#the song goes ‘I knew you in another life you had that same look in your eyes I love you don’t act so surprised’& I sob | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bbrissonn · 3 months ago

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𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ in which your agent forces you into a relationship for PR, but when you find yourself developping feelings for the boy, everything goes to shit

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ warnings: angst angst angst, no happy ending cause bitch does the song sound like a happy ending 😭, mention of sex but no nsfw content, swearing

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ pairing: luke hughes x reader

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ wc: 8.7k (including lyrics)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ guts masterlist

Want it, so i got it, did it, so it’s done Another thing i ruined i used to do for fun Another piece of plastic i could just throw away Another conversation with nothing good to say

You were currently sitting in your manager’s, Chris, office alone, two other chairs next to you as you waited for him to return with his “special guests”. You truly had no idea what this was about, you never had meeting with guests, or whatever he meant. Your confusion only grew as you heard your manager’s laugh as he walked back into his office, another man in a suit next to him as he too laughed out loud, and a boy who looked about your age walking in behind them.

“Y/N, this is my friend, Mike, and his client, Luke, he plays for the New Jersey Devils.”

“Hi.” You answer looking briefly at the two before looking back in front of you. The last thing you wanted to do at the moment was have a social party with two strangers.

“Excuse her behaviour, she’s been a little one edge lately. You two make yourselves comfortable.” Chris said as he walked to his desk chair, pulling out some papers from one of his drawers. Meanwhile, Luke took a seat next to you, sending you a small smile, which you didn’t bother to return, and Mike sat on the last chair. “Ah, don’t you just love a freshly printed contract!” Chris added, looking at his friend before the two shared a small laugh.

“Contract?” You and Luke both ask at the same, looking at your respective managers. The two stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before Chris cleared his throat.

“Mike and I have been talking for a bit, and we’ve both come to the conclusion that this is an excellent step for to the two of you to take to help your careers.”

“Career? I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.” You sassed as Luke shifted awkwardly in his seat. He knew who you are, how could he not. Your first big time movie had released only a couple of weeks ago, it was all he would see whenever he watched TV. But the movie had not been doing has good has your manager had hoped, no brands or magazine really reaching out to work with you.

“Luke’s an uprising star in the NHL, Y/N, big prospect here, lots of attention on him. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get some of it.”

“Well if he’s so beloved, what’s he need me for?” You asked, pretty much ignoring the two other men present in the room. At that, Mike stepped him, coughing slightly to bring the attention to him.

“Luke’s been involved in some… worrying headlines lately. Being seen with you, seemingly in a committed relationship would do him some good.”

“Relationship?”

“Commited?” The two of you exclaimed once again. The last thing on your mind at the moment was being in a relationship, you had to focus on your career.

“I’m not dating a stranger!” You said, drifting your gaze from Mike over to Chris, who was already looking at you with a pleading smile.

“You two don’t need to actually date, as long as the media believes you do, what you do in your private time is none of our business.” He explained, his words almost sending you off of yout chair.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever head!”

It took almost an hour for Chris to convince you to sign the contract, which somehow had crazier terms than the idea itself. Your “relationship” would last for 8 months, meaning during the length of Luke’s season. To make it even worse, no one outside of this room could know about the contract, meaning you would have to pretend to both your families and friends. Thankfully, the boy who would be your fake boyfriend was not as ugly as other men you’ve seen, sure he was far from your usual type, but he had some positive traits as well. His height being the first thing to catch your eye when he first walked in. Plus, he was an athlete, and it was hard to ignore his muscles showing throught his thigh polo shirt. He didn’t seem like an asshole either, so maybe there was a chance the two of you could somewhat get along.

“So, what’s your favourite colour?” Luke asked as both of your managers left the small room for a couple of minutes, insisting the two of you got to know each other a bit. You looked over at him as his words hit, was this really the first thing he was going to ask you? You just rolled your eyes as you looked down at your lap. “Look, I’m just as happy as you are about this. And if I’m being honest, I’m not really interested in knowing more than needed about you.” He added, shifting slightly in his seat to have a better look at you.

“Green.”

“Green?” He scoffed, making you send him a look, almost challenging him.

“Yeah, green.” You sassed, making the boy smirk slightly.

“Like a- like a bright green or-”

“Are you mocking me right now?” You questioned, not finding the smile on his face amusing.

“No, no, just… interested, you know. There’s lots of greens out there.”

“Forest green.” You answered, keeping it short in simple before looking away and back down at your lap.

“Not gonna ask mine?”

“Not interested.”

“Dark red, for sure. Although, you can never go wrong with maize and blue.”

“Maize and blue?” You quipped. It was now Luke’s turn to give you a look.

“Maize and blue. Michigan, baby!” He said with enthusiasm, earning himself a look once again. You took a second to look at him, really look at him. He looked like a baby.

“Michigan?”

“Michigan.” He repeated with a grin.

“You from there?”

“Sorta.” He responded. You raised your brows at him, clearly indicated for him to expanded his answer. “Born in New Hampshire, moved to Toronto for like 10 years, then we moved to Detroit, been living there ever since.”

“And maize and blue, that’s…?” You trailed off.

“University of Michigan! Maize and blue, wolverines.”

“And I’m guess you went there.”

“Sure, did. My eldest brother too.”

“Cute.” You said, your voice filled with sarcasm. “When you’d graduate?” This was your way of finding out how old he was, without directly asking.

“Didn’t.” Great, a college dropout.

“You dropped out?”

“Yeah, to come here. If it makes you feel any better, I did attend all my classes, got good grades. I’m not some idiot.” He explained, you could tell he was feeling a little annoyed by your question.

“Okay, well when would you of had graduated?”

“2025.” If you had a drink in your mouth, you would’ve spat it right out. This guy, this college dropout guy, was 2 years away from his graduation. You were right, he looked like a kid because he is one.

“Gosh, how old are you?”

“Turned 20 last month. Why?” His words made you stand up, ready to storm out of the room and hunt down Chris. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not doing this. Gosh, you’re a kid. I can’t pretend to be in a relationship with a kid!” You exclaimed as you went to push the door open, only to realize it was locked. Great. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“Don’t asked a women her age!” You snapped as you still tried to push the door open. “24.” You whispered as you realized there was no way this door was going to open, at least not thanks to you. “25 in January.”

“You’re like… the same age as my brother.” Luke whispered to himself, his face turning into a grimace at the thought.

“See, even you find it weird! Let’s just tell them it makes us uncomfortable. You’re too young for me, and I’m too old for you.”

“Never said you were too old for me. What if I like older?” He smirked as he made himself more comfortable in his chair. There was no denying his attraction towards you. Your instagram had popped up tons of times on his explorer page, and he never shied away from liking your posts.

“You just said I am your brother’s age. Do you not find that weird?”

“Well, if we’re getting technical, he’s born in 1999, and from what I understand, you’re born in 2000. So you’re not his age, you’re just like 3 months younger than him.” He explained, his smirk still plastered on his face as you dropped down on your chair with a sigh. This was going to be the longest 8 months of your life.

I thought it, so i said it, took it ‘cause i can Another day pretending im older than i am Another perfect moment that doesn’t feel like mine Another thing i forced to be a sign

“So, what do I do exactly?” Luke asked from besides you. The two of you were currently on your way to some award show, meaning you would have to walk a red carpet. A red carpet with Luke.

It had been about three weeks since you had sign the contracts, you and Luke had spent some time trying to get to know each other. He tried to put in some effort, ask you question as simple as your favourite food, and some more complexe, like what made you move from North Carolina to New York. You barely put in any efforts to answer his questions, simply because you weren’t interested in him getting to know you, and vice-versa. The two of you had been spotted a couple of times by fans, but you never held hands, or displayed affection towards each other in public, not like you did in private, but no one really knew what to take away from the pictures.

“Just, stand there and smile. There’s gonna be like a thousand cameras, so just keep your eyes moving, ignore their questions and yells. When the workers tell you to move, you move.” You explained, your eyes looking outside the window. The red thigh dress hugging your skin perfectly, your heels the same colour, you looked gorgeous. Luke was wearing a black suit with a red tie matching your dress.

“You gonna pretend like you at least enjoy being within 5 feets of me.”

“Aha. You’re so funny, I’m dying of laughter.” You responded, you voice in the same monotone voice you always used with him. “You make a fool of yourself, or me, and I will rip your eyes out with my own hands.”

“Kinky.” Luke smirked as the car came a stop. The boy looked over at you, your eyes were closed as you took a deep breath. You hated this things, you hated walking down that carpet, papparazies with cameras in your face like wild animals. You hated it. Your eyes snapped open, and a giant smile appeared on your face.

“Let’s go.”

Luke stepped out of the car first, everyone around holding their breathes as they waited to see who else was going to come out of the car. The boy stretched his hand towards you, a small nod of his head as you slowly made your way out of the car. The cameras were flashing around you everywhere, and you could tell Luke was getting a little overwhelmed.

“Ignore them, just walk with a smile on your face, nod a bit.” You whispered to him as you leaned in close. Then, the two of you made your way to the door, you fingers intertwining with Luke’s without you even noticing. As you crossed the door, Luke let out a small “woah”, his eyes rooming around the entrance. He had been to his fair share of events for the NHL, but none of them were like this. Everything look expensive, everyone looked expensive. He was completely starstruck. So much he didn’t even noticed a worker coming over to the two of you and giving you instructions.

“Luke?” You asked, making the boy snap out of hi trance. “We gotta go, come on.” You whispered before guiding the boy to where the worker had gone. “You okay?” Your voice was so low the boy wasn’t even sure if it was real of his imagination playing a trick on him.

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“A lot.”

“Yeah.” He answered as you looked over at him. The boy could’ve sworn he had seen the corner of your mouth lifts slightly, before your head snapped back to the worker.

“Alright, you too, once she’s done, you two can go. Remember to smile, you both look perfect, enjoy the night!” She said with excitement as the girl in front of you moved to the next area of photographers. Luke heard you take another deep breath before slowly making your way onto the carpet.

“Put your hand on my waist.” You whispered, a smile on your face, as you let go of his hands, that you hadn’t even realized you were still holding. Your hand landed near the top of his shoulder as you put one of your foot out and bent your leg. The slit of your dress riding up you thigh as flashed surrounded you. You felt Luke’s hand glide across your lower back before settling on your waist and pulling you a little closer to him. You instinctively leaned your head on his shoulder as you plastered your best smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“This is exhausting.” The boy sighed as the two of you finally sat down at your table.

“Welcome to my world.” Thankfully, the two of you were able to avoid any interviews, and once you were done with the carpet, you were free for the rest of the night.

“You nominated for anything?” Luke asked as he reached down to the menu on the table. You had warned him that he wouldn’t be able to pick was he ate, everyone was getting the same thing, besides of course people with allergies and such. Chicken. Not his favourite, but not the worse.

“Me, no. The movie is, but I doubt we’re gonna win.” You answered, only two of your co-stars could attend, the other one being busy with a new project. Sadly, you were seated a couple of tables away from them.

“Why not?”

“Because when you go up against movies like Avatar, it’s hard to win.” Luke didn’t asked any other question about the awards after that.

“For what it’s worth, I think you should’ve won.” Luke whispered to you as the cast of Avatar made their way onto the stage. You looked over at him, the two of you hadn’t spoken since before the show started.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean Avatar’s good you know, classic. You’re movie was great.”

“You watched it?”

“Before the whole… you know. My brother, Jack, we were looking for something to do and he made us go. You look hot in black.” He mentioned, clearly referreing to the long black silky dress you had worn in the movie.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?” He asked with a smirk, only making you roll your eyes.

“No.” Silence. One minute, two minutes. “You didn’t mention you knew who I was.” This was probably the first time you had been the one who made the effort to keep a conversation going. Luke smiled as he shifted in his seat slightly.

“To be fair, you don’t really like when I talk, and when I do, I doubt you listen.” He answered. You couldn’t tell if he was taking a jab at you or not. He probably was.

“Just because I am not interested in what you have to say, doesn’t mean I don’t listen.” You said, almost like you were defending yourself.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sassed. “We’re at every different points in our lives, we have different interest, our brains don’t think the same way. I mean you’re pretty much a college frat boy, and I am about to be 25. You play hockey, which I know nothing about, and I act and model. Totally different.”

“I modeled for American Eagle once.” He stated, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But as you looked over at him, the deep shade of red on his cheek answered your question.

“You modeled for American Eagle.” You repeated softly, trying your best to hold in a laugh.

“Just… laugh. You wouldn’t be the first one.” He mumbled with a small smile on his face. You let out a small giggle.

“That’s interesting. See, we could talk about that.”

“It was… like two years ago. It was like with the school or whatever. My buddies were, like ruthless. It was horrible.” He explained, making you giggle even more.

“They at least pay you well?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was good.”

“Good on you.” The rest of the night, you and Luke surprisingly talked a lot. You hated to admit it, but you were warming up to him. He was sweet, there was no denying that, and you did feel bad for how you had acted before.

“Y/N!” Chris exclaimed as you answered his phone call. You and Luke were now back in the car, on your way to your apartment.

“Hi.”

“How was your night?” You looked over at Luke, his eyes focused on his phone as he texted his brothers, who were apparently freaking out about his outing with you.

“Better than I expected.” You answered honestly.

“Good, good. Have you been looking online? They love the two of you together, you’re all the media is talking about right now…” The man kept going but you paid no attention to his words. You eyes fixated on Luke. He had a soft smile on his face as he typed away on his phone, chuckling every now and then. You hated to admit it, but this night had gone far better than you had imagined. Luke was… well he was something. Maybe these next couple of months wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Well, sometimes i feel like i don’t wanna be where i am Gettin’ drunk at a club wuth fair-weather friends Push away all the people who know me the best But it’s me who’s been making the bed

“I mean, it’s been great! Just, so proud of her, and excited for her. She’s been working really hard for years, and I mean, yeah, just, she deserves this.” Luke answered the reporter, the lie slipping so easily from his mouth. You were now two months into this fake relationship, and your friendship with Luke had grown. You two actually spent time together now, enjoying the other’s company. You had been quite present in public with him, and fans were quickly growing for your relationship.

The lies came out so easily about your relationship. How you had met, how long the two of you had been together, all of it. It almost worried you how good he was at it, of course for you, it was just acting, but this was totally new to him. Gosh, he was so good at it that sometimes it almost felt real. Like right now, his hand on your waist, holding you close to his side as he spoke with a large grin.

“Think they like me more than you, now.” The boy joked as the two of you sat down. You were now at a movie premiere, your movie premiere. This project had been completed long before you ever met Luke, yet it was still so easy for him to lie about how proud he was, and how hard you worked. He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much effort and passion you put into this job because he wasn’t there, yet the lie sounded so natural.

“Yeah might have to let you come alone next time.” You joked with a fake smile on your face, one that Luke knew too well by now.

“What’s wrong?”

“You do it so easily.”

“What?”

“The lying. Just, I don’t kno- nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“No, no, hey, talk to me.” Luke whispered, his hand reaching for yours. His touch felt so natural, so right, that you had to remind yourself why he was doing it in the first place. You were surrounded by people.

“I just, you’re a really nice guy, Luke, and this industry it can… can do stuff do stuff to you, bad stuff. Stuff that changes a person, and I’d hate for that to happen to you, and for me to be the reason.” You admitted, looking down at your lap. You almost felt pathetic.

“I am not gonna lose myself. Trust me, I’ve got 2 older brothers and a bunch of guys that keep me very humble on a daily bases. They keep my grounded, my whole family does. Even with hockey. And I am tougher than I look, you know.” He joked at the end, elbowing you slightly. You smiled softly at him, nodding your head slightly.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He whispered back, his pinky connecting with yours. “My parents are always asking about you, you know. Jack and Quinn, too. Well, pretty much everyone in my life.” The boy added after a couple of seconds of silence. His words made your body stiffen.

“Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, wanna meet them? That way you can see for yourself how humble I’m being kept.” The boy added.

“Sure, yeah.” You answered, your voice shaky as you looked around the room.

“We can just start with Jack, he’s the worse one though, but he’s the only on that lives here, so. But we do play Quinn in like 3 weeks, so my parents are gonna be in town…”��

“Jack first works.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Can’t believe my brother actually convinced you to date him. I mean little Lukey, with you.” Jack said with a teasing smile on his face. By the ton in his voice, you understand he meant the “with you” part as a compliment, almost saying you were too good to be with his brother.

“Jack-”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. I taught you well, Lukey.” The older boy added with a proud smile. You looked over at Luke, who smile at you apologically. You had spent your evening at the brother’s apartment, Jack had tried his best to cook a meal for the two of you, but you ended ordering instead.

“It’s getting late, I should get going.” You stated, peaking quickly at the time at your phone.

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Luke said, standing up quickly from the couch and you were fast to follow his move.

“You can stay over if you want. Its getting pretty late.” Jack said nonchalantly, making you look over at Luke. The two of you had never spent the night over at the other’s place. Well, actually, Luke did sleep over most of the times after events, but he always slept in your spare room. You knew they didn’t have a spare room, and sleeping on the couch was too risky as it could be seen form the kitchen.

You and Luke shared a quick conversation with your eyes, refusing to stay over would probably wave form red flag.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone, don’t worry. Just, please remember that I do sleep in the room next to yours, Luke.” Jack said with a smirked as he stood up from the couch, joining the two of you. He ruffled Luke’s hair slightly, before giving you a smile.

“Good night.” He said before turning around and making his way to his room. After his doors closed, silence took over the whole apartment with you and Luke standing in the middle of the living room.

“So…”

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll stay. He seems really happy about it, so.”

“Right, yeah. Uhm, I’ll get you some clothes.” Luke said before guiding the two of you over to his room. Ten minutes later, you were laying next to him on his bed, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of his.

“He’s not as bad as you said, you know.”

“That’s ‘cause he just met you. He’s an ass, really. Once you get to know, like really know him, he’s gonna be the most annoying person you’ve ever met.” Luke said with a scoff, making you smile slightly. Luke’s bed wasn’t exactly the biggest, meaning the two of you were laying shoulder to shoulder.

You looked over at him, only to find him already looking at you. And then before you knew it, he was pulling you on top of him, your lips connected as his hands roamed your body.

There was no denying the the two of you felt quite attracted to the other, and as you got to know him more and more, you attraction only grew and grew until you felt like you didn’t even have to pretend anymore. This was turning into something real for you, and you could only hope that the boy felt the same.

The next morning, you woke up alone in the bed, wearing nothing but Luke’s hoodie. The first notification on your phone being from him. Hey, had to leave for practice, didn’t wanna wake you. Left a key on the counter, i’ll call you tn :).

Only he didn’t call, didn’t text either. And when he showed up at your place the day after, it was like nothing had happened. You wanted to talk about it, you needed to talk about it, but he had quickly made it very clear that he had no interest in that conversation. So, you stayed quiet and pretended it didn’t happen, that nothing happened.

I’m so tired of bein’ the girl that i am Every good thing had turned into something i dread And i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head But it’s me who’s been making the bed

“It was so nice to meet you, sweetheart. You should come visit this summer.” Ellen gushed as she hugged you tightly.

“I will.” You lied with a smile. Your 8 months would end right when summer would start, and you honestly had no clue what would happen after that.

“Maybe we’ll see Luke a little more if you do.” Jim joked as he and Ellen waved at you as they left the apartment. Jack had offered to drive them to the airport, meaning it was only you and Luke in the apartment. His apartment. You hadn’t been over since that night, a night that almost felt like a secret. Like if you were to talk about it, or mention it, the world would explose. Like you were walking on breaking glass, and bringing it up would be that extra pressure that would make it snap for good.

“You stayin’?” Luke asked as the two of you stood by door.

“I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“You won’t.” Luke said softly, his hand reaching for yours. “I want you to stay.”

Those words, those 5 small innocent words, somehow lead to you once again waking up in nothing but his hoodie. You were alone once again, but you could head the two brothers arguing about something stupid in the living room. You quickly found your underwear and a pair of sweatpants before making you’re way to the two boys.

“Y/N!” Jack exclaimed as he saw you slowly walking down the hallway. The older boy was sitting on the couch, while Luke stood behind him. But the younger boy quickly made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around.

“Morning, baby.” The boy said softly, making your eyes grow wide. Baby. Luke had just called you baby. You never used nickname, never had and never even talked about it.

“Hi.” You mumbled against his chest.

“Y/N, tell your boyfriend that you always brush your teeth before you eat, not after!”

“Gosh, Jack, leave her alone.”

“Why would you brush your teeth before you eat? You’re just making them dirty again.” You answered Jack, making the boy’s smile drop, while Luke just let out a chuckle.

“I made pancakes.” The boy mumbled, guiding towards the kitchen and away from Jack.

“You trying to poisson me?”

“Not yet.” Luke chuckled as he placed a cup of coffee in front of you. The boy leaned against the counter as he watched you slowly started eating the pancakes in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” The boy mumbled as he walked past you, pressing a small kiss to your head before heading towards the bathroom. His reaction and action to your questions made his answer quite clear.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“What’s up with you?”

“Mm?”

“What’s up with you?” Luke repeated, making you look up from your phone. The two of you were currently sitting on your couch, a hockey game playing on your tv.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve been on your phone the whole night.”

“I’m busy, Luke.” You mumbled. It was a lie, you weren’t busy, you were just not interested in having a conversation with him after what had happened last week. Thankfully, he had left for a roadtrip with the team that same night, meaning you had one full week where you could just not think about him. The two of you texted a bit, but nothing more than seeing how the other was doing. The second the team’s plane had landed, the boy was quick to make his way over to your apartment, catching you completely off guard.

“Yeah? Busy doing what? Scrolling on Tiktok?” The boy mumbled as he stood up from the couch. His action made you look up at him. “If you didn’t want me here, you should’ve just said so.” He added before walking away towards the front door.

“You could’ve just texted, ask if you could come, not just show up at my door with no warnings!” You said as you followed him, making him scoff as he finished putting his two shoes on.

“That’s what this is about? I didn’t ask if I could come see you? We haven’t seen each other in a week, Y/N, sue me for thinking you’d want to hangout. For thinking you’d want to talk, catch up, see how I am doing-”

“Talk? You want to talk? Where was that attitude last week Luke?”

“What are you talking about?” The boy asked, making you scoff at him. He couldn’t be serious right now.

“Why do you refuse to acknowledge the fact that we’ve had sex, twice now. Every time I even try to bring it up, you shut me out. So, I am sorry if I am not in the mood to talk to you when you please, Luke.” You snapped back, your voice filled with annoyance. Luke rolled his eyes at your words, making you bit your lip out of anger.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” He said as he threw on his jacket.

“See, you’re doing it again!”

“What is there to talk about, Y/N? We had sex, so what? Don’t be making a big deal out of this. Don’t act like this is something real, okay? We’re friends.” Luke said harshly, making your body freeze. The boy was gone before you even realized he was moving. Was this not real? Was all those nights spent doing nothing but talking about life nothing? Or how easily his lies would slip out of his mouth, were they really lies?

Gosh, you felt like an idiot. Luke’s sole problem with this whole fake relationship thing was the commitment, he didn’t want that. He was a 20 year old just starting off his life, he didn’t want to be tied down right now. He didn’t have the time to be truly committed to someone right now, and you felt stupid for thinking he did. Stupid for thinking that those sweet comments he would make in front of camera were anything but sweet comment for the camera. Stupid for thinking some stupid contract would actually change Luke’s playboy attitude. I mean, that was the reason his manager wanted this relationship; clean up his image. That’s all you were, someone to clean up his image, to let other people know that Luke Hughes wasn’t just some guy going around fucking every girl he met. That’s all you were.

You stood in front of you door for what felt like hour, praying and hoping that the boy would walk back in and tell you it was just a joke. That he didn’t mean those things and you meant more to him than he let on. That you weren’t just his friend, or his fake girlfriend. But he never came back. Never said the words you wanted to hear the most. Never.

The next morning, you texted him asking if the two of you could talk. Nothing. No answer, no reaction, just silence. He had seen your message, and you couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of your message thread. Seen. 1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours. The sun was starting to set and the word seen was still plastered on your screen. You felt even more stupid than you did the previous night. Laying awake in your bed, waiting for something, anything. Any sign of life that let you know that he was out there thinking about you.

And a sign of life you were given. Of course, it wasn’t the one you wanted, if anything it was the opposite. You cursed yourself as the first tear fell down your cheek, and then even more as the tears kept falling. No way. There was no way this was real. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to you, right?

But he did. On your phone screen, staring back at your tear stained face, were photos of Luke in a bar, his hands all over a girl as his lips danced with hers. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course he did, the contract didn’t mean anything to him, it was just to keep his manager happy.

You knew he knew this would get out. That people would see and it would reach you in only minutes, but he didn’t care. You were the last thing on his mind as he walked into that bar, his eyes roaming the room to find someone, anyone, who could help take his mind off of you and the stupid contract. People knew who he was now, he gained followers like crazy as the public became more and more in love with your relationship. And here he was, blatantly cheating on his fake girlfriend simply because he could and he wanted.

There was no way Chris would make you keep your promise of 8 months. No way he would make you look like the stupid girl who went back to her cheating boyfriend. Right? No, no, Chris wouldn’t do that you. Although you weren’t so sure anymore, you thought Luke wouldn’t do something like this, and he did.

And every night, i wake up from this one recurrin’ dream Where i’m drivin’ through the city and the brakes go out on me I can’t stop at the red light, i can’t swerve off the road I read somewhere it’s ‘cause my life feels so out of control

The next morning you woke up with your phone blowing up, which made you quite confused since you had made sure to put it on do not disturb last night, meaning the only one who could be reaching you right now was Chris. You had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. You hated this. You hated that you let your guard down with the boy, hated that you let him, gave him the power, put him in a position to hurt you. You hated what you actually felt for him. You wouldn’t call it love, but your heart was his and only his. It was stupid, I mean you had only known him for barely 3 months.

“What the hell happened?” Chris asked as soon as you answered his call. You tried your hardest not to let the tears fall again. Sitting up in your bed as you looked over at your clock, 10 a.m.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“I’m outside your door.” The man said before hanging out the call. You slowly made your way out of bed, walking to your door and letting the older man in. Chris tried his best to hold in a gasp as his eyes met you. Your hair was a mess, but that’s not what caught his attention, you face did. It was red, really red, so were your eyes. Left over mascare from the previous day lingering around your eyes.

“Y/N/N…” He said softly as he followed you to the couch, where you threw your body down before wrapping yourself in a blanket. “Are you okay?”

“Please… please tell me the contract’s done.” You begged, your eyes tearing up as you watched Chris looked down at the floor.

“He won’t… he won’t let us. I asked, I mean this looks bad for him, but Mark he’s… he’s not letting up.” Chris explained, his voice low and soft as tears started falling out of your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“We argued. We did… we hooked up, twice. And it meant more to me than it did to him. He got mad, stormed out, and I haven’t heard for him in almost two days, so.” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice stable. Chris let out a deep sigh at your words, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll talk to Mark, again. See if we can find a middle ground.”

There was no middle ground. You had signed the contract. Luke had sign the contract. And although Mark was not happy with his client, you had signed the papers. Which led to you sitting in Chris’ office, Mark next to you and Luke on the other side, later that day. The last time the four of you had been in the same room, you never would’ve guess what the next couple of months were going to be like for you. Never in a million years did you think you would grow to actually enjoy the younger boy’s presence, and you certainly never believed you would actually have feelings for him.

“All right, so, papers were sign-”

“Can’t we just sign other papers to say we agree to end it or whatever.” You quickly cut Mark off, making the three men look over at.

“Y/N…”

“No. I am not gonna be painted as the dumb girl who goes back to a cheater! This was supposed to be good for my image!” You said looking at Chris. He knew you were right, so did Mark and Luke. This was supposed to be a good thing.

“Y/N-”

“No! I am turning 25 in a week, Chris, I am too old for this stupid high school drama. I don’t care about the stupid contract! I am done with this.” You said sternly before standing out and leaving the room. Of course, Luke was quick to follow you.

“Y/N!”

“Fuck off, Luke.” You called out, not even bothering to turn back around. Of course, just to your luck, the elevator took forever to come up, giving Luke the chance to catch up to you.

“Please, just hear me out.” The boy begged as he stood besides you. His words made you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. Thankfully, the doors opened and you were quick to enter and press the button to close to door. Unfortunately, Luke was quick to place in hand in the way, joining you inside.

“Hear you out? What is there to hear out, Luke? You’ve made yourself very clear, so, please, just leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” The boy said before pushing the emergency button, making the elevator stop.

“What are you doing?”

“Let me talk.”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Luke. I get it, okay? You’re young, and you wanna enjoy your life. You don’t want to be tied down, I get it. I can’t give you what you want, and you sure as hell can’t give me what I want, so just back off.” You whispered before pushing the button. Thankfully, you weren’t far away from the first floor, meaning about 3 seconds later Luke was standing in the elevator all alone. His eyes fixated on you as he watched you made your way out of the building.

He was such an idiot.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Every year was the same. You’d go to sleep the night before your birthday, expecting to feel completely different the next morning. But then you’d wake up and feel the exact same.

25 was no different. If anything, you felt even more pathetic this year. You were 25 crying over a 20 year old who only thinks with his dick. Everyone always looked like they had their lives figured out by that age, relationships with someone they were convinced they were going to marry, or kids on the way, a stable work income, dreams they wanted to fufill. You had none of those. Well, since your fake relationship with Luke, producers were a lot more interested in what you could bring to their movie. But that attraction only came once you were by a man’s side.

This 20 year old little boy had brought more success to your career than you ever did before. Pathetic. Even more pathetic that the same 20 year old could not give two shits about you. Pitiful. Yeah, that works better.

You had no plans for the day, ever since the whole “cheating” drama went down, you had stayed inside. You didn’t go on social media, there hadn’t been a single sign of life from you, and honestly you didn’t have the energy to give you. You couldn’t be bothered to give you because you were too busy mourning the lost of a relationship that didn’t even exist.

You spent your morning on the couch watching some stupid reality dramas, trying to make yourself feel better. Hoping that maybe there were some bigger idiots out there. And as you watched the same girl cry over the same guy for cheating on her for about the tenth time, you realized maybe you weren’t so pathetic. You had made it clear to everyone you wanted to be alone today, you didn’t have the energy to socialize right now. The only people you were planing on seeing were your food deliveries guys.

So, when the sound of your doorbell echoed through your apartment, your brows furred. It couldn’t be food, no you were currently eating it. You were left even more confused as you opened the door to see no one. Looking down, your eyes met with a large basket filled with flowers, treats, stuffed animals and much more. A larged card with your name written on it with a handwriting that you could recognized all too well. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes. Granted all you could see was the top of his head as he had stopped halfway down the staircase as he heard your door open. But he was there. You weren’t sure what you should do. Do you look at him? Keep pretending you don’t? Do you even take his gift?

Your head was telling you to go back in, take the gift, throw the card away and just fill yourself with sweets. But your heart had the better of you. You missed him. You hated that you missed him, but you did. Luke almost let out a yelp as your eyes met his. He didn’t know you could see him. The two of you stared at each other before you softly nodded towards your door.

The next thing you knew, the two of you were sitting on your couch, Luke’s gift basket on your coffee table as you stared at the wall. Luke’s gaze was fixed on you, you knew it was. You could feel it.

“I miss you.” He whispered so lowly you could barely hear it, but you did. You didn’t know if you should believe him or not. You let out a small scoff at his words. You weren’t falling for it. “I’m being serious, Y/N.”

“You don’t miss me, Luke. You miss the attention I gave you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Because the second that attention was gone, you went to someone else to give it to you.”

“I want to be with you, Y/N, and I am so fucking sorry for what I did. And I know sorry is never going to make it to you, but please-”

“You want to be with me? You want to really be with me?”

“Yes! The only reason I never mentioned the fact that we had sex was because I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way I did about it.”

“But I did! And when I finally told you, you pretty much told me to go fuck myself and that it meant nothing to you! And now you really wanna sit here and tell me it meant more to you than a quick fuck? Please, Luke, I wasn’t born yesterday.” You snapped, looking over at him. “You embarrassed me. You made me feel stupid for thinking you would ever want something more than a quick fuck. And that wasn’t enought, that you had to go and hookup with some random chick in a public place, knowing people would find out, that I would find out about it. Now I look like the idiot who got cheated on by some kid.”

“Look, I messed up, I know I did. I freaked out and ran away, when I should’ve just been honest with you. But, please, let me even try to make it up to you. I want to be your boyfriend, Y/N, I really do.”

“I turned 25 today, and when you turn 25 it makes you realize that you have no clue what’s going on in your life. I mean I’ve got about 15 to 20 years until I can’t have babies anymore. I want to get married and have kids soon, Luke. And you’re no where near wanting that in your life. Maybe you are being honest, maybe you do really want to be with me. But I mean what I said in the elevator, you can’t give me what I want. I don’t want to wait another 5-6 years for you to be ready to settle down. I need someone who’s ready right now.” You explained. Luke knew you were right, his older brother had gone throught the same realization last summer.

“We’re at different points in our lives.” Luke mumbled the same words you had told him during your first real outing in public together. Gosh, you wish you could go back and do so many different things that night. You wished you hadn’t let your guard down, maybe this whole thing would’ve never happened and you’d be out celebrating your birthday with your friends and fake boyfriend. Maybe.

“Yeah… and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I could ever forgive you. You made me look like a fool to everyone, Luke. And maybe I was just being stupid with my feelings or whatever but I atleast thought we were friends, and you’d never humiliate me publicly like that.” You said harshly, making the boy look down at his lap. “I deserve better.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be better.”

“You should leave.”

And i tell someone i love them just as a distraction They tell me that they love me like i’m so tourist attraction They’re changin’ my machinery and i just let it happen I got the things i wanted it’s just not what i imagined I’m so tired of bein’ the girl that i am Every good thing has turned into something i dread And i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head But it’s me who’s been making the bed

The next day, you were freed. The whole contract thing was done. Chris had told you the reason it hadn’t been before was because Luke didn’t want it to be done. But that something in him had changed last night and he had agreed to end it. It felt odd really, you never guessed you could miss something that never really existed so much, but you did. You cut all public ties with Luke and his world, making it quite obvious to the public that your relationship was over.

You went back to your old life, pretending none of it had happened. Pretending that Luke Hughes hadn’t walked into your life three months ago and flipped your wold upside down. You didn’t talk about it, you refused to talk about it because you weren’t sure you’d be able to answer any questions without crying. You felt even more pathetic about that. You and Luke had never officially been together, neither of you ever flat out say you liked the other. So why were you so hung up on him? Maybe it was the way he always knew how to boost your confidence before a red carpet. Or maybe how attention he paid to details. You didn’t know, and you didn’t like it one bit.

What made it even harder was that Luke was went back to how his life was before. A different girl in his bed almost every night, and now since he was linked to you, even more attention was brought to it. It was hard, seeing the boy you were so hungup on kissing all these girls. But all the negative attention that came with it almost made you feel better. This whole situation was supposed to do some good for both your images.

Now a month later after your “break up”, you were the girl who go cheated on, but was thriving in the industry, while Luke was a cheating whore. It made you feel good. Good to see that people on the internet stil hadn’t lost their minds and sense of logic completely. Good that maybe you did come out of this stronger and more liked than before. Good that you were about to start working on the biggest project of your career so far, and Luke would be stuck being reminded of his actions every time he opened his phone.

But you still felt pathetic. You weren’t sure you’d ever stop feeling pathetic. Pathetic for lying to all your friends and family, lying to his family. Pathetic for not answering any of Jack, or Quinn or even his parent’s messages. But you couldn’t. What were you supposed to say? Oh, I am actually not that sad because we never really dated, it was just a contract. I mean, that would be a lie, but part of it would also be the truth. It was just a contract. You both messed up, and you needed to stop acting like this was all Luke’s fault.

You shouldn’t have slept with him, you shouldn’t of had let him ignore the fact that you slept together for so long. You did this to yourself in a way. You knew going in about Luke’s behaviour, you knew the second the contract was over, he’d go back to his old ways. You knew. But you still let yourself fall for it. You could even say you were to blame for it. You kissed him first. You kissed him. Both times, you iniciated it. So, who was really to blame here?

Somethings i feel like i don’t wanna be where i am Countin’ all of the beautiful things i regret But it’s me who’s been making the bedMe who’s been making the bedPull the sheets over my headMaking a bed, oh-oh

#bri writes #luke hughes #luke hughes fic #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes angst #luke hughes imagine #new jersey devils #michigan hockey #umich hockey #jack hughes #guts series #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes

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sheepispink · 20 days ago

Text

Love grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི COD MASTERLIST Part of the Sweet As Sugar Series

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི simon riley x (afab) baker! reader (final chapter)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Another date is planned however is promplty ruined, leaving the both of you trying to do your best in the situation. Thankfully, Simon's a sweetheart, and you love him too much to let him go for a second.

a/n: this is the final chapter guys, im so upset that it's ending but thats why this chapter is extra long lol. also yes the title is based on that song, it actually inspired a large majority of this fic WC: 7.4K

cw: period comfort

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

Simon was confident— really confident. After the initial embarrassment of suddenly kissing you, it came with a wave of pride for flustering you so much. He had so many doubts when he first realised he actually wanted to pursue you— unsure if you’d even consider him an option, given his stark silence around most. Of course, there was the matter of his work too, and everything else that came with being a man like him. Sure, he was a little—a lot— messed up in the head, but he knew to himself he’d never hurt you; that’s the one thing he could trust.

There was no need to take you out on an abundance of dates when being with you like this was satisfying enough, however, he really did want to spoil you at least a little. An expensive restaurant or maybe he could even take you down to London for a weekend; the ideas have been spilling into his head every night just as you’ve been telling him about all the fun activities you want to try with him. But he’s still not able to get a suitable amount of time off, so a night out will have to do.

He had considered booking out a really fancy venue, but you seemed like you’d get shy if you were thrown on the spot into that, so he thought what better than in the comfort of your own town? Maybe he could even bake something for you— not that he was half as good of a cook as you were, but damn, it’s the thought that counts, right? His mind has been occupied trying to think of the perfect idea for his last few days of training. In fact it was so much so that Price stared at him in confusion when he let out a curse from walking straight into a door. He was still annoyed about that, but he was more concerned about how he’d ask you. What if he was jumping the gun, and you wanted to take things really slow? Though.. He did kiss you straight up and you certainly didn't complain about that.

So eventually you had received the text, telling you to meet him next Friday for dinner at a restaurant near your bakery. It wasn't too fancy, but he knew they served some damn good food, and he was willing to buy you the entire menu if you so wished. Of course, you were over the moon about it, spending the majority of that evening looking for the perfect outfit before settling on something a little formal yet casual all the same. You bought a brand-new pair of shoes to complete it, and now you try the outfit on literally any chance you get just to make sure it’s perfect.

——

“Hi Simon.” You’re practically grinning from ear to ear, and it’s not even Wednesday yet, only Saturday; not to mention how your voice is practically brimming with excitement. He steps forward, noticing how your hands are planted on the counter like you’re impatiently waiting for him to come even closer.

“Someone’s excited.” He hums and, before he can even order, you have the paper bag filled with his usual placed upon the counter along with a freshly brewed black coffee.

“Can you blame me? The whole week I haven't seen you.”

Simon loves the little frown on your lips when you say that, especially because you haven't failed to drop subtle hints every time you text him about wanting him to stop by. Life’s been particularly hectic the past two weeks, but you’ve been so understanding about all of it; at least you’ll be very happy on Friday with what he has planned.

“I know, ‘m sorry about that.” He takes the coffee cup gratefully, quickly sliding his payment in the tip jar before you can swat his hand away like you always try to do. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” Content, you nod along, joyful for a sliver of his time even when you know he’s working hard for something that’s being planned soon. You know he can't tell you much, so you appreciate any sliver of information he grants, but you’d rather take his time than answers.

——

The door jingles faintly as another customer enters; it’s midday on Wednesday, and you’ve been baking all day whilst your family runs the shop. Simon’s finally got a lunch break that he can actually sit down for, and so he makes his best decision which is to facetime you. As always, the pair of you talk about whatever, and you do your best to smile wide, fingers sticky as you knead your knuckles into the great pound of bread dough.

Although, Simon’s been growing a little concerned, repetitively watching your brows furrow when you think he’s not really looking at you, or trailing off into silence when you run out of things to say. “Hey, love.” You hum in return, shaping the dough into smaller bun sizes, movements a little more sluggish than per usual. “Are you okay?” Immediately, your eyes snap up and stare forward at him, almost like you’re frozen, before nodding your head quickly and returning to the dough again.

“Yeah.. yeah, I'm fine. Why?”

If he had doubts before, he was positive now as you falter, eyes drooping a little more. “You're exhausted. What time did you go to bed last night?” There it is, his lieutenant tone coming out and making you frown at him as he uses it against you.

“Only ten thirty.. That’s not even that late.” You groan, moving the phone to face the ceiling so he stops scrutinising your eye bags.

“And what time did you get up, huh?”

“Seven thirty! It wasn't even that early.” You’re right though, and he can't even be mad. That’s around nine hours of sleep, which is plenty for your age and what you need. So why do you look like you’re about to topple over and use that bread as a pillow?

“You’re not lying, are you?”

“Hey— I am not!”

He sighs, knowing he’ll likely not get much farther like this, especially if it really wasn't your fault. It’s only Wednesday, but still, he really doesn't want you to be ill for Friday. “Make sure you look after yourself okay? Sleep earlier if you have to.”

And then he’s gone, probably rushed away from his already short lunch break. You sigh quietly, upset he’s gone but also feeling like you somehow annoyed him. Guilty, you shove your earphones in, an uneasy feeling settling in your gut.

——————-

It’s Friday evening when he drives by, stopping outside the bakery. The lights are off, signalling you’re probably upstairs finishing up. He sends a quick text over, letting you know he’s arrived whilst he leans against the passenger door. A bouquet of flowers is held behind his back, similar to the ones on your prized mug— he just hopes he really has the right ones, and you're not actually allergic to them or something. Then you arrive in your pretty outfit, his eyes raking over your form as you smile at him, lips glossy. As you walk down the steps, he can't help but notice how tired you look despite the attempt to use makeup to cover it up; there’s no way he is just going to let that slide. “Hey, hey wait.. You do not look good at all.” He frowns at you, taking one of your smaller hands in his and pulling you forward as he looks over you.

“I don't look good?” You freeze, staring at him like he just insulted your entire existence, which he may as well have if you heard that correctly. The sound of your voice sounding so hurt is enough for him to realise his minor mistake, chuckling softly as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Not..what I meant, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunnin’ but… also exhausted, are you sure you’re up for this?”

You blink at him, as if not believing his words in the slightest. “I told you the other day I was fine—can we just go?” The words tumble out, and you noticeably wince at your own impatient tone— you did not mean to say it like that.

For a second you pause, eyes glancing everywhere as you try to save it, but he just nods his head, pulling the bottom of his mask down again and placing the bouquet in your hands. “Alright, alrigh’. And these are for you, pretty girl.”

——

Despite his reaction, the ride is silent apart from the soft sound of your favourite music playing, though it only serves to make you feel all the more guilty. The restaurant isn't too far away, only a half an hour drive, but it feels like forever especially with how quiet the two of you currently are right now. Annoyingly enough, there’s absolutely no parking nearby, making him mutter a curse beneath his breath before doing a U-turn and parking two streets down. “Sorry, love. Gonna have to walk it.” He looks a little disappointed as he gets out of the car with you following behind before he can open the door for you—that’d make you feel even more guilty. Your small purse is clutched in your hand as you shake your head, trying your best to make up for your behaviour. “T-that's fine, really. I can walk.”

The streets aren't quiet today, a couple of teenagers laughing loudly and a few retail workers finishing their shifts, packing to go home. It’s only seven, but you have no doubt that it’ll only grow louder as more people celebrate the arrival of the weekend. It’s going fine now—at least you think it is. Simon’s talking with his voice low, something about a shop he saw when driving through the other day. Ever since he had fixed up your entire bakery, he’s been oddly intrigued by every deal he sees, tempted to keep himself busy and with the best tools too of course. In your head, it’s his own strange way of spoiling himself.

You’re really trying to pay attention as he tells you the homeware store nearby is shutting down— you’re hanging onto every word, you swear— but every time another shot of pain riles up your abdomen your breath hitches. After the first time it happened, he had turned to you in concern, and you pretended to cough, saying you needed to clear your throat. Contemplative, he eventually insisted that you drink some water before he began speaking again, hand gently holding yours as he looked at the restaurants you pass.

“Hm.. Pottery painting? Didn’t you want to try that out? Maybe you should come here next time.”

“Oh yeah.. I- I should. Hey what about that store across the street? Do you think they got any good antiques to decorate the shop?” Okay, you may have baited him to look away whilst you’re half-keeled over from another stomach cramp–your hand fighting its hardest not to squeeze his one. “Maybe I can have a look later.” He hums in response, turning his head just a second after you stand back upright and smile at him like nothing happened.

Though, you would be incredibly stupid to think you could fool an SAS operator of all people, let alone one that loves you.

His steps have frozen to a stop, the Lieutenant in him coming to show why he has that title when he eyes you down suspiciously, watching every twitch in your demeanour when you look at him, swallowing sharply. “You’re not okay, are you?”

“What? I’m fine. What kind of restaurant are we going to? I’m already getting hungry just thinking—” You cut yourself off when you notice how his eyebrow is very clearly raised beneath the mask, silently questioning you. He’s not actually mad.. You hope, though you don't get a second longer to consider it before another sharp pain stings your abdomen, making your hand clench your hip. You know that was his last straw when he grunts, Adam's apple bobbing as he watches your features form a grimace, clearly in pain.

“You’re going home.” He states simply, squeezing your palm in his before pulling you back in the direction you came from.

“Wait, but it’s not that bad, it’s only a little..” He shakes his head when you grasp his arm, trying to plead with him, but he only picks up the pace instead.

Soon enough, you’re back down the second street, his hand now resting on your lower back as he walks with purpose. His eyes are set forward as he scans the road ahead, narrowed as if he’d kill anything that’d come before the two of you.

“Simon.. Are you mad at me?”

You look nervous to even ask, a hitch in your breath at each of his sharp and sudden movements and the worst is when you discard his nickname like that. He looks at you, the way you stare at him like you’re going to snap in two if he says anything wrong. Don't you see how much you worry him?

“No.. No, I'm not. Just get into the car, okay? We don't need some fancy dinner when you’re not feelin’ right.”

——

The car is cold, just like this night is, even if it’s been plenty sunny all week. It’s seven thirty now, stopped outside a small Tesco express whilst you wait for Simon to finish up inside. For once, you’re terribly regretting all of this. You’ve never been in a relationship, hell you don't even know what you’re supposed to do in one let alone all of this. If you hadn't messed up the day you avoided him and made him give you reassurance, you’ve definitely done it now. He’s never usually this quiet, and there’s no other explanation than him growing fed up with your antics. After all, who the hell agrees to go out to dinner just to not be able to because of some stupid, stupid cramps?

This was all too much but damnit you were too far away from home now to just run and hide like you always did— like a damn coward does. With thoughts growing more and more self-deprecating, your eyes become wetter by the second until you hear the click of the car door, and you almost immediately sit up straight, sniffling down any prior feelings. Simon opens the driver door, sitting inside before he wordlessly drapes his jacket over you and passes you one of those instant hot chocolates from the machines. He has a little plastic bag with him, one that he doesn't show you the contents of and only places in the backseat. “You were shiverin’.” He shrugs, looking at your confused face before starting up the car again and reversing out of the car park, back towards your home again.

——

“I’ll be back.”

He left you in your apartment whilst he went back to the car, leaving you anxious as you slowly made your way into your bedroom. This place was a mess, and if he was going to spend the evening here—if he even wanted to— this was not going to happen in the slightest. So, even whilst your eyes brim with tears and your lip wobbles, you place away the clothes left out when you were getting ready earlier, along with the random accessories strewn around. As you put away each item, your sniffles only grow even more, almost convinced Simon thinks of you as some weak naive girl; at this point, you were stupid to think you could make this work.

“What are you doing?” He stands in the doorway, blinking as you make your bed, pulling the duvet to each corner and straightening out the creases. “My apartment is messy..” You mumble out, but he only shakes his head again. “No.. No, stop. You’re not well, just… change into your pajamas or something comfy.” Then he’s gone, into the living room to deal with the rustle of something. Meanwhile, you try your best to not sob whilst you put on your warmest jumper and comfiest pajama bottoms, terrified of the ending of this.

———

Swallowing sharply, you walk towards the couch, noticing him hunched over his phone, looking intently through the UberEats app. He’s done practically everything for you: from driving you back and forth, treating you to a meal and now even buying you something else you can eat just because you're an idiot who can't just push through something as stupid as cramps. Never has he made you lift a finger when he’s perfectly able to do something for you. What do you even do? You make lunch for him every so often, yeah, you had given him some things to help deal with his insomnia that one time, and you always give him something good to eat when he comes down. But is that all? Compared to the things he’s done for you, even when he waves it off as nothing, was far more strenuous than the stupid chicken buns you perfected just for his sake.

Did you even really deserve him?

The thoughts choke your throat up, making you hesitate right outside your bedroom door. Should you beg for his forgiveness, for being such a bad girlfriend to him? That’d just pressure him to say it’s alright, give you sweet reassurance again— guilt-tripping him. What if this was all a big guilt trip? You had proven you were nothing compared to him, and so he felt forced to comply and help you. That only makes your breaths grow uneven, the seed of doubt growing in your mind as you sniffle to stop your nose from running.

Stop seeking attention.

Trying to swallow down the guilt that clogs your oesophagus is near impossible, and you’re not even sure if you can face him knowing the person you actually are. So, your hand settles on the handle of your bedroom door, hurriedly deciding on hiding away before you cause him anymore trouble.

“Cute pajamas.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he walks up behind you and looks at the little bunnies embroidered onto your t-shirt and trousers; he’s feeling a lot more relaxed knowing you’re safe at home now. “C’mon, sit on the couch. I was thinking we could order chinese, been a minute since I’ve had that.” He mutters, gently taking your arm in his hand and leading you over to the couch. You follow, teeth clenched together like you’re frozen in place, whilst he nudges you to take a seat. Though you don't ever reply, making him turn away from the snacks he’s set up on the coffee table, looking back at you properly.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks, staining your skin as you meet his worried gaze, only feeling all the worse each second he looks your way. “Si- I— I’m sorry!” You blurt out, unable to get anything else out as you begin to messily sob into your hands, leaving a salty taste on your tongue similar to the pit of guilt swirling in your stomach. He stands there dumbfounded, unsure how to react, since he’s never had to deal with someone seeking comfort from him before. Sure, he’s given you reassurance, but this was different— you wanted him to make you okay again, or at the very least calm you down.

“What is there to be sorry for?” He blurts out, standing awkwardly before you with his hands hanging useless at his sides. Should he reach out? He wants to, but he’s not sure if that’s the right move. Simon always thought he was confident in what he knew, and he always has been with each cock of his gun and swing of his knives. Of course, he knew a relationship was new territory, but he hadn't thought it’d move this fast.

“I ruined the whole evening! You always do everything for me and all I do is give you some stupid tea at the end of the day. An-and you introduced me to all your friends and I can't even show you off to mine because I barely have any that aren't just my parents' friends.” You cry out, rambling so fast your lungs can barely keep up, forcing you to take in long breaths to compensate for it.

“I’ve done nothing for you! And I can't even walk down two roads to go to dinner with you, which is something you actually want for once because of my stupid period!” He watches, silent, as you choke on your last words, sobbing again into your hands and very clearly overwhelmed.

Though, that just explains absolutely everything to him. He had a small inkling, but he didn’t want to be that guy who only assumed because you were a little more ticked off than usual. The couch sinks beside you as he sits down, making you look up at him with teary eyes. “I could argue every single one of those points wrong, but I don't see the need to” He states simply, making you look up at him with teary eyes, curling a protective arm around you and pushing your head to lean against his side.

The hand around your shoulder reaches up to dry the tears spilling down your cheeks. “No offense, but you’re gonna have to come up with a better argument than that for me to leave you, sweetheart.”

“And.. you warned me two weeks ago to not believe anything you say if you start bawling whilst on your period.” Now that elicits the smallest huff of laughter through your tears, instantly remembering that yes, you did in fact say that.

It had been late, and you were messing around with him, but he could tell you were slightly serious when you texted him that evening. You had warned him that you tended to get a little over your own head sometimes, and he told you the same—take his messages past one am with a pinch of salt. After all, it’s been more than once that he’s hurriedly woken up Soap for an emergency that had sprouted from his darkest dreams, and the Scot had to sit down with him and explain nothing was happening at all. So, he definitely understood that the brain was a strange thing, one that did things you didn't always mean. Though, if you hadn't warned him he’d most definitely spend tonight and the next month reminding you everyday that you do so much for him. For now though, his concern was making you feel okay again, and if you still felt those doubts in the next few days when you were feeling better, he’d be happy to debate how you’ve been nothing but perfect for him.

Although, even after all of that you still look hesitant, like something is seriously lingering in your head. “Tell me what’s wrong–I’m here to listen.” It’s true, he promised you he would, and he was here right now, patiently waiting.

“W-why did you suddenly send me back to the car? And you just– you barely let me get a word in–” That’s what had spiralled the self-depreciation out of control, that and overthinking that is. Though, it is pretty hard to think straight when your stomach feels all queasy and sharp pains keep attacking your abdomen. He realises now the mistake he had made, his breath stuck in his throat as he listens to your words. “I thought you were angry with me..” You eventually mumble out, still sniffling whilst the tears escape your eyes.

How stupid had he been?

“I..I’m sorry, love.” His hand tightens around your back, fingers gently pressing into your skin. Of course, you had over thought it, probably analysed each of his little actions too. He had been the one to encourage you to communicate with him, and he didn’t even take his own damn advice. “I’m a bloody idiot.” Guilty, he lets out a long sigh, his hand retracting from behind you. Now it just gently rests on your hand, almost as if asking for permission again.

You watch as he rests his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before he turns his head to look at you, your watery eyes and tearful expression. It breaks him all over again. “Honestly.. All I was worried about was getting you home so you could be comfortable again. I rarely communicate on the field regarding the reasons for my actions– I just expect them to follow.” It was true, he had mindlessly assumed you’d just understand and follow, like one of his damn soldiers. You weren’t one of them, and you should never be demanded to just ‘understand’ with such poor explanation on his part.

“That wasn't right of me to expect that of you. It was never my intention to scare you like that, love. I’m sorry.”

His words are slow, and they don't blame you in the slightest which feels like a massive step away from how everyone has usually treated you. In fact, the apology is so raw, his hand still tentatively resting on yours as he looks so distraught at the realisation. After a second or two, the weight beneath your eyes finally rests, sinking as you droop your head. “I.. Thank you. I just– I knew I was getting over myself but I didn't know what to think of your actions. That.. makes a lot of sense, and I don't blame you– I was just worried I guess...”

Even though you’ve accepted his apology, you still look pretty pent-up, fingers slowly rubbing the hem of your shirt. “C’mere, love. Just ‘cause I explained, it doesn't take the hurt away. You have the right to feel upset.” He watches your hand grasp his, locking your fingers together as your thumb quietly traces the cracks in his skin and the folds in his joints.

“Listen to your body, not me.”

So you do, you sniffle again until you’re silently sobbing into the shirt your hands are tightly grasping the back of. When he follows your lead, tucking you close to him again, you bring your knees up onto the couch to shelter yourself beneath his bicep, warmth radiating off of him. You only begin settling down to sniffles once the pit in your gut fades, and you’re beginning to feel lighter. His hand rubs your back slowly, in comforting circles, whilst he whispers soft words in his ears. He’s no pro, but he does know that you deserve all of this and more.

You're quiet now apart from the occasional inhale from your snotty nose and coughs to clear your choked throat. “Feeling better?” Silently, you press your knees to your chest as you sit up properly though still staying close to his comfort and security he provides.

“Yeah, a lot better.” Your voice is all clogged up, a little raspy, but you’re okay and that’s all that matters.

——

The food delivery driver is only a few minutes away now, but you’re feeling icky as it is so you excuse yourself after the long comforting silence to head into the bathroom. There’s tear streaks all down your face, cheeks puffy and eyelashes damp, yet there’s no weight on your chest, and you no longer feel the burden of guilt swarming you.

After splashing your face with cold water, you already look a little more put together, but no less pitiful. Though..it’s not like he’ll care anyway, it’s Simon— he proves your anxieties wrong practically every day. Your lips pull up into a small smile, looking back at yourself in the mirror before you turn, opening the door to return to your man.

“Si?” You look around just to hear him hum. “Right here, love.”

He peeks round the wall of the kitchen, gesturing you to come over to where he’s taking out all the boxes. “Woah— how much did you buy?” He doesn't seem as fazed as you are, glancing down at the four containers of each different dish he bought. “Hm? This is a normal amount.”

Normal?? You were only two people, and he had bought enough to feed your whole family and the stray foxes that lingered around.

“Here, you can eat these two.” Your jaw drops the moment he slides two, massive, containers before you. “What?!”

———-

You’re still giggling like an idiot when you sit down on the couch again, your plate piping hot and his container steaming. “Alrigh’ stop laughing at me.” He tries his best to be stern, but he can't help it when your eyes are all lit up like that, repetitively fanning yourself with your hand because you’ve laughed so much your cheeks are burning.

“I can't— it’s just so silly–”

He places the container onto his lap so he can reach over to squash your cheeks inwards to shut you up at long last. “Yeah yeah, I know I'm an idiot. I’m just used to having Soap and Gaz who stuff down two containers each and then a third between them.” He huffs out, slightly embarrassed that he had forgotten you physically couldn't eat that much if you even tried.

You’ve stopped giggling enough to take a bite of your food when he replaces the fork in your hand with the packet of ibuprofen, making you look at him in confusion. “What?”

“Take them, you’re obviously in pain.”

That makes you raise a brow at him, then down at the tablets and then back over at him again. “Do you think I can't handle it? I’ve had periods for like years, Si— I can handle any of this.” You huff confidently, crossing your arms over your chest as he gives you an just as hardened stare. “I never said you couldn't handle the pain, it’s called making it easier for yourself—“

“Yeah but I wanna see how long I can last without it.”

“You what?” This time he does actually look at you like you’re crazy. But then again, you are right, your body not his. “Just.. just eat the food please.”

———

It’s safe to say that he made sure you took the painkillers the second he saw you clutch the pillow beside you again, doing his best to not roll his eyes when you were still adamant on not taking it. You end up feeling a lot better when it finally kicks in, just leaving you content with your head resting on his broad shoulder.

He leaves to pack the food away before returning with one of your plushies, more specifically the giant penguin that he had won for you. How could you ever forget that day? “Smells like you.” He chuckles, burying his face into the fur before laying it down beside you who instantly clutches it tight. “I’ve slept with Pingu every day.” You hum, resting your chin above its head and loving how perfectly it fits in your arms. It truly is your favourite thing in the world– apart from Simon that is.

“Only you would name it after that crappy cartoon.” Your jaw drops, offended as he plops himself down on the couch beside you, stretching his legs out as he turns the tv on. “Pingu was legendary, thank you.”

“Uh huh, the penguin who’d make a snoot snoot noise at anything and was as stubborn as you when I denied a pastry.”

“I’m not stubborn– it’s called caring for you.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

—-------------------------

One of those crappy game shows are on again, they’re ones you’d usually switch off, but Simon always gets way too invested in them. “That was definitely the wrong answer” He scowls at the contestant, before switching to a grin when his own guess was right.

Every time he picks correctly, you get a firm rub up and down your side, and when he gets proven wrong.. you get a squeeze that makes you squeal. His eyes never leave your form when you join in too, chiming in now and then with your prediction, and he kisses your head when you get it right. Though he doesn't fail to notice how you squirm occasionally, shifting uncomfortably to find the right position and failing.

The show has ended and so, his focus has snapped back to you all over again. Out of nowhere he stands, heading into the kitchen and rummaging through the bags he must’ve brought inside when he went back to the car. Then he disappears into your bedroom, before returning to grab your plate and walking back over to place it in the dishwasher.

“Hm?” You perk up, peeking over the armrest as he continues to move around the room before stopping infront of you.

“C’mon.” Before you can question what he’s doing, one arm is tucked beneath your legs and the other behind your back, holding you upright. “Woah—hey!” He takes the moment to press a kiss to your lips, making you momentarily stop squirming before he carries you into your bedroom and places you beneath the covers with ease. On the bedside table there’s a steaming cup of tea, some menstrual products and your water bottle filled up to the top beside his own, perfect for when you get thirsty at night. Oh, and obviously some more snacks and the chocolates you were munching seconds ago.

You blink in surprise whilst he tucks a hot water bottle beside you, along with Pingu, before pulling the covers up to your neck. He grabs the remote, turning on the tv, but this time moves to Netflix, flicking through the series till he settles on the one you’ve been talking about with him. “You call me if you need anything, yeah?” He teases, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Clean up a little, get my bed situated on the couch. I’ll come say goodnight.”

“You—what? No way.” You grab his hand and pull him towards the bed, putting so much force only for him to barely move an inch. Huffing in exasperation, you grab his other hand and tug him. “No way I’ll sleep alone when you’re right here.”

You wanted him here? With you? When you’re like this? Sure, you’re dating and all, but he didn't expect you to want him to stay. He had accidentally made you cry multiple times today and probably pushed your stress levels to the max by simply not explaining something like an idiot. Plus, he always likes to be left alone when he is feeling particularly vulnerable— was this not the same?

“Please?” You plead, and he immediately relents, slowly nodding before gently manoeuvring you to lean back properly.

“Fine, fine, only if you finish your tea. I don't want to hear of a sore throat tomorrow.”

———

It’s late, and you’ve finished your tea now, getting ready for bed. He stands in the bathroom, like he had on your first date, staring into the mirror. If he slept beside you, he could keep the mask on, just half hitched up his face. If he really wanted to, that is.

But was it right? He’d be laying right beside you, so close and the most intimate he’s been with anyone for years, only to keep his mask on. It wasn’t insecurity; it never had been, either. But it was all so strange, he didn't know what to do and, to be honest, he was slightly nervous.

“Si? You almost done? I gotta pee..” You mumble from the doorway, the door swinging open as you lean on it, making you stumble forward. Thankfully, you catch yourself, immediately noticing how he stands before the mirror, dressed in the spare clothes you insisted he keep in the closet. But what you’re more focused on is his hand that lingers near his mask, curling up the edges. Though when he hears you he immediately drops it, nodding without even looking back at you.

You step forward, like a mouse with how silent your feet are. “You don't have to if you don't want to. Whatever is more comfortable for you.” You whisper, gently curling your arms around him, with your head thumping gently against his back. It feels nice, hugging him like this— like you’ve wanted to since the day you met him.

“Thanks for always looking out for me, Simon. Even when I'm a little bit teary and loopy.”

That gets a small huff out of him, but he continues to stare at the mirror, now focusing on your hands that settle on his side before lightly grazing your nails against him. “If you’re attempting to tickle me, it’s not working.”

“I was not—Okay, I was. How are you not ticklish at all?!” You huff, and he turns around, pinching your cheeks before shaking his head at you. “Go on, do your business. I’ll go make sure the bed’s warm for you.”

———————

Clicking the bathroom door shut, you walk back over to your bedroom, eyes all drowsy. It’s almost ten now, and even if that’s not your usual bedtime, you’re about to make it from how shattered your brain is. You were a tiny bit embarrassed, to say the least. After all, you had burst into tears because he simply did the right thing—to take you home. But then again, it’s Simon and, even if you actually got angry at him for cancelling the plans, he’d have let you punch his chest until you’re satisfied. On the comfort of your couch of course, not outside where the cold would get to you.

Your slippers patter quietly as you walk inside, noticing the main light has been turned off. That’s perfect because your eyes are straining with every second you’re still awake. A yawn threatens to come forward, but you immediately brush it off when you see him. He’s sitting on one side of the bed, wearing only a black t-shirt and sweatpants, on his phone that he usually never touches except for emergencies, of course.

A smile immediately breaks out on your face, failing to be contained as you just stare for a moment, stepping forward until he glances up at you properly, a hint of hesitance in his eyes. “Ready to sleep?” He tries his best to stay as casual as before, you can tell that, but you’ve lost all sense of words so you just quickly nod along, still locked onto him like he’s a painting anyone with a sane mind would fawn over.

“I love you.” You blurt out, crawling atop the bed and making his head turn back to you, surprise written over it. It makes you want to giggle, so very hard, knowing you can now see every little etch that formed his face, the curves, the sharp edges, even properly see his brows now. You love even more that you can make his face change, surprise him, excite him, make him smile.

“What’s all this about?” Of course, he ignores the obvious, suddenly looking downwards as he opens the covers up and drapes them over you. He still sits atop, almost hesitant to get under before you catch his hand. “Nothin’, just admiring.” You hum, intertwining your hands with his that he rarely leaves bare, apart from the softer moments like these. They’re calloused, and strong, yet so, so, soft whenever they come to handle you.

After a bit of nudging, he finally gets under the covers, making you sigh with content as you shuffle your way over to him. “You don't mind if I cuddle you, right?” The excitement is written all over your face, clearly wanting to try this with someone for years now, and who would he be to deny? “Jus’ tell me what you want me to do.”

He was expecting you to want him to hug you from behind, or maybe you’d sleep across his chest, but you’re both facing each other in your little bed, and you’ve got your arms tight around his torso and your nose pushed into his neck. He feels your gentle pecks against the scar too close to his throat, down to his collar where many knives have grazed and even on the curve of his shoulder where a bullet had once been lodged. You squeeze him tighter with each one, his own hands tightening on your back. “Thought I fed you enough—with all of that food.” He grunts, quieter than usual and you didn't miss his breath hitching when you kissed him again, your nose rubbing against him.

“I’m always hungry.” You hum, grinning, before you pull your head back, staring at him head on. You’ve always loved his eyes, probably because it’s the only thing he would allow you, but this is more than that, looking at him like this. Brown, rich, and full of secrets, enough to make you smile all silly again. You lean forward, kissing his nose full force like he always does to catch you off guard. It cracks a smile on his lips, and he has to avert his gaze for a moment before he turns into some lovesick fool.

“I think you’re supposed to be sleeping, miss—”

Before he can finish, you’ve caught him in a kiss, your hands curving up his jaw and thumbs cold against his face. It’s a sensation he hasn’t felt in years, skin against skin, and it feels exhilarating. When you break for some much-needed air, you push your palms into his cheeks, squashing his face before giggling at how his lips have been forcefully pursed.

Rolling his eyes, he scoops you up effortlessly and pushes you back against the mattress, pinning your hands against the pillows. “You are so–” He huffs, but it breaks once he sees your wide-eyed expression, and he has to drop his head to contain himself, his body wracking with each shake of laughter. You’re soon flattened by his heavy build, squirming beneath him until he relents and rolls onto his back to let you settle properly. Though, he does grab your hands, restraining them for a moment longer.

“You gonna behave and sleep now?” He raises a brow at you, his face full of so much emotion that it momentarily stuns you.

“..Only if you sleep over tomorrow as well.”

“If I get you a pretty ring, we can do that every day.” Finally, he sets your hands free, letting you settle them over his body properly before you yawn drowsily.

“Don’t need a ring to convince me.” Your face is squished comfortably against his heart, which may as well have legal rights to you at this point. His eyes soften as he watches your eyes droop, his hand sinking beneath your shirt to rub at your lower back, knowing you’re likely still all achy.

“I love you too.” He returns the sentiment, one hand placed atop your head like it wasn’t a phrase but a vow– a promise. Never in his life did he think he’d ever be in the place he is in right now, and despite Soap’s constant words of wisdom that life is full of surprises, this was one of the things he deemed impossible. Yet here you were, the only person who could make him smile like his heart was light again, and the only one who he’d go to the end of the earth and back for. You’re here, the prettiest girl in the damn world, and you’re next to him.

Though, he’s even more grateful for who you make him as a person. Just today, you’ve changed him for the better, and since you’ve met him he’s learnt so much in the little things that he probably couldn't even count them on one hand. You didn't fix him, no, you healed him, bettered him as a person until he was here, feeling worthy of someone’s love. He’d never be perfect, nowhere close but he’d sure as hell get close with you around.

“I love you.” An whispered oath, and he kisses your head as the day finally catches up to you.

You’re the only one who could ever make him say those three words because—even if the nightmares ate at his mind, the battlefield consumed his limbs or fate took its revenge on him— he loved you and that’s enough to leave him with peace for the rest of his life.

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

buy me a coffee!

bonus drabble

a/n: i cant believe one small drabble turned into this and after five months, we finally finished it!!!! this is the first cod series i've made and i've loved every single chapter I've put out. It makes me so upset to see it go, if im being honest, but i know it's for the best. If anyone does have any ideas for reader and Simon please leave them in my askbox! I will do my best to at least try to write it up as a bonus chapter but for now, this is officially the end. Thank you for all of your support on this series, you have all been so so sweet and i hope you all experience a love as sugary as this one <3

taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow @enfppuff @oydan @keytofu @vogueprincess @roastyyytoastyyy @pythonmoth

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x y/n #cod fanfic #cod x you #call of duty x reader #cod x reader

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pensthoughts · 24 days ago

Note

Why do I actually need Knight!Van x Princess!Reader? Like r ran away and Van likes her a lot and r gets kidnapped by a group of bandits so Van goes crazy bout it. A few months later r gets away and finds Van, who drinks a lot because their dealing with the kidnapping. all upset and they kiss in front to their party.

a knight's vow | v.p

a/n: love love this idea! i incorporated some other ships into this just for fun so keep an eye out. i wanted to keep this under 3k words but i kinda went crazy because i was having so much fun lol. pairing: knight!van palmer x princess!reader summary: you, the beloved princess of your kingdom, have always been protected by your loyal knight. but when your life is suddenly in danger, the bond between you both is tested in ways neither of you expected. word count: 5.6k

van's only job as a knight was to protect the princess.

it was the first thing she'd ever been trusted with. the kind of honor that most squires dream of, and most knights age decades hoping to earn. and van—sharp-tongued, smirking van palmer, with a scar across her jaw and something feral always burning behind her grin—was chosen for it young. too young, maybe. the king had said it was because she was brave. lottie said it was because of fate. van didn't care what the reason was. all she knew was that she had a duty. a vow. protect the princess at all costs.

she was trained for war, for blood, for honor. she was not trained for you.

not trained for the princess with fire in her chest and starlight in her eyes. the girl who read books in secret corners and whispered to the castle cats. the girl who leaned against windowsills and sighed like the sky was calling her name. van kept her distance at first. watched from a step behind, silent, watchful. she did her job. she kept her sword sharp. she learned her habits. she patrolled the grounds. she didn't look too long.

but everything went wrong when she started to fall for you.

it didn't happen all at once. that would've been easier. no, it crept in slow—like sunlight through thick curtains. little things. the way you would sneak bread to the birds and then pretend you hadn't. the way you always always said her name softly, like it was a secret. the way your laughter could disarm an entire room, including van herself.

and then it wasn't just about guarding your body—it was about protecting your dreams, your sadness, your freedom. van started to ask questions. what made you happy? what did you want? not what was expected of you, but what did you want?

the answer, every time, was the same: i want to see the world.

you spoke of it constantly, like a fairytale. of forests that stretched forever and rivers that whispered. of cities you'd only read about. of songs you wanted to hear sung by the people who made them. of horses and stars and taverns and dusk. but your father—the king—would not allow it. could not. he had already lost one daughter to freedom. he would not lose another.

jackie.

the name was only whispered in these halls now, like something haunted. she had been the older princess, the perfect one. graceful, sharp, beloved. and then one day she was gone. the king said she was kidnapped. some in the village said she ran away. either way, her body had been found the following winter, deep in the woods, cold.

the king never recovered. he locked the castle down. the youngest daughter was not allowed to leave the gates. the guards doubles. the walls grew higher. no more freedom, no more loss.

but van had seen what it was doing to you. the slow fading of your smike. the way your fingers clenched when you looked at the map in the war room. the way you stood too long on balconies, like you could walk off the edge and become something else entirely.

so van made a choice.

it was a night like any other—the moon was high, the halls quiet. you had been quiet all day. barely touched your food. hadn't said more than a few words. van had walked back to your room, like always, and stood outside the door. and then, as the clock struck two, the door creaked open. you stood in a cloak, lantern your hand, eyes wide.

“i don’t want to be here anymore.”, you whispered. "i want to see the woods. just for the night. please, van. just once."

van hesitated. just once. just one night. that's what she told herself, anyway. but the truth was, she'd never been able to say no to you.

so she nodded. told you, “go. just for tonight. i’ll meet you by the river bend. before dawn.” she watched you go, heart in her throat, adrenaline pounding in her chest like a war drum. she shouldn't have. but she did.

by the time she reached the river... you were gone.

no sign of a struggle. no sound. just the open door, the scattered hay, and the heavy silence that followed. van called your name once. then again. then louder. she ran through the nearby woods until dawn, calling it into the dark.

you never came back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

the air was cold when you stepped into it—freedom biting your skin with its first breath. the stars looked brighter away from the torches. you kept one hand tight around the map van had drawn for you, the other on the pouch at your side, packed with little things: a slice of bread, a copper knife, a silver ring you weren’t supposed to have taken. you told yourself you were coming back. just a night. just one.

but deep down, you weren’t sure.

the woods had always called to you, like a story half-read. you’d dreamt of them your whole life, drawing trees in the margins of every dull history lesson, pressing your face to the glass of your tower and imagining yourself lost beneath the leaves. so when your boots finally met the mossy earth beyond the palace gates, you wanted to cry. you almost did.

you weren’t brave. not like jackie had been. you’d always tried to be—but people coddled you, swaddled you in silk and rules, like you might crack if they looked at you too long. all your life, people had spoken to you in hushed tones. except van.

van, who told you when your hair looked stupid and made you laugh until you snorted. van, who walked a step behind but never acted like you were breakable. van, who smuggled sweet rolls into your room on festival nights and called you dumbass in the same breath she covered you with a blanket. van, who never looked scared when you did. who you trusted more than anyone. who you liked more than anyone.

maybe it had started the night you’d snuck wine from the kitchens and passed her a cup through the secret library door. she’d stayed with you past midnight, telling you stories from her training days, her voice hushed but her eyes so bright. maybe it was before that. maybe it was the first time she made you laugh so hard you dropped a glass and she helped you clean it up like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter that you were royal and she was not.

you liked her. you knew you did. you just didn’t know what to do about it. so you kept it hidden. smiled too long. lingered too close. remembered every word she ever said to you and replayed them alone, again and again and again.

she said she’d meet you at the river bend. she said she’d follow.

but she didn’t come.

you waited longer than you should’ve. and when the cold crept in, you kept moving. you thought she might catch up. you thought maybe she was giving you space. you thought she trusted you to handle it.

and for a little while, you did.

until the snap of a twig made you freeze mid-step. until something rough closed around your mouth and yanked you backward off your feet. until the map flew from your hand.

until everything went dark.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

one job. she had one job.

she’d whispered it to herself so many times it had become something like a prayer. a chant in the back of her throat, behind her teeth. on long rides, across foreign towns, when sword-tips scraped her ribs and villagers slammed doors in her face—she would mumble it like a vow, like it could undo what happened.

she was supposed to protect you.

and she failed.

it had been 6 months. twenty six weeks of searching.

and you were still gone.

no ransom note. no signs. no body.

which meant maybe you were alive.

which meant maybe you were suffering.

she rubbed at the back of her neck, her calloused palm scraping a sunburn that had never properly healed. her armor hung loose around her frame. she hadn’t eaten more than dried fruit and barley in days, hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time, and when she did—it was the same dream every night. your face. that expression you’d had when she told you yes. when she promised you a way out. the way your smile cracked like sunlight through leaves.

god. she should’ve gone with you.

she should’ve known.

when she’d helped you sneak out that night, she thought she was being romantic. thought she was being brave.

you’d clutched your traveling cloak with trembling hands, looked up at her like you were about to cry and said, “i don’t want to be here anymore.”

and she—idiot that she was—had said, “go. just for tonight. i’ll meet you by the river bend. before dawn.”

she hadn’t kissed you. hadn’t let herself. you were still the princess and she was still a knight and this was still the kind of love they’d cut heads off for. but god, she’d wanted to. she’d wanted to since the first time you laughed at one of her dumb jokes, since you threw a pillow at her head in the drawing room and said, “you make me feel like i’m not a prisoner.”

she’d never felt more dangerous.

more herself.

but she’d gotten to the river bend too late. the grass had been trampled. your footprints stopped in the dirt.

and then nothing.

“van.” she heard a voice say, snapping her out of her thoughts.

she looked up sharply. natalie stood in the doorway, arms crossed, hair wild from the rain.

“you’re gonna drown in that bottle if you keep this up.”

van blinked at her tankard. she hadn’t realized she was still holding it. she set it down, ignoring the way her hand trembled.

“you don’t have to stay,” she muttered.

“good,” nat said, stepping inside anyway. “because i’m not here for you.”

lottie followed, robes trailing behind her, looking like she’d just walked out of a stormcloud. her eyes landed on van, solemn.

“she’s still out there,” lottie said.

van swallowed. “don’t.”

“you think i’d lie to you?”

“i think you say what people want to hear.”

lottie tilted her head. “and you want to hear she’s gone?”

the words landed like a blade.

natalie shoved a stool toward her with her foot and collapsed into it. “she had another vision. thought you’d want to know.”

lottie moved toward the fire. “it wasn’t clear. but it was… hopeful. a return. a flame that didn’t die out. a voice saying her name.”

van closed her eyes.

she didn’t believe in magic. not really. but she believed in you.

and she believed in the way her chest still ached like your absence had carved a hollow in her ribs.

“she would’ve come back by now,” van said quietly.

“she can’t,” lottie said. “not yet. but she’s alive. and she wants to.”

two days later, the king summoned her.

van stood in the throne room, every joint aching, armor still caked with dust, and listened as he spoke the words she’d dreaded since the moment you vanished.

“it’s time we end the search.”

“your highness,” van started, “please—”

he held up a hand.

“i have given you time, van palmer. more than any other knight. i’ve seen your devotion. but the nobles are restless. the people grow anxious. we must prepare for a new heir, and you…”

he paused. his gaze was tired. pained.

“you are dismissed from duty.”

the floor didn’t fall out from beneath her. she wished it had.

van bowed her head. she didn’t cry. not in front of him.

but when she stepped outside the gates, stripped of her sword and her sigil and the last purpose she had left—

she didn’t go home.

she went to the tavern.

she hadn’t seen natalie so often since training years ago. but nat had a knack for finding the places no one looked. she showed up in shadowed doorways, bruised and unbothered, always smelling like smoke and booze, always leaning too far into her cups.

they made a good pair. a terrible one, too.

“you ever think about leaving?” van asked one night, staring into the fire.

natalie arched a brow. “and go where?”

“anywhere.”

“without her?”

van didn’t answer.

nat clicked her tongue. “you’re too loyal, van. it’s going to kill you.”

van looked down at her hands. “it already has.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you don't know how long it's been now. at first, they kept you tied. hands bound, mouth gagged, eyes blindfolded. they moved camp constantly—never more than a day in one place. you tried to run once, and they let you get a few paces before knocking you to the ground. after that, you didn't try again.

you learned their names slowly. you weren't supposed to, but bandits aren't as careful as they pretend to be. mari—short tempered, sharp eyes. misty—too eager to please. akilah—quiet, but dangerous when angry. you learned their footsteps, their rhythms, who would leave you water and who would curse when they looked at you.

the worst part was how quickly the cold became familiar.

it sank into your bones, rough and clinging, until the memory of warm baths and thick blankets felt like a story someone else had lived.

and they didn't even treat you like a person. not at first. they treated you like currency. a prize. a bargaining chip, maybe. or a ghost.

and they hated how you watched them—like you were trying to understand. like you weren't supposed to be smart. they hated it more when you started talking.

"why am i here?" you asked on the second morning, voice hoarse from sleep and fear. "what do you want from me?"

no one answered at first. then misty, all too cheerful with her ruddy cheeks and too-bright smile, said, "you should be honored. do you know who you're replacing?"

akilah gave her a look. "shut up, misty," she said, sounding slightly sympathetic.

but it was too late.

you latched onto the word like it was a lifeline. replacing?

"replacing who?"

they didn't answer.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you didn't meet shauna right away.

it took four days before they brought you to her. four days of sleeping on damp ground, waking to boots kicking your ribs, water splashed in your face, and barked commands. you kept thinking van would find you. that this was temporary. you pictured her riding through the trees, red hair flashing like a flag. you imagined the way she'd yell when she saw you, how her voice would shake with fury and something else. something closer to relief. she'd grip your shoulders. she'd call you dumb. she'd kiss you.

she'd bring you home.

but van never came. and on the fifth day, they brought you to the cabin,

shauna sat by the fire with her back to you. she didn't stand. didn't speak.

"she's here," mari said.

still no reaction.

"do you want us to leave her tied?" misty chirped.

that finally got her attention.

shauna turned slowly, eyes landing on you with something colder than anger. she studied you like you were a cracked mirror—too broken to be useful, to familiar to throw away.

her voice, when she finally spoke, was low.

"she's too soft," she said. "she won't last."

you wanted to speak. to say i'm not soft. but your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

shauna looked away. "get her cleaned up."

they didn't. not really. but they loosened the ropes, left you a cup of water, and dumped you in a corner on a blanket that smelled like mildew and ash.

you didn't speak to shauna again for a week.

it was mari who gave you answers first. she came to throw you a heel of bread one night and lingered in the doorway, arms crossed.

"you really don't know, do you?" she said.

you stared at her. "know what?"

she smirked. "about jackie."

the name hit hard.

you sat up straighter. "what about her?"

mari tilted her head. "your sister. everyone thinks she died running from some animal in the woods, right?"

you nodded slowly. "yeah, that's what townspeople say."

"cute. and fake. she didn't run from anything. she ran to someone."

your heart skipped. "shauna."

mari grinned. "ding ding ding.""

she walked closer. crouched in front of you, eyes glittering.

"jackie left everything—her crown, her kingdom, her future—because she wanted to be free. wanted to be with someone who saw her. she found that with shauna. for a while, anyway."

you swallowed. "what happened?"

mari's grin faded.

"she died."

"how, though?"

she straightened up. "that's not mine to tell."

you didn't sleep that night.

later, when shauna finally broke her silence, it wasn’t out of kindness.

it was because you asked her the wrong question.

you were tired. you hadn’t eaten properly in days. and she’d sat near you by the fire, knife in hand, carving something into wood. you couldn’t help yourself.

“did you love her?”

the blade slipped.

she didn’t look at you for a long time.

then: “she was my whole fucking world.”

silence stretched.

you wrapped your arms around your knees. “i miss her.”

shauna’s eyes finally met yours.

“don’t say that,” she said quietly. “you didn’t know her. not like i did.”

“but she was my sister.”

shauna’s face crumpled in the flicker of firelight—just for a moment. then the walls came back up.

“she was brave,” she said. “not like you.”

you flinched. “you think i’m weak?”

“i think you’re soft. same thing.”

“i think i’m alive,” you said, biting back the shake in your voice.

shauna laughed once. a hollow sound.

“only because they brought you to me instead of killing you.”

you started watching her after that.

and she watched you too.

not with tenderness. not with cruelty either. something else. something like recognition.

some nights, she’d speak to you like you were her ghost. jackie’s echo. a shadow on the wall. she’d pace the cabin, muttering memories into the smoke. “she hated tea. always said it tasted like boiled grass. made me drink her share when we visited the old healer in farhold. i said she was spoiled. she said i was a sucker.”

you never interrupted. you just listened. every word, every story, you swallowed them like air.

maybe you weren’t jackie. but you were something.

and she let you live.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the fire’s dead again.

van hasn’t bothered to stoke it. she’s just sitting in front of the cold hearth, slouched low in the armchair she dragged from the castle storage before she was stripped of her title. it’s too big for the little cottage she was given after the king's funeral—some sorry compensation from the council, a reminder that service didn’t mean much when you failed at the one thing that mattered.

protect the princess.

she rubs at her face with one hand, the other still curled around a half-empty bottle of plum wine. it’s too sweet, the kind she never used to touch, but it’s what natalie brings over and she doesn’t care enough to argue anymore. her boots are still caked in mud from the morning’s rain. she hasn’t moved since dusk.

she can still hear your laugh in the back of her mind, muffled and soft, like it’s been soaked in water and buried under time. your voice saying her name. the last time she saw you—gown fluttering behind you, barefoot in the grass, cheeks red from excitement as you whispered about stars and oceans and freedom.

then you were gone.

and van has been bleeding ever since.

the door crashes open, wind howling through the entryway as natalie stumbles in with zero grace and even less concern.

“you look like shit,” she says, kicking the door shut behind her.

van doesn’t even flinch. “thanks.”

natalie tosses her dripping cloak over a chair and grabs a glass from the table without asking. she pours herself a generous serving of van’s wine and drains half of it in one go.

“still raining?” van mumbles.

“no, i’m just committed to the wet dog look,” natalie deadpans. “also, you really need to get out more.”

“i don’t want to get out.”

“yeah, no shit. that’s why i’m here.” natalie plops down across from her and props her boots on the table. “you hear about the party?"

“don't care about the party," van replies.

"it's for ben. you like ben."

van snorts into her cup. “ben’s the reason i’ve got a roof over my head. doesn’t mean i want to drink stale cider in his honor.”

natalie gives her a long, level look. “you might want to reconsider.”

van blinks. “why?”

natalie shifts, setting down her glass with unusual care. she doesn’t meet van’s eyes right away. her voice, when she speaks again, is quieter than van’s used to hearing it.

“lottie had a vision.”

van’s body stiffens, the room suddenly feeling too quiet, like the wind outside took all the sound with it.

“what kind of vision?”

natalie draws in a slow breath. “she came to my place this morning. said she hadn’t slept all night. said she was shaking for hours. like… she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. just kept whispering the same thing over and over.”

van leans forward, her voice cracking. “what thing?”

natalie looks her in the eye. “she’s coming home.”

the words hit like a punch to the chest. van’s breath leaves her in a shudder. her hands tremble, barely noticeable, but she hides them anyway.

“you don’t know that’s what she meant,” she says, but it’s weak. she already knows it’s a lie.

natalie presses on. “lottie saw a crown. a girl with gold in her blood and dirt on her feet. she said she saw a forest and fire and a wolf crying in the dark.”

van swallows hard. “that could mean anything.”

“it could,” natalie agrees. “but it doesn’t. not this time.”

she leans forward, elbows on her knees. “she saw you, van. not the knight. not the armor. you. she said it felt like… like a wound healing too late. like the moon pulling the tide back in.”

van can’t speak. her throat’s gone tight, a strange pressure building behind her eyes. she bites it back. she’s so tired of crying.

“it’s been almost a year,” she whispers.

natalie nods. “i know.”

“she’s probably—” van stops herself. she’s said those words before. they always come out wrong. they always taste like ash.

but natalie just says gently, “she’s not. you don’t feel it?”

van blinks down at her boots. her voice is barely audible. “i feel everything.”

they sit in silence for a while. rain tapping against the windowpanes like fingers. the wind a low moan across the hills.

natalie nudges the wine bottle toward her. “if lottie’s right… if she’s really coming back, don’t you want to be there?”

van stares at the fireless hearth. at the ghost of your smile in the back of her mind.

she thinks of the way you used to look at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. the way you always asked her questions no one else cared to answer—about the sky, about how far the sea was from the castle, about whether she thought it was possible to love someone you weren’t allowed to have.

she stands.

“i need to get cleaned up.”

natalie smirks. “so you are going to ben’s.”

van tosses her a look. “don’t make me change my mind.”

she pulls on her cloak, still damp from last week’s storm. her hands are steadier now, moving on instinct. her chest is tight, but it’s not the same kind of ache. it’s something brighter. fiercer. like the moment before a blade meets skin—sharp, burning, inevitable.

she doesn’t say your name.

but it’s all she’s thinking.

you’re coming back.

please be real.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you can’t remember the last time the stars felt close. not like they did at home, on the castle balcony, where van used to point out constellations with one hand while the other hovered nervously at your back, not quite brave enough to touch you.

here, in the middle of the bandit camp, they’re cold and far away. there’s smoke in the air, laughter from someone’s flask echoing off the trees. you’ve stopped asking when you’ll be let go. you’ve stopped believing it’ll ever happen.

and shauna… shauna watches you with that same unreadable look every night. like she’s waiting for something. like she’s weighing a scale that keeps tipping the wrong way.

she sits beside you now, closer than usual. the firelight flickers across her face, makes the years and bitterness look heavier. her hands are calloused. a scar slices through one of her knuckles. she smells like pine and steel.

“you remind me of her,” she says.

you don’t have to ask who she means.

you’ve heard the stories in pieces. from the others—misty, who has no tact; mari, who rolls her eyes but clearly still mourns; even akilah, who once drunkenly whispered, “you smile like jackie. it’s freaky.”

you found the locket in shauna’s tent, pried it open when no one was looking, and saw the miniature portrait.

jackie taylor.

your sister.

the locked confirmed the truth. she ran. for love. for shauna.

“she wasn’t delicate,” shauna says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “everyone thought she was. but she was fire. no one ever saw it but me.”

you glance at her. her eyes are glassy but sharp.

“i’m not trying to replace her,” you say quietly.

“i know.” shauna’s voice is dry. “but they were.”

you follow her gaze across the camp, to where misty is arguing with crystal over firewood. to where mari sharpens a blade like it’s therapy. they look at you too much. like you’re something broken they can fix. like maybe if they keep you long enough, jackie will come back in your skin.

“i didn’t ask for this,” you murmur.

shauna nods slowly. “neither did she.”

for a long time, the only sound is the crackling fire and the low murmur of the woods. shauna leans forward, picks up a stick, pokes at the flames like they personally offended her.

“she died in my arms,” she says suddenly. “we were trying to leave that winter. didn’t make it far before the storm hit. i begged her to turn back, but she said—”

her voice catches.

“she said she’d rather die free.”

you stare at her. “and you think i’m her.”

“no,” shauna says, and for once she looks directly at you. “i think you’re braver.”

it stuns you, the way your heart jumps. the way it hurts to hear that.

“i shouldn’t have kept you,” she adds, voice barely above a whisper. “i knew it the second i saw your eyes. you looked at me like i was your jailor.”

“aren’t you?”

shauna snorts. “not anymore.”

you blink. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” she says, pushing herself to her feet with a quiet groan, “you’re going home.”

your breath stutters. you stand too fast, dizziness tilting the trees sideways.

“why now?”

shauna doesn’t answer right away. she stares into the fire for a long time, like she’s trying to see something in it. maybe a memory. maybe jackie.

then she finally says, “because you deserve to be more than someone else’s ghost.”

and with that, she walks away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the castle hasn’t held a celebration in months. not like this.

banners fly from the towers, wine flows like water, and the ballroom is filled with laughter that doesn’t quite reach the edges. people are trying—they raise glasses, smile a little too hard, tell stories with too much volume. but it’s all stretched thin, like the walls themselves are holding their breath.

van’s been holding hers since she put on her best clothes, the ones lottie insisted she wear. a crisp tunic, polished boots, a dark cloak that still smells faintly of smoke. her armor is long gone—stripped from her along with her title—but she stands like she’s still wearing it, stiff and alert, a hand near her belt even though there’s no sword there anymore.

she shouldn’t be here.

but lottie had the vision. and when lottie has a vision, van listens.

now she stands in the corner of the ballroom, pretending not to scan every face that walks through the door. her jaw’s clenched. her fingers drum restlessly on the side of her wine glass.

she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

eleven months. eleven months without your laugh, your teasing questions, your dumb cloak that always trailed in puddles. eleven months of wondering if she failed you, if you hated her for letting you leave, if you died blaming her.

ben gives a speech from the dais. something about renewal and hope and the future of the kingdom. he doesn’t mention your name.

he doesn’t have to.

every person in the room is thinking about you anyway.

van steps out onto the balcony when the clapping starts, the air too heavy inside. she needs space. she needs—

“van?”

she turns.

and you’re standing at the top of the stone steps, framed by torchlight and stars, with your hood down and your hair tangled and your mouth parted like you weren’t sure she’d be real, either.

“hey,” you say, so quietly.

the glass slips from her hand and shatters on the floor.

it’s loud enough to draw attention.

gasps erupt behind her. one by one, the partygoers fall into stunned silence, their heads turning, their eyes widening.

it spreads like fire through dry grass—noblewomen pressing hands to their mouths, guards half-reaching for weapons before freezing in recognition, servants stumbling in place, stunned.

“it’s her,” someone whispers.

“the princess.”

“no, it can’t be—”

“oh gods, it’s really her—”

and before anyone can speak again, you’re running.

van meets you halfway.

you crash into her chest and she catches you like it’s instinct. her arms lock tight around your back, your cloak flares out behind you. she lifts you off your feet for a second. you’re shaking. so is she.

“i found you,” you breathe.

“you came back,” van says. “you came back to me.”

her voice cracks.

you hear a few more gasps from inside the ballroom. someone actually drops a tray. then—

applause.

it starts hesitant, awkward.

then it grows.

thunderous clapping shakes the ballroom floors. cheers rise like a tide. someone shouts your name, and another shouts van’s. there’s crying, even from people who’ve never spoken to you. you were gone for almost a year. your face was etched in stained glass and prayers.

you were a ghost.

now you’re here.

van presses her forehead to yours, whispering over the roar, “you okay with this?”

you nod against her, just once. “as long as you’re with me.”

she takes your hand. pulls you through the doors.

the crowd parts like waves before you.

people bow. they fall to their knees. a court lady starts sobbing.

and through it all, van stays right beside you. her grip never loosens. not once.

lottie steps forward from the front of the room, her eyes glassy, her smile warm. natalie stands behind her, stunned for once in her life, a half-drunk goblet forgotten in her hand.

lottie says, “the vision was true.”

you offer her the smallest nod of gratitude. she dips her head in return.

ben looks like he’s seen a ghost. you don’t stop to speak to him.

instead, van leans into your ear. “come with me.”

you let her pull you past the crowd, through a side door, down a hallway that’s quieter, darker. the celebration fades behind you, muffled by stone.

she pushes open a smaller door—a forgotten sitting room near the old library—and guides you inside.

you both stand there, finally still.

“i didn’t know if you were dead,” van says, not looking at you yet. “or worse. i didn’t know if you hated me.”

you shake your head, stepping closer. “i thought about you every night.”

“i looked for you every day.”

she sits on the arm of an old velvet chair, gripping the edge like it might anchor her.

“i got stripped of my title,” she says. “when your father gave up the search. he said he was sorry, but that i’d failed.”

your eyes blur. you go to her, falling to your knees in front of where she sits.

“you didn’t fail me.”

“i let you go.”

“you let me dream.”

she meets your gaze for the first time since the ballroom.

“you were the only one who ever treated me like i was more than a precious thing in a glass case,” you say. “you let me want things.”

“i loved you for it,” van murmurs. “gods, i still do.”

you reach for her hand. slide your fingers between hers.

“i think i always loved you,” you whisper. “i just didn’t understand it yet.”

the quiet stretches between you.

then van leans forward, forehead pressed to yours.

“i don’t want to miss any more time with you.”

“you won’t.”

she kisses you again, softer this time. reverent. like a vow.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, you both feel like you’re home.

💌 taglist: @callsignwidow, @freakyjorker, @imlike-so-gaydude, @yellowjacketsslvt69, @moonwateraura, @gracynparsons, @casualclamturkey, @crainalley0227, @auroraseddie

#van palmer x reader #van palmer #van x reader #royalty au #yellowjackets #knight au #medieval au #vanessa palmer #lottie matthews #natalie scatorccio #misty quigley #mari ibarra #jackieshauna #jackie taylor #shauna shipman #akilah yellowjackets #lottienat

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taesankisser · 1 year ago

Text

bf!taesan thoughts <3

warnings: fem!reader, super soft fluff, i am in love with this man and it shows (honestly no genuine content warnings!)

song rec: if you want to by beabadoobee or serenade by boynextdoor!

writing under the cut!

bf!taesan, who loves customizing things for you. if you want him to paint on everything you own, then he gladly will! you would come to him with two brand new pairs of white converse and he’d ask why you bought two, and you’d say with a smile that you wanted to match. he’d spend so much time making sure they were perfect and would wear your matching pair with so much pride. everything he made for you, you would cherish so deeply because you knew it was made with so much love. you would make a point to take extra care of the things he makes for you because of how special they are as he always puts so much time and effort into them!

bf!taesan, who goes out of his way to film everything for you if the two of you are apart from each other. if he’s away for whatever reason, he’ll make a point to record or take pictures of everything. the boys are being silly and he wants you to laugh along with them? it’s recorded. he sees a cute puppy? it’s snapshotted. it’s literally the most endearing thing ever how he wants to include you in on the highlights of his day. he doesn’t expect you to do the same either, but if you do he’s absolutely ecstatic! he just wants you to feel included in his life even though the two of you aren’t physically together.

bf!taesan, who sticks to you like glue. he looks so outwardly cold and intimidating, but on the inside he is so warm and gentle. he really loves to have his hands on you whenever he can. he’s not like super majorly into physical touch, but you’re his person, so he enjoys it with you. he loves when you reciprocate his touch too. if he leans on you, resting his head on your lap, and you start to play with his hair, he’ll let out a sigh of relief. that’s his own personal heaven; his favorite girl playing with his hair and just enjoying each other’s company.

bf!taesan, who is so romantic that sometimes you don’t even know how to react. he sometimes doesn’t outwardly say his feelings to you, but rather, he shows his love through actions. he’s not expressive in the sense that he’s extremely lovey-dovey with his words. instead, he’ll write you a song, making it extra special by detailing a shared memory between the two of you in the lyrics. he’s really thoughtful and despite not being super over the top about his feelings, you never go a day without feeling his deep adoration for you.

bf!taesan, who is an introvert and would prefer to be alone, but allows you in his personal bubble at all times. not just that he allows you, but he wants you around him all the time. you two can sit in comfortable silence with one another and sometimes that’s more than enough because what matters is that the two of you are together!

bf!taesan, who looks at you with so much love in his eyes. he looks at you like the earth would look at the sun, as if you’re the center of his universe. you didn’t notice how intense it was at first, until one of your friends took a candid picture of the two of you. you weren’t paying attention to his facial expressions as you were on your phone in said picture, but the look on his face says it all. his smile is so wide, his eyes turned into little crescent moons, and his heart on his sleeve. you never told him about the picture because you don’t want him to be aware of the way he stares at you, but your friends have made it known on many occasions that taesan looks at you like you’re the girl who stole his heart and he has no intention of getting it back.

author’s note: eeek my first bonedo post!! i’m so excited to write for them & ofc had to start with my bias! i hope you enjoy & have a great day/night!

- lots of love, solar

#taesan x reader #taesan fluff #taesan oneshot #taesan x y/n #bnd fanfic #bnd fluff #bnd x reader #boynextdoor #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor fluff #taesan #taesan boynextdoor #taesan fanfic #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor x y/n #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #taesan scenarios #taesan imagines

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rafessweetgirl · 2 months ago

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everything you wanted ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ rafe cameron

summary: ward dies but rafe is living the dream. he has it all, dream job, dream girl, dream life. but reader doesn’t seem to feel the same. it’s time she get to live out her dream too.

warnings: angst, breakup, cussing, rafe being oblivious asf

a/n: the second i heard this song on my fyp, a story brewed lmfao. but this goes in hand with this thought (which was oddly written after i started this)(is that normal?)

part 2

i had a feeling you got everything you wanted, and you’re not wastin' time stuck here like me. you’re just thinkin it’s a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me.

you knew what you had to do. really, you should've done it earlier, but you thought you could stay. keep trying, you told yourself. it'll be worth it in the end. now you couldn’t possibly see how staying with rafe was worth dumping your only chance at a new life.

you always wanted to leave outer banks. your dream was to find a life outside of north carolina. your parents weren't the most loving but they were willing to pay tuition out of state. getting away was always the plan, until you fell in love with rafe. it was senior year and you were so close to graduation. but rafe came into the picture and swept you off your feet. being with rafe was amazing. he was loving, and kind, and just so so good to you. he stuck by your side and you by his.

he knew all about your dream life. your pillow talk mostly consisted of you and rafe's dreams and aspirations. but when ward died and sarah was nowhere to be found, he knew he had to take care of the family business. rose definitely couldn't handle the pressure. rafe was stressed constantly but he couldn't do it alone. he needed you to stay. at the end of summer, when you would have been well on your way to school, he begged you to stay with him instead.

"i can't do this alone, baby. i need you with me." he pleaded.

you were unsure. this is what he wanted, but was it what you wanted? "i don't know rafe...."

"look," he took your hand in his and used his other to softly tilt your chin up. "once i fix all this shit ward fucked up, the money will come pouring in. and when it does, what's the point of a degree?" rafe thought it was the best idea in the world. you wouldn't have to waste another four years doing homework. he would spoil you. "you won't need it, 'cus i'll get us everything we need and want."

you just wanted rafe to be happy more than anything. as long as he was okay, you weren't worried about yourself. you hated homework anyway. "okay, rafey. i'll stay."

but now rafe had everything he wanted. you, the business, money, his reputation repaired. all you had was rafe. eventually, it just wasn't enough for you.

“i can’t do this anymore rafe.” rafe was in the kitchen, sitting at the island counter, glasses on, staring at his computer. he looked up and his eyes landed on you standing in the doorway. your eyes were glossed over.

“what?” rafe felt as if his heart stopped. “baby, what are you talking ‘bout?”

“us, rafe.” you motion towards you then him. “this.”

“you can’t be serious.”

what could’ve possibly triggered you to wake up and say that?

"i am rafe." tears cascaded down your face. "i can't do it. i’m not happy anymore, and i havent been for a long time."

"i dont under-"

"of course you don't! you have everything you want! your dreams came true. you got the money, the business is thriving, and you have me. by your side through every fucking thing." it hurt you to yell at him, but you were well past your breaking point. "but i have nothing. i gave up my dreams for you rafe. and i thought i would be okay. as long as you’re happy right?"

"no baby." he stood up, starting towards you.

you stepped back. "no. dont come over here." if he got any closer, he would probably ask you to stay again. and you would probably say yes. again. "did it ever occur to you that you were asking me to give up my future?"

he stayed near the island, leaning on it. "that's not how i meant it though." he said.

"thats what you were doing though rafe!" your anguish wasn’t so obvious to him. “it wasn't just about the degree. so what you pay for everything? i was always supposed to leave. now im stuck, no friends, no life, no accomplishments. literally nothing to show for myself."

"but you have me! isn’t that enough?” he looked at you with wide eyes. “i can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“so you’ll let me go then.”

“what? fuck no.” you were crazy for even thinking that.

“if you let me go, i get everything i want, rafe.”

he didn’t understand what you meant. you saw his confusion in the way his face scrunched up.

“if you let me go,” you repeated, “i can go to college. i can make new friends. i can get a degree. everything i’ve ever wanted.”

“but you’re all i ever wanted, baby, and you just want to leave? am i not enough?”

you hated yourself right now. the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. but having just him wasn’t enough anymore. and if he loved you, he would let you be and you would find your way back to each other.

you walked over to him and cradled his face in your hands. his eyes met yours. “you are always enough for me, rafey. but i don’t want handouts, especially not from you. and if you love me, which i know you do-”

he nodded. “of course i do.”

“-then you realize you’re giving me everything i want by letting me leave.”

“will you come back to me?” he looked at you with teary eyes.

“we’ll find our way back, okay?”

rafe’s heart was breaking with every word that came out your pretty lips. how could you be so cruel to him? he loved you and promised to give you everything himself. but one look in your pleading eyes and his tears fell. he understood now.

you were right: he had to let you go.

“okay.” he agreed. “at least let me help you get packed.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

“yo rafe!”

“rafe?”

“dude, did you hear anything i just said?”

“huh?” rafe looked up. “yeah, heard everything.”

“what i say then?” kielce watched him with an expectant look. rafe’s attention returned to his phone. “exactly.”

“shut up.” rafe grumbled.

“you can’t keep stalking her bro, it ain’t good for you.”

since you left, all rafe did was check every social you had. in fact, he looked forward to getting done with work so he could spend his time watching your new life on the other side of the screen. his heart hurt a little every time he saw your pretty face, hundreds of miles away. you guys didn’t talk much anymore, maybe a liked post or a tiktok sent, but those small interactions meant more to him than you knew.

tonight was kelce’s birthday, so he dragged topper and rafe out to the bar. it was loud but rafe couldn’t hear anything when he looked at you.

“rafe, we need you with us, man” topper stood behind rafe, placing his hands on rafe’s shoulders. “i know you hate to hear it, but we’re here and she’s not.”

“i know.” he wanted topper to shut up. he had a point though.

”toppers right. it’s my fucking birthday and i need my homeboys to turn up with me!” kelce said.

rafe sighed, putting his phone on the bar and standing up. he turned toward his friends. “you’re right. i can’t keep doing this.”

“yeah! that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!” kelce hugged rafe.

“let’s fucking go!” topper exclaimed, waving down the bartender.

rafe realized how selfish it was to keep you to himself. how selfless you were to stay, knowing you were giving up your dream. he had brushed it off as some small thing, disregarding how he changed your life and not for the better.

rafe smiled. for the first time in a long time, he was happy for you. it was bittersweet, to say the least. but at the end of the day, his girl got everything she wanted. including him, because he would always be yours.

rafe admitted it was karma. but at least she was happy.

hope u loved this, feedback is appreciated! i’m still new to ts so suggestions are welcomed, nd uhhh send some reqs for rafe and other characters too, i need sum ideas!!!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe angst #tay’s fics #outer banks #rafe cameron fic #bf!rafe #ex!bf rafe #heartbreak #everythung you wanted #rafe cameron imagine

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gluion · 6 months ago

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songs queued! — boynextdoor’s ktv experiences with you

wc — 1.9k (~300-350 per member) genre & warnings — fluff, crack, platonic for woonhak, most scenarios will have alcohol involved (except for woonhak’s), songs that they’d sing in the karaoke included (with one opm song per member because i must give respect to my heritage that gifted me my talent) notes — one thing about me is that i do NOT play about ktvs. you will catch me drinking and having the time of my life in one almost every week (it's been a month since i last went. i miss it). if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

park sungho knows one thing: you and alcohol guarantee a night filled with tears. whether it would be over the worst week you’ve had or out of sheer joy from being surrounded with your friends, it’s a sob fest. the first time you cried to him in your intoxicated state brought him to drop the mic… until he heard you talk about the finale of your favorite series. it’s not that sungho doesn’t take you seriously, but he now knows what to do should you cry again.

✰ sungho never strays away from the microphone, always flipping through the songbook to find another song to queue. if anything, you were the type who seemed to avoid the microphone. yet, sungho never pushed you to sing, so long as you sung along or enjoyed the night.

✰ on the nights the reason behind your tears are serious, he leads you somewhere far from the party, and he’ll stick with you until the end. he won’t force you to talk about anything, only holding a glass of water should you ever need one. he knew these were the only moments you could allow yourself to vent, to be vulnerable, and he would never strip that from you. all he wants is to be there for you.

✰ before you leave the party, sungho checks up on you one last time. he wipes your tear stained cheeks before pulling you into a hug. although your intoxicated mind won’t remember, he tells you to call him the next day. and when morning comes, you’ll see a message from him saying that he’s on the way to your place with a bowl of chinese soup.

songs queued — no control by one direction — still into you by paramore — replay by shinee — broken clocks by sza — and july by heize, dean & dj friz — chinito by yeng constantino

lee riwoo is all too familiar with your three different stages of intoxication. first, you’ll be in a bubbly mood, struggling to hold back your giggles over the smallest things that shouldn’t be funny. when you’ve had a bit more alcohol in your system, you’ll let loose and get on the dance floor, dragging riwoo along to enjoy the night with you. once you’ve calmed down, you’ll find yourself entering your third stage of intoxication: going nonverbal. riwoo follows the same stages as you.

✰ riwoo enjoys the karaoke with you. he can let loose and sing his heart out, knowing that someone is there to reciprocate the energy. it’s in the karaoke room—or maybe just being with you that he feels most alive. in your shared looks, you always read his mind, and you always came rushing to him with what he needed; another singing buddy, a person to dance with, someone to laugh with, the only one who can just sit in silence with him.

✰ when one of you go nonverbal, the other person makes it an effort to ask if they want to go somewhere far from the party. after all, the noise and lights could be overwhelming. riwoo always comes prepared with water while you always have earphones should the energy be too much. however, when the two of you find yourselves entering the third stage of intoxication, a corner in the room suffices. the only thing important to you two is having each other during these moments.

✰ while everyone goes off in their own, you and riwoo stick together. the way back home is a wordless one, but one filled with actions; hand holding and interlocked arms. the two of you thank the universe for silent moments—so long as you two are together.

songs queued — red wine supernova by chappell roan — shoong by taeyang feat. lisa — smoking out the window by silk sonic — beauty and a beat by justin bieber & nicki minaj — born this way by lady gaga — dadalhin by regine velasquez

myung jaehyun follows one rule when it comes to ktvs and you: act as the designated babysitter, specifically yours. you and alcohol never mix well. despite how many times you tell him that you aren’t going to drink, you can’t hold yourself back around a bottle of liquor. yet, jaehyun knows how much you needed the break. in fact, he’s always been the one person to tell you to stop spending late nights with your back slouched in front of your computer. so for now, he’ll allow you to have this time to let loose—so long as he’s there to take care of you.

✰ one thing about jaehyun is that he knew how to have fun without the alcohol—that’s how you know he’s the life-of-the-party. somehow, he knew what you needed. someone to sing with? that’s him. someone to hype you up? easiest job for him. someone to take a break with? you didn’t have to ask—he knows. when he sees you taking a seat after you sing your heart out, he rushes to your side. sure, you need some water, but sometimes, you just want someone to lean on. and he always knows.

✰ as everyone starts to bid their farewells, you hold jaehyun’s arm half-asleep. given all the times he took care of you, there would be no question who brings you home. he knows what to do before you fall to your bed; watch out the remnants of the night so that you can enjoy your sleep. after all, he didn’t mind taking care of you. the soft babbling, the sudden giggles, the quiet snores—these happened to be his favorite moments after every night out.

✰ whenever you wake up, you’d find hangover medicine and water on your bedside table. that was enough to make you smile.

songs queued — to myself by dpr live — new thing by zico — i need a girl by taeyang — aeao by dynamic duo — pour up by dean & zico — beer by the itchyworms

han taesan knows all the telltale signs that show whenever you’ve had too much to drink. he moves quick, ready to catch you whenever you stumble or snatch a shot from you. as much as taesan could never hold back from your eyes that plead to him, he knows you; a morning with a pounding headache and lack of recollection of last night’s events isn’t one you wanted to deal with. you think he’s not doing you a favor, sulking as he tells you he won’t leave until you finish a glass of water, but you’ll thank him when the morning comes.

✰ some nights, you manage to get away from taesan’s scolding. however, that only brings him to think smarter. at a point of incoherency, you still search for alcohol, whining as you ask them to fill up your shot glass. while you expect it to be filled with vodka, taesan fills it with water without your knowledge. to really sell it, he’ll take a “shot” with you. your intoxicated mind could never tell. (it was always amusing to see you hiss over the “alcohol” going down your throat.) and when you struggled to keep up with the lyrics, taesan would join along and keep you up to pace.

✰ when the night finally comes to an end, taesan never allows himself to watch you go home by yourself. you’re too drunk to take care of yourself, and for his peace of mind, he stays with you until he sees you enter the front door.

✰ when morning comes, taesan only recaps your foolish actions. while you sit in embarrassment, taesan laughs. (but he’ll never tell you of all the times he made sure you got home safe. he didn’t care how late in the night—or early in the morning—it would be. all he knows is that he’d do it any day.)

songs queued — linger by the cranberries — welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance — 1999 by g2 & gray — mr. brightside by the killers — sk8er boi by avril lavigne — huwag na huwag mong sabihin by kitchie nadal

kim leehan can’t deny he likes you in your intoxicated state. you’re never this bubbly, clingy, with him unless you’ve got some alcohol in your system. and in this state, you never know how to control your words. shy compliments and secret confessions never fail to leave your mouth. he swears he can hear his heartbeat with every word you say. it starts off with the love songs; you never can stop yourself from singing them. while everyone’s busy singing along, they never spot the glances you take at leehan. he doesn’t know if it’s your poor attempt to look at him discreetly, but he will always lock eyes with you. it’s the heat in your cheeks that are enough to send a message his way.

✰ when you start settling down, you stay with leehan, latching onto his arm and basking in his warmth. leehan accepts your touch, even slinging an arm to hold you close. mumbles tumble out of your mouth. when he can’t understand, he’ll lean closer to you—and the distance is enough to make you lose your train of thought. (leehan can’t help but like your starstruck expression.)

✰ once the party comes to its end, you always sober up in time. you’re back to your laidback persona that everyone knows of. yet, leehan still looks at you like the same intoxicated person who held onto him almost the entire night. although you try to feign ignorance, he knows you all too well. his hand rests on top of your head, allowing you to enjoy briefly in his warmth before you go on your separate ways.

✰ you two never talk about it in the next morning. (but you two think back to it in the late hours of the night.)

songs queued — a thousand miles by vanessa carlton — september by earth, wind, and fire — yeah by usher feat. lil jon & ludacris — so sick by ne-yo — you’re so vain by carly simon — torete by moonstar88

kim woonhak would never pass on karaoke, especially if you’re coming along. every song becomes a duet with you. not in a way that you’re stealing each other’s spotlight but more to deliver the best performance in the booth. the karaoke booth transforms into anything you two want it to be; a stage, a garage, whatever space fits the song and you two.

✰ whenever you two get tired, you fall into a routine of catching up on anything and everything. somehow, you two can talk about anything in the world; lucid dreams, burning passions, the concept of water and if it’s wet. woonhak likes these conversations. if anything, he’d be happy to just talk, but he likes creating memories with you—living life with you. his youth is filled with you.

✰ while everyone leaves with a goal to rest, you and woonhak can’t seem to think about what’s in store for the next day. the way home is filled with laughter over tonight’s events. somehow, you remind him that there’s more to life than just school or work. there’ll always be space for these silly moments and never-ending conversations with you.

✰ mornings after surprisingly aren’t as noisy like the nights you spend at the ktv. somehow, you two like it slow, and woonhak’s happy enough to spend it with his favorite person.

songs queued — her by block b — come back home by seo taiji and boys — left & right by seventeen — cat & dog by tomorrow by together — love scenario by ikon — andrew ford medina by andrew e.

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @onedoornet @kstrucknet

boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bndokidoki @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf

story tag list: @zynz0 @chewnotchoke

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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 years ago

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Our Song and Dance¹

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: super-duper-duper long, exploitation of minors, forced prostitution, unrequited love, complicated relationships, violence, death, mental health issues, canadian spelling lol, and i make up some names (lmk if i missed smth) Words: 19.7K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i alr have this finished, but it was way too long to post in one part (as you can see) so i split it up into three parts. this one goes from pre-hunger games to right before the quell. had this idea in my head as soon as i finished thg, so i hope u enjoy!

Y/N Y/L/N, victor of the 67th Hunger Games. You were from district 4, one of the youngest victors that not only your district has ever had, but also all of Panem. Of course, you weren’t the youngest; that title belonged to none other than Finnick Odair.

A man you hated with a passion and, frankly, a man who didn’t like you very much either.

You could still remember the night you met.

Snow was droning on and on, giving a speech about something you couldn’t care less about. It was all lies, anyway, and you were only gonna end up in some rich man’s bed tonight, so you’d prefer to go through that interaction as drunk as you could be. With that thought, you downed the rest of your flute.

“Ah, careful, Princess.” Before you even saw the person, you knew it was him. His voice was so easily recognizable, even though you had never met, not even after living in the same district, then the Victors’ Village, or even at these little Capitol parties.

Finnick.

You turned, a faux smile on your face that he fully reciprocated. “Snow wouldn’t want the Capitol’s pride and joy to be under the influence,” he said, teasing but with an undertone that put you off.

You didn’t give a damn what Snow thought, but you weren’t gonna say that, especially not in his own home. Instead, you gave him the smile you gave the rest of Panem and directed the topic of conversation away from the President. “I won my Games, Finnick. Trust me, I’m not a lightweight.” Oh, but you wish you were. You wish you could get so drunk that you’d forget who you were entirely.

A part of you felt bad: twenty-three other people died while you walked out of the arena, and yet you wanted nothing more than for your life to end. A part of you wondered if the great Finnick Odair ever felt this way, either, but it wouldn’t be good small talk to ask.

Finnick’s grin only widened. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”

He started to walk away, but he suddenly paused like he forgot something, leaning closer to you. Your breath got caught in your throat when you felt his on your neck. Your eyes locked, and all of a sudden, you wondered how it was possible that you never noticed how beautiful his eyes were.

“May the odds be ever in your favour, darling,” he whispered, and then he walked away without giving you another glance.

That night, Finnick didn’t leave your mind. It wasn’t until there was a resident of the Capitol lying on top of you that you stopped thinking about him. When you were in that position, you stopped thinking about everything, really.

When you walked out of your hotel room, done with your little job, Finnick was brought back to the forefront of your mind as your eyes met his. He looked like he was in the same state as you, also having been leaving a room. He looked surprised to see you.

You stared at him for a moment, but then you let yourself disappear down the hallway before he could say anything.

You knew what that meant; you knew it wasn’t his own room that he was leaving. When you got to your own room, you realized you were much more alike than you thought. You supposed that you couldn’t be surprised; Finnick was desirable, so of course Snow would put him up for sale.

You were in the exact same boat.

Since that night, you saw him in a different light.

You two didn’t talk when you got back home, no, but at your next Capitol event, you decided that you’d refuse to leave him alone, to leave someone who was going through the same thing as you to their own devices. That’s what you told yourself, but deep down, you just didn’t want to suffer in silence, either.

So you went and found him after a night with another Capitol pig. Standing outside, hands in his pockets, he looked so calm, but you saw a storm brewing in his eyes that only few could ever decipher.

You went and stood next to him, even though it was freezing cold out. He glanced over at you, and then his face became surprised, not surprise at you being there, but at you being there with him. Neither of you said anything; it was either that you were too afraid of a jabberjay overhearing or of yourselves. You just stood there in a comfortable silence.

You’d learn that, with Finnick, sometimes doing nothing could mean everything.

The two of you went on to do this every time you were there until, slowly, you graduated from just silence to holding each other. Oh, Finnick Odair was a cocky asshole, but when you were in the Capitol, he wasn’t him and you weren’t you. You were just two people that needed comfort, and that was enough.

You still didn’t talk, though, and when you were at home, you didn’t communicate at all. That was why you were surprised when you answered your door to see him standing on the other side.

Finnick went back to being Finnick, striding into your home without so much as an invitation. This caused you to roll your eyes, but they suddenly widened at his words. “Caesar Flickerman is on TV, saying that we’re dating.”

If you were drinking something, you would’ve spit it out. “What?” An incredulous look was painted onto your face.

Finnick, on the other hand, was a little more stoic, not exactly the charmer he was on television or in Capitol balls, but you could easily guess why—and if you hadn’t, then he was gonna tell you, anyways. “You know what this means.” He looked you in the eye, jaw clenched. “Two of Snow’s best—the Prince and Princess of Panem—dating? It’s the last thing he wants.”

“Finnick-”

“No, he won’t be able to sell us if we’re together, and if he can’t sell us, then he’ll start killing the people we love.” This was the first time either of you were even acknowledging the situation you were in.

You felt stung for some reason, even though you didn’t love Finnick—and he didn’t love you. But, deep down, no matter how much you tried to repress it, you knew there was something between you, so hearing him speak to you this way, like you were just nothing, hurt.

However, you got over your feelings quickly, the same way you always had. You moved your thoughts away from your heart and started thinking with your head. You were quiet for a second until you let out a soft gasp, like a light bulb went off in your head.

This time, you made eye contact with Finnick effortlessly. “What if this is exactly what we need?” You asked, a glint in your eye that he hadn’t seen before.

The blond scoffed. “I don’t see how our families dying is exactly what we need, Y/N.”

“No- no, Finnick, you already said it.” You grabbed onto his shoulders. “The Capitol- hell, everyone already thinks we’re the Prince and Princess of Panem. If we give them what they want, then- then we’d be unstoppable.” You paused to let him weigh in, but he only stared heavily at you, not a trace of what he was thinking on display, so you continued, “Snow and all of those Capitol motherfuckers will eat this shit up, Finnick. And then we’ll be free.”

You were trying not to show any emotion, either, but you couldn’t help it. At the mere thought of freedom, something you never thought was possible, you felt so many different things at once. While you were holding your feelings on your sleeve, Finnick was less easy to read.

But, in seconds, you knew exactly how he felt.

“We will never be free, Y/N.”

He walked out after that, leaving you alone in your living room. He’d never know it, but you stayed in that same spot for three hours, staring at where he once stood. His words had awakened something in you, the part of yourself that’d been thrown into the Hunger Games at only fifteen-years-old.

At the time, you thought you were going to die. You were hopeless, but after you won, you realized there was hope after all. You could still make it. Even as Snow allowed your body to be violated, your mind to deteriorate, you still had hope. But Finnick’s words brought back that frightened little girl in you that you thought died.

You’d later realize just how lucky you were that he buried her again. He came back and told you that he’d do it, and as easily as he brought that little girl back to life, he drowned her.

It wasn’t easy at first, pretending to be in love. You didn’t know the first thing about it, but Finnick helped you as if he’d been doing it all his life.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”

“No, it’s not gonna be fine. Caesar’s gonna call us out immediately- and if he doesn’t, then Snow will-”

“Y/N.” Finnick cut off your nervous ramblings with a stern calling of your name. Even him saying your name was still weird to you. You weren’t used to so much conversation with the victor, but now you were gonna have to pretend to love him. “We’re gonna be fine.”

You weren’t convinced, and he saw that with the twitching of your fingers. You knew Finnick was a great actor, and normally you were, too, but this situation was unlike any other that you’d ever been in. It was foreign territory for you.

“Look,” he grabbed onto your hand, “whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say your heart skipped a beat. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say you felt a spark when his skin met yours.

For a second, you pretended that you weren’t pretending. You pretended that you were holding hands because you were two kids in love, not because you had to survive. You pretended you were never in The Games, that you never killed so ruthlessly just to live without truly living. You pretended that you weren’t you, and Finnick wasn’t Finnick, and you were holding hands just because, not because you were about to go on TV and lie.

But that second ended far too quickly as you pulled your hand out of his grasp, nodding. “Okay,” you took a deep breath, repeating his words to yourself, “we’re gonna be okay.”

“Of course, we are. Now tell me again how we met.”

When the time came for the actual interview, you never let Finnick’s hand go.

The experience became more familiar to you as you went on. It was the same as any other show you’d put on for the Capitol. When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller.

Now, you told stories of a life of yours that’d never existed.

Finnick and you were thrusted into the public eye, reciting the same stories day after day. It almost felt like it was actually real, and sometimes, you wished it was.

He’d look at you with a look of love in his eyes in front of all of the cameras, touching you tenderly. Oh, he was a wonderful liar. He even made you believe it for a second, too. But you knew that no such thing would ever happen.

Finnick Odair would never fall for a girl like you. Even if you were slowly falling for him.

During nights alone, you’d marvel at the turn of events. Finnick was once a man that you hated, but now look at you. You didn’t even know if you were faking it anymore. But it is fake, you’d remind yourself. He doesn’t love you, and you won’t love him.

You weren’t gonna let yourself love him. Truth be told, you were never gonna let yourself love anybody in the first place. Loving someone only made a new liability, a new weakness for the Capitol to exploit, but you could not love Finnick.

You’d been through a lot; your heart had taken many blows and survived, but you knew loving Finnick would only one day break it into a million little pieces. Still, it’s not like he made it easy.

You were lying in your bed- your shared bed with Finnick. Since announcing that you were dating, you moved in with him. You both decided it’d be easier to hide it all that way, easier for the public to believe, too. Sharing a bed was his idea—“just in case,” he’d said.

You wanted to object, but what would you even tell him? That you were afraid of falling in love with him? You would never even put the mere idea into his head. So you went along with it.

It was funny, though: you never went to bed alone, but that’s still how it felt. Being next to him, under the covers… it didn’t make you as warm as you hoped it would.

He didn’t live with anyone else. From what you gathered, Mags, your shared mentor, was his only family. His parents died of sickness early on; Mags took him in and kept him alive, all the way up until he was sent to The Games. Finnick didn’t get sappy with you often, but you knew that he couldn’t lose her.

What he was doing for Snow, he was doing for Mags. You thought Mags was the only person he cared about, but you learned that this wasn’t true. There was one other person who he was close to, who he’d do anything to keep safe. That person was Annie Cresta.

You met her once. She was beautiful and sweet, so you understood immediately why Finnick was in love with her. He never talked to you about her, but you could tell just from how he looked at her that she was the light of his life, even if she herself wasn’t aware of that.

Annie was good, the perfect girl for Finnick. She didn’t come with all the baggage you had, she wasn’t as rude, and she always knew what to say. You would’ve wanted them together, too, if it weren’t for the fact that Finnick was becoming your Annie. He was becoming your person, and so it killed you to know that not only was he in love with another girl, but he was also unhappy.

He’d never be happy with you. While you wished you could spare him the torment and just let him be with her, you had people you cared about, too, and he was now also on that list. So your job was to keep you all alive, not happy.

The door to your bedroom opened, interrupting your train of thought. You faced away from the entrance, but you knew it was Finnick. He had perfected soundless footsteps, even though you weren’t in an arena anymore. But you supposed you were still fighting for your lives, anyway.

He climbed into bed, letting out a big exhale when his back hit the mattress. You didn’t greet him, nor did he greet you, even though he knew you were awake. You’d gone through this whole song and dance already. You had to pretend in front of the cameras; you weren’t gonna do that in here, too.

The two of you were silent. This wasn’t a silence like before when you stood together in the Capitol after those horrible nights. This was a silence that was suffocating.

Things were never the same after you decided to go through with this charade. Maybe you were almost friends before, but now you were allies at most, just there to help the other survive. Oh, you wished you could be friends, but life was never so kind.

As if he could hear you begging for companionship, he whispered, “Y/N?”

Your breath hitched. “Yes?”

There was a beat of silence before his response. You wondered what his face looked like, but you wouldn’t dare turn around. “Can we- can we just be together tonight?”

Out of all the things he could’ve said, that didn’t even make your list. You sharply inhaled. Finnick didn’t sound like Finnick at all. He sounded small, and vulnerable, and scared, all states that he’d never let you see him in. But he was.

“What do you mean?” You didn’t turn around. “We are together.”

So unlike Finnick, he stammered, “No, I mean- can I- I want to hold you.”

If this were the dance you compared it to in your head, then you’d be stumbling over your own feet. He’d never asked about anything like that before. In fact, Finnick never even seemed to like you or this predicament much. Sure, you interested him, and maybe you were friends, but you knew that if he could’ve pick anyone else to dance this dance with, he would’ve.

You wondered what brought him to this point. Maybe it had something to do with Annie, but at that moment, you couldn’t bother thinking about it. He’d never know it, but you could never say no to him.

So you turned around and let him wrap his arm around you. But little did he know, you obliged not just to comfort him, but also yourself.

You’d fall asleep in Finnick’s arms every night after that.

You’d always been so independent, so alone, that you forgot what it felt like to lean on someone, even if it was just for a little while in the dead of night. But when Finnick held you, sleep came easier and nightmares came less.

He had no idea that he became your knight in shining armour; he never meant to, but he did. Soon after you started “dating,” Snow left you alone. You still attended Capitol parties, still mentored kids every year, but you no longer found yourself in bed with members of Snow’s cabinet, and neither did Finnick.

It was easier once it stopped, but you still had to grapple with the pain of what had already happened to you; all of this didn’t even take into account The Games. Sure, you were done, but you still had to come back once a year and prepare a kid to kill or be killed. Nothing dredged up old memories like that did.

Doing it with him was what got you through it. When you lost a kid, Finnick was there to hold you and reassure you and himself that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have done much more to stop it. At times like those especially, you had to reel yourself in and remind yourself that, yes, he cared for you, but he wasn’t in love with you.

There were times that every bone in your body told you the exact opposite, that Finnick’s actions told you the exact opposite. Sometimes, he’d kiss you for the cameras and made you fall for it, too.

God, you were a team, such a great team. Would it be so horrible of you to assume you could be more?

You’d later realize that, yes, it was.

Because at the reaping for the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta’s name was called and your little fantasy of a relationship with Finnick was shattered to pieces.

His usually calm demeanour was broken as he ran toward her as soon as you both got on the train, engulfing her in a hug and soothing her while she sobbed. You just watched from the sidelines, a frown on your face. You wished you were frowning because your dear friend Annie was just chosen to be in a fight to the death, but you were frowning because Finnick had never hugged you like that.

There were no cameras here; this wasn’t for show. He never looked at you like that when there weren’t any cameras around.

You felt like you were intruding on a private moment, even though you were just standing there, even though you were supposed to be his girlfriend, not Annie. A girlfriend would’ve probably cleared her throat, interrupted the interaction, but you couldn’t find the courage to do that.

Instead, you waited for the moment to end and walked over to her yourself when Finnick stepped away, giving her a tight hug as if she hadn’t just brought you to the brink of tears. But that didn’t matter. Annie could possibly die, so your little feelings for Finnick were pretty insignificant at the moment.

You tossed those very feelings to the side, directing all your attention to preparing your tribute. Finnick was trying to explain everything, but he was too worried, so you took over for him, pushing forth all your efforts while he focused on the boy that’d been reaped from your district.

You always tried your best with the tributes, always, but this wasn’t just any tribute. This was Annie Cresta, your friend and the love of Finnick’s life. You needed her to make it out of this alive—Finnick wouldn’t survive without her.

You gave her every piece of advice you could think of during that trip, digging through your memory for things you might’ve even forgotten. You wished you could help the boy in the same way, but there could only be one victor in these Games, and it had to be her.

Remember that these are games, Annie. Don’t worry about the killing once you’re in the arena; you need to treat it like a game, like the other tributes are just pieces that need to be knocked off the board, you told her. You hated every word that came out of your mouth, but she needed to hear it. She needed to overcome the shock now so she didn’t get choked up during the actual Games like you did.

When the time finally came for you to send the tributes off into the arena, you hugged yourself, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. You imagined that it was Finnick’s arms that were around you, but you weren’t gonna ask him to comfort you. He was the one that needed comforting, but you knew he wouldn’t accept it, so you didn’t offer.

Instead, you worked your ass off to get Annie sponsors, to get people to like her as if they didn’t already. You didn’t sleep for days, and neither did Finnick until he accidentally fell asleep for a few hours one day.

You both watched as she took the tips you’d given her, using them in her own way. She was small, but she was smart and she picked up on how to play the game quickly.

Only when the last tribute was dead did a sigh of relief finally leave you. Your shoulders slumped as you sat in front of the TV. Finnick’s muttering fell upon deaf ears as static filled your brain. She made it, you thought. She’s okay.

But that didn’t make life any more okay.

After all, nobody ever really won The Games.

“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-”

“No, it’s not!” You heard something break, like it had thrown it to the ground. When you walked further into your house, your guess was proven right. Finnick and Annie stood in your living room, the former worried and the latter frantic, pieces of a broken vase all over the ground.

“Nothing is okay, Finn! Nothing! Do you hear me- nothing is okay!” The redhead was pacing around with your so called boyfriend trying to stop and calm her down. They were both so panicked that neither of them noticed you, and you didn’t announce your presence, either.

You only stood from the side, just like on that Capitol train. The Annie that went into that arena was innocent. She was eighteen, but she was still more of a child than either of you ever got the chance to be. Now that she won, she didn’t look so innocent anymore.

She wore a look that was so familiar to you. She was alive, but Annie had never looked more like a ghost of herself.

“Annie, please-” Finnick’s voice cracked mid-sentence. He kept trying to get close to her, but she moved away every time. The tears in his eyes made yours watery, too. You had never seen him look so broken, not even as you stood in the Capitol together those cold nights after being used.

If you weren’t sure of how much Finnick loved Annie, you were now.

“No, no, nothing is okay!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face. She suddenly stopped, letting out a sob before collapsing onto the ground. Finnick ran to her right away, pulling her close and rocking her as she repeated the same thing over and over.

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until you felt the tear falling onto your cheek, wiping at it immediately and turning around to walk away as quietly as you possibly could. You weren’t gonna just stand by and do nothing while Annie fell apart and Finnick cut himself trying to put the pieces back together. You couldn’t.

You found yourself in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to distract yourself. Your eyes zeroed in on it as you tried to block out the sound of Annie’s crying, trying not to cry yourself. At one point, you succeeded, because you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

You don’t know how long you stood there, but you were eventually broken out of your trance by a hand reaching out in front of you to turn off the stove, moving the kettle. It was only now that you realized how loudly it was whistling.

You turned to see the hand belonged to Finnick who now poured the hot water into your expensive tea cups. They were a gift given to you by a patron of the Capitol, an old man with kids and a wife. He was somewhat of a regular of yours, and so he gave you that tea set to try and make himself feel better for what he was doing, along with many other gifts.

You never told Finnick any of this. You wondered if he would so readily pull them out if he knew where they came from.

He wordlessly put the tea bags into the cups, sliding one over on the island to where you stood. Then he brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip of the scalding liquid like it was nothing. You ignored your disbelief and the rational part of your brain, picking the cup to do the same thing.

When the tea met your tongue, it burned, even as it went down your throat, but you still went back in for a second sip, anyway. This pain was able to distract you from all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, and so that made it feel like it was worth it. You wondered if this was Finnick’s logic, too.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, didn’t ask about Annie or where she went. You knew he must’ve known that you heard what happened, but he didn’t mention it, either. You assumed that she fell asleep.

You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.

Your song kept playing as you both danced around the same topics, standing together silently as your world crumbled. You danced, and danced, and danced, until your tea cups were empty, but the song was still playing.

Finnick’s voice cut through the silence of your music effortlessly, even though he was still so quiet.

“Sometimes, I think she would’ve been better off if she died.” You slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, but they were aimed at the cup in his hand. He looked nothing like the Prince of Panem, the charming man who always had something witty to say. No, he looked beaten down, just as lifeless as Annie. Maybe you looked as lifeless as you felt, too; maybe you were all so unaware of how broken you seemed.

You didn’t know what to say to his confession. So you didn’t say anything at all.

You’d never know where that conversation would’ve went, because in seconds, Finnick collected your cups, put them in the sink, and then he left you standing there.

His words from before echoed through your head. We will never be free, Y/N.

And maybe he was right.

Annie was back home, but she never really came back from that arena—none of you did. Hell, you were thrusted into a life you never wanted, a victor’s life, as soon as you were out. You thanked God that Annie wasn’t gonna have to go through what you did; the way she was spinning out made her undesirable. At least a good thing came out of her losing it.

Oh, you were starting to find a silver-lining with everything. You had to—otherwise, you’d lose it, just like Annie. You had to find some sort of good in this situation because, otherwise, what was the point?

Time supposedly healed all wounds, but you felt like you were still bleeding. You just learned to conceal it better than others.

Before The Games, you had friends. Now you really only talked to Finnick, and you two didn’t talk much, either. Every now and then, you’d see Annie and Mags, but they weren’t your people. And your family… well, how close could you be with them after what happened? You weren’t the same girl your mother raised.

She could barely even look at you anymore.

But you couldn’t think about any of this. If you did, you’d fall apart, and you couldn’t do that. You had a role to play, an image to protect—for your safety, for your family’s safety, for his safety.

You couldn’t afford to break down like that in your living room and throw things. You wanted to, so badly, but you didn’t have that luxury.

So your song kept playing, and you danced along with it.

Finnick’s walls went back up, too. His charisma was like a light bulb that briefly flickered, but it was back now. He was dancing, too. But, without even realizing it, you both held each other tighter at night, as if you were trying not to lose the other to the tornado that was your life.

However, when you woke up, you both pretended the tornado didn’t even exist.

Annie wasn’t one for pretending. Oh, she got wrapped up into the tornado the second she was declared a victor and there was no saving her anymore. Yes, she would’ve been better off dead, maybe you all would’ve been, but if you thought about this for too long, if you let the song stop, then you’d get caught in the cyclone, too.

You pretended for a year, attending Capitol galas with a smile on your face, getting interviewed right next to Finnick with his hand in yours, acting like you were the picture perfect couple. He spoke about you like he knew you like the back of his hand, but truth be told, he didn’t know you at all; he barely ever tried to. You didn’t blame him, though; it was hard to try to talk to someone when the music was so loud.

Then came the 71st Hunger Games, and you were mentors again. Meeting the tributes, it was almost like the music stopped- almost. The girl was quiet but angry, and she reminded you so much of yourself. The boy kept cracking jokes that she didn’t laugh at, jokes that were probably inappropriate for a time like this, but you knew he wasn’t doing it to be an ass. This was his way of coping.

He reminded you of Finnick.

Looking at these kids was like looking into a mirror. On the last day of training, he finally got a reaction out of her, made her smile with a faint blush on her cheeks. Oh, these kids should’ve been laughing together in the diner back home, not on their way to die.

They were too young and too innocent. It makes you wonder if things would’ve been different if you and Finnick had met before The Games. Would that have made soothed the heartbreak?

You didn’t know. But when you saw that boy crying as he held her in that arena, blood pouring onto him from her stab-wound, you knew that heartbreak was what he felt.

Too young. They were too young.

The boy died too. He didn’t even put up a fight.

These kids were just kids, and they died young.

Just like you and Finnick did.

You sat in your room at the Capitol, swirling your scotch around in your glass. It was a crystal glass so beautiful you knew it could’ve only been crafted by hand, but you didn’t want to admire it; you wanted to throw it at the wall.

Their names were Delta and Aalto. Aalto was the more talkative one; he said he dreamed of opening his own bakery one day, right in the middle of the district with food that everyone could afford and enjoy.

He’d never get to do that now.

And Delta- she didn’t know what she wanted out of life yet. She never got the chance to figure it out.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

The door to the room opened, making you look up from the liquor in your hand to see Finnick walking into the room. He looked defeated. Of course, he was better at hiding it than you were, but you knew how to read him better now, after all these years.

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you. You held your glass out, almost like a peace offering, and he took it without much thought, downing it in one go.

You sat there together the same way you had many times before, not saying a word. But this time felt different. It felt like there was something you were supposed to say. So you turned to look at Finnick, trying to see if he felt the same weight, only to see that he was already looking at you.

You could tell just by his eyes that he felt it, too. He opened his mouth, then closed it like he’d lost his train of thought. When you met him, you never thought you’d see the day when Finnick was speechless.

Look at how wrong you were.

You opened your mouth after a few seconds, wanting to articulate your feelings in some way, but Finnick’s lips slammed against yours before you get anything out. Without thinking, you kissed back; it felt like second-nature to you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but he had never kissed you like this, so passionately, not a camera in sight. He was kissing you like you were air and he’d been holding his breath for so long, like you were the treasure he’d been searching for and he didn’t want to let go.

It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.

When you eventually pulled away for air and opened your eyes, you were brought back to the real world. There was something you were supposed to say. But you quickly disregarded it, pulling him back in for another kiss before he could notice the way you were looking at him.

Yes, there was something you were supposed to say. But you couldn’t put it into words.

So you hoped that this kiss said everything that you couldn’t.

You were both grieving, and you were both there. And you knew that Finnick didn’t like you like that, so you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. This meant nothing, even if it felt like everything for you when it was happening.

He was the only person you’d ever done anything like this with before. You did things with those people Snow set you up with, but that didn’t count. You were doing this because you wanted to. You didn’t know if this was his first time or not, but you weren’t gonna ask. You did everything but talk for the rest of the night.

When you woke up, it was still dark out and Finnick was still asleep. You stared at him for a few seconds, his fluffy blond hair that you messed up, his swollen lips. He looked so peaceful like this; you couldn’t bear to wake him up and ruin that, bring him back to this nightmare.

So you got up as quietly as you could, wrapping yourself in a robe and closing the door to the bedroom, walking into the living room. The rooms the Capitol provided the victors were beautiful, but never beautiful enough to make you forget about the ugly reason that you were here.

You sat on the couch, exhaling and leaning back. You were gonna sit there in silence, but your song kept playing, and the record was skipping, and you were starting to get a headache, so you turned on the TV.

Without having to change the channel at all, you were immediately met with the news, Caesar Flickerman’s face on the flat screen. It wasn’t long before you realized why he was so excited: the Hunger Games were over. Someone won.

Caesar’s attitude made your mood go sour. He was behaving like twenty-three children weren’t just killed. It didn’t matter if they died of starvation, dehydration, an animal, or actually another tribute—it was all murder, and the Capitol was the perpetrator. It disgusted you that there were people who found enjoyment in watching these Games, Caesar Flickerman included. They’d pretend to be sympathetic, but at the end of the day, you were all just circus animals to them.

The victor’s face came onto the TV, and you immediately recognized her from the rankings. Johanna Mason. Caesar kept talking, explaining how Johanna had managed to cause so many people to be enamoured of her, and you suddenly felt sick.

Snow was gonna jump at this opportunity. He was gonna use her, too.

You turned off the TV, going back to your room and getting back into bed like you’d never left. Your song came back on, and you went back to preferring to listen to it instead of your own thoughts. You weren’t gonna think about Johanna much longer; there wasn’t any point.

There was nothing you could do.

The next time you woke up and it was actually morning, you were surprised to see that Finnick was still there. While you were sleeping, he managed to snake his arms around you.

You didn’t get up, even though there were Capitol duties to attend to.

You stayed in bed and pretended that you were a normal couple, that maybe Finnick actually felt something for you, that you weren’t in the Capitol right now, that the world wasn’t so fucked up, that you weren’t so fucked up. But you didn’t pretend for long, eventually getting up and facing the world that you didn’t want to be apart of but had been sucked into.

He didn’t tell you this, but he was pretending, too.

You both went to the gatherings you had to go to, talked to the people you had to talk to, kept smiles on your faces, and shook Snow’s hand, even though it made you want to puke. You endured it all—you both did. The Prince and Princess of Panem…

You realized it was true what they said, heavy is the head that wears the crown. This figurative crown was weighing you down; you wondered if it’d be so coveted if people got the chance to feel how you felt.

Then you went back home, even if it didn’t really feel like a home to you. It was still all you had. But Finnick kept surprising you.

Your dance suddenly changed. The song was still playing, but the dance was different, almost like that night you’d spent together had actually meant something.

You started having dinner together every night. Before, you often forgot to eat, but now how could you? You were beginning to look forward to your daily dinners; there wasn’t much more to look forward to in the life you led.

He made it hard for you not to fall even more in love with him.

You two still didn’t talk during dinner, but it almost did feel normal, like you were a family- like you could be a family.

And then the dance changed again, and that dream felt even more real.

You pulled your chair out at your dinner table, sitting down across from Finnick. You were both dressed “down” in more comfortable clothes, but you knew there was some people in the district that still couldn’t afford them. That bothered you, but when you had dinner, most of your worries were pushed to the back of your mind.

When you two had dinner, you just enjoyed the dance.

You were a few minutes into dinner when you noticed that Finnick wasn’t eating but he was staring at you. He hadn’t stared at you like that since when you first met, so curiously, like you were a secret he wanted to be let in on.

You couldn’t ignore his stare, even if you tried. However, you tried to act nonchalant. “Is there something you want to say?” You quizzed, twirling another bite of pasta like you were unaffected by his gaze.

Finnick responded in the same beat, so much like the Finnick that was charismatic and lively, not the quiet one you normally lived with. “Something I want to ask you, actually.”

“Oh,” you said, immediately kicking yourself at how stupid you sounded. “Well, ask away.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

You were caught off guard by his question, blinking like you were trying to figure out if you just imagined him saying him that or if he really did. He blinked back at you but never faltered.

“What?”

He repeated himself, slower this time. “What is your favourite colour?” You blinked again when you realized he was being totally serious. “You know, colours, like a rainbow-”

“I know what colours are, Finnick.”

“Ohhhh.” His eyes got big as if he thought you actually didn’t know what a rainbow was. “Sorry, you were just looking at me like I had said the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. So what’s your favourite colour?”

You couldn’t stop the corners of your lips going up as his grin just got wider. God, you hadn’t seen him smile like that in so long. It actually looked real.

You thought about it for a second, looking right into his eyes when you came up with an answer. “It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.”

He looked at you for a few seconds before blurting, “Y/N, that sounds like the least vibrant shade of blue I’ve ever heard of.”

You laughed. “It’s vibrant to me!” He laughed, too, shaking his head like you were crazy. That shade of blue that you described was more vibrant than any other blue you’d ever seen. You could never tired of looking at it whenever you looked into Finnick’s eyes.

When the laughter died down, you asked him the same question. “Okay, now what’s your favourite colour?”

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

You scoffed, “Oh, come. on. You have to have a favourite colour; you can’t be that boring.”

“That boring? I’m not boring at all,” he argued, a look of faux offence on his face.

You snorted. “I beg to differ.”

“I can make you beg a lot more if you don’t take that back.” Your eyes immediately went wide and, against your will, a faint redness spread on your cheeks.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said, crossing his arms. He looked pleased at the reaction he got out of you. “Take it back.”

You scoffed again, but you weren’t sure if it was because of your stubbornness or because you wanted to see how far you could push him. “I’m not taking anything back.”

He just stared at you for a few seconds before flashing that famous smirk of his, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Really?”

You crossed your arms, too, nodding. “Mhm.”

He chuckled. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”

And then he spent the rest of the night showing you just how boring he wasn’t.

The day after, you didn’t wake up dejected but instead with a smile on your face. You didn’t get out of bed at all, staying in Finnick’s arms. You felt giddy, like a school girl. There were no thoughts of his lack of feelings for you, Annie, or The Games. You just laid there and enjoyed the moment.

It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.

When Finnick woke up, you did it all over again. You ended up staying in bed all day together, cancelling your plans.

And when the time came to get out of bed, to go back to the real world, the music didn’t go back to normal. It was more upbeat now. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the beat to drop, but it didn’t.

Finnick didn’t pretend like you two sleeping together never happened. In fact, you two kept doing it almost every day. You actually had conversations during dinner. You learned basic things about him that you hadn’t known in all of the time you were living together.

He made you laugh often. You stopped crying so much.

Is this what happiness feels like? you wondered. If it was, you never wanted anything different. Whatever Finnick felt for you, it didn’t matter. As long as he kept making you happy, it didn’t matter.

You were so in love with him that it stopped mattering if he reciprocated your feelings. You didn’t want anything to ruin this, what you had. Your relationship was the most special thing you’d ever had, even if you didn’t know what to call it, so you were gonna do your damn best to hold onto it.

The things he’d say in front of the cameras felt real, then the things he did when you were alone made you believe it even more. Whatever this was between you, it felt real.

So real.

You were stirring something on the stove when two arms snaked around your waist, tickling you, making a squeal fly from your lips. “Finnick!” You screeched, trying to suppress your giggles as you turned around. The culprit (who was shirtless) didn’t look guilty at all, a shit-eating grin on his face. You shoved his shoulder. “I am trying to cook us breakfast.”

He snorted. “Yeah, trying and failing.” You shoved him again, causing him to laugh. “I’m sorry, you can’t cook!”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “I’ll have you know, I can cook very well, actually.”

He wrapped his arms around you again. “You know, you’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” You exclaimed, but a blush still arose on your cheeks that Finnick noticed right away. It was almost like he was always watching for those types of things, always trying to say or do something to get you red.

“You’re even cuter when you blush.”

Your blush worsened, but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of your defeat. “I’m not blushing. We’re in a kitchen, and it’s hot.”

He pulled you closer to him, grin widening. “Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart, about your blushing or your cooking.” He glanced behind you. “Oh, look, burnt food.”

Your eyes went wide, immediately turning around. You groaned when you saw the brown eggs and the trail of smoke coming from them. “It’s all your fault, Finn, you distracted me.”

He gave your head a kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Sure, darling, whatever you say.” Luckily, you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see how your cheeks reddened. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though Finnick seemed to adore them. “Let’s leave the cooking to me from now on.”

You lightly scoffed, “Whatever.” He kissed your cheek before you started walking away, planning to sit on the couch while you waited for him to cook the food. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smug.

“Who messes up eggs?” he muttered under his breath once you were a few feet away.

“I heard that, Finnick!” you shouted, but he only let out a loud laugh.

You shook your head at him, plopping down onto the couch in the adjoining living room and turning the TV on, but it was really just background noise. You found it much more enticing to watch Finnick cook. The way he moved so swiftly looked effortless; he knew what he was doing, that was sure. And it didn’t help that he was shirtless.

You discreetly stared at him for a while—or, you thought you were being discreet. Without looking up from what he was doing, he teased, “You know that I can feel you ogling at me, right?”

You went red as a tomato. “Shut up, Finnick!” you shrieked, turning back to the TV as if you even knew what was playing. His laugh boomed and you turned up the volume to tune it out, only causing him to laugh even louder.

Even though you were thoroughly embarrassed that he’d caught you staring at him, a smile still found its way onto your face. Around Finnick, it was hard not find a reason to smile.

You’d be content if you didn’t do anything for the rest of your life but wake up to him every day.

You spent many more mornings like that together, and lunches, and dinners, and everything in between. You exchanged jokes and playful banter constantly. Finnick really did make your cheeks hurt.

But he knew when to be serious.

There were still nights when you’d wake up from nightmares, and he’d comfort you back to sleep every time. When you caught him in a nightmare, you’d try your best to repay the favour, even though that didn’t happen often. He rarely wanted you to see him like that, so he hid his nightmares, but you did everything you could to keep him happy while he was awake to make up for it.

When you went to the Capitol, all of the darkness crept back in, squeezing in through the cracks of the walls that you’d built—for both of you. But you kept each other grounded. You weren’t alone.

Once, he had to talk you back from the edge as you had a panic attack in the bathroom. He locked the door and stayed there with you until you calmed down. You told him that you saw someone you hadn’t seen up close in a while, an old patron, and that just opened the floodgates. You saw his hands ball up into fists; he tried to hide the anger on his face, but you saw it and you understood it.

He was angry at the Capitol, and so were you. He’d been through the same things you had, and that made it so much easier to cope, to have someone that understood. He understood for you and you understood for him, and so when things were bad, they at least became more okay. As long as you were there for each other, things were okay.

Meeting Johanna Mason at a later event nearly brought you right back to the brink. Her family was dead, she’d told you. And you wished you hadn’t understood so fast. You wished that none of you ever had to understand these things, that you could’ve stayed kids for longer before childhood was ripped away from you.

It’s not fair, you cried to Finnick. He killed her family. She said no, and he killed her family.

He let you cry on his shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down your back as he whispered, I know. It’s not fair, I know. But it was the world you lived in, and, unfortunately, neither of you had the power to do anything about it, even though you were the so called Prince and Princess of Panem.

So you did what you could. You were there for Johanna like how you were there for Finnick when you still didn’t know him. Both of you were there for her, teaching her the moves to your dance so she could dance with you while you were all at the Capitol together.

She was brutally honest, maybe even rude to the average onlooker, but it was what The Games did to her. Finnick and you understood that, and that led to you both forming a friendship with her. Coping with other people, people who understood, was the best painkiller that not even money could provide.

The Games were the hardest, but you went through that together, too. You trained those tributes with everything you had. You tried your best, but sometimes, not even that was enough to keep them alive. Finnick and you would grieve together. At times, he was more rational than you, reminding you that it wasn’t your fault, that these were games made to kill.

Whatever you went through, you went through it together. The good days, the bad days, the laughs, the tears—you were together every step of the way.

Things went like this for years. You really were a team, and nothing could convince you otherwise this time. You loved him more and more each day, but you never told him that; you didn’t need to, and you didn’t need him to love you, either. Being there, being together was good enough.

Your song never got old. You were so in sync as you danced. Oh, you never would’ve thought that Finnick Odair of all people would not only make your life bearable, but also joyful.

You were fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and yeah those lines started to blur, but you also became best friends over time.

Finnick and you lied together in bed, the TV going on in the background. Your head was on his chest as he pet your hair. It was your seventh time doing this mentor thing, but it never seemed to get easier.

Your tributes were promising, but they still died early on, even though you both got them as many sponsors as you could. Mentors were usually down in the lobby, talking to sponsors and watching The Games with everyone else, but after your tributes died, there was no point.

So you went upstairs, and you both just lied there. It was one of those times where neither of you had to say anything. You were together, alive together, and that was enough.

Listening to Finnick’s heartbeat could calm you down in any situation. You must’ve been doing something to help him, too, because his heartbeat was steady. You stayed like that for a bit until he moved a bit, murmuring under his breath, “What?”

He sat up, making you sit up, too, while he grabbed the remote, turning the volume up. You glanced at it and the scene immediately caught your attention. You heard the last bits of what the announcer was saying, that a rule about two victors was being annulled. Your brows furrowed; you must not have seen the part where any such thing was declared.

You recognized the tributes who you quickly realized were the last people left standing. They were the kids from district 12, the Girl on Fire and the boy in love with her.

You scoffed. “Of course, they want the star-crossed lovers to battle to the death.” You were about to turn away, refusing to indulge in the Capitol’s bullshit, but Finnick grabbed onto your arm.

“Wait.”

You stopped, turning back. The girl, Katniss, had a bow and arrow in her hands. Peeta was a few steps away from her. They were both staring at each other, Katniss looking like she didn’t know what do, but Peeta looked like he already accepted that he was going to die.

You didn’t want to watch this, watch two people fall apart on television, but for some reason, this had captured Finnick’s attention.

One of us should go home, he said. One of us has to die; they have to have their victor. Katniss was already shaking her head.

No. She dropped her arrow to the ground, walking forward. They don’t.

You tilted your head, but you understood what was happening when she pulled a handful of berries from her pocket. “Holy shit.”

Peeta grabbed her hand, rejecting the idea immediately, but she whispered, Trust me. He must’ve really been in love with her, because he did. She poured some berries into the palm of his hand, making you lean closer.

“You don’t think they’re gonna…” you trailed off, puzzled. There were people that’d killed themselves in past games, but this had never happened. There was always a victor.

Peeta hesitated, but looked sure when he looked back into Katniss’ eyes. Together? he mumbled.

She repeated his words. Together. She looked up for a second, and then you suddenly recognized the look on her face. This was a bluff.

They counted down from three, and just as they were gonna bring the berries to their mouths, the announcer frantically cut in, Stop- stop! He cleared his throat. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners… of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

Relief flooded into Katniss’ eyes as she embraced Peeta in a hug. Shock flowed through you, and Finnick’s expression was no different.

Once you had processed the information, you couldn’t help the grin that grew on your face, disbelief and pride filling you at the same time. “They just screwed the Capitol.”

You turned to see him smirking. “Hell yeah, they did.”

And this made your Hunger Games experience just a little bit better.

Neither of you were surprised that Seneca Crane was found dead days later. He made a grave mistake, letting two victors win. Snow wouldn’t have that, and you could guess why.

What Katniss and Peeta did was causing chatter, sparking hope. People in district 4 were more hush-hush about it, but outlying districts, like 11, had gone into revolts. The Capitol must’ve been stressed, and knowing that brought you some sick form of comfort.

Katniss and Peeta were spinning their actions, making them out to be this act of love, like they couldn’t bear to live without each other, but you and Finnick saw right through it. After all, if there was anyone who could spot a fake relationship, it was you two.

However, the two love-birds flew from your mind when you got home. You were brought back to your little world, living life alongside Finnick. The urge grew to ask him what you were, if you were still in a fake relationship just like Katniss and Peeta or if this was real, as real as you felt it was, but you didn’t wanna mess up the one good thing you had going.

The truth was, you don’t know how long you would’ve made it without him.

Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.

The next time you were at the Capitol, you were in the Presidential Palace for the so called biggest party of the year. It was always hosted right before the Hunger Games, so being there gave you many things to be anxious about.

But, like always, you concealed it, smiling and shaking hands with the people you came across, even as you were disgusted. Some of these people, the very people who paid for your body at sixteen, were there with their families. You wondered how they could have children and still do what they did.

You were a child, too.

Normally, Finnick would be there to calm you down, but he snuck off somewhere without telling you.

You were wandering around, trying to find him when a head of brown hair streaked with red came into your view. “Hey, Princess.”

A sigh left your lips, both out of relief that you found someone you knew and discontent at the nickname. “Hey, Jo.” You would usually make conversation with her, but you were pretty distracted, glancing around behind her. “Have you seen Finnick anywhere? I’ve been looking for him for a while now.”

When you looked back to her, a look you couldn’t decipher flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “No, can’t say I have.”

For some reason, you got a weird feeling from her. It was almost like she knew something that you didn’t.

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a bite while we wait for him?” She suggested, gesturing to the buffet. “I’m starving.”

You shook your head, dazed. “I’ll catch up with you- I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

You were quick to decline. “No, that’s fine; go eat. I’ll be back in a sec.” She was hesitant for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but she eventually nodded, agreeing to meet you later.

You walked through the halls, passing the bathrooms and not even sparing them a glance. You didn’t really know why you lied about where you were going, but in that moment, it felt like instinct. You trusted Johanna, but you were catching the same weird vibe from countless other people. All you wanted was to find Finnick and have him tell you everything was alright.

You didn’t have to look long before you found him, outside along with many other partygoers. But he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was a man you’d just recently seen on TV. You just couldn’t remember his name.

You made your way over to them. They cut themselves off as soon as they saw you, not letting you overhear a single detail of whatever they were talking about. You stifled the reappearance of that weird feeling that was starting to feel a lot like suspicion. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.”

Finnick waved you off, “No, it’s fine, sweetheart.” He pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. “This is Plutarch Heavensbee.” A lightbulb went off in your head as you looked to the man.

He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.

What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?

“It’s an honour and a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” he greeted, holding his hand out. There was something about him that was throwing you off, not just your revelation of who he was, but you still shook his hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Heavensbee,” you replied, smiling your umpteenth fake smile of the night. But you had an inkling that no one in the Capitol was as genuine as they seemed.

Plutarch didn’t try to stay and make small talk like the rest of the people you encountered at the Capitol, bidding you both farewell and wishing you a good night. Something told you his departure had something to do with your arrival.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned in Finnick’s arms. “Was that the new head Gamemaker?” He nodded, but didn’t offer any explanation. You furrowed your brows. “What were you talking about?”

Finnick shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason, he seemed tense. “He wanted to meet the youngest victor of The Games.”

You found that hard to believe, holding back a scoff. “Well, he didn’t seem too interested in meeting me.”

A smile arose on his face as he wrapped his arms back around your waist. “That is because you, darling, are not the youngest person to ever win.”

This time, you did scoff, but the tense atmosphere dissipated. “You’re a dick.”

“You love me.” Your heart nearly stopped, but you kept your composure. You did love him, more than he’d ever know.

You shook your head, acting unaffected. “C’mon, Johanna’s waiting for us by the buffet.” You tried walking away, but your faux façade of annoyance was broken by Finnick latching onto your hand and walking forward with you, chuckling.

And then the entire matter of everyone’s weird behaviour was pushed to the back of your mind.

Returning home from the Capitol was always peaceful, like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but this time was unlike any of those other times. When you got home, the so called peace that the Capitol so delicately crafted was ripping at the seams.

The chatter from before, from when Katniss and Peeta defied the Capitol, was louder than ever. They had just gone on their victor’s tour, right before you left for the Presidential Palace, and they had apparently sparked a reaction in just about every district they visited, yours included.

You found out that district 4 had been in a revolt since Everdeen and Mellark came and gave their speech. The people were outraged. The news talked about seafood shortages due to bad weather, but the Capitol just didn’t want to let Panem know what was going on, that people were refusing work, that Peacekeepers were murdering innocent people left and right for the smallest of incidents.

When you were all caught up with what had happened, you were furious, too. You wanted to march out onto the streets and give the Capitol the finger, but Finnick pulled you back.

“What are you gonna do, Y/N?” he questioned, not even giving you the time to answer. “You don’t even know.”

Your voice was vicious as you responded, a tone you’d never given him. You were angry, and you both knew you weren’t thinking clearly; you just didn’t care. “I don’t know right now, but I’m gonna do something, Finnick.” You tried pulling your arm away, but he was much stronger than you.

“I’m not gonna let you go out there and get yourself killed.” You could tell by his demeanour that he was angry, but not for the same reasons that you were.

You shook your head. “You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”

His eyes went hard. “You must not know me well if you think I’d let my girlfriend kill herself.” That shut you up.

His girlfriend.

He called you his girlfriend.

You got over the shock and, suddenly, you were even more angry than before. While you could pretend all you wanted to that you lived in candy-land, the cruel reality was still there. Finnick didn’t love you. He was only playing with your emotions.

Tears built up in your eyes: sad tears, angry tears—they were everything tears. You felt everything. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He scoffed, “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t be serious right now.”

“I am so serious right now.”

At your deadpan, he finally let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair. A part of you felt bad that he was so stressed, but you were stressed, too. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say when he looked back up at you. His voice was no longer harsh, but small. “Y/N, please.”

You swallowed.

“I’m just asking you to trust me.” He grabbed onto your hands. “Please just trust me.” He was begging you.

“Trust you to do what?”

“I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please.” He held your hands tighter. “Trust me.”

Oh, it didn’t matter how angry you were, if your thoughts were set in stone. Finnick would still be able to mold you like clay. Every time.

“I trust you.”

There was something different about him, but you were too distracted to try and figure it out.

There were so many things going on.

You were with Annie when it happened. Oh, that must have been some cruel joke from the universe. You were walking through the town square, on your way to Victors’ Village with pastries from the bakery in your hands. You were slowed down by the all of the people congregating together, watching the screen.

President Snow was announcing the third Quarter Quell, and they were eating it up. You weren’t gonna do that, entertain his lunacy. You’d go the Capitol and play your role, but you weren’t gonna watch these broadcasts anymore. You weren’t gonna play along.

Finnick could explain it to you later so you’d be able to prep your tributes. The Quells were always made out to be the hallmark of The Games; they were always harder. You felt for whatever kids would have to go through them.

You felt a lot more once you realized who these tributes were gonna be.

You weren’t listening to what Snow was was saying, but his words cut through any sort of mental block you had. “On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are… to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.”

Your stopped walking as if you’d hit a wall, the stuff in your hands falling the ground, but it was almost like you didn’t hear it. You stopped hearing anything, not Snow explaining the condition or everyone’s gasps. Your ears rang. Everything was muffled like you were underwater.

You were done. You were supposed to be done. You went through those Games, you won, and now you were supposed to be done.

He was gonna make you go through it all over again.

You were so shocked that you pinched yourself, like you were a child and this was some nightmare, and even though you didn’t wake up, even though you knew you were awake, you were still caught in a nightmare that you’d have to die to escape from.

Your senses came back to you and you spun around, pulling Annie into a tight hug the second you saw the tears streaming down her face. She muttered the same thing over and over into your shoulder.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

She couldn’t go through this again. The Games broke her beyond repair. She couldn’t mentor because of it; she could barely ever attend any of the Capitol parties you and Finnick frequented. She would die in that arena, either mentally or physically.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Your song played on a loop in your mind, making the decision for you. You were reminded that, even though your dance may have changed, Finnick didn’t love you. He loved Annie, and he would be destroyed if she died.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let Mags go back into the arena, either. He needed her. These were the only people he cared about; you couldn’t let them go through this.

Then and there, you decided your fate.

You were gonna be the one to go back into the arena, and no one was gonna stop you.

When you and Annie had made it to your house, ignoring all of the looks of pity thrown your way, Finnick looked just as beaten down as you, but not surprised. You didn’t have time to analyze that.

He hugged Annie first, shooting you an apologetic look, but you didn’t understand what it was for. You knew what Annie meant to him.

You weren’t so deluded that you’d believe you came before her. Besides, she needed to be consoled more than you did. You were calm. Annie was lost right now, but you knew exactly where you were headed.

That night, once Annie left, your clothes came off, and you and Finnick had the softest sex you ever had. It was gentle, and you let yourself feel loved one last time. You let yourself be selfish and have this one thing, just one last time.

You knew that the odds of coming out of that arena were slim, so you kissed Finnick like you were gonna die the very next day. I just might, you thought. And then as you fell asleep in his arms, you pretended that everything was alright. You pretended that your dance wasn’t gonna end so soon, that you weren’t gonna sign your life away when you woke up, that Finnick really loved you, that he loved you just as much as you loved him. You pretended one last time.

The next day, you and all of the other victors walked to the Hall of Justice, escorted by a dozen Peacekeepers. There were so many male tributes. As terrible as it sounded, you were praying that it’d be one of them that was chosen, not Finnick. If he was, then you would throw away any chance you had of winning.

If he went in with you, then he’d be the one walking out.

Cassia Locke stood in the middle of the stage, in between the male and female victors. You found it funny, almost: you were victors, but now the Capitol was gonna rip that refuge away after they’d already taken everything from you.

Cassia was just another mutt in your eyes. She was district 4’s Capitol escort; she was meant to be an advisor, but she didn’t do that well, not for you or the other tributes you mentored. But you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised. Her job was to make spectacles, not survivors.

However, she almost looked human for a moment, glancing at the women sympathetically before she pulled out a folded paper from the bowl. You stood on edge; there were only three of you. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick also stood straighter in trepidation.

She cleared her throat, announcing, “The female tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell is… Annie Cresta.”

Annie’s face fell, but you quickly stepped forward. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Annie whispered, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed her off and ignored her.

Cassia nodded. “Very well, then.” She moved back to the bowl. “Now for the males.”

You glanced over to see that Finnick was already looking at you, an unknown emotion written all over his face, though you realized what it was quickly. Betrayal.

You were confused why. If anything, he should’ve been relieved.

“The male tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games will be…” she unfolded the paper, “Finnick Odair.”

Your heart dropped. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

The universe must’ve hated you.

Finnick’s mask was back on. Any trace of emotion on his face was erased and replaced with the cocky, charming façade that he’d perfected. He smirked as if he wasn’t just chosen for the most brutal “game” there ever was, like there was nothing to be worried about.

He was so good at pretending. Maybe even better than you.

You both walked toward the centre of the stage simultaneously, routinely. You’ve danced this dance before.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.”

Right after that, Peacekeepers came from the side, trying to grab at your arms, but you shook them off. “We know where to go,” you said. You don’t know if it was the your tone of voice or the look on your face, but they actually listened.

You were escorted into an inactive chamber, the same one you were brought to for your first Games. Memories flashed through your mind before you shook them away. You couldn’t get PTSD right before you went into this.

Finnick was stoic as he stared you, but before either of you could say anything, Mags and Annie came rushing into the room. Annie took you by surprise, immediately engulfing you tightly.

She was still crying, but manage to blubber out through her tears, “Why- why would you do that?”

You rubbed her back. “Annie-”

“Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to be me.” She kept repeating herself over and over, shaking in your arms.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Finnick and Mags watching you. “It’s gonna be okay, Annie,” you told her, but you knew it was a lie. “I’m gonna be fine.” You weren’t.

As if she knew this, she only cried harder. You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept rubbing her back, hoping that she’d calm down. Eventually, she stopped shaking, but tears kept flowing from her eyes like a waterfall. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming.

She sniffled, going over to hug Finnick, then hugging you one last time before she left. “Take care of each other- please,” she asked, and you weren’t thinking of doing anything but.

You nodded, assuring her that you would do just that. Mags hugged you, saying the words she couldn’t express through her gaze. You could tell that neither of them wanted to leave, but they had to.

Only one of you was gonna come back, and that was gonna be hard to come to terms with.

They left, and then it was just you and Finnick. The music kept playing, and playing, and playing, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You didn’t want to hear this song ever again if it could be your last time listening.

If you could have it your way, you’d dance together until the end of time. But forever was never promised, not in the world you lived in.

The silence, however, felt like it lasted a forever in the moment, so you broke it. “Can you say something?” Finnick just kept staring at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The music got louder. Tears came to your eyes. “Please.”

Maybe he took pity on you, because he did say something. You just weren’t sure if it was any better than the silence. “Why would you do that?” His voice was cold.

You felt cold.

You swallowed. “Finn-”

“Why would you volunteer?” He stepped closer to you, so much venom seeping through his tone that you thought you were gonna be sick. “Annie was going to go-”

You cut him off, throwing your hands up. “You saw her, Finnick. She’s a mess.”

“She was going to be fine-”

“She can’t go through The Games again!” You shouted, losing it. Why was he berating you as if you didn’t just save the love of his life? “It would kill whatever part of her is left.”

“She would’ve been fine. You would’ve been fine-”

“God, why do you care about what happens to me? Annie’s gonna be okay—you’re gonna be able to come home to her and build the family you’ve always wanted-”

He snapped. “You’re my family!” You recoiled like he just hit you with his words. It was like you’d been doused in cold water. Finnick sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was a beat where neither of you said anything, letting his revelation soak in.

But you didn’t know what that meant.

When he spoke up again, his voice was quieter. He didn’t look like the Finnick that smirked up on that stage; he looked defeated, not triumphant. “You’re my family, Y/N. Don’t you get that?” He looked back up at you. “I could’ve protected Annie in that arena, and you would’ve been safe, here—not there with me.”

You shook your head. “There is no protecting someone in an arena- you and I know that best.” You let a tear fall, smiling sadly. “You’re gonna come home, Finnick-”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna come home and you’re gonna live a long life with Annie-”

“Stop it.”

“You have people to take care of. I don’t.”

“Y/N, stop it.”

Another tear. “You deserve this-”

“Stop it.” Finnick grabbed onto your shoulders. You didn’t even know he got so close. “I’m not gonna let you die in there. Do you hear me? You’re not dying.”

“Only one of us is coming back, Finn. It’s gonna be you.”

You don’t know if your eyes were just really that blurry or if there were actually tears in his eyes, too. “No, you are coming home-”

“Finni-”

He grabbed you tighter. “We are both coming home.” The dam in your eyes broke, and all of the tears you were trying to hold came flooding down your cheeks.

Why was he saying these things? He knew it was impossible.

“We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear,” he promised, but these were promises he couldn’t keep. These were things he couldn’t control. Why was he lying to you- why was he lying to himself?

You wanted to say all these things, to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t true, that you were going to die. But then you remembered every other time you lied in bed together, every time you kissed and held each other. You’ve been lying to yourself all along, pretending you could have a future together when, deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

So you held everything in, pulling Finnick to you and hugging him with everything you had. You were gonna let him pretend, just this last time.

You were gonna dance together one last time.

You spent the entire train ride in each other’s arms, only getting up to eat and go to the bathroom before getting back in bed. You didn’t have mentors—you were the mentors. You’d been here before already, and that was surreal in and of itself.

You thought you already won. But nobody ever won, did they?

Those games killed everyone, victors included.

The press was insane, but just as you expected it. You were the Prince and Princess of Panem; they didn’t want to watch you die. Turns out, people in the Capitol did have hearts; clearly, they weren’t all too functional.

This visit, in more ways than one, was completely different from any other time you’d been in the city. Instead of the graceful show you normally put on, waving and smiling, you were much more mute. You were gonna die, anyway, so what was the point of continuing to be a puppet?

Finnick was still his usual self, smirky and arrogant, but even his anger snuck through the cracks of his act. All of you were angry, all of the victors. You could tell just by the mere glances you’d gotten of them, by the news coverage. Nobody wanted to go into an arena and kill people, not even the Careers (who you’d admit were pretty crazy).

However, this was all still a show to the Capitol, with you as the unlucky cast. And the show had to go on.

You and Finnick were separated to be prepped by the “glam teams.” The first time around, you remember being scared, but now you were just bored.

You were sitting idly in the dressing room, waiting for your designer when a man walked in, making you raise a brow.

This was a designer, but not your designer.

“Wait, I know you.” You tilted your head as his face became more familiar to you. “You’re Cinna- you designed those outfits with the fire.”

Cinna nodded in a way that you perceived as both humble and prideful at the same time. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Princess.”

This elicited a bitter chuckle from you. “Please, call me Y/N.” You then stood up to shake his hand when your curiosity sparked. “Aren’t you Katniss’ designer?”

“Yes, but I’m also going to be designing your outfits, as well,” he replied. “The head Gamemaker requested it. You are the Princess, after all.”

The corners of your lips went up. Most people you met at the Capitol would beat around the bush, but this guy didn’t seem shy. It was refreshing. You teased, “Ah, and since I’m a princess, I get Panem’s best to dress me?”

Cinna chuckled a bit under his breath, but didn’t confirm or deny your comment. He dived straight into his plans, explaining what he wanted to for you with a twinkle in his eye that you noticed most artists had when speaking about their work. “I want to stay true to the district 4 theme, but I want to make a statement.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

He smiled. “We’re gonna show the Capitol that they can’t control you.”

And then your little smile turned into a grin.

Cinna did not disappoint. You were in a golden, long-sleeve, grid shirt with holes where the squares were supposed to be; your velvet skirt was a dark blueish-green, skin-tight; and atop your head was a golden crown, decorated with blue jewels.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal outfit, but you were gonna save the theatrics for the parade.

Finnick was around somewhere, likely causing trouble while you were walking around, looking for Johanna. However, you ended up running into someone else.

“Peeta,” you called, and he turned around. He immediately reminded you of Finnick, a mask of charm hiding him. Although Peeta had only been at this for a year, he already knew how to play the game, unlike Katniss who was rather unapproachable.

“Y/N,” he greeted. He scrambled for something to say for a few seconds. “I heard about how you volunteered for that girl. It was really brave.”

You hummed, almost sarcastically. “You don’t have to suck up to me—it’s not like I bite.”

He got red, making you stifle a laugh. “That’s, uh- that’s not what I meant-”

“It’s fine, I get it,” you waved it off. “It’s probably intimidating to be here around all of us, just a year after you won.” He didn’t say anything, just awkwardly smiled. “You know, you don’t have to be scared. You have a lot of power ‘round here; you just need to learn how to wield it.”

He gave you a confused look, so you elaborated, “There’s power in the masses, Peeta. The people here love you.” You paused. “Use that.”

A look of realization crossed his face, and so you decided that you said all you needed to say. He thanked you, but his mind looked to be elsewhere. You nodded, then walked off to find your carriage.

Sure, the Capitol could try and treat you all like pieces on a chess board, but if you got rid of the board altogether, then there would be no game to play. You spoke to Peeta to help him realize that. It didn’t matter if you were all meant to be on different sides; until you got into that arena, you were all one team, and you were gonna try your hardest to stop The Games before they began.

If that didn’t work, then you would just have to concede. One way or another, you would make sure that Finnick made it out of that arena alive. Peeta reminded you an awful lot of him, and while you would otherwise be rooting for him, you would choose Finnick if it came down to it.

You met Finnick at the chariot not long after leaving Peeta. He was shirtless, wearing a skirt similar to your top, rope around his wrists like bracelets. If you weren’t about to go into this stupid parade, you would’ve probably been making out already, but you were far too worried to think about that.

You had Cinna to thank for calming your nerves, giving you something to look forward to. Once the parade had started and you were coming through, you pressed the button of the device he had given you and then your top went up in flames, disintegrating until you were just in a black bralette, revealing the swirls of blue they painted on your arms, resembling waves. The rope around Finnick’s wrists caught fire, too, burning up until there was nothing there.

The crowd cheered, chanting your names. The faintest of smirks grew on your lips, but you really had to stifle your enjoyment when you saw Snow staring your carriage down.

What you did symbolized freeing yourself of the shackles of the Capitol, of these stupid Games. They could try, but they wouldn’t control you.

You would’ve usually felt some sort of fear- hell, you were never so defiant just in fear of what they would do to you. But what more could they do to you? They were already going to kill you. You didn’t care anymore.

After the parade, you ran into Johanna who gave you a good laugh as she told you how she stripped in the elevator. You would’ve paid good money to see it, that was for sure. You also talked to a few other victors on your way back to your suite.

You’d been friends with many of these people for years and now the Capitol was just gonna try and pit you against each other. None of you were looking forward to that—you were friends. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t make any allies.

Alliances didn’t last forever in the arena, but they lasted long enough. Considering your status, almost everyone wanted you and your “boyfriend” as allies; they certainly didn’t want you as enemies.

The next day was spent at the training centre, a brand new one made specially for the Quarter Quell. The thought made you roll your eyes. The Capitol would spend their money on things like this and yet there were still kids out there starving. What kind of world was that? One that you were okay with leaving, so long as Finnick would remain in it.

On your way in, you passed Cashmere and Gloss throwing knives at holograms. They were good, you noted, but not better at it than you. Johanna was off practicing by herself—though you were sure that she was doing it more so to release her pent-up aggression. Wiress and Beetee, Nuts and Volts as Jo called them, were by themselves, much less violent than everyone else here and much more strategic. Finnick was tying knots, looking more bored than anything. And you… you weren’t doing anything.

You leaned back on a wall, watching the other tributes instead of joining them. You didn’t care about the rankings or making yourself look dangerous. You didn’t have anything to prove; you did that already, and you really didn’t need to “practice,” either.

You’ve danced this dance before.

However, not everyone was so aware of just how well you danced last time.

“Not practicing?” You turned your head, seeing the newest victor walking up to you, donning her famous hairstyle. The corners of your lips quirked up in amusement.

She must have been told to make friends. You couldn’t imagine it was working out so well if she was coming to you.

“Don’t need to, Everdeen,” you replied, shrugging. “I don’t need the spotlight; got enough of that.”

She lightly snorted. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” And you didn’t doubt that. Katniss had definitely captured the attention of Panem with her actions, and she certainly acquired the attention of the Capitol. Snow couldn’t have been her biggest fan.

In another life, you could picture you and her being friends, but you knew it wasn’t gonna happen in this one.

“You’re lucky, you know,” you said. You knew she didn’t see that way, and maybe it was a little bitter of you to say that, but it was true. At least she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough for it to burn her like it’d burned you.

She scoffed, “How so?” The girl had restraint, you’d give her that. She clearly wanted to say a lot more than that, but she was smart. She knew better.

You shrugged again. “You just are.” And you left it there. If she wanted all the dirty details about you, she could try her luck with one of the other victors, but you doubted she sensed the real meaning of your words. She hadn’t been dancing long enough to even hear the song yet.

A dramatic sigh then escaped your lips. “Ah, though I suppose even your luck can only run so far, Girl on Fire. So sorry about your wedding.” The sarcasm in your voice was toned down just enough that it wasn’t so evident but evident enough to make your point.

She gave you a tense smile, although you weren’t sure if any of Katniss’ smiles ever weren’t tense. “Thanks,” she responded with zero sincerity in her tone. “I’m sorry you and Finnick never had one, either. Would’ve been a real royal occasion.”

You hummed, smiling your royal smile back at her. The Kat has claws, you thought. But you didn’t really feel like standing here and trading subliminals with her all day; you’d have enough of that with everyone else, anyway.

You left it at that, going to walk away before pausing as if you’d forgotten something. “Tell Haymitch I said hi.” You gave her a once over. “He’s done a good job.” And then you walked away.

Finnick’s voice rang through your head: May the odds be ever in your favour, darling. You almost felt like recycling that line and repeating it to Katniss, but you had already messed with her enough.

Your demeanour was in stark contrast of how you normally behaved. You may have been more agreeable or kind at home, sweet on cameras, but in this territory, you had an entirely different reputation. Sharp, cunning, unpredictable—ruthless. That’s the way it needed to be if you wanted to survive, or at least survive long enough to do what you needed to do.

So, you supposed that you had a mask, too.

You all did.

When you got back to your suite later in the evening, Finnick informed you of Katniss’ display with her bow and arrow, how she had renowned victors quaking in their boots, but people were even more scared of you, and you hadn’t even done anything at training.

You basically had the entire pool of tributes to choose from for an alliance. You were choosing Johanna, of course, and Finnick already had his mind made up on his pick.

Making his way over to you, he tossed you something that you swiftly caught before sitting down on the armchair across from the sofa you were sitting on. You looked down, opening your hand to see a golden pendant, a medallion with a rose in the middle.

You raised a brow. This wasn’t a present. “A rose?”

“They’re a Capitol favourite.” Precisely why you hated them.

“Alright, and why are you giving it to me?”

Finnick brought his wrist up, showing you a golden bracelet made of vines while wiggling his fingers. “They’re gifts,” he told you, “from Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy.”

You were familiar with both people. Effie Trinket was crazy, but that wasn’t the dominant thought on your mind. “Gifts for what?”

He answered, “They’ve brokered an alliance with us on behalf of Katniss and Peeta.” At that, you groaned, but Finnick readily cut you off. “This will be good for us, Y/N.”

“They’re brand new to this,” you countered. Sure, you liked the spark that the Girl on Fire had, and Peeta was quite the catch, but they only won a year ago. The Careers would be a better pick, even though you didn’t exactly like them, either.

“Yes, but they’re good; you’ve seen them. And the Capitol’s gonna love it, the two pairs of lovers together. C’mon, you know all this.” You did. You knew that this was one of the best avenues to take, but something in you was against it.

Maybe it was just that Peeta reminded you of the man you were in love with, and Katniss reminded you of yourself. But right now, you had to remind yourself to think with your head, not your heart. You needed to disregard your feelings and do whatever it took to win this.

To you, winning didn’t mean surviving this. Winning meant that Finnick did.

So, with a sigh, you surrendered, agreeing to this little deal. “So, these accessories are, what? Bargaining chips?”

He smirked. “No, they’re symbols. Katniss and Peeta have theirs, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and mocking, “So we’re in a little golden alliance, then?”

“It appears so, darling.”

After a little more conversation, Finnick and you headed off to bed, even though neither of you could really sleep. You held each other, though, and so the insomnia was bearable. He told you to stow the necklace away, that you were saving the objects for The Games. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta still needed a little persuasion for this, especially the former.

She was smart not to trust you, but she was equally as naive for the same reason. If you wanted to, you could be judgemental all day, but you didn’t have the time for it, so your mind didn’t linger on the subject.

When you were waiting to be assessed the next day with the rest of the tributes, your mind didn’t really linger on anything. You felt numb: not pleased, not sad, just numb. If you could pin-point an emotion, it had to be anger, but that feeling hadn’t left you since your first Games.

Finnick, on the other hand, looked no different, maybe even a little amused by the tension in the room, too amused for somebody who had to go back to the arena. But Finnick was always one to look a challenge into the eye and, instead of looking away, give it a wink. That was his persona while you were here, in the Capitol, so you’d let him indulge in it if that’s what made him feel better.

You’d do anything for him, even if he didn’t love you back.

He went into the room first. You didn’t know exactly what he was gonna do, but you knew that you were all basically doing the same thing. Plutarch Heavensbee may have been new, but even he knew who you all were. You’ve all shown your skills already, been here already, danced this dance already.

The song was getting old.

You were all giving your own personal fuck you to the Capitol.

When Finnick walked out, he flashed you a smirk that almost made you laugh. You stifled a smile as you walked into the room yourself, but it was quickly wiped off your face as memories played in your head like a movie.

You remembered the first time you did this, coming in and saying your name, scared out of your mind but ready to win, ready to impress the sponsors.

Now, you didn’t have to say your name. You caught their attention as soon as you walked in. You were the Princess. You needed no introduction.

It was funny, though, how that imaginary crown couldn’t save you from this.

The thought of your inevitable death was what fuelled you. You were known for your abilities with a sword, but that wasn’t what you reached for. You reached for the jug of gasoline and a lighter, immediately opening it and pouring in a circle in the middle of the room before stepping into it.

Then you looked right up at all of them and their confused faces, and threw the open lighter to the liquid in front of you, igniting a circle of fire around you.

You stared right at the head Gamemaker as you did it, expressionless. His expression told you that he got the message, or at least your hostility.

You would burn this place to the ground if you had to, even if you got burned while doing it.

When the flames got smaller, you turned and stepped over them, walking out of the room without another glance or word to the Capitol mutts. As far as you were concerned, they weren’t worth your time—you were running out of that, anyways.

Once the assessments were over, all any of you had time to do was get ready for the show. Caesar wasn’t exactly a face you wanted to see right now. Maybe he saw his enthusiasm as a way of “calming the tributes down,” but it was really just his lack of empathy. You didn’t need him cheering and practically gossiping about your death before it happened.

As much as the people in the Capitol liked to think of these Games as games, they weren’t. They were your lives. But you really could spend days obsessing over it, days that you didn’t have.

It was time to dance, and there was nothing you did better.

You were backstage, standing with Finnick and Johanna, waiting your turns. Cinna had made you very pretty. He was good at what he did.

You were wearing a dark blue dress with wide straps tied into blue bows at your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom half was pretty fitted, but it was covered by a sparkly, golden, A-line, hoop petticoat made of the same material as your top from the parade, gridded with holes like before. And of course, your crown sat atop your head—Cinna insisted.

He really wanted to nail the whole Princess thing, milk it for all it was worth. And you let him, because his designs were great. Part of you wished you could’ve gotten more into fashion; now you’d never get the chance to.

You couldn’t blame Katniss for being so stand-offish. You’d be intimidated, too, if you were new to the club, watching from the sidelines. You, Finnick, and Johanna didn’t really seem all too approachable right now, either, even the ever so charming Odair. They were exchanging jokes and laughing at the interviews, mocking them, while you were rather stoic, observing the interviews watchfully.

Cashmere and Gloss went first, of course. They did theirs together since they were brother and sister. It was odd to you, how two siblings managed to get reaped together out of all the victors district 1 had, but you were paying more attention to the act they were putting on.

Casmere was sobbing. She’s a much better killer than she is an actor, you thought, but the people in the audience clearly bought it. You’d give her credit, though; you were all trying your best to get this thing cancelled, even if that was highly unlikely.

Next came the two crazy Careers who made Gloss’ acting look world class. Then Beetee went on stage, using logic as a tactic rather than emotion. Smart, but logic wouldn’t sway President Snow’s wishes. The Capitol sent innocent kids off to die every year in a televised event to pay for something that happened years before any of them were born—logic was obviously not their strong suit.

Wiress went next, and that’s basically when you tuned out. She was pretty out of it, not really saying much. Finnick was going after her. That’s what occupied your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Your were snapped out of your daze by the very man you were thinking about, as if he was reading your mind. Those blue eyes that you loved so much stared down at you, concern swimming through them.

Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.

You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.” He continued to stare down at you like he was completely unconvinced, but before he could say anything, they were calling his name.

He cursed under his breath then placed a soft kiss on your temple before having to walk out on stage, that famous smirk on his face. He was so good at that, at going from hard to soft so easily, cursing to kissing you.

He was good. He was real good, and he was a much better actor than any other tribute here. He was so good that he could make even you believe his performance.

You watched them from the TV backstage. “Finnick,” Caesar started. “As I recall, the last time we spoke, it was with your other half, who is here today.” The crowd cheered.

Finn nodded, smiling tensely, which you were sure he did on purpose. “That’s right.”

“You and the Princess have so graciously shared your love with us, and we have fallen in love with you both, perhaps as much as you love each other.” You and Johanna simultaneously rolled your eyes. Finnick, though, smiled to the cheering audience, mouthing thank you’s that no doubt made them swoon. “None of us know how to deal with the fact that you are both going into The Games- I certainly haven’t come to terms with it. Tell us, how are you dealing with this?”

You scoffed. If there was something the people of the Capitol liked to do, it was pretending that your tragedy was their own. They didn’t know even half of your pain, any of yours.

Caesar practically shoved the microphone in Finnick’s face. He looked down, like he was thinking, but you knew he probably had this bit down pat already. “If I’m being honest, neither Y/N nor I have come to terms with it, either.” He now looked right to the camera. “What I do know is that I will do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love.” The crowd cooed as you looked straight at the TV, as if Finnick was staring into your eyes. “And if I… if I die in that arena, then my last thought will be of her lips… and how lucky I was to have met her and have had the opportunity to give her my heart.”

The crowd went wild and Caesar said something in response, but you couldn’t hear it. You were stuck staring into Finnick’s eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. Oh, he was so good. He could dance the dance so much better than you. Because everything he said, he almost made you believe that he meant it.

You blinked the tears in your eyes away when Johanna shook you, telling you they were about to announce your name. You put the mask back on, and it was your love for Finnick that made you do it. You were doing this for him.

An exhale left your lips as you waited for your cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, as our Prince exits, I have the honour of welcoming his counterpart to the stage. The winner of the 67th Hunger Games. The Princess of Panem. Y/N Y/L/N!”

The doors you stood behind opened and you walked onto the stage, a stellar smile on your face as you waved to the roaring crowd. You just had to play the role, and everything would be fine.

When the cheers died down, Caesar gave you a sympathetic look, or at least a look that he thought was sympathetic. “Now, Y/N, it is lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Caesar. It’s always wonderful to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” You glanced to the crowd, catching their pity. For once, that was the exact emotion you wished to inspire.

“Yes, I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not easy.” You tightly smiled, even though you really just wanted to flip him off. “We just spoke to Finnick, he has been quite expressive these past few days in the Capitol, but you, Y/N, you have not been as revealing. Please, we’d like to know what’s been on your mind.”

If Caesar really heard what was on your mind, then he’d be appalled. That wasn’t your goal, even though you’d greatly enjoy that. Instead, you had a different play.

The audience was very quiet in anticipation of your response. You sighed, keeping the tired smile. “I, um… I’ve had a lot on my mind, really. Finnick and I, we thought we had more time, time to get married and even have kids, but now it’s like that time has just been… stolen from us.” Collective awes resounded throughout the crowd as Caesar brought his other hand to his chest, like your words moved him. “It’s- it’s just not fair, simple as that. But I love him, and that love will survive, even if I don’t.”

The audience let their dismay be known while Caesar shook his head. “Oh, my dear, I have seen your love- we all have, and I know that it will never die.” You nodded in agreement, listening to everyone else agree with you.

The acting was easier than you thought it’d be. Maybe that was because it wasn’t all acting, not for you. You knew your role, and you knew it well, but your love for Finnick was not something you had to fake. It was perhaps one of the only real things you had left.

“Now, we are all in for an emotional night, so I’d just like to lighten the mood a little- is that alright?” You nodded again, though you wondered how he would’ve reacted if you didn’t. “Okay, now we all saw your display at the parade- isn’t that right, everyone?” He paused, letting them applaud. “Yes, it was magnificent. Would I be right in assuming that you have something similar planned tonight?”

“Oh, you’d be correct,” you responded, flashing a grin at the whooping crowd.

“Please, please.” He stepped back. “Go right ahead.”

You glanced at Cinna sitting front row before pressing the button of the device he gave you. The golden petticoat then went up in flames, seemingly “ejecting” the skirt of your dress, sending it from above your knees to your ankles as it went from skin-tight to flowy. The very bottom faded into a teal colour, like the sea.

The crowd’s cheers got louder than you thought possible. Caesar wowed, then raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess of Panem!” You gave the crowd one last wave before making your way up the stairs to stand with the rest of the victors.

You were standing next to Finnick by the time the next tribute was called out and the attention was on them. To your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. But what really surprised you was the slight tremble you felt.

You looked up at him to see him already staring down at you. His mask fell a little, and instead of the at-ease Finnick you just saw, you were looking at a much more serious, stern version. You were confused by what could’ve brought this on, but then he leant down slightly, whispering in your ear, “I told you. I’m not letting you die.” When he pulled away, he didn’t look any less serious.

Oh, what a great liar he could be. There he was, making you believe in things that couldn’t possibly be true. You were going to die. You knew that, and you’d accepted it already. But Finnick hadn’t accepted it at all. He looked like he was believing his own lie.

You don’t know why this had shaken him so badly. Maybe he felt obligated to you, maybe he felt bad for you, but whatever it was, you weren’t gonna make it worse.

You could be a good actor, too.

For him.

You nodded, whispering back, “I know.” This looked to have calmed him down a little. He kissed the side of your head, and then the mask was back up. He kept his tight hold on your hand, and you let him.

You never know when it’d be the last time you held hands, and so you were gonna enjoy this while it lasted.

Even though this was an “emotional night,” as Caesar had dubbed it, you still got satisfaction out of everything the victors were pulling. When Johanna came on stage, she had a totally different approach than all of your sad acts and Beetee’s logic: she said what you all really wanted to say, giving the Capitol a loud fuck you.

You and Finnick had to stop yourselves from laughing amidst your shock. Caesar definitely wasn’t expecting that. You knew Snow definitely wasn’t expecting that, either. You hoped he was watching this right now, and you hoped that all of Panem could feel your outrage.

But if you were surprised by anything, it was the so called star-crossed lovers from district 12. Katniss’ wedding dress was a nice touch; she could’ve convinced even you that they were in love, if you didn’t know any better.

You weren’t the only one with a message to send to the Capitol with your attire. She spun around and her white dress was engulfed in flames, transforming into a midnight blue dress similar to yours. And when she lifted her arms, wings were revealed, and the smile on your lips widened.

“It’s a bird,” Caesar stammered in awe. “It’s like, a- it’s got feathers- it’s a bird- like a-”

You murmured at the same time as Katniss spoke up, “Like a Mockingjay.” You looked up to Finnick, seeing him already smirking. Everdeen was a lot ballsier than you thought.

“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”

You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.

When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint.

He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all��” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”

“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.

Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.

People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.

Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.

It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words.

That’s when the lights cut out.

But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.

While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.

However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.

Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie.

Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.

These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.

You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.

But you weren’t his.

Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.

The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.

And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.

And then The Games begun.

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