#will this make me be consistent with the design ? probably not-

[crescenthistory]

Haunt Me, Then

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Synopsis: The Hunger Games AU; After your best friend miraculously won his games, you were never to see him again – until your last Reaping as an eligible citizen ends catastrophically for you and another one of your friends.

Words: 6.1k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, us of y/n, Hunger Games typical warnings, grief, implied loss, heavy hurt/comfort, talk of death and poverty, Capitol Citizen!Bellatrix Lestrange, same for barty sorry, angst, some fluff, childhood best friends (to lovers), physical affection, unwanted physical touches, creepy Capitol behaviour, heavy disassociation, strategically used characters, background bsf!marylene, implied that sirius got the finnick odair treatment, nb! it's a thg au but not thg canon compliant (aka i make the rules here)

A/N: this is sooooo exciting to me. your district is only implied (district 7) in this one and there are a lot of purposefully unresolved threads 🌝 there's more to come, if you want it. and yes – the title is from the wuthering heights quote "you said i killed you – haunt me, then"

You hated Reaping day for more reasons than most.

While no person, whether they are of eligible age or not, enjoyed being in that town square annually, watching the Capitol representatives clown away on stage as your heart and ears thundered with anticipatory fear, you were left with the biting pain of the past, present and future all at the same time.

Stood in a sea of people, feeling both as if you were drowning and had a spotlight shining on you, you feared for yourself. You writhed beneath the thought of how many times your name had gone into that bowl in an attempt at keeping your loved ones safe, you winced at the knowledge that it would be just the perfect karmic timing for you to have everything taken from you this one last time.

Clutching onto Mary’s trembling fingers with one hand and Marlene’s little sister Mabel with the other, you feared for your loved ones. Your makeshift found family now consisted of the McKinnons, the McDonalds, the Pettigrews and you – and you could not bear the thought of how many of you were jammed into the plaza today. Marlene and her older siblings had aged out, but you, Mary and Peter were still in for your last year. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of how many years Mabel and the McKinnon and Pettigrew boys had left. Children. They were all just children – the very reason why you all kept consistently placing your own name in over and over again, to keep them safe. While you could never decide if you trusted the legitimacy of the arrangement that you could covertly buy someone’s immunity by placing your name in more times, you also could never help but try each year.

Thus far, it had worked. Mabel had at least never been picked. 

But then again, you knew of at least one person who was picked despite their supposed immunity. Odd how the guilt always forced your hand regardless; the risk was worth the potential reward.

You could feel her breaths grow shuddering beside you, but could not bring yourself to look down at her. You just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shoved away the doomsday feelings brewing within your chest.

You felt guilty for even fearing for yourself, because you knew well how out of everyone, your name was in there probably the least amount of times. Apart from buying the immunity of one of your friends’ siblings, you had never needed to buy anything with tickets of your name. You had been financially looked out for to a much larger degree than most could dream, and not had your hand forced. At first, the help came through the direct acts of kindness from your best friend, and then later, you would somehow just always find exactly what you needed. Whenever the Capitol increased ridiculous taxes that felt as if they were specifically designed to wring you dry, there would be a freshly opened position for you to apply for, a wad of cash found in one of the boxes you looked through, even a charity basket by your door that you would always pass on to the rowdy McKinnon home. 

Part of you could hear his whispered promise to you whenever these blessings seemingly fell into your lap, but you always pushed it down. It couldn’t be.

“I will always take care of you, princess”.

Above all else, being in the town square tore up your heart because you could only ever think of him. Of Sirius.

Of that day 5 years ago, when you had just started breathing normally after they called some girl’s name you did not know in the Reaping, only for your lungs to be ripped from you permanently at the sound of the reaped boy.

The second “Regulus Black” boomed through the scratching speakers, your heart was shattered into a million pieces, because it was immediately followed up by: “I volunteer.”

When your head whipped to the side to witness your best friend in the whole world march towards his inevitable death, you had found his sad grey eyes already fixed on you through the massive sea of bodies. You have no recollection of the sounds after that, but you know you were crying, trashing even, in the firm grip of Marlene as she forced you into a bear hug to stop you from trying to be a human shield for the one person you could not stomach losing. The sight of Sirius kissing Regulus’ head and squeezing Peter's arm before taking to the stage, shoulders squared and jaw lifted, already looking every bit like a child warrior was burned into your retinas.

It took years before it was not the first image you saw whenever you closed your eyes. It still sometimes was.

That day, you had been certain your best friend was lost. When they let his loved ones bid him a quick goodbye in a solitary room after the ceremony, you had stood to the back with your hiccuping sobs, allowing Regulus the space you knew he needed. Marlene and Mary passed through, so did Peter, until it was just you left.

His parents did not show up.

While Sirius had kept up the facade with the others, his face crumbled when it met yours in your momentary privacy – save the Peacekeepers by the door. You had been hugging your front to keep from falling apart, but the second he slumped back against the desk and opened his arms for you, you were wrapped up in them.

At just 13 and 14 you were each other’s worlds. Grown up as neighbors, surviving just about everything together.

And it was because he was just 14 that you had no belief he could survive the games – at that point, no 14 year old had, and no matter how strong Sirius Black was, it took more than strength to break through that harrowing cycle.

Sirius had let his first few tears slip and fall into your hair, holding onto you for dear life. You can’t remember what you said anymore, just the way he smelled, just the way he held you and the murmurs he whispered into your skin as he swayed you.

“I’m sorry, I had to. You’re wonderful. I love you. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

You hoped to the gods you had said it back.

Though you did not know that then, you had been correct. Your best friend was lost that day – but he survived his games. 

It had been a torturous few months, forced to see him paraded around like a piece of meat only to suffer through one of the longest games anyone had seen. You had sworn you would not watch it, but could not resist taking a peek at a small screen you snuck into your bedroom, crying as you caressed his face that looked so void of the Sirius you knew. Sometimes he would find a nearby camera and stare into it as he fell asleep, almost as if he could actually see you, feel your touch. You hoped it comforted him; that thought had you returning to the screen almost every night. The only nights you didn’t were the ones where you and Regulus slept in the same bed to keep each other sane, tethered.

When you two eventually woke up to the news that he managed to outlast the final tribute overnight, you cried until you laughed only to laugh until you cried.

On the day of Sirius’ return, you had made everything ready; dusted his room, bought the ingredients for his favourite dessert, orchestrated for his parents to be elsewhere, planned what to say with Regulus, who was equally as teary. Except when the Capitol Carriage swept up by the entrance and you ran out to greet him, only Peacekeepers exited the carriage, forcing you to step back. The blinds were shut. 

You stumbled, entirely bewildered by the situation, sharing deeply concerned looks with Regulus. You had tried shouting for Sirius, you had tried asking the Peacekeepers, but you were left with nothing but silence.

While you were dumbfounded, Regulus grew agitated. With months worth of guilt piling up, it was easy work for them to bubble over into anger; he pushed past the Peacekeepers to try and bang on the wall of the carriage, yanking on the locked door handle. His screams of Sirius' name were cut off in an instant when the Head Peacekeeper slammed the back of his rifle against Regulus' neck. He lurched, tried to regain his footing, before he crumbled to the ground.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, you dragged him off to the side and held him tight to your chest, as if that would protect him. With an unconscious Regulus in your lap, you were forced to watch them carry down all of Sirius’ belongings, packed haphazardly in bags, and shove them into the back of the carriage. 

It drove off without you ever even catching a glimpse of Sirius. 

The next time you saw him was a few days later, on a broadcasted interview where he announced his permanent move to the Capitol. Clad in shining black clothes that could have fed the entirety of Districts 11 and 12, he had taken on the persona of the Casanova of the Capitol, the goading gladiator, the wicked victor. 

The day after that, Regulus disappeared without any warning or trace. 

All you had was a seemingly private note slipped beneath your pillow that said “Don’t go looking” – you never told anyone about it. In the meantime, you were left completely and utterly alone. 

Grief settled into your veins, and you did the only thing you could: you settled into routine. Sweet, hard-working routine to keep your storms at bay until you had made some sort of life for yourself. With one job as a wooden toy carver and another as a wood sculptures, not to mention the dinner rotation at the McKinnons and the Pettigrews, you kept busy. You could pretend to forget.

Until you couldn’t. Each year when you were forced into that town square, the memories haunted you viciously, cruelly – taunting you with how little you understood, how much time had passed. Beneath it all, there was a simmering of the one emotion you never could get rid of in the grief and confusion; love. It was the singular thing that powered all within you, ranging from the determination to the resentment. Oh, how you loathed how much you loved and missed your Black brothers.

You felt Mabel jump beside you at the crackle of the sound system, as the new Capitol representatives got ready to commence the Reaping. You shared a quick glance with Mary, acknowledging how the younger girl had to be your priority right now.

“It’s alright, Bel,” you whispered, shifting to hold her tighter against your side. “That sound means it’s almost over. Soon we’re done.”

Mary squeezed your own hand in return, almost as if to say take your own advice. You smiled meekly at her, and she rewarded you for your efforts by momentarily placing her forehead on your shoulder.

The younger girl just buried herself into you and you sighed to make yourself softer. It was her second Reaping, which meant it was far from her last. You understood her fear well, but still, you wanted to quell it.

The further the representatives got into their speeches, the longer the same old video droned on for, the more you disappeared from the current moment. It was hard to differentiate between past and present in these few heavy minutes, so you preferred to be in neither, to float up and out of your body. The only thing grounding you was your two friends pressed up against you, and that was all you needed. Nothing they could say up there was of any meaning to you.

Sirius never attended the Reapings the way some of the other victors did. They would line up at the front, on occasion even make speeches themselves, but never Sirius. He had yet to be a mentor, but you knew that victors were supposed to have a meeting of sorts before each game, where one of them was selected for the year. You often found yourself wondering where that meeting took place, if it was at the Capitol or nearby, if you unknowingly were standing just a couple hundred metres from him where he waited backstage or on the train.

A part of you hoped to never find out. A part of you hoped to never be near him again.

Most of you knew that was a poisonous lie.

These were thoughts you promptly pushed away. They did you no good – it had been made clear to you that you were not to think of the noble victor Sirius Black anymore.

The muscles in your back tensed more and more, shoulders hiking higher and higher the longer into the speeches the Capitol representatives got. Knowing that a name was soon to be pulled, yet you kept yourself disconnected.

Almost over, almost over.

The sudden outburst of sound and emotion around you – cries of relief, gasps of shock, whispered reactions– alerted you to the fact that a name had been called.

However, it was Mary’s loud sob and her face turning towards yours with nothing short of horror written over it that told you it was someone you knew.

One glance up into her grieving eyes told you that no, it was– it was you.

After so many years of just barely dodging it, you had been reaped. You were reaped. You were reaped. If your thoughts mere moments before had been a cloud, dragging you up above the crowd, they now became an anchor, cementing your feet to the ground.

“Mary…” you began, but were cut off by a static crackle.

“Y/N L/N? Come now love, don’t be scared.” The glee and excitement in the Capitol woman’s voice was nauseating, but it did kick you into action – and everyone else around you too, as the crowd seemed to separate to form a physical beacon on where the three of you stood, pressed together.

Your body moved on instinct; it was as if you were possessed by Sirius’ memory, pulling Mabel's crying form against you and kissing her head much like he had done with Regulus, squeezing Mary’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile much like he had done with Peter. Ignoring your heart and mind screaming through sobs and anger as you released yourself from both of their grips to walk down the metaphorical red carpet leading up towards the stage. Chin tilted up, face schooled into nothingness. Eyes burning at the lights that suddenly shone upon you, but yet fighting to keep from squinting. Forcing the tremble away from your fingers by balling them up into fists as you began to ascend the steps to the stage. 

“There we are, darling,” the male Capitol representative, who you had yet to bother learning the name of, essentially cooed at you, reaching out a hand for you to take.

You walked past it and assumed the position to the right of them both, staring emptily into the air. 

He chuckled in a low, menacingly lilting tone. “Okay, well, we can see what kind of tribute we just selected, can’t we, Bella?”

“We sure can, Barty,” the woman, Bella, replied with a gleaming smile. “As for her comrade in arms…” she trailed off for dramatic effect before dipping her fingers with their ridiculously long and sharp nails down into the pot.

From a distance, it was easier to distort the sounds of their voices. Now up close, you couldn’t help but hear every word passing between the two representatives, no matter how loud the screaming in your own head was.

No. No, no, no, no.

“... Peter Pettigrew!” Bella shouted cheerily, with a screeching joy that all but punctured your eardrums.

No. 

You squeezed your eyes shut from the first syllable, fighting the shaking taking over your body. Heavily, your shoulders slumped and your face began to fall at the revelation, before you scrambled for any and every piece of strength in your body to square up once again and face the literal sound of the music.

Deep breaths. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw him climb the stairs to stand beside you. For only a brief second, you dared glance over, only to see the pure terror written all over Peter’s face, only to immediately regret it and whip your face forward again. You knew in your heart that you were not making it out of these games – and unlike with Sirius, the feeling settled like wings on your shoulders instead of rocks. If you were honest, you knew Peter would likely not either, but you could at least fight for him, in the hope that he would.

The man Bella had called Barty came up behind you both and placed a strikingly cold hand on your shoulders, twisting you to face one another. It was custom to shake hands with your fellow tribute, but for the Capitol representatives to lay hands on you like this was certainly not. You fought back the urge to shake it off.

“Now if the tributes may shake hands,” Barty said with a wicked grin, speaking loudly enough for the microphone a metre away to pick up on it – thus too loudly. “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Peter’s hand was trembling with such force that he could barely move it away from his body. With a quick sideway glance at the cameras, you reached forward to grab it, steadying it even as you shook it. Peter could not meet your gaze, and not a single part of you could hold it against him; you merely squeezed his hand reassuringly. That had to be enough for now.

As soon as you let go, Bella closed the Reaping Ceremony with a flourish. 

You kept your chin elevated and your gaze empty as you began to move, lest it meet any of your friends and family in the many separated crowds. You weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it up if your eyes locked with Mary’s parents, with Peter’s brothers he just had to leave. Instead, you walked behind the walls with a pin straight back and let the Peacekeepers lead you through the townhouse, room after room, keeping all your emotions balled up. You signed some papers in one room, received a bag with a uniform in another. Finally you walked into the very same room that broke your heart 5 years ago, where your friends and family were already waiting.

The goodbyes were a flurry. Nothing felt real.

You hugged every one of the McKinnon siblings goodbye and nodded weakly when they begged that you would come back home to them, unable to make false promises verbally. The eldest, your Marlene, was the only one who did not plead; she grabbed each side of your face with a determined look and forced you to meet her eyes. “You will come home, Y/N. You will. I am not giving you a choice, you are making it back to us. Do you hear me?”

Even her, you could only spare a nod. But you listened and held her gaze through every word she spoke to make up for it, which seemed to be enough for now. Her hug was even more crushing now than when she kept you from running after Sirius and getting gunned down during his Reaping.

Mary had been silently crying through it all. When she hugged you, your collar was instantly wettened, and you could not help but wonder if this was how it felt for Sirius when you cried into him. You hoped it wasn’t, even as you knew it was. 

When every cheek was kissed and every I love you uttered, you sized them up with a resolved gaze. You let it drag carefully over them all, committing them to memory, one last time. 

Marlene could see what you were doing. With minimal movement, she shook her head – not admonishingly, but the correction was clear nonetheless. You will come back. You gave her a tight-lipped smile, and gave them all a final nod before exiting, allowing Peter to enter for his own goodbyes.

You stopped to say something to him, to hug him or give any reaction, but he scurried past you before you could. Even as you kept walking, your heart was sinking.

There was only one Peacekeeper waiting for you in the hallway. “Where do I go now?” You hated how weak your voice sounded, but at least there were no cameras here to catch it this time.

“Mrs. Lestrange is waiting for you around the corner. She will take you to meet your mentor on the train.” Even in your shock, you were baffled by the extreme lack of emotion in his voice. It was almost like talking to a robot, except it had distinctly human eyes. You supposed that was something to get used to.

“Thank you,” you replied, unsure if that was a common custom with Peacekeepers.

You heard Bella before you saw her, she was excitedly recapping the entire Reaping process to Barty, as if it did not just end and he wasn’t there for the whole thing. He didn't seem to mind; he was twirling around himself, as if your metaphorical dead body was his favourite meadow to frolic through. Her clapping hands and screeching voice made you sick to your stomach, but her eyes might as well be cameras in the court of public opinion, so you picked your facade back up.

“I was told you would take me to the train.” You interrupted one of her tirades, and when her head snapped towards you, there was a second of blazing fire in her expression before she realised that it was you – a new plaything. The glee set back into her within a second.

“Oh, this was the part I was the most excited about.” She smacked a kiss to Barty's cheek before grabbing your elbow to drag you away with her. You had to clench your teeth not to rip it away from her – these Capitol people were handsy. “It’s about time for a reunion, don’t ya’ think?”

You weren’t sure what she was saying most of the time, though you rarely were with Capitol people. Yet the pinching feeling in your stomach did not recede to make space for confusion, nor did your shoulders lower even a fraction.

There was a special entrance to the train that you could access through the townhouse, so that you would not be too swamped by onlookers. Bella was explaining the whole ordeal to you somehow, but as the metallic train came into view through the windows, the blood rushing through your head got louder and louder, even more so than her pitchy voice. 

With this entrance, you only had to walk a meter unsheltered in the transition between the townhouse and the train. Shortly after the first gust of wind hit you was it again shut away as you stepped onto the metallic floorboards.

“Where are we going?” You found yourself asking Bella, unsure if she had already answered this or even if she was in the middle of a sentence.

She looked at you as if you were dumb, but it did not lessen her unnerving smile even a fraction nor stop her quick strides through the many corridors of the train. “Well, to meet your loverboy, duh.”

You stopped in the middle of a step, staring at her incredulously, unsure if you heard her correctly. A frustrated groan escaped her when she had to stop too, looking at you as if you were quite tedious. You knew who she must be referring to, but you had no idea why she would. At least like that.

“Am I not to meet with my potential mentors?” You tried to force any emotion out of your sentence.

“You’re being so silly, did you know that?” Bella took your arm once more, jostling you along with her. “Your mentor has already been decided, stupid. He’s waiting just over there, come on.”

You stumbled slightly in your step from how forcefully she dragged you. You were unsure if she even knew that she was gripping you as hard as she was, or if there was some serious disconnect between her mind and body. 

She only let you go in favour of ripping open a rather large oak door and releasing an unnecessarily loud “ta dah!”. 

The back you were met with was one you would have recognised in every life. 

He stood hunched over a table, hands splayed out so wide they were shaking, black curls hanging messily in his face, breathing ragged. At the sound of Bella’s entrance and you being ushered in, he whipped around.

It was Sirius. Of course it was. Your heart wanted to say it was your Sirius, but you could clearly see that he wasn’t. 

Though he looked different than he had on the occasional glance you stole of him onscreen, he still didn’t look the way you remembered either. No longer was he the scrawny boy you grew up with, the one you messed around in fields with, the one you read books with, the one you cried with and slept beside and walked beside and lived beside. Before you stood a weathered man, sharp in his handsomeness, pointed in every one of his features, guarded by an army of layers yet wearing more emotions than suited him. He had a few tattoos creeping up the side of his neck, the onyx ink shining in contrast to his pale skin.

The one thing that remained the same was the utter heartbreak spelled out in his eyes. It was the same as when he saw you last, only perhaps worse.

No, it was decidedly worse. When the stormy greys landed on your face, flitting about so rapidly that you were unsure how he could even see, lips parting ever so slightly, whatever tormented him settled in deeper. He looked inconsolable.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. As if he didn’t know what to say, as if there were no words.

His attention was abruptly shifted over to Bella when she clapped her hands together in mirth. “Isn’t this exciting!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between you. “Aren’t you going to hug in greeting? Aren’t you going to ki–”

“Bellatrix.” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, all of his pain schooled away in favour of a burning fire when he faced her. His voice was so much deeper than you remembered, so much hoarser. “Get lost. This is a meeting between mentor and tribute.”

“Oh, this is hardly a meeting or classified in any way, Siri. Just–”

He cut her off once more. “I won’t tell you again.” He eyed her with a severe glare. “Leave us. Now.”

It looked like Bellatrix wanted to fight him on it, but after looking between you three more times, she evidently decided she had gotten enough out of this endeavour. “You’re too serious, Black,” she said with a giggle. “Don’t bite her face off, you dog, she needs it for the interviews.”

She seemed to all but float out of the room, but closed the door behind her with a loud bang. You kept your head craned sideways, eyes burning a hole through the door where she left, leering. 

The silence in the room felt more deafening than the volume of the plaza had. You had no idea what to say – this was nothing like what you could have imagined.

You and Sirius, alone in a room. Something you had craved more than words could explain, but that you now backed away from with every fibre of your being.

“Princess.” Sirius breathed the word out like he had been choking on it. Before you had the time to turn your head fully back towards him, he had swept you up into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N,” he whispered into your neck, almost reverently. 

A minute ago you were walking down the hallways with an awful stranger, and now you were embraced by someone who, despite everything, was painfully known to you. It did not compute in your mind, everything was whirring and screeching, and unlike what he once could, Sirius did not quiet the noises.

He almost did, though. Just almost. With his arms around your back, fingers splaying around your ribs, with your nose shoved against his neck as he cradled you, his scent taking over your senses, you could almost fall into it. Could almost fall into him. Your Sirius.

He smelled the same.

You reared backwards out of his touch, back hitting the wall as you stumbled. Your eyes felt wide, almost like a cornered animal, your lips parted as you stared at him. You realised you were breathing heavily. If he was startled by you ripping away from him, his face didn’t show it.

Studying his face now gave you a wave of deja vu so strong, it almost made you dizzy. There was no way you could communicate anything effectively at the minute.

“Sirius, what the fuck?!” 

You hadn’t meant for your voice to be so loud, but not even that drew a reaction from him. Kicking yourself off the wall, you walked past him – leaving a large amount of space between you – dragging your fingers through your hair as you did so. You began a sentence multiple times, but no coherent word came out. “Why are you here? What just happened?” you ended up whispering, feeling pathetic at how close to a whimper it was. “Who–” You stopped. That was a sentence you did not have it in you to complete. 

Who are you?

When you turned around to face him, you found that he had followed after you, keeping a respectable distance but still within arm’s reach, as if he couldn’t allow you to get further than that. For the first time since you stepped into the town square, tears began to fight to well in your eyes. Sirius didn’t look away from them.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, insistent and imploring. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” You choked out, wrapping your arms around your stomach, not much unlike you had during his Reaping. Sirius’ gaze flitted down to your arms before moving back up, and it was as if you could see the memory playing across his irises.

He heaved a deep breath before rubbing his hands up and down his own face. When he lowered them, he gave you a look of defeat.

“I– let’s start over again,” he said then. He gave you a rueful smile. “Hi, princess.”

You looked at him, uncertain of whether you should start crying or laughing. You settled on a scowl in between. “I’m not sure you get to call me that anymore.” You looked away from his face as you said it, unwilling to see his reaction. “But sure. Hi, Sirius.”

When you dared a glance at him, he had his lips pressed together and a look of remorse in his eyes. You hated that you could still read him like this, for more than one reason.

“I was roughhoused onto the train last night. Told that I was to be the mentor of these games, whether I’d like to or not, no more information.” He said, as if that explained anything.

You couldn’t help the bite in your reply. “Am I meant to feel sorry for you? I was just given a death sentence. And now I have to face my ex best friend who I haven't seen in five years. This is some awful joke.”

This time you didn’t avert your gaze, the simmer within you for once bursting into a flame, however short-lived, and you got to witness how his face jerked backwards as if you had slapped him. In some way, you kind of had.

Your anger was not mirrored in his expression, but a form of determination took over his face as he spoke. “You weren’t. You weren’t.” 

“What?” you asked dumbly, yet uncaring of sounding it.

Sirius stepped towards you, gingerly taking your hands into his own. His touch burned, the new awkwardness of the gesture burned. “You weren’t given a death sentence. I wasn’t and you weren’t. I bloody swear to you, Y/N, you will make it through these games.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from his touch, but you managed to at least not lean into it. There was a dangerous gloss coated over his grey eyes when you met them with your own, and for a second you got lost in them. Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?”

Sirius let out a humourless laugh and suddenly brought you back into a hug, as if he just couldn’t help himself. Your hands were trapped between you in an embrace with one of his, but he rested his forehead against your temple and seemingly breathed you in.

“I am so, so sorry you have to ask that, princess. I’m so sorry, but I had to go.”

You shivered in his hold. These were words that you dreamed of – but had they not been nightmares? You shook your head but made no other move to remove yourself.

"It's been five years, you know? I'm not sure we even know each other at this point."

Sirius' answer was immediate. "I know you." He pressed his forehead firmer against you. "I know you."

The emotion in his voice rendered you speechless.

He pulled backwards without releasing you from the embrace, leaning away just enough to catch your gaze with his. It felt like the floor was giving way beneath you. His hand on your back travelled up to your cheek. “I'm sorry for it all. Always. And I’m sorry for calling you princess when you just asked me not to,” he added with a hint of the sheepish smile you once loved.

You opened and closed your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded, and he just stared at you patiently. Warmly. Desperately. 

“Sirius–”

You were cut off by the door swinging open once more, causing Sirius to physically spring away from you, suddenly putting multiple metres between you at the sign of new guests. You almost stumbled at the change in positions, and you saw his hand twitch when he cast a glance your way, as if it ached to steady you.

“Now that the lovers have had their private greeting, maybe it’s time to include the other tribute in your strategies, Siri? Or are we just going to let itty bitty Peter die at the cornucopia?”

Bellatrix’s high pitched voice pierced through your ears, and you felt a mountain of guilt fall on top of you when your eyes fell on Peter cowering behind her, his eyes flitting wildly between you and Sirius. In your whirlwind of emotion, you had almost forgotten that he was as doomed as you were.

One glance to your right showed you that Sirius had no idea Peter had been reaped too. His brows furrowed and his lips fell into a decidedly downturned frown. “What– no, Pete,” he breathed out, arms falling to his sides.

“Hi, Sirius,” Peter squeaked, seemingly uncertain about what their dynamic was now, but relieved at at least being acknowledged.

Sirius stepped forward and physically nudged Bellatrix to the side as he pulled Peter in for his own hug. The sight stung in a way you couldn't communicate.

Over Sirius’ back, Bellatrix was grinning at you wickedly.

“Seems like you three have a conundrum or two to work through for us, don’t you?” Barty said cheerily as he emerged from behind Peter, clapping his hands down on his shoulders and making the younger boy jump in fear.

Bellatrix laughed as if that was just the funniest joke, and all but skipped up to you to tug at your cheek while turning to look at Sirius’ face that became increasingly stony at the sight of Bellatrix’s hands on you.

“Don’t you, Siri?” she pushed, giggling in a nearly maniacal manner. “Luckily, the Capitol is still far off. Gives you just loads of time to catch up, yeah?”

[paintedkinzy-88]

I really hate to be this person, but my cat has to get surgery and the cost is really going to wipe us out, unfortunately, so…

I’ve been working on making a RedBubble for prints and such, and I’ll probably get stickers set up on Etsy as soon as I’m able to, but for now I set up a Ko-Fi for a sort of commission-like opportunity.

Until January 16th, I will draw a dragon design for a character of your choice for $25! Not like a full reference sheet, I wanna have the time to get to as many as I can if I need to, but still fully rendered like above. Dragons are the one thing I think I can draw consistently and repeatedly, so I’m sorry it’s nothing more broad! 😭

Rules are under the cut, PLEASE READ THEM before you do anything! ❤️ I am very new with this, so please be patient with me.

Link to my page is here, and I’ll put it on my Masterpost as well.

Thank you, whether you can donate or not. I appreciate all the support you guys have ever given me. (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

REQUEST RULES:

You can place your orders under the Requests section!

The listing will close after January 16th, 11:59 PM PST, and I set my max request slots to 15, so I’m not too overwhelmed lmao.

Leave your Tumblr account in the description box of the request, alongside the requested character, so I may contact you and/or tag you in the completed drawing’s post! If you want to remain anonymous, though, that is totally fine as well.

I will send updates/process pictures unless you tell me otherwise, or you go the anon route!

If you have a certain dragon character already in mind, want an OC done, or have any additional requests for the piece (pose, dragon type, any sort of design specifications), tell me in the instructions! There should be a section for images as well. Or you can message me here, of course!

I WILL be posting every finished piece here, unless told otherwise!

If you do not send specifications, I will design the dragon(s) as I see fit to the character! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I cannot promise any kind of time frame for when the drawing will be complete. I do have other things that take up my time. I will try to complete them ASAP!

Should you want more than one character in the same shot, I’d say it’s an extra $10 for each additional design (in the listing). But, if you want each character on their own page, that is a separate order, $25 each.

These are for fully rendered pieces in my style, no backgrounds, and no reference sheets. If you want other options for cheaper, like just a colored sketch, message me first and we can talk about that as well. :)

Depending on how this week goes, I may choose to do this again in the future with more formality and flexibility! This is just a bit of an emergency. ;w;

Message me/send an Ask if you have any questions!!

The Ko-Fi also serves as a sort of tip jar, should you simply want to donate a $5 coffee instead. By all means, if you cannot or don’t want to donate, PLEASE don’t. I just don’t really know what else to do. :/

The above image is one of the designs I made for Ink in UTMV. Further examples of my work are below!

(Note that the drawings will be more like these first two examples!! For price reference, the two characters would have been $35, and the five $65)

[annafayeink]

Canvas of Lies

summary: Cate’s life is a careful balance of paint-splattered sweaters, rejection emails, and dreams too big to fit in her tiny apartment. Lu’s life is all charm, designer sneakers, and family obligations that come with impossible expectations. They’re best friends, polar opposites—and suddenly fake dating to help Lu survive a high-stakes family dinner. What starts as an improvised act becomes a whirlwind of tangled stories, unspoken truths, and moments that blur the line between pretend and reality. In the chaos of lies they craft together, Cate and Lu might just uncover the truths they’ve been avoiding all along.

warnings & tags: best friends to lovers; fake dating; mutual pining; slow burn; emotional hurt/comfort; fluff, angst & humor; eventual romance & smut;

Chapter Two

Lu leaned against the counter, absently playing with a baguette like a philosopher pondering the mysteries of life. “You know, the key to a convincing lie is to anchor it in truth.”

“Is that so?” I lifted an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms.

“Absolutely,” he replied, unflinching, dipping into the professorial voice he reserved for when he was lecturing someone. “It's basic psychology. People are more likely to believe a lie if it's anchored in something real. That's why we should stick to things we know—places we visit often, mutual friends, things we've both experienced in some way. It makes the story feel lived-in. Plausible.”

“I'll take your word for it, Professor Mangione.” I bit back a grin. “You seem disturbingly good at lying. Should I be worried?”

“I've read my fair share of books on human behaviour.” Lu smirked, picking up the baguette before resuming his pacing like a man on a mission.

“Remind me never to play poker with you.”

He chuckled. “Truth is, lying is not much different from storytelling. The same principles apply. Every great story needs a consistent internal logic. If we’re going to make this convincing, we need to think like writers.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t deny that his point made sense. “Fine, O Wise One. How do we make our fake relationship Pulitzer-worthy?”

“Glad you asked.” Suddenly animated, he gestured wildly with the baguette as he spoke. “People believe what feels authentic. If our story has details that are too perfect or too rehearsed, it'll fall apart. People will start picking at them—”

“Like a loose thread on a sweater, yeah.”

“But if it's imperfect, unpredictable, and grounded in who we are… then it works.”

“I can do imperfect,” I say. “My life is one big ball of entropy.”

“Exactly,” Lu grinned like I'd just proven his point. “If we lean into that, sprinkle in a few real moments—your terrible dancing, my savior complex—we’ll be untouchable.”

“Terrible dancing?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“You're right,” he replied with mock seriousness. “That was unfair. ‘’Terrible’ doesn't quite capture it.”

I threw a balled-up napkin at him, laughing despite myself.

“We will need to set some rules,” he declared, jabbing the bread in my direction for emphasis. “Without rules, things get messy.”

“Messy? Like crumbs on my floor?” I flicked a stray flake from the croissant he’d brought over earlier, trying to keep a straight face.

Lu shot me a sharp look and placed the baguette on the counter again. “I’m serious. If we're not convincing enough, my mother will sniff out the truth faster than you can say ‘respectable’.”

I couldn't imagine what his mother would do if she found out we were faking it. I'm guessing it would probably involve shame, a string of painfully awkward family dinners for him and absolute social suicide for me.

“And what happens if she does?” I asked, arching a brow. “What’s the worst-case scenario here, Lu? You get disowned and have to slum it with the rest of us peasants?”

His smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, but long enough for me to notice the way his shoulders stiffened. A tiny pang of guilt pierced my heart. I’d only meant to tease, but something about his expression made me wonder if there was more truth to my words than I realized. The smirk that followed was smooth, almost too smooth, like a patch slapped over something cracked.

“Actually, worst-case scenario, she tries to set me up with someone like…” He grimaced comically. “Anastasia Ricci.”

That made me wince instinctively. Everyone knew about Anastasia Ricci. From what I’d heard, she collected red flags like they were limited-edition handbags. “Fair point. Let’s avoid that.”

“So,” he clapped his hands, the motion as confident as if he were running a boardroom meeting instead of scheming in my tiny apartment. “Shall we build our magnum opus of fake love?”

I snorted, grabbing a notebook from my desk. I couldn't decide if his ability to spin convincing lies so effortlessly was impressive or just a little unnerving. I decided I wasn't ready to find out, so I leaned into humor instead. “If this ends up being more work than my actual relationships, I’m charging you for my time.”

While I wrote Fake-relationship Commandments in all captions at the top of the page, Lu plopped down on the couch next to me.

When he took a peak at the notebook, he laughed that easy, confident laugh of his. “Okay.” Rule number one: no going off-script.”

First commandment: thou shalt not improvise, I wrote.

“If the details don't align, people start asking questions,” he continued. “Questions lead to scrutiny. Scrutiny leads to exposure. We have to commit to it completely, because it is confidence that sells the story. Act like you belong in the lie, and most people won't even think to question it.”

“The more real it feels to us, the harder it is for anyone else to see through,” I agreed. “So, what's the timeline here?”

He thought for a moment. “If anyone asks, we’ve been dating for six months.”

“Six months?” I frowned. “Why not three? It’s more believable.”

“I think three is too short. Six gives us enough time to seem serious but not so long that people wonder why they haven’t met you before.”

I sighed, conceding with a small shrug. “Fine. Six months. How did we meet?”

He grinned with a familiar mischievous glint in his eye. “Obviously, I saw you painting one of your masterpieces in the park and was so captivated I tripped over a bench trying to talk to you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. If anyone was tripping, it’d be me. Over my own feet.”

“Okay, fine.” He laughed again, the sound warm and unguarded. “How about we met through a mutual friend? Chelsea, maybe? She’s always dragging people to those weird wine-and-paint nights.”

“That works,” I said, nodding and scribbling.

“We also need specific touchpoints—milestones,” Lu said, his tone growing more thoughtful. “A first date, for example. Something cute and memorable we can refer to in conversation. Something that sounds like… us.”

I tapped my pen against the notebook, thinking. “Obviously, I dragged you with me to my favorite art gallery.”

“Yeah,” he said immediately, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “The one on Main.”

I froze, my pen hovering just above the page. “You… you remember that?” I asked, looking up at him, thinking about the dozens of galleries I hauled him through over the years and wondering how on Earth he remembered which one I preferred.

His gaze was steady, the kind of look that felt like it could see right through me. “I actually listen when you talk, Cate.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact yet filled with a quiet sincerity—caught me off guard. Warmth spread through my chest, rising to my cheeks as if the room had suddenly been plunged into a furnace. My throat felt tight, and I forced my focus back to the notebook, pretending to be absorbed in jotting down the details.

“Okay,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended, betraying the flutter in my chest. “What’s the next rule?”

Lu leaned back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms as he considered. “Rule number two: no overcomplicating things. The simpler the story, the easier it is to stick to. If we try to make it too elaborate, we’ll trip ourselves up.”

I raised an eyebrow, still jotting notes. Second commandment: keep it stupid simple. “That’s ironic coming from you. Your entire life is one big overcomplication.”

“Fair,” he admitted with a smirk. “But this is different. We’re not building a soap opera here, we’re creating a believable romance. Keep it straightforward—dates, conversations, little quirks about each other. No crazy exes, no dramatic love triangles.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “What about PDA?”

He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Hmm. Let’s keep it natural. Enough to sell the story, but nothing over the top. We’re supposed to look comfortable, not like we’re trying out for a rom-com.”

“So no making out in front of your mom,” I deadpanned.

Lu barked a laugh, the sound sharp and carefree, but then something shifted. “Definitely no making out in front of my mom. But…” His voice dipped just slightly, quieter now, and his gaze flicked to my lips, lingering there for a breath longer than necessary. When his eyes met mine again, the teasing glint was gone. “There has to be chemistry. That’s non-negotiable.”

I froze, caught in the weight of his words—and the weight of his gaze. For a second, I couldn’t tell if he was still talking about the plan or if we’d wandered into something else entirely.

“Obviously,” I managed, my throat dry. I forced a small laugh that didn’t quite land. “If we don’t look convincing, we might as well call the whole thing off now.”

The air between us shifted, thickening like a storm cloud waiting to break. My pen hovered over the notebook, but I couldn’t make myself look away. Did he feel it too? Or was I just making things weird, overthinking the logistics of playing pretend? Maybe it was just the idea of kissing my best friend that had me spiraling.

“Holding hands? Sure,” he said finally, breaking the spell as he leaned back against the couch, his tone lighter now. “An arm around your shoulders? No problem. But…” He shrugged, an easy smile creeping back onto his face. “Anything beyond that, and we’re venturing into uncomfortable territory—for both of us.”

My chest tightened at his words, an ache I couldn’t quite name settling in. “Yeah,” I said lightly, nodding as I wrote it down. “We don’t want that.”

Third commandment: Minimal touchy-feely.

When I glanced up again, he was grinning at me, his usual charm back in full force, the moment slipping away like sand through my fingers. I let it go, choosing to believe the slight tremble in my hand was from the coffee I hadn’t had that morning.

“Any other rules?”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression more serious now. “We need to keep this between us. No one else can know it’s fake—not Chelsea, not your nosy neighbour, not even the barista at that coffee shop you love. The fewer people who know, the lower the risk of it getting back to my family.”

“Agreed,” I said, writing it down. Fourth commandment: Loose lips sink fake ships.

He leaned forward again and reached out to touch my shoulder. “Just… trust me, okay? If things get weird or someone starts digging too deep, I’ll handle it. You just have to trust that I’ve got your back.”

The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. He made it all sound so simple, but I couldn't shake the feeling that pretending to be his girlfriend might be the most dangerous thing I'd ever agreed to. I hesitated, but eventually nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Alright! What’s missing? Oh—how about our favorite shared memory? You know someone’s going to ask about that.”

I snorted. “I don’t know, Lu. Do you have a favorite memory of me?”

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve got one. Remember that time we went to the beach and a seagull stole my sandwich? You nearly died laughing.”

I burst out laughing at the memory. The smell of salt and sunscreen was still as sharp as if it had been yesterday; Lu glaring at the seagull with the sandwich dangling from its beak and me laughing so hard I could barely breathe. “That’s actually perfect. Let’s go with that.”

He grinned. “See? We’re naturals at this.”

“Don’t get cocky,” I warned, though I couldn’t help smiling as I wrote it down. “Okay, last thing: our couple’s song. Suggestions?”

He groaned. “Ugh. Can’t we skip that? It feels so fake.”

“Everything about this is fake, genius. Just pick something.”

We spent the next fifteen minutes arguing over options, vetoing anything too obvious or cliché. Finally, we settled on a random indie song he’d shown me once and neither of us could stop humming for the next seven to ten business days.

“Alright,” I said, closing the notebook with a flourish. “Fake-relationship Commandments complete. Is there anything else you need to cover?”

Lu leaned back, a satisfied grin on his face. “Nope. We’re ready to moonlight as con artists.”

He made it all sound so easy, like slipping into a role was second nature to him. But something about the way he looked at me—so steady, so sure—made me feel like maybe I could pull it off without actually tripping over my own feet.

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth of his smile was contagious. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t end in disaster.”

“It won’t,” he said confidently. “Trust me, Cate. We’ve got this.”

___

For the tag list, click here ✨

@mrsmangione286 | @nosebeers

[galactic-knightmare]

Do you have any tips on how to draw Caine? I’m trying and failing to do it consistently qwq

I'm sure you'll get it eventually! I'm not the best at explaining things but I can at least tell you what helps me with drawing him? (I suck at giving tips m sorry ^^;;) With Caine I feel like the pose is pretty important- he's a showman, even if he's feeling like shit, so it helps with him to have him in more showy, 'classy' poses, kinda like this.

the fun thing with Caine though is that he's a bit of a chaos gremlin too, so you can get away with throwing him in absolutely ridiculous poses too (for example, the stupid sauce ask pics lmao) and he'll still generally have that feel. with him I like to do a mix of Dramatic, Classy poses and absolute random wriggly gremlin energy poses lmao (He's not generally on the ground like this unless I like a pose and just force him out of the air lmao) The main thing I'd suggest is planning out the teeth. it probably helps to know how many teeth a human has/have a picture of it, although personally I don't do that- I kinda just wing it.

I'll usually just line out the teeth like this, even though I don't generally draw them individually anymore, that way I don't end up making them look weird. not to mention it helps me figure out where I need to put his fangs. admittedly you don't need to pay all that much attention to the teeth, I just prefer to be careful- if I'm not paying attention, I run the risk of giving him too much teeth like my first few pictures of him, and uhh...

I don't think anyone wants this LMAO Anyway that's all I can really think of, so hopefully that helps? Generally with Caine's design he's very top-heavy, so big head, big chest, thin everything else ig lmao.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[shapelytimber]

I finaly did it, I stopped running from my responsabilities and made a ref sheet for my Maul's tattoo designs

If you're an independent artist and want to use these, as is or as inspiration for your art : go ahead ! Maul is for the people <3 (credit is always appreciated ofc)

[kheprriverse]

Upcoming Ballad changes 👀?

[tyranitarkisser]

Hi

[ardenrosegarden]

slowly making my way through more

part 1

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Was soooooo happy with this phase 1 which is what made it so much funnier that I was immediately clapped by his phase 2 😂

[feral-aether]

Debated for a long while making physical feather refs for my own wings and how they look, but the thing is that they aren't always the same. They tend to shift day to day depending on a variety of things, not last of which are my interests at that time lol. A usual trigger for change is also music 'cause it's just so deeply part of me so it makes sense; as well as some emotions lol

Anyways, here's a list I drew up with the most common bases at the top and some others that have stronger visualizations towards the bottom lol

Fully aware I maybe should have shifted the Eagle and Owl as Hawks and Owls tend to be my default birds, but it's already been written in pen lol

Also, that bit in quotations is often how the visualizations come through in my head. That one in particular is for my Matron and Patron deities, of which I'm gonna do a pair for 'cause that feels better than doing just one. Plus then, I can add little elements from both into the other, largely with colours and little design bits but yeah lol. I have already drawn up bases for the first several here

And props to anyone who can guess the Matron and Patron deity from the colours and description alone lol

[kerosene-spill]

Haven’t had much motivation to draw recently but I make this doodle :>

Kinda just brainstorming a design for human Pharma

Also some silly headcannons I though of 💀

[sludgekludge]

this is literally just a nitpick but i just realised bephelgors meant to have horns lol. not only did they completely forget them in her merch but when looking into her grand total of...15 seconds worth of screentime, they're totally absent for half her shots, and the only ones in which they're present, they either appear/disappear halfway through the animation lmfao

the pitfalls of having so many so many fiddly parts with your designs i suppose

[milkweedman]

Bought a pair of pants at goodwill earlier but all the ones I've been to have had their changing rooms closed the whole pandemic so couldn't try them on... did pull out my measuring tape that's on my keys and they were pretty much my size, but I have discovered that while they would fit well if they had a normal waistband, they actually have a stretchy waistband (like, strip of elastic sewn the whole way around) and thus are so big that they're falling off me, because their own weight kind of pulls them down so that the cuffs drag on the ground. Unclear if they're intended to be high waisted and just too big or for someone bigger in all dimensions than I am, but not the point.

I've been trying to figure out how to fix this, bc they're very comfy. I kinda wish I could just take out the elastic and do a drawstring but there's 2 buttons and a zipper that would definitely complicate things. Could also wear a belt, if I had one and if they weren't the worst sensory experience since not wearing socks.

[arolesbianism]

Ok yeah I’m a little obsessed with them

[keeps-ache]

today! on the agenda we have [tears paper away to reveal the single word 'do'] ...