/N—” His long arms extended, touch reaching to collide with you, yet he reluctantly retracted back as if he had been scorched by some blazing flame of a barrier around you. He repeated his apology, scrambling to try and find whatever pieces he has broken and bring them back together while trying with all his strength to not lose his damn mind. “Lemme fix this — y-you have to let me fix this, okay?”

His voice is desperate, pleading, and it was as if he is speaking without wanting to hear reason. Lo’ak may not be known for his smartness, but he was clever with certain things. To you, Lo’ak was everything. But even so, that usual thick headed mind of his was unable to get himself out of this one.

“Y/N, we can — it’s fixable.” His head was repeatedly bobbing up and down, and it told you that perhaps you have brought him out of his drunken state. Brought him back to Pandora, at least for a split moment, you thought.

“I think it is too late now, ma Lo’ak.” His eyes shuttered and he let out a quivered exhale.

“Baby, don’t say that, please—” He reached for you again, this time pushing through the fear and on with it. He could not help the slightness of grimace upon him when his hands cut into your self-obtained space, and it was then that he realized why that burn had been a great protection for you.

Anxious, panic-stricken he was, digits winding around the bareness of your hips and wastes no second in tugging you upon his lap. “Please…just give me one more chance a-and let me fix this, yeah? Baby?”

The expanse of his palms quivered when they lifted to your cheeks, your own gripping the taut muscles of his shoulder blades to maintain your balance, to keep yourself steady from the plead within his green-speckled hues. The air surrounding Lo’ak reeked of that forsaken alcohol, entangled through his braids, the essence of his blue flesh, his accessories.

You take him in; the faint violet flushed beneath the sockets of his eyes, the drain that highly beseeched at you with every syllable tumbling from his cloying lips. “I’m….fuck.” His breathing was escalating; more turbulent, almost hysterical as he tried retaining every part of you inside of himself.

Without your willingness, you are gently moved, yet still, your form remained unyielding.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and you know that.” His softly hushed words are right. You knew he meant them. While Lo’ak’s emotional avoidance over the last few years had been quite a lot, it did not make him exceedingly insensitive. He was full of many pretty words, but never once did he utter abundant words into existence without purpose. But what you only wished for was that he’d been able to say them sooner. Could have been swarmed with the realization and recognition of you before you had made it to the edge of the cliff above the depths. All that was left for you to do in order to escape was to take the act in plummeting. To end things with Lo’ak, to start anew with your own life.

It is unattainable, you arere more than convinced that this is the end of the path for the both of you. Even with that said forged in your mind, you nodded still. Purposeless it was to see him in this state of franticity and fear of the prospect of losing you burdening your heart. You may feel repentant later on, but you are to leave once this is finished, once this is over with and you would never return to the Omaticaya. Lo’ak was to be an experience of your past. He would hate you then, hate you for an eternity for what you were to do, but you knew he would be okay. What he needed was his family. To fix those cracks, to patch those injuries. To improve himself, Lo’ak must and will find a way to find his true self beneath all those layers of resentment and suffering.

That was all that ceased to matter.

“I can fix this? You’ll let me?” You nodded once more, but he did the opposite in an act of disapproval. “Nah, I need to hear it. Let me hear you.” His voice was glazed with true, raw pain, something you haven’t heard from him in such a long time. “Please, Y/N…”

“You can fix this, ma Lo’ak.”

“Y-you promise me that?” He questioned, and for a moment you faltered. It’d be much more deceiving for him to know you were lying. So you do not, and instead you let the tips of your four fingers stray to the nape of his neck and pull him into a kiss. And in this moment, you knew that you had never loved with such depth, such fervor with every fiber in your being.

You were aware that once you vanished from here, the fractures etched in your heart would scorch, ablaze to the point where you would feel every flicker and pain. With that being said, you poured it all into this one kiss, one that seized every ounce of respiration from his lungs. Vehementing it was. Vehementing you are, of course. His mind is nebulous; hazy, too fucked over — but you are here. In amidst the turmoil of an inner war, you. He loves you profoundly, and he knows you well. Well enough to know what the next day would bring. He knew why you were contributing to this, why you were granting him the belief that his pathetic attempt of resolution would be enough.

You love Lo’ak as well.

The thought of facing a day without your presence gracing his life churns his chest with a crushing sense of loss, the palpitating organ within bending and compressing as if some being had reached and tried bending it to their own taunting will. He must give you everything, he has to give you everything, risk it all, and perhaps it would be sufficient. This time it is Lo’ak who retreated from you, dark lashes fluttering against the warmth of your cheek while his eyes perused over your face just one more time.

“You know that no matter where you go, you’ll always be mine.” His words are not a question, more so a statement of persistence and certainty the both of you felt and knew deep within your bones.

“You do understand, yeah?” You could hardly form a verbal response, though you do not give him the opportunity to bask in his little glory, and instead your hands, the ones currently on his shoulders, slide to the beaded necklaces encasing his toned neck, fingers tangling through them. “If you are going to do something, get on with it.”

Lo’ak cannot help the soft smirk hoisting his cheek at your clipped tone and grumbles, “Impatient much?” Candidly speaking, this was perhaps the closest he was to being himself. That brilliant smile you haven’t seen in so long resisting the urge to be the prime focus of attention. A pity, really, for you.

“You still trust me?” He notices your indecisiveness. He does not give you time to respond for he soon adds on, “Like this?” and that almost immediately changes the answer. The adapted pads of his fingers graze down the dip of your neck and to the elegant line of your collarbone, peering down your figure. “Do you trust me enough to have you like this?”

Your chin slightly dips bashfully as you nod. His brows draw together and hisses in a breath. “I wanna hear you say it then. Make this easier for the both of us.” Your delicate beaded chest piece subtly heaves from the ascent your chest makes, and he could not help but laugh, eyes crescent-shaping with the sound, at your irritated voice.

“I trust you, Lo’ak.”

“Good.” he mutters softly beneath his breath while letting his hands fall and secure themselves to your hips.

Yes, good, you repeat the single word in your own mind.

“You’d give yourself to me right here, right now?” He question, and you stutter at this. It was not the upmost ideal thing, for this spot practically belonged to you and Lo’ak was perhaps the most reserved place within the Forest since you were children. But it was the Forest, and you never knew who from the People could be wandering around. The thought of someone stumbling upon you and the Olo’eyktan’s son out in the open petrified you.

Though it seemed your pussy thought otherwise and did not mind one bit of this idea.

“S-srane ( yes ).” Firm is your word, and it pleases Lo’ak. Muscle memory it became when his palms create a path upwards from your hips. Palms that hold such tenderness as they splay up your stomach, blunt nails beginning to faintly engrave themselves into the azure flesh of your waist, soon following your midsection to endearingly trace over the pretty stripes decorated there.

The strokes he causes make you squirm in his lap, body curling slightly to the side and your nose twitches cutely. “Lo’ak, enough—” your plea goes ignored once more by him.

“Do y’know how pretty you are?” Lo’ak’s words cause your heart to skip a rather large beat. Curse his idiotic mouth, curse him. Curse his abilities to have you melt with a single breath of his lungs.

“Our People always speak about the Great Mother’s beauties. Saying how she spent a great deal on Pandora,” You didn’t hesitate to listen, even despite the light acts created from his touch that have your abdomen twitching.

“But gosh, I think you’ve bested her.” He exhales almost breathlessly, as if the weight of his words are too grand and exquisite from being spoken to existence, to you. You see nothing but sincerity in his face, blinking rapidly when he taps your hip and utters, “Take it off now.”

His demand left no inch of a room for a disagreement, so without further hesitation, you hitch yourself a bit up while wobbly fingers perch down and into the weaves of your tewng, slipping the garment off. You more than know that when he meant to take it off, he meant to discard everything — such as your little chest piece. But almost as if it were a challenge, you do not. This draws a chuckle out of Lo’ak and you roll your eyes despite settling back down on his thigh.

His mouth moving hot against yours, and for a second your entire world stills, the remaining fragments of your heart plummeted, the wild fluttering as the single thing inside of you capable of sustaining life. Your ache, your beautiful, throbbing, lifelong ache dwindles for a moment as Lo’ak’s mouth meshes with yours. He kisses you fiercely, fingers brushing the lower swell of your breast, breathing existence back into your being, and it is then that you moaned lowly for him.

When he rips his mouth away from your own, it is when his fingers found their way down the dips of your stomach, outlining the lower section, soon curling around the upper muscle of your thighs to part them just a bit more, dragging two deftly fingers through the growing mess between.

“Even when that pretty head of yours wanna hate me, this body can’t resist me, hm?” He retracts his hand as he speaks, long enough to glide those two fingers between his lips, humming contently around them before pulling them out. They were profusely coated with his spit, making it such an effortless task to increase the mess worse. Its pads nudge back and forth between your slit, occasionally granting nurturing circles to your nub. Your mind is becoming warped within the lust, back to clutching onto his shoulders for steadiness.

Your nails puncture the muscles there with the longing to grind against something, anything. “You’re so damn wet, mamas.” The foreign nickname has force in tearing out a sharp gasp from your throat, and he huffs out a chuckle while absorbing all the moist sensation.

“ ‘m gonna have you all fucked up on my fingers, then some more with my dick, how does that sound?” The sensation of his dark plaits graze your cheek, lips adding on when they brush your flickering ear. “You want that, Y/N/N/?”

You could not do anything more than whine, allowing your hips to wind forward in hence to catch every languid swipe of his slim fingers against you. Your body quaking, head pummeling as you paddle near the pleasure.

Pleasure which you more than know was not healthy. It is as if adding a single aid to a severe wound. The following day, you will detest yourself to the core for giving into this thrilling temptation; the thrusts he gives your tightened cunt, the kisses shared between your swollen mouths, the caresses given to your skin, all of this would create much more difficulty for you to move on.

Lo’ak’s fingers waste no time in swatting against your swollen clit, pads of each digit rubbing gingerly over. Sensitive it is, every swipe causing your entire body to stutter.

You could feel more arousal oozing out of your cunt, adhering to Lo’ak’s constricting thigh. His flesh will be tainted with your slick, his dangling braids and pretty coils will be ruined with every slight tug given by the time you were done. Though he cannot not bring himself to care about it, he cannot let you go at this moment, he cannot not ever bring himself to do it.

The momentum of his overworked digits is lethal, you will be culminating in a matter or seconds. The hand currently entangled within Lo’ak’s hair suddenly disappear to slide down the base of his thick queue, fingers delicately curling around the sensitivity while you begin to subtly gyrate your hips forward, the stimulation becoming much more direct and effective.

Though the act made from your dainty touch causes his jaw to go slack, pupils engulfing the golden pools of his eyes as a soft hiss whispered from his mouth.

"Look at you go, baby…" Tongue peeks out just to glide over his honed incisors before teasingly reaching forward to lightly bite your pouting lower lip, gaze never tearing from yours, and you see it : everything is what you are to him.

The brimming of your orgasm deepen inside the center of your lower belly, spiraling bit by bit. “Hey, no, look at me, mamas.” His tone is low but beseeching, words practically breathing into you, directing you to obey his plea despite the violent desire to let your head slant back if it weren’t for another one of his pleas catching you, voice caressing the tethers of your soul.

“Please look at me, sevin. Lemme see you when you fall apart for me, yeah?” And it is then that you were reminded of your thoughts from earlier.

How fucking perilous Lo’ak’s mouth could be.

“Ma L-Lo’ak—” His name is uttered in a whine, clutch becoming firmer around the single braid of his as you compel yourself to remain in eye contact with the Sully son. He squirms yet does not reprove you and continues his work between your legs despite the building-up ache bulging between his own, three fingers dipping lower to gather more slick before adding it to his pattern against your throbbing clit.

“I-I’m close,” you huff out, and Lo’ak nods deliberately, the subtle movement of his pleading face mesmerizing you. “C’mon, lemme see it happen. Lemme see what I do to you, how good I make you feel, hm?”

"Hmm— L-Lo’ak, I am near, y-you are going to make me cum…" Perhaps you are nearly driven to tears when Lo’ak crane his neck forward again, though this time his lips peck over the pink contours of your scrunched nose first. Sweet, loving kisses falling over each star-like speck across your cheeks, beginning to create a path all over your face.

“You are doing so, so good for me. Always so fucking sweet to me." His breathy muttering ought you to look away abashed, flustered.

"You love the boy you knew, don't you?"

"You are not a boy anymore — y-you are grown, you are to be Olo’eyktan o-one day." You remind him curtly, words tumbling from your lips as you try focusing more towards your pleasure.

"Nah, no." His head shakes, the two braids aligned to each of his cheeks swaying from the motion. "Grown — Grown Lo’ak is very different from boy Lo’ak, isn't he?"

Your heart cannot help but falter at this, a muskiness kissing your waterline, blinding your senses as you stare at him solemnly. "I love every version of you, ma Lo’ak. I just love you."

Agitation suddenly crumbles his pretty features, and brokenly whispers, “Then why are you choosing to leave me?"

You truly do want to answer him despite the way your heart nearly plummets to your stomach, yet it is difficult to. His lips sweetly find their place over your face again, prickling your flesh as if pointed needles.

“L-Lo’ak." He merely hums at the low warning, nuzzling against your flushed cheekbone. "It’s okay, just go ahead mamas. I know."

"Cum for me, you've been so good, sevin. My pretty girl." Your chest heaves overwhelmingly, the tips of your ears flirting with each of the pretty, earnest words he reiterates, swelling the urge for you to sob. "Perfect and pretty. The only girl, my only babygirl."

And perhaps you will sob.

"All you have always done is take care of me, huh? But who takes care of you?" His working hand drags up, and the sudden act caused you to jolt. Lo’ak’s free arm and hand, however, waste no second in coiling around your midsection in order to keep you from moving away.

"Just wanna make it up to you, tìyawn. Just tell me that's what you want from me." He beseeches, nose nuzzling into the line of your trembling jaw.

“Y-yes, that is what I want, ma Lo’ak. Please, please, please. T-Take care of me — make me cum— make it up t-to me, Lo’ak, please." A moan rumbles in the center of your throat for Lo’ak feels it when his lips twist upwards into a wide grin. “Then do it — c’mon, cum for me, baby. Let it out…”

He did not need to instruct it twice for you come in an instant. It washes over with a moan, long and broken, your head seizing forward and into the crevice of said neck and broad shoulder. Damped lips are immediate to latch onto the future Olo’eyktan’s neck, biting, suckling, and softly licking the striped flesh, body quivering as you are thrown over the edge.

Your walls twitch around a vacant place, and Lo’ak kneads your abused nub through the aftershocks as the pearlescent proof of your release pools out of your cunt. "Fuuck, my pretty girl, doing so damn good for me." He croons sweetly, the long length of his lashing tail somehow finding its way to tenderly coil around the thigh clenched by his side.

You faintly feel the swift movements of his hands reaching down to fiddle with his own tewng, yet the dread is too heavy for you to react.

It is only then when you realize that Lo’ak was not stopping his tempting assault that you found the strength to peer hazily down at where your pussy and Lo’ak’s fingers met. He is still playing with you, flexing digits coating themselves in your sweet essence before ramming them right into your much sensitive hole.

He is immediate in starting at a brutal pace, so engrossed in searching for the spot that will have you squirting all over him.

"L-Lo’ak, Lo’ak, no w-wait, please— " Yet he has decided to not listen to your cries. Not even looking at your face, no, his gaze was enthralled with the way his fingers are digging you out, the way you swallow them whole, nearly becoming one with them.

"No, you must take it. You can take it.” He forewarns but your head is shaking in denial, a sob flying out your mouth. “K-Kehe ( no ). I-I can’t, m-ma Lo’ak—”

“But you can, baby. I know you can.” His brows furrow softly together, brushing against your browline as his forehead kisses yours. “And you know how I know that? Hmm?”

Stammers are the only that manage to form. “Because I know you, Y/N. I am the only one who knows you better.” He feeds you the answer he had been seeking for and your chin juts up and down. “Or am I not, mamas?”

“Y-yes, L-Lo’ak, it is you — just you.” A chuckle proudly spews from him. “And who knows this pretty pussy better than me?” Hips jerk forward, whining with a gasp at the harsh deepness of his digits. Your grip on his queue releases, palms scattering out and planting on each side of Lo’ak’s angular face as you keep his attention locked towards you.

“N-no one, ma Lo’ak. N-no one—”

Lo’ak nods firmly, “That’s what I thought, baby. Now, let me treat her the way she deserves to be treated, okay?” His mouth brushes over your lush one, yet didn’t necessarily grant you the yearn of a kiss. Not as he notices the subtle flash of upset striking your face.

“Just one more chance for tonight.” He adds after a pause. “You’ll let me have her for tonight, won’t you, Y/N?”

You whine shamelessly, “Y-yes, o-oh … P-please, Lo’ak—”

“That’s the Y/N I know,” His praise goes by tenderly while the act between your legs is entirely distinct, much more carving, exhilaratingly burning you. “My Y/N, my girl.”

Your pussy is well acquainted with the feel of Lo’ak’s touch, a rather hefty debate between said cock and fingers. Every single adapted ridge, divot, arch. Always, always taking him so well, so eagerly, prettily desperate for Lo’ak.

"You're so wet." He grunts, pupils dilating in awe from the brief yet sufficient enough glance given to the drenching mess. "Need you to tell me how it feels."

“So good, Lo-Lo’ak. You make me feel so, so good." Lo’ak likes you like this, all in a drunken daze, vocals all garbled up.

"You gonna cum, mamas?" You cannot even answer, not as your body actively chases every thrust. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers so good. Jeesh, you're so damn perfect." He rasps lovingly, "Love having you like this…you’re everything to me, you know that?”

The words are meant more to himself, yet you hear him all the same. “L-Lo’ak." you mutter though the tut his tongue makes keep you from proceeding, head shaking. “Shh, don’t say anything. I jus’ want you to cum for me, got it? Flood my shit.”

You feel every curl, every nudge his fingers gives the most sensitive spot within, your insides coiling, rattling all at once to the point where you nearly lose all feel of your lower body, all sense of the way your tail swivels, the way your limbs quiver. “Make a mess all over your Olo’eyktan, hm?”

The hand grasping your hip rises to press against the rising arch of your back, encouraging the pretty dip to take shape while your inner thighs clench around Lo’ak’s palm.

But the continuous push to your back flush you forward, thighs yanking open with the lankiness of his lower abdomen shoving between. The act causes his fingers to retreat from your weeping hole and knead them sloppily upward. The intensity of your subsequent climax comes in high waves when he slumps them back inside, pumping once, twice, three times all in one before he is pulling back to stimulate your pulsating clit.

White spasms of what can be compared to blazing stars overcome your vision, a shriek rippling from your hoarse throat while you drizzle your release all over Lo’ak, the hands once cradling his face dragging down to the length of his neck and jabbing your thumbs into the hollow of his constricting throat. Tears cascade down your glowing, flushed cheeks, a never ending streak assisted by the river flowing from your cunt — an enthralling combination that has Lo’ak feeling ecstatic.

"Mhm, that's it, baby. Just ride that shit out for me…that’s it, there you go." His encouragement has your body feeling dazed and spent as you lean forward to flush yourself against Lo’ak’s dampened chest, ear flickering at the rumbled sound he creates.

"You did so good for me." Lo’ak mutters into your other ear, mouth grazing the point of it. "So, so good." The length of his palm move to cradle the curve of your head as he feel the racketing your body creates, watching the sways your lovely tail creates before it nestles right beside his thigh.

"Your pussy's so perfect, made to take me, made to listen to me, isn’t that right?” You cannot help but to not answer from the embarrassment clutching at you, and instead nuzzle the tip of your nose over a glowing speck on his cobalt striped chest.

"Nga yawne lu oer ( I love you )." This is sincerely declared with a brush of a kiss to your head. "I do, I really, really do." He insists, and he cannot evict the sniffles following that scrunches his nose afterwards. "I am sorry, very sorry for the way I’ve acted."

You are too exhausted to create some sort of movement, but one thing that is for certain is that Lo’ak prefers it this way. It makes the act of speaking, of apologizing much easier for him.

"Damn, I really have been so selfish, haven’t i?” A deep furrow finds its way to your forehead at his self chastising, at the way he is combined, conflicted between uttering this to you or to himself. “You will still leave. You won’t be here anymore. This is really happening, isn’t it?”

Another stiff sound leaves Lo’ak, so meek, so lost before sweetly adding, “I promise I did try. For you, I really tried. F-for them — for my family. To be what they need— what you needed.” A sob strangles in his throat, mind nearly beginning to descend into that fogging darkness. “A-and I know it’s not an excuse, I know it’s been years but after we left, a-after Neteyam—”

Yet the gentle, secure entanglement of your arms pulls Lo’ak from that mindset, and he finds solace within this embrace, keeping him close, letting him feel and know that you are there.

“Q-quiet. Enough — do not do this to yourself.” You stammer out softly, a light kiss meeting his collarbone. “We still have one more chance, ma Lo’ak. One more chance within this night. One more chance to pretend that this is not our future, to pretend that everything is fine, yes? Do not waste it by recounting your regrets, okay?”

Lo’ak’s mind gear this over, and in there, and in his heart, he more than knows that he is never going to be able to bring himself to love with such force as the way he loves you. Yet still, even now he cannot express it in a good, healthy, proper way that you truly deserve. He will find a way to prove it, however. To show, to act, to live by it as if it was the very sole purpose of his life. Lo’ak will find the pieces of himself beneath all this tethered and tainted pain, and bring them together within himself in order to bring himself back to life.

Lo’ak would do it for you. For his family.

So you can learn to love him again.

But he will do it for himself as well inorder for him to learn to love himself again.

"Wipe your tears for right now, okay? I am still here. I am right here in front of you." Lo’ak’s firm arms surround your frame into a hold that is soothing, familiar, full of strength. It blossoms molten warmth within your chest, erupting an arsenal of emotions.

"Whatever you — whatever you wish to give I will take." you end meekly and Lo’ak is certain he has fallen for you all over again. Yes, his climb back to victory will be well worth it. For you to look at him one day, and to once again see him as the boy you loved, the man you will love, the man you admired so profoundly. It makes Lo’ak’s entire heart begin to tremble, along with the curves of his lips.

"Alright then, sevin. Just take a breather and rest for a while, yeah? Our night's just getting started."

︵ ✮⋆˙

[pedroscurls]

the ultimate masterlist: ➢ 18+ only, mdni ➢ 🌶️ - smut || ❤️‍🩹 - angst || 🥰 - fluff last updated: jan 19, 2025

PEDRO PASCAL

FRANKIE MORALES

❤️‍🩹 always here for you: Frankie comforts you as you cope with your grief.

❤️‍🩹 chance encounters [COMPLETE]: you’ve suddenly and tragically lost your best friend and can’t handle the grief. until four strangers give you a glimmer of hope that things will (and can) get better.

❤️‍🩹 hold my hand: for years, you have been in love with Frankie. everyone else saw it, except him, and you never had the courage to tell him how you truly felt. instead, you stuck by his side even when it hurt. and after Colombia, he hadn’t been the same. you knew he had demons (being a veteran and all), but this… this was different. would Frankie finally open his eyes and realize that the woman he was meant to be with had been right in front of him all along?

❤️‍🩹🌶️ third time's a charm [COMPLETE]: there is history between you and Frankie. In fact, you have both broken up twice and yet, you still seem to find your way back to each other. could this third chance be the last and final one?

JAVIER PEÑA

❤️‍🩹🌶️ all we are: you and Javier have history and have been in this endless cycle for years, always trying to “one-up” each other, but what happens after a night of steamy, dirty sex that the truth finally comes out?

❤️‍🩹🌶️ innocent eyes: Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, finally have one night off. so, when they go to a local bar to unwind, Javier certainly wasn’t expecting you to walk through the doors.

JOEL MILLER

❤️‍🩹🌶️ always been you [COMPLETE]: you and Joel have become best friends, but as the years pass, you both realize that the love you have for each other goes beyond just “best friends”. will either of you have the courage to express your true feelings or will you both just remain secretly in love with each other?

❤️‍🩹 broken souls [IN PROGRESS]: what happens when you realize love isn’t enough? and when years later, you meet again that all the pain and heartbreak comes rushing back… like it never left.

❤️‍🩹🌶️ dirty little secret [IN PROGRESS]: when your best friend and his fiancée, Sarah, have their belated engagement party (kicking off their pre-wedding parties), you meet the father of the bride and realize that he’s completely off limits. but you always did like older men, and Joel? well, maybe he could be your dirty little secret.

🌶️ guys night out: Tommy takes Joel to a strip club.

🥰 in case you didn't know: Joel steps out of his comfort zone and puts his feelings into words the best way he knows how.

❤️‍🩹🌶️ the teacher [IN PROGRESS]: you have been on your own for over a year and after Maria saves you and brings you to Jackson, you try and settle in, doing your best to contribute to the community. though, it doesn’t help that your neighbor, Joel Miller, reminds you of a special person from before Outbreak day.

MARCUS ACACIUS

❤️‍🩹 letters across time: after having moved to rome for a fresh new start, you begin to receive letters from an unlikely stranger that you begin to develop feelings for... only to come to the heartbreaking realization that the two of you may never meet.

MARCUS PIKE

🥰🌶️ second chances [IN PROGRESS]: after Marcus moves to DC - alone - he’s determined to just focus on work. after a failed marriage followed with his failed relationship with Lisbon, Marcus believes that love just isn’t in the cards for him anymore. until you move in next door.

HUGH JACKMAN

REAL PERSON FANFICTION (note: i am no longer writing rpf)

🌶️ ❤️‍🩹 🥰 training partners [COMPLETE]: you hire a new personal trainer to get you back on track, but you don't realize that she's also hugh jackman's trainer until you show up to the gym. ↳ pt 1. - pt 2. - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6 - pt. 7 - pt. 8 - pt. 9 - pt. 10 - pt. 11 - pt. 12 - pt. 13 - pt. 14 - pt. 15 - pt. 16 - pt. 17

🌶️ ❤️‍🩹 secret crushes: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. ↳ pt. 1 (can be read as a standalone) - pt. 2 (which includes blake and ryan with reader!)

🌶️ sneak away with me: you sneak away with hugh during a party.

🌶️ welcome to broadway: it's the anniversary of oklahoma! and with it being your first broadway show, hugh takes you under his wing to show you the ropes. along the way, you realize that you've developed feelings for him.

🌶️ 🥰 baby, stay in bed: head over heels in love with hugh, you spend the night for the first time... and realize that hugh feels the same way.

🌶️ save a horse, ride a cowboy: hugh takes you to go flower picking, but all you can think about is taking him back to his car and riding him.

🥰 let the world know: you and hugh have been keeping your relationship a secret... until hugh accidentally lets millions of his followers know exactly who he's been dating.

🥰 cooking with hugh: hugh gets to see you in action... and he reaps the benefits too.

🥰 the first date: hugh takes you out for your first date.

🥰 sunday nights: sunday nights with hugh are your favorite -- movie night, cuddling, and finally some alone time with him.

🌶️ 🥰 romantic getaway: hugh takes you to greece for a romantic getaway after rumors of your relationship with him start to circulate the media... but there's no hiding it anymore.

🥰 first impressions: hugh meets your kids for the first time.

🥰 bad influence: already running late for work, hugh convinces you to call in sick.

🥰 mesmerized from afar: despite your relationship with hugh being out in the open, you both still do your best to keep it professional in the public eye... until hugh makes it very obvious during a hollywood event.

🌶️ 🥰 our little secret: ryan and blake try to set you and hugh up, but little do they know, you've already been secretly seeing each other.

🌶️ you put a spell on me: hugh attends a masquerade-themed party and you capture his attention the moment you step into the building.

🥰 seasons changing: hugh and reader get ready for fall in new york.

🌶️ late to the party: possibly already late to ryan and blake's party, hugh becomes just slightly annoyed when you can't decide what to wear... and when he realizes that you're doing it on purpose, he only knows one way to make sure you don't do it again.

❤️‍🩹 better together: after filming finishes with deadpool & wolverine, your relationship with hugh progresses... until he breaks things off with you. it isn't until ryan invites you to the press tour that you see him again and finally have a serious conversation with him.

❤️‍🩹 🥰 in the shadows: hugh's excited to see you at his premiere, but when he sees the look on your face when he's posing with one of his co-stars, he's confused because you decide to leave without a word.

LOGAN HOWLETT

🌶️ runaway bride [old man!logan]: on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal.

🌶️ just the tip [old man!logan]: you're ready to take the next step with logan, but you're still a bit nervous.

🥰🌶️ christmas confessions [COMPLETE - origins!logan]: unable to go back home for christmas, you spend it with logan - the man you had been in love with for years.

❤️‍🩹🌶️ in every lifetime [COMPLETE - worst!wolverine]: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? ↳ pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5

🌶️ touch starved [worst!wolverine]: logan agreed to go out with wade, having been promised a low-key night, but he should've known than to trust wade for his word. he didn't agree to spend his night at a strip club and he's just about ready to leave until he sees you.

❤️‍🩹 you broke me first [xmen series!logan]: logan comes back to the mansion in search of you... but he's hurt you for the last time and you can't do this dance with him any longer.

🥰 his girl: logan didn't think he'd ever get a second chance at making his life matter nor did he think he even deserved it... but then he met you. his girl.

WYATT BOSE (jamie getz)

🌶️ playing with fire: wyatt (aka, jamie) always had one thing on his mind: money. so after he and jonathan part ways, he meets you - a woman that suddenly makes him realize that there's more to life than treachery, manipulation, and violence. but when he has another chance at getting more money than he's ever had before, he goes back to his old ways... and you're more than willing to help him in any way possible.

[yinwaryuri]

I cannot begin to summarize how Monster Next Door finally portrayed a flawed parent getting a good ending in a way that satisfied me. I have such beef with Thai BLs constantly giving our mains difficult parents, terrible asshole parents even, and then just justifying the way they treated their child like shit as being parental love and their kid accepts an apology (not you Bed Friend, the holy grail of giving shitty parents their due).

The tension between Diew and his mother, Kade, is obvious, and I was really afraid that the issue would be brushed off as casually as all the rest, due to my past viewing experiences. For a good portion of the show, she seemed overly concerned and harsh toward Diew and it really bothered me.

It was this visual that made things really click for me:

(also I'm sorry for the quality of photos of the show, Gaga now seems to turn the screen black when I try to take a screenshot on my laptop, so I took them with my phone)

Loss of a loved one is hard to talk about with strangers, but it's often more difficult to discuss it with other loved ones who knew them. Diew's father meant everything to him in his childhood because their personalities and dispositions made it easier to enjoy spending time together. I cannot speak as a parent, but I can only imagine the loneliness generated by the loss of a partner (losing a main emotional support you now desperately need) and then watching your child deal with grief by withdrawing from you (a child you have, up until now, not established a relationship as close as your late partner had).

God had the fortune of meeting Diew in the present, and that allowed him to get to know him without any preconceived notions of who he was to influence that development. Kade didn't have that luxury; being a parent means seeing your child through every stage of life and adapting to the changes that come with them. I can only imagine how much harder that had to be when she became a single mother and the clash of personalities made it significantly harder to connect. At some point, she clearly clung to a version of Diew that at least made her feel relevant by presenting her love as wanting to remove all possible worries.

Grieving separately being the main wedge between them runs with some of the themes of the show, I believe. We've watched God and Diew grow together and sort out their differences because ultimately they wanted the same thing - to show they are interested and care for each other - but their challenges presented mostly in how they went about it. Diew and his mother also care about each other. The strain is part of that love and how it has also been weighed down by years of misunderstanding and uncertainty.

Kade recognizing her failure to meet Diew in the middle and letting him know how she felt about it was HUGE to me. So many people will refuse to recognize the failure, and if they do recognize it they do not want to admit it for what it is, much less voice how they feel about it. Also disappointment in one's self as a mother, I believe, is incredibly relatable. It doesn't absolve all wrongs, but it's an incredibly important factor in being willing to do better.

She isn't blaming him here. She isn't using his feelings against him. She apologized without trying to erase what happened. She is simply letting him know that all she wanted was to be closer.

And then Diew seizes the moment. He's grown up and become someone less recognizable to the person she already didn't know very well. That doesn't mean they can't work things out.

Of course this is the solution. This is the green flag communication boyfriends show. But moreover, it's about realizing that life and people come with differences and changes and that doesn't mean that things have to go wrong or end badly. Often the fears that get built up in our heads - the monsters we first perceive them as - are not as scary as they seem, if they are at all. If growth is going to happen, we have to face them.

Excuse me while I sob in the corner, but this response makes Diew such an exceptional character to me. It demonstrates how he has changed from the beginning of the narrative but also remained true to himself. He has always needed someone patient and kind enough to listen to him as attentively as God does. Being heard for what he needs has done him wonders. His struggle to reveal the things that deeply hurt him and seeing how not sharing them can hurt the people he loves in return was an important lesson. Now that his mom has finally shared her pain, the pain that started years ago by no fault of either of them, he can extend that love toward her in a way he knows will reach her.

Diew and his mother are equal in how they can move forward. The relationship isn't treated like a hole in the wall to putty over, but truly something that can be built upon a newer and stronger foundation. I greatly enjoyed the finale as a whole, but this aspect of it tugged at my heart strings personally. I adore this show. Forever and ever.

[barrenclan]

HI i just finished reading the comic and it's so so incredible!!!! your art is gorgeous and your work with the story is completely unmatched <3

I've been listening to the song Butcher Vanity by Vane Lily a lot and it strikes me as a Deepdark song!

Thank you! I'm so glad you like the comic. I agree, Deepdark's desire to kill and eat and never stop consuming is what defines him. I'll use the chance to share a PMV by my pal Katti, the creator of The Exiled comic who made a really excellent PMV with the song :)

I think someone else had the same idea as well, it looks like it's already been suggested before :) but yes it does fit very well! Any song about a land/town/etc that's been cursed and rotten forever works great.

Tell me now of the very soul that look alike, look alike Do you know the stranglehold covering their eyes? If I call on every soul in the land, on the moon Tell me if I'll ever know a blessing in disguise

The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before

I never knew this song was from the Justice League movie?? Wow, that's wild. It is a good song for PATFW as a whole.

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows

I have! In fact, the song "Hellfire" is the character theme song for Cootstorm. I made a drawing of it awhile ago.

Did you know that in fact someone made an animated video with Rainhaze to this very song? It's really cool, you should check it out!

Yeah, it's pretty Rainhaze! Especially in his post-Asphodelpaw murder manic phase.

If you knew what I knew, if you saw what I see You’d look through illusions, hallucinations, and lucid dream And I know that meaning can be such a pretty thing to keep But I got facts and I’m not afraid to use ‘em, take the good with the bad, take off the back you make a new front Some days I'm glad that I am a madman and I’d rather be that than An amicable animal, mild-mannered cannibal

Aww wait :(

Looks like the cat did a number on you Vienna, oh He took a brick off the side of the stoop Poor vienna It'll be over soon Your mamas waiting for ya But you're not coming home

Your mamas been so worried Cause you never came home Beneath the ground you're buried In memoriam

Yes I think it could be! Even more, I think it's exemplary of Deepdark's general charisma and desire to recruit people into Defiance, reminiscent of his speech from Issue 28.

You and me should go outside And beat 'em, beat 'em, beat 'em, beat 'em, beat 'em All pathetic flag waving ignorant geeks And we'll eat 'em, eat 'em, eat 'em, eat 'em, eat 'em

Come join the cause, come join the cause Who wants to come with me and come join the cause? Hide in the sky, hide in the sky Who wants to come with me and hide in the sky?

Oh, my mom loves this album, I grew up listening to it. This does remind me a bit of them, how sweet and sad.

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes Let them know you realize that life goes fast It's hard to make the good things last You realize the sun doesn't go down It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do you realize That you have the most beautiful face? Do you realize?

What a unique take on their relationship! I do like the theme of Ranger guiding Rainhaze's hand, and the parent-child energy is very interesting for them. Interesting take on Mordred, for that matter.

Guileless Son, I'll shape your belief And you'll always know that your father's a thief And you won't understand the cause of your grief But you'll always follow the voices beneath

Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty Loyalty only to me

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

When What We Had Was Everything Pt. 2

This is a three part fic series and will complete three of my @jacklesversebingo card spaces. This first part will fill the "You won't take care of yourself, so I will." square. Pt. 2 will fill the But We Lost It square. Pt. 3 will fill the They're Out of Time square. ❤️

Summary: When Y/N really needs him, Jensen steps up, leaving all their past in the past. Can Y/N possibly do the same?

Pairing: Jensen x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Nothing major. Funeral. Brief mentions of grief and loss. Some light making out.

Word Count: 3, 935

A/N: This second part was a long time coming. I'm so sorry. I've just struggled with the muses on this one. I hope I can get part 3 (final part) out to you much sooner. I've given the reader's father the name, "Steven" just because it felt unnatural to not name him, and calling him something like, YFN felt strange given the setting.

Enjoy!

Jensen Ackles Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Everything with Jensen had been like a whirlwind. Surreal and beautiful, and seemingly built to crumble. 

She’d met him randomly in a parking garage when she was visiting friends in L.A. She’d accidentally locked herself out of her car, and he’d used his Dean Winchester skills to break into it for her.

Their attraction had been immediate and raging. They’d gone for drinks one night, gone to dinner the next, and then gone to bed before dessert. Sleeping with guys on a second date wasn’t usual for Y/N. In fact, before that, she’d never slept with anyone she wasn’t already in a relationship with. 

But Jensen had barely kissed her, simply moving his hard, gentle hands slowly down her hips and pulling her flush against him, before every rational thought she had immediately flew out of her head. He’d charmed her completely and she fell hard and fast.

It was unlike anything Y/N had ever experienced before. So, deep down, she’d had a very hard time trusting it. It scared her. He scared her. 

She loved him almost immediately and that didn’t feel real. Love at first sight was stupid and impossible. She loved him so easily that subconsciously she was always sure he was hiding things from her. It wasn't  possible that this good, beautiful, generous, talented guy was so completely into her; things like that didn't happen to boring girls in small towns. So she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop with him.

Josie said she sabotaged herself, but Y/N preferred to think of it as protecting herself. If she let herself think about a life with him, a life of passion, love, contentment, quiet luxury and maybe even a family, her heart would shatter when he finally woke up and walked away.

So she'd fought hard to keep her emotional distance from him. She was desperate to keep control of the situation.

That night, after seeing Jensen for the first time in almost six months, Y/N spent the night tossing and turning, running everything over in her mind. By the time the sun rose and she gave up on trying for more sleep, she came to the realization that trying to protect herself had failed miserably. Her heart had shattered anyway when things ended and he walked away. 

It was shattered still.

Having gotten even less sleep than the night before, Y/N rolled out of bed with a groan, and tried to put all of those memories and heartaches aside. There was a lot to do, and the day was going to be hard enough.

Putting feelings aside became impossible, however as she walked into the kitchen and saw Jensen sitting alone at the table, staring into a cup of coffee.

He looked up as she walked in, the surprise in his expression receding into a smile as he nodded towards the coffee pot on the counter. 

“I just made some. Hope you don't mind.”

Y/N smiled awkwardly and walked over to pour herself a cup. “No, of course not. Thank you. Today demands a lot of coffee and it demands it immediately.”

She blew on the steaming liquid as she sat down at the table, and then took a sip. She swallowed it quickly, however, burning her mouth and throat a little, as Jensen reached out to cover her empty hand with his. 

“How did you sleep?”

Y/N shook her head and pulled her hand away under the pretense of tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Not great, you know, but…” She ended with a shrug and Jensen nodded. 

“Yeah.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then smiled ruefully. “I feel like…I’m the oldest, so I'm supposed to know what to do for everything. I mean, I was fifteen when mom died, but Jo and David were just kids. They don't remember any of the details of what happened at her funeral.”

Jensen frowned. “Y/N, what do you mean, THEY were kids. You were a kid too.”

Y/N shrugged. “Sure, I guess. But they were barely double digits. I'm the one who should remember best, the way things went on the day. So, I keep thinking I should warn them about what to expect. But the truth is most of that day is a blur.”

Jensen leaned towards her across the table, catching  her gaze. “David and Josie are both grown adults, I'm sure they'll be okay. As okay as can be expected, anyway.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I suppose, just…old habits, I guess.” She hummed softly. “You know one of the only things I remember really clearly about the day of mom's funeral?”

Jensen gave a gentle shake of his head. “What?”

“I remember being in the bathroom at the church, in one of the stalls, and I overheard two of my aunties talking. They didn't know I was in there, but I heard my Auntie Sheila crying and talking to my Auntie Debbie, saying, ‘How on earth is he supposed to take care of those kids all by himself?’ They both agreed that for a man who worked as much as he did, and traveled so much for his job, it was going to be impossible.”

Y/N chewed on her lip and stared down at her coffee. “I remember that conversation terrifying me. I had visions of being sent away to some boarding school or shuttled off to some relative in the countryside.”

She smiled sheepishly. “My Dad would never have done that, I realize now. And I probably just read too much C.S. Lewis as a kid. But it scared me enough that I determined then and there that Dad wouldn't raise us by himself. I was raised already, so I could step in and help raise Joey and Davie.”

Jensen shook his head. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart.”

Y/N waved dismissively. “No, it was fine. My Dad changed a lot of his work around so he could be here to take care of us. He was still our parent, and would sometimes have to remind me of that. He'd get after me to get a social life.”

She chuckled. “I think that was one of the reasons he adored you so much. You were the first guy I ever dated that I wasn't also mothering in some way. He used to tell me I needed to find a guy that wanted a partner, not a mother.”

Y/N stopped short as she realized what she was saying. Jensen was just so easy to talk to, she'd let her words fly away from her. She forgot that “past them” wasn't something they were supposed to be talking about.

She took another scalding sip of coffee and stood up. 

“Anyway, sorry for yammering. I should go get ready. And you might wanna steal a shower before the whole house is awake and all the hot water runs out.” She said with an attempt at a laugh.

Jensen looked like he was going to say something, so she quickly set her half full mug in the sink and took off as fast as her feet could carry her.

***

Jensen shifted slightly on the hard wooden pew, and breathed in the church smells around him, lemon furniture wax, old paper, and dust. It was a beautiful space with large stained glass windows and a lot of stone work and moldings.

He didn't know many of the people there. Y/N and her siblings were somewhere in the back rooms, likely going over where they'd be sitting and what was going to happen during the service.

He'd received a few odd looks from people who seemed to recognize him and then quickly dismiss the possibility that it was him. Thankfully no one had approached him.

As he sat waiting for the service to begin something caught his eye and he turned to see Y/N, half hidden behind a side door, and frantically waving him over.

Puzzled, he stood and scooched past the people at the end of the pew, walking quickly over to Y/N. Her eyes were frantic and panicked as she shut the door behind them. 

“I can't do it.” She said without preamble. “He says he can't, but I can't either! I can't! I don't know what to say!”

Jensen was desperately trying to decipher her words, but was hopelessly confused as she continued.

“I should have known he wouldn't. He said he wanted to; he literally told me I had to let him do it. I mean, he's kind of a writer, so of course I let him, but I should have known it would be too much. I mean, when he couldn't get it together enough to pick up Aunt Sheila at the airport yesterday, what fucking chance was there that he was gonna be able to write and deliver a eulogy!”

Jensen was starting to piece things together, and he felt his heart clench over Y/N's obvious fear and panic. He took her cheeks in his hands and tried to calm her.

“It's okay, baby. It's okay.” The endearment slipped out easily, just as it had when he'd first seen her the day before. “You're talking about David? He was supposed to deliver the eulogy.”

Y/N closed her eyes and nodded; the way she leaned into him a little made him wanna scoop her up and take her away from everything. But obviously, he couldn't do that, so he just confirmed his assumption.

“And now, he can't do it?”

She nodded again. “Can't do it, didn't write it.” She croaked out. “I have a packed church full of people, waiting to honor my father and I have absolutely nothing to say about him.”

Jensen took hold of her hands and squeezed them. “Of course you have things to say, sweetheart. Just say what comes into your heart.”

Y/N laughed without humor. “You should know better than anyone that I don't know how to do that.”

He felt his heart squeeze at the reminder of what happened the last time they'd had a discussion about what was in her heart. He saw the trepidation come back into her expression, just like earlier that morning, when the subject of their past popped up.

He shook his head, dislodging memories of hurt and disappointment. “You don't have to delve too deep. Just give a sweet anecdote or two, and talk about how much he was loved.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “You do it.”

Jensen shook his head. “What? No, I can't.”

But Y/N was nodding. “Sure you can. You speak on a stage for a living. You're good at telling sweet little anecdotes. Please, please, Jensen. I know it's too much. I know. But I l…I-” 

She cut herself off and let her forehead drop to his chest. “Please.” She whispered.

Jensen knew he was setting himself up for more pain later, but he couldn't stop himself from gathering her close and squeezing her tight against him. Her soft, warm, body felt so right and natural fitted along his that he let himself ignore the warning bells going off in his mind.

“Okay, baby.” He said softly, whispering against her sweet smelling hair before kissing the crown of her head. “Okay, I'll do it. You should come up and stand with me though so it looks less weird that some random stranger is speaking.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you.”

Jensen didn't return to his spot in the crowd. Instead he sat beside Y/N in the front of church, holding her hand tightly since she refused to let go.

Soon enough, the minister announced there would be a slight change in the service and a “friend of the family” was going to speak instead of David. 

David slouched in the pew beside Y/N and as they passed him to walk up on the dais, Jensen clamped a consoling hand on the young guy's shoulder. He knew the kid would be feeling like shit and there was no reason for it. Grief stole a lot of things from you sometimes, even your words. 

They walked behind the lectern and Jensen cleared his throat as he spoke into the slightly echoey microphone. Y/N clung to his right hand and pressed tight to his side as he spoke.

“Good afternoon everyone. On behalf of the family, I'd like to say how gratifying it is to see so many people here to mourn with us, but more importantly, celebrate with us as we honor Steven's life.”

He cleared his throat again and smiled. “Steven was a big guy who left a very big impression on the people he met. He was warm and welcoming in a way that you don't always see much these days.”

Jensen paused and then smiled. “Not long after I met him for the first time, I happened to mention that I was a big Stevie Ray Vaughan fan - just as part of an idle conversation, you know. But the next time I saw him, he had this vintage Austin Chronicle magazine with him on the cover, and he just gave it to me. It wasn't my birthday, or Christmas.”

Jensen shrugged. “He said he just happened to come across it in an old bookstore and thought of me.” He shook his head remembering how touched he'd been. “It was just the way he was.”

He let that sentiment dangle in the air for a moment before continuing. “Steven loved his family and friends without conditions and without limits. He had such strength of spirit, the kind of soul deep goodness that drew in all of us who are here today. He was a very easy guy to love and someone we always wanted on our side. Which he always was.”

Jensen cleared his throat. “So, once again, we want to thank you all for being here with us. And the family, and Steven's children especially, want to tell you how much it means to them. Thank you.” He finished.

He walked off the dais with Y/N following close and he could almost feel the way her muscles relaxed as they sat down. 

“Thank you.” She whispered quietly and Jensen squeezed her hand, ignoring his instinct to bring it to his lips.

***

Y/N breathed in the fresh, cool evening air, and sat down on the wide porch swing that looked out across her childhood backyard. Memories tumbled over themselves in her mind, all happy, but bearing the sharp taste of bittersweet nostalgia. 

She sighed and closed her eyes, letting a semblance of peace settle over her, as the stressful, painful day subsided somewhat now that the vast majority of guests had returned home. 

The back door opened and she looked over her shoulder and smiled.

Not all guests, she thought, as Jensen smiled back and quietly closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and thumbed towards the kitchen on the other side. 

“You know, you got enough casseroles in there to wait out the apocalypse.”

Y/N laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, we'll have to split them between the three of us.” She shook her head. “I think most people have forgotten that none of us actually live here anymore.”

A thought occurred to her and her brow wrinkled. “Come to think of it, at some point, Josie, Davie and I are all gonna have to get together and figure out everything we need to sell this place.” 

She looked around her and felt a painful tug on her heart at the idea of leaving her home for real, for good. 

“God, I don't even know how to start with something like that.” Her mind began to swirl with worries and questions she needed to answer. But they stopped when Jensen took two steps over to the porch swing and picked up her hand. He gave it a squeeze as he sat beside her.

“But it's not something you have to worry about today, right? Or next week? Or even next month?”

Y/N started to argue but then realized he was right. That was tomorrow's worry.

Jensen nodded, happy as she relaxed against the back of the swing. He settled himself beside her and began to rock the swing slowly, pushing them back and forth with his feet planted on the old wooden porch.

Y/N felt the final knots in her stomach begin to ease as she listened to the fireflies start to buzz through the trees. She couldn't stop her head from dropping onto Jensen's shoulder, or the extended sigh that escaped her slightly parted lips.

Quiet reigned for a few minutes and Y/N allowed herself to bask in the peace for a while. Finally she broke the silence though, as she shifted slightly so she could look at Jensen.

“You know, I can't possibly repay you for everything you've done the last couple days.”

Jensen shook his head. “Well, it's a good thing repayment isn't necessary.”

Y/N smiled shyly. “Seriously, though, I wouldn't have made it through this without you.”

Jensen scoffed lightly and waved a dismissive hand. “Course you would’ve.”

She hummed softly. “Hmm, maybe, but certainly not in one piece.”

Jensen's smile turned rueful. “Well, you're very welcome, sweetheart.”

It was quiet for a moment more, but the air was more charged this time, something warm and inviting springing to life between them. 

Jensen cleared his throat and sat up a little, breaking their intense stare. “I think it's time I, I head out.”

Y/N felt her heart plummet. “I thought your flight was tomorrow.”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, it is. But it's a pretty early one, and you know, it's an international flight; gotta get there so far ahead of time. So, I'm just gonna drive into Kingston tonight, get a room, and head out to the airport first thing.”

Y/N nodded calmly, but her heart was pumping loudly. “Or…or you can save yourself the hotel expense and just stay here one more night. I mean, you can head out from here early enough to make your flight. It just…you know, just makes more sense.”

Jensen shook his head. “No, that’s…” He cleared his throat and pulled away completely. “I don’t wanna put you all out for another night.”

He stood up to go, and Y/N panicked, jumping up after him and grabbing his hand. “You won’t be. I don’t…Jensen, I don’t want you to go.”

She watched the muscle jump in his jaw and felt her belly clench. She took a step closer so that she pressed against him and raised her hand to run gently over his close-cropped, silky beard. “Please don’t go.”

She raised up on tiptoe to press her mouth against his ever so briefly, but his lips were so soft and warm that she had to go back again, pressing tighter against the velvety pillows, and flicking her tongue out to taste them. 

Jensen groaned slightly and brought his hands up to cup her jaw, tilting his head to the right and deepening the kiss.

Y/N wanted to cry with joy as she wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing deeply through her nose and inhaling the intoxicating scent of Jensen’s cologne and the scent that seemed to linger in his skin all the time, something uniquely him, and devastatingly carnal.

Far too quickly Jensen let out a soft growl and pulled away abruptly. “Y/N.” He said breathlessly. “This isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this.”

Y/N shook her head and tried to pull him back, fists bunched in his black dress shirt. “No, Jensen, you don’t understand. I’m so sorry for the way things ended. I never should have let you leave. I should have let you in more. I shouldn’t have let what we had fade away like it did.”

Jensen was shaking his head. “Y/N, you don’t owe me any apologies. Really-”

“Yes, I do!” Y/N interrupted. “I should have trusted you more, trusted what we had. I…”

Jensen leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Y/N, you’re only feeling this way because of what’s happened the last couple of days. I came to help out and you’re grateful. Your gratitude and your grief are clouding your judgement.”

“No.” Y/N said adamantly. “That’s not what’s happening. I’ve felt this way for a long time, I just haven’t had the courage to tell you.”

She saw Jensen waver for a moment and Y/N pressed her advantage, pulling his lips down to hers once again and pushing her fingers into his soft hair, easing it back at his temples. Jensen lost the battle again, this time with a much deeper groan of capitulation. He walked her backwards to press her against one of the wide pillars holding up the porch roof.

He panted faintly as his lips scorched a trail down the side of her neck. He unzipped her black dress on the side just far enough to slip his callused fingers inside, grazing the soft, delicate skin on the side of her breast. Y/N bit into her lip to keep from crying out and buried her face in his chest.

But once again Jensen pulled back, gentler this time, less abrupt. His fingers slid from her skin to zip her dress back up and he placed a final kiss to her temple before he stepped away, lifting a hand as Y/N tried to close the distance between them again.

“Y/N listen to me. You have no idea how much I want to believe you, that these feelings are just coming out of this complicated moment. But, not even six months ago, when I asked you to come live with me, the mere idea of going to the next level of our relationship made you break up with me.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

But Jensen just kept talking. “Then you lost your dad and you reached out because a part of you knew I’d be here, that you could count on me. And I’m really glad you did, and I’m very glad I could help even a little.” He smiled gently. “But I’m not going to take advantage of your vulnerability and gratitude like this.”

Y/N opened her mouth to contradict him, but he just shook his head. “You can’t possibly know your feelings right now, sweetheart. They’re gonna be all jumbled up with everything else, including the goddamn raging fire that crops up between us every time we get close.”

His green eyes burned with heat and made Y/N ache with a passion she knew wasn’t going to be resolved. He was determined, and she knew that look of stubbornness all too well.

“I gotta go.” He said quietly and turned to go back in the house, but then turned back as he reached for the porch door. “Three months. Give yourself three months. To get a little distance, put things into perspective a bit. If in three months you still feel the same…well? You have my number. I’ll watch for you.”

He took three big strides back to where she stood and wrapped her up in his arms once again. He held her briefly, but very tightly before he kissed the top of her head.

“Take care, sweetheart.” He said quietly before walking briskly back through the doors.

Y/N’s eyes swam with tears, but her voice was resolute. “See you in three months.”

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

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[kiyrian]

I just realized: Jinx in S1 talks about how her & Vi situation is so much different than Silco & Vander. Now though we know they are very very similar and it's just that Silco never told her what really happened.

And we do see that he omits parts of the story - he shares new insight with her during the baptism scene after she mentions that they already went over it several times. Maybe he does it because some things aren't for children to learn, maybe because he struggles with sharing his real weak points.

Still, in the case of Jinx and Vi's parents I wonder if it's guilt - the same guilt Jinx feels over the death of her brothers. Or maybe fear - fear that Jinx would leave him if she found out her parents died after (and here I'm guessing based on Vander's flashbacks) Silco threw a Molotov cocktail at the guards. Hard to tell if he was the first to attack or it was a retaliation but the ending is the same: the parents died and Vander blamed Silco. Just like Vi blamed Jinx. Until Vander didn't but Silco never got to learn that. Until Vi didn't but she came with an enforcer and there was no time to talk.

How much easier would it be for Jinx if Silco shared the whole story? If he showed her that the similarities run deeper and that even after all this she (I assume) still saw his as a father figure -> she too deserved love despite her mistakes. Hell, if Vander ever talked to Silco or Silco tried to find him before S1 the whole problem would probably be solved before it even started.

And then what about Jinx sharing the whole story with Vi? How Silco was her father (was he good at it? that's a different topic. Still she grieves him as his daughter, she misses his lessons and guidance). How she didn't mean for the things to happen. How she needs help with her hallucinations (Silco tried to help with those and do they even have any kind of mental health professionals to offer real help? probably not. Still, not treating it as an excuse for her behavior but a real problem she's struggling with would do wonders.) We get some of it in S2 Act 2 but they are always in action and there are so many "almosts". Vi almost touching Jinx's shoulder. Jinx almost reaching out. The talk about future. They get family hugs with Vander. But this doesn't solve the grief, the hurt.

Here's to hoping the girls can break this circle of "All we needed was one honest conversation and then work on our relationship but we could have made it. Instead all we have is grief and useless legacy."

(Yet how often we don't get to have those kind of conversations in real life? How often we lose people because we never really explained? I love and hate how well Arcane portraits it)

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hey Hey~ just wanted to say I love your blog!! Please keep it up 💖💖 I just wanted to ask, how many children would the Diasomnia bois have with their s/o. I saw you did one for Savanclaw. Please and thank you!!

Lilia Vanrouge:

How many children Lilia has is highly dependent on if you really want to have one yourself or not. He would prefer to not have any of his own, he was more into the adopting wayward children who really needed him business, and he had a fulfilling life raising a few other children already. But he could never deny you your happiness and he wouldn’t be a bad father, quite the contrary considering all the experience he already had.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus has one child, a son. He was raised as a successor from the very start, expectations thrust upon him since birth that he had never asked for. It’s a stressful way to live but he was also surrounded by endless love, Malleus’ body guards and his own ragtag bunch of friends (that are pretty much considered family). They can have a complicated relationship later on as every Draconia has to go through an angsty period of coming to terms with living longer than all those around them, but with their father having some experience with that specific type of grief, his son has an easier time dealing with it.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek has a legacy to carry on, taking great pride in serving under Malleus and wanting his child to feel the same. He has a son that has the same serious demeanor to him, almost appearing as mini-me. Sebek was strict with him while growing up as he knew there were many stressful situations that he’d have to be put in to be a good bodyguard, but he’s actually quite spoiled by Malleus whenever Sebek isn’t looking. His son also has a deep respect for his fathers strength in morals.

Silver:

Silver hadn't thought about it much but he thinks he'd like that normal fairytale family. One boy, one girl, living together out in a cottage with a peaceful life. He doesn't know why such an image brings this overwhelming sadness and longing to him but when he finally receives it, he realized the stability helped him feel more at ease. He went through a great deal when losing his father figure but he assured he was never forgotten, surprised by the shocked look on his childrens faces when he recalls all the things he once went through as a child raised by a fae.

[ratsoh-writes]

Give us the FULL backstory of one set of skeleton siblings.

Ehehehe alright, cause I’m sure y’all are interested in the fell bros….

It all began in a distant land called hotland, where red was born to fell gaster! Gaster was deeply in love with Felby, a fire elemental who was a total player. Red was an intentional baby that gaster had in hopes that he would get Felby to commit… and we all know how that worked out.

It didn’t if you were curious

Regretting having a child and resentful of his son, Gaster mostly ignored red for his childhood, only paying him mind when the toddler needed feeding. Red grew up being hyper independent because of this. You can blame gaster for his issues in accepting help from others.

As red grew older, Gaster realized his son could be useful. See red was a very curious child. He has a hunger for knowlege and would try to remake the tools he sees the adult monsters using. Recognizing this talent, Gaster finally took an interest in his son and began teaching him to eventually take a place with the royal engineers that gaster worked with. Compared to being thrown out in the streets of underfells hotland all day, being stuck in the Smokey greasy warehouse lab was like Heaven to child red. He threw himself into his education, determined to keep his place with the engineers who barely tolerated the kid running around.

And of course, just when things were starting to get good, gaster had fall right back into felbys grasp again. The two had an on and off relationship for years now, but this time Felby was around more often. Gaster was sure this time, this time his lover would stay for good. Gaster was strong in the art of science but weak in the art of common sense clearly.

The year red turned 23 was the same year gaster had edge, and the last time red would see Felby again until after the crash. Depressed at his so called “soulmate” disappearing off the face of the underground, Gaster didn’t even fry with edge, leaving all the childcare to red. Red tried to resent his brother, he really did.. but he just couldn’t. Edge was so sweet and soft when he was little. Red would give the world for him if he could. Edge spent the majority of his childhood under reds protection, and was like his older brothers shadow. Edge used to be a cheerful and affectionate kid.

When edge was around 13, gaster snapped out of his depressed funk and turned to the next stage of grief; anger. Gaster began taking out his frustrations on edge whenever red wasn’t around. Having many jealous enemies because of his position, red was unable to leave the safety of the warehouse, but leaving edge to gaster was out of the question either. He couldn’t hide his brother, not with his father being his superior. So red had edge shipped off to the royal guard before things escalated. Edge spent the rest of his childhood there, and the kind streak in him was stamped out, replaced with the cold grouch we see today (well, when he’s around new people that us)

Edge and reds relationship was strained greatly with edges move. Edge viewed this as the one person who gave a damn throwing him away, while red was hurt that his brother blamed him when he did so much for him. Only the passing of their father got the two back in contact. The underfell brothers had a shaky truce until edge got promoted to captain of the snowdin branch of the royal guard. Edge quickly left for his new position leaving red behind in hotland.

With gasters death, things weren’t going so well for red. His father was the whole reason he got the apprenticeship with the engineers. Say what you will about gaster, but he was a powerful monster. Red now had to defend his place on his own, without daddies reputation to back him up. Facing sneak attacks daily, red began to grow paranoid. One evening, he was jumped by three monsters, a would be engineer and his backup. Red escaped, but not unharmed. When edge got word of his brothers condition, he forcibly drug red down to snowdin with him, apprenticeship be damned. At this point it wasn’t worth it.

Red stayed with edge, recovered, and became a bitter and resentful sentry guard in snowdin until the crash. Meanwhile edge had flourished in snowdin, becoming close with his dog guard and the neighboring captain undyne (storm) of waterfall. When the crash happened and the AUs merged on ebott, edge had allies he could lean on as their world was turned upside down.

Sensing the change, and growing hopeful at what ebott could become, edge threw himself into his new home. He got a quick and dirty law degree, helped get many of his dog guard buddies homes and jobs, and even started talking to someone about his own issues. Edge was on the path to… well he isn’t sure but he’s on it! There was just one thing holding him back..

Red. His brother is still acting like ebott was underfell. He was constantly getting into fights with others, skirting the edges of the law, and well edge can only take so much. Red and edge had been fighting constantly since the crash, and these spats kept escalating until edge finally kicked red out of his home.

At his lowest point, red got through the days listlessly. He got a cheap apartment and did small odd jobs to keep afloat. He was angry at the world, scared of the future and without anything to look forward too. The world had f*cked him over and he responded by giving the world his finger. Red was stuck in this funk until he met his first real friend.. oak!

Oak doesn’t remember his first meeting with red. Oak doesn’t remember a lot of things really. Ever since his head injury in horrortale, he’s needed lots of repetition for things to really stick. And he finally got out of the institution he was recovering in. Oak was delighted to move back in with his brother willow! … but stars, he shouldn’t have gone out to get groceries on his own. He thought he could remember his street, he remembers his house now, but apparently the street name hadn’t stuck yet. So he paced around the old beat up gas station as he wracked his empty skull doing his best to recall the street. Meanwhile red, who was working there is loosing his mind as this big scarred stalker skeleton passed by the door for the seventh stars damned time in two minutes!! The first meeting ends with red storming out, yelling at oak angrily to get lost, and a tired sad oak replying that he already is lost. Fed up, red shows oak how to track his brothers phone to find his way home. Oak thanks red profusely, seemingly not bothered by his rudeness and goes on his way

This exact interaction happens at least three more times in the next few days before red just tiredly escorts the forgetful famine skeleton at the end of his shift. Within a month red and oak have become tentative friends. Oak is gentle and frankly too helpless for red to ever feel threatened by. And he seems to think reds dry humor is funny. And oak likes having red around, he never treats him as invalid, and he glares at people who stare at the hole in his skull for too long. It’s nice that red noticed it made him uncomfortable

As their friendship developed over the next few months, red began to unwind around oak and started telling the other his worries. After all, the guy is perfect for secrets. It’s a 70% chance he won’t even remember them anyways. When red first tells oak of what happened with edge, oak was horrified and urged him to reach out. Oak was able to point out from reds story that it’s obvious that edge cared for him still. He compared it to his own perspective, of his old au.. the things he had to do for him and willow to survive. Willow had been angry and betrayed the same way edge had been after oak brought back the first.. you know what. But they stayed together through even the worst part of the famine, not out of survival but out of brotherly love and loyalty. Oak eventually wore red down enough with his story that the paranoid skeleton was willing to give edge one last chance.

Five years after the crash, and two years since their last fight, red knocked on edges door. Shocked and angry, but still happy to see his brother again, edge let red in. For months the two would talk a little bit each week as they tried to slowly repair their relationship. Edge had missed red dearly, and red edge. Finally able to listen, red could see where he hurt edge too, and his little brother pretty much blackmailed red through guilt into seeing the same person he was going to so red could work through what happened in underfell

Two years later, red moved back in with edge, and using his old royal engineer position, was able to secure an entry job at an electric engineers guild. He and edge still fought now and then, but nothing crazy like it used to be.

That’s it for their backstory!

[superbat-lmao]

I think comics have a closer proximity to fanon works than most other forms of canon works (movies, tv, books, podcasts, etc) because of how many possible authors contribute different storylines.

Meaning, while I love Jayroy in fanon, I can completely understand why it wouldn’t work in canon. Too much uneven characterization where Jason’s actions towards the arrowfam aren’t justifiable even if their friendship remains possible. And it’s so easy to imagine crossing lines of canon into fanon since even canon can contradict itself.

So something I undeniably love about Jayroy fanon is how each character is written as someone who believes they just aren’t worth it, and they find someone else who believes basically the same thing about themselves and they’re both wrong.

To simply things in fanon, Roy’s struggles with addiction and Jason’s struggles with violence mean that in their respective narratives, they’re the black sheep of their families.

Roy typically struggles with a sense of self worth, of wanting someone to stick around through the bad and where his headspace actually goes because of addiction. He was one of the first titans and to have so many of your peers succeed (or die) when you’re struggling definitely fucks with you in major ways.

Jason has a complicated relationship with everyone, including himself. The pit made a lot of things worse but his grief over wanting his father to avenge him and thinking his death changed nothing, or his stance on punishing criminals, all of these things separate him out from the batfam’s code of ethics. He is constantly living in the shadow of himself and can’t figure out how to actually move on with his life.

And when these are the characterizations people are working with I love that the narrative is “two people who believe they’re fundamentally broken realize they aren’t and rely on each other until they get better”.

Like, neither of them is asking the other to change. Roy is okay with Jason’s version of justice and Jason sticks around through cravings and meetings. Neither thinks that their families were right about them, that they’re fuck ups beyond hope. Because they don’t have to be.

And so many of the other storylines of superhero’s is that, even if they’re at a low point, or have made mistakes, they can change. They can see the light and reform their actions and become better people and fit into new dynamics if they can’t go back to old ones.

And while a lot of fics will soften Jason’s actions, there are some where Roy still sticks around. And if they change, it’s not because someone demanded it of them in order to be worthy of being loved. It’s because someone who loved them gave them the time and space to figure out who they are and loved them regardless. They didn’t withhold support, they provided it even when the other failed and saw them through to the other side.

And sure, in reality that can be a recipe for toxicity, of people hurting each other over and over by claiming that love should be unconditional in order to justify horrible things, but in comics where magic is real (and sometimes a stand in for PTSD ) and so are aliens and vigilantes and addiction, then the standards for what a person is capable of withstanding, what a relationship is able to withstand, need to have room for grace too.

That the only way people stop suffering is by having support networks. And while in some cases it doesn’t work, in this one, it does.

[katierosefun]

not to sound like a broken record, but every once in a while i just remember that beyond evil really said that a strained relationship between a parent and child does not necessarily have to be straightforward, in that han joo won clearly despises his father (you sent me away, you’re the reason my mom’s dead, you were never interested in who i was until it was relevant to your career) and yet joo won still has a room in his father’s house (even though you locked me out without a warning) and they still eat dinner (even though you shoo me away when i tried to approach you) and joo won even still gives his father a dozen chances to prove that he’s not an awful person (just tell me the truth, just tell me the truth, and i promise i’ll help you) and even in the finale, you see a bit of that anger and disappointment and pain in joo won’s face and hm something about beyond evil saying that the relationships between parents and child are complex in that no matter how many times a parent kicks at their child, there will always be a tiny, tiny part of the child that still wonders if there’s even a sliver of a chance of a functional relationship--

and you see a bit of that in jeong je and his relationship with his mom too, in that his mother almost obsessively looks after him. she hovers over him, keeping track of his medication and sending him away to hospitals (is it out of love or self-preservation or shame? or maybe it’s all of those things at the same time), and she decides that she’ll protect her son first and foremost, but then the second it’s convenient for her, she tells him that she’ll throw him away. (she doesn’t want to be called “mom” anymore. maybe it’s true that she was only a mom, but isn’t that what every kid wants from a parent. for their parent to be their parent first.) and yet, despite that monstrous moment, do hae won still has a whole breakdown when she realizes that jeong je might truly kill himself, and there’s something pathetic about that (if you truly cared about your child, you would have known the kind of hell you were putting them through) and yet a little tragic too (how come it had to take you that long to realize your child was in hell).

and you see some strains of that with dong sik and jae yi, in that both of them had such beautiful relationships with their parents, and yet there’s something in both their relationships that broke that down. for jae yi, she loves her mother but there’s a small part of her that resents her for suddenly going missing--as soon as you come back home, i’m going to walk out of this shop and never come back. and yet she loves her mother, even with all that resentment and hurt and confusion within her, even before she learns of the truth. (she’s the one who runs over to the morgue every time a new body’s found. she’s the one pestering morticians and prosecutors about where her mother might be. she does this every year, even though she’s angry, deep down she’s angry.)

and then with dong sik, who has so many fond memories of his parents--you see that grief and sadness on his face when he talks about how just overnight, his father was no longer his best friend. dong sik left so quickly after the accusations against him because how could he stay, when his own parents either can’t look at him in the eye or look right through him? and there’s some bitterness there too--and even more bitterness when dong sik visits his mom, scoffing at the idea of being a good son (because he’s not a good son, he’s the son who ran away from home the second he thought he no longer had a home, he cleans his mom’s hands a little too roughly because he doesn’t do that often anymore). of course, dong sik loves his parents, of course, dong sik loves his mom, because he still talks to her (even if she can’t understand him), but there’s that grief underlying it all too. his mom isn’t herself anymore, and dong sik might not get that back, and maybe he’s bitter more at himself than he is at his parents, but at least there’s something there for him to hold onto, at least at the end of it all. and maybe that’s kind of all that someone can do when they haven’t always had the easiest relationship with a parent--the good parts are good, but the bad parts are bad, and maybe that’s as much as anyone gets.