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#is dead and not even what appears to remain of him is really left and she disappears from the movie

maissafespace · 6 months

Text

Always There.

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: what hasn’t he gone through, would be a good question. all that was bound to break him more than anything, people left, people died, but somehow he could still feel warmth in his heart. it was all because of you, you were always there and he was grateful for it.

warnings: fluff. close friends, intimacy, may/may not have slept together, suggestive, gojo being a flirt to not show feelings, reader is a year younger, canonverse after volume 0. light angst. gojo’s trauma, gojo bottling up, crying.

a/n: don’t really know where i was going with this, i don’t know if there will be a part two or something but i wanted some fluff with gojo, hope you like it! reblog and comment! t!p if you can XD.

Masterlist • Masterpost.

walking through the gardens surrounded by utmost silence would’ve been routine for you, relax without anyone annoying you, but, today of all days, your heart was heavy in your chest as you walked toward Satoru’s residence.

you had only come back to Tokyo today in the early morning and had been notified by Yaga of the events that occurred this last week.

noticeably, Suguru’s return.

you had remained shook at the everything that happened, Suguru’s new plans or former plans for the Jujutsu world. so much, that you could not go to Satoru right away, you had to clear your own mind before ever going to comfort him at all.

you greeted the workers with a small smile, making your way through the hallways and stairs till you were in front of his door and made your way in.

the whole room was dark even though it was late afternoon, a few rays of light got through, brightening the little it could, enough for you to see the silhouette of his body on the bed, lying with an arm over his face, his bare chest going up and down with his breathing and legs crouched with a pair of sweatpants on.

you sighed, taking the dark blue uniform off you and throwing it on the couch on the other side of the room, leaving you in your panties and a t-shirt.

“satoruuu…” you called him softly and calmly, climbing on the other side of the bed, sitting on your knees beside him. your hand poking his side waiting for a reaction. “satoru.” but nothing.

a bit annoyed you made the move. with another sigh, your hands sat on his chest, throwing your leg on the other side of his waist. you saw immediately that stupid grin on his face with his free hand going on your thigh in a millisecond.

“this is a good feeling.” he said with a chuckle. “heard you got back today from some lost place in South Africa, i’m offended you didn’t come to greet me first thing, babe.”

“right, can we go right to the point, honey.” you got his arm off his face but his eyes were still closed. “maybe you could look at me to start off.”

he breathed deeply, the amusement falling off for a second into numbness, he opened them, looking to the side for a moment before looking at you. you smiled sadly at the single glance to his beautiful light blue eyes. a pair that held so much behind them, feelings that he didn’t show easily.

“do you want to talk?” you asked him softly, your thumb brushing the side of his cheek, along his jawline.

“there’s something more productive i’d like to do. you, for example.” his fingers were playing with the elastic band of your panties.

“and they say romance is dead.” his light laugh and snort made a faint smile on your face appear. “if that were true, i’d feel you poking into me then i’d reject you as i’ve done before. but that’s not the case.”

“i mean, it doesn’t really take a lot…” his finger was going to the front of your panties, bringing them down till your own hand brought him out of them, back onto your waist. “we both need it, y/n, a nice distraction and consolation.” he sighed.

“i’ll consider it if we talk first. come on, we have done this before, satoru.” you were trying to be patient, keyword is trying, but that’s all, you have been through this countless times already, you knew the flirting and cute words were just to distract you from the purpose, though he knew you were not a flatterer.

“have i told you how pretty you look today?” he said with his hand lightly stroking your chin. you smiled, kissing the tip of his fingers.

“i love to hear such things from a handsome man.” you leaned down on him, chest to chest, your forearms keeping you up enough to still face him. “but we still need to talk. now you’re trapped, so start talking before we stay for days on this bed.”

“what about your trip? tell me about it? was the special grade curse as bad as people were making it out to be?” you sighed. you cupped his cheeks fully, inches away from his face. looking directly into his eyes, your heart beating fast at the way you would break the ice so abruptly.

“‘toru, tell me what happened with Suguru.” you asked.

you felt the way his chest stopped their movement for a second, you saw how his breath hitched and his eyes widened quickly. yet, no response came, you were just looking at him continuously, to the point where you didn’t realize how your positions changed.

he was on top of you, your legs wrapped around him as he breathed heavily. “satoru… i’m here. i’ve always been here.” you reminded him, trying to give him some faith and trust in yourself.

he collapsed gently, his head on your chest, his big figure sprawled on top of you and between your legs.

your hand brushing through his hair gently, rubbing his scalp and nape like a feather as he took his time.

“he’s gone.”

you hummed at his choked tone of voice. his shoulders were slightly trembling, then the sniffling started and then you felt your t-shirt dampening of his tears.

you just held him as he cried.

nobody was unaware of the relationship they had when they were young and in school, they had a friendship like no others, they were friends, brothers, family, maybe soulmates. you had just come in accidentally, being a year younger gave you all the time to admire your superiors, just one day you had found him wondering around alone, sighing.

sighing was a bad indicator for anything. you approached him and till now you had become something similar to a diary or a therapist, perhaps.

he told you the place each person had in his life, suguru was something like the sun in the hell of a childhood he lived, he was an anchor of life for him. when he left, it was visible how his life seemed to have been sucked out of him, you hated to see him like that. he slowly recovered from it but it was never the same, the walls were built.

it was worse the first months, he wouldn’t talk about it, he wouldn’t utter a word, he put on an act, then he’d get annoyed, then he’d try to run and make you leave, yell even, till you pressed and finally he opened up. he cried then too, he let his vulnerable side out in the world with you and you cried with him the first time. but now it was different.

you were in no way trying to involve yourself, or understand what he was going through, even though you did, since you had lost Yu after all, but right then it wasn’t your job to play who had it worse or make it about you, it was a moment of “let it out, before it consumes you.”

his body was calming down after some time.

his arms were even tighter around your torso, his body growing in heat, letting you reach around you to drop a blanket over the both of you before he got sick.

he cleared his throat, his voice still hoarse but he started to tell you in detail everything that had happened while you were away. you hummed here and there, asking a few questions as well, still rubbing your hands on his back and shoulders, seemingly comforting him.

“so up till now, you have not eaten a single thing.” you asked. “that’s not good, satoru, come on, we got to get out of bed.” you patted him, he whined in response.

“i disagree with that notion. we can cuddle and snuggle, maybe have some great sex-“

“see, no.” you tried to pull him off you but he didn’t let go. “i have a date tonight, but i need you up on your feet before i go, because if we wait you’ll be rotting tomorrow. wait!” in a moment and costing your neck, you were up, straddling his lap. as he looked up with a frown.

“what do you mean date? we have never agreed to this.” he really looked incredulous.

“you didn’t. i did. life is continuing outside the Jujustu world, my dear friend.” you slapped his cheek softly. “get up, you are having dinner right now.” you got out of his arms and out of bed, reaching for the couch as you put your pants back on. you turned on the lights and looked at him, his hand was ruffling his own hair while he still sat on the edge of the bed.

“satoru?” you called him. you walked back to him, taking his hands from his knees and have him stand up. “let’s go.”

you guided him slowly, he just complied, he followed after you, looking down at the your intertwined hands.

he looked at you as you talked friendly to the maid, asking her to please cook a little something in big portions to feed him for the days he had not eaten, and once everything was prepared he wanted to laugh at all the food laid out in front of him but you sat there with your arms crossed, looking at him intensely.

he just complied. starting to eat as you watched with a small smile, sometimes it fell into sadness to then turn into fondness.

it was dark outside by the time he was done. he laid back on his back with his legs still under the table, breathing heavily waiting for his stomach to do its job. “that was too much.” he muttered.

“now, you’ll think twice about starving yourself. i’m turning into a granny by worrying for you.” you said getting up, ready to get out of here and into the world.

“i’ll need you even if you’d turn into a granny. you’d be a hot granny.” you chuckled, reaching his side, receiving the invite of his hand reaching for you. you sat down with him one last time. looking directly into each other, his lips formed a weak smile, guiding his hand with yours in it to his lips and kissing it lightly.

he wanted to grin at the slight blush on your cheeks, but he refrained from doing that. “thank you.” you smiled genuinely at his words. “thank you for always being there for me. i haven’t been the best for you, but you’re always here. so, thank you.”

the smile on your face widened, your eyes almost completely invisible by it. “love to hear it.”

there was a moment of silence before the maids started to come in and the shiny atmosphere was disrupted. “i have to go now. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“all right, see you later, y/n.”

he sat up, watching you walk away and out of his residence with a big smile while he sighed and stood to walk back to his room.

he stood under the hot water, thinking. and thinking. and thinking more.

shit ending i know, but i didn’t have the inspiration for the conclusion. not my best work.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst

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sukunastoy · 5 months

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There’s really no plot to this, just writing as I randomly thought about a scenario. I have such a soft spot for Heian Era Sukuna that takes a wife without the intention of love but slowly grows fond of them.

Cw/Tw: No smut/not suggestive. Gender neutral reader. Forced marriage. Very brief death of no one important.

WC: 1.6k+

Thinking of Heian Era Sukuna, and you being forced to marry him. It's a cruel act to your parents who had pissed him off by hunting and harvesting berries on his land. In their defense, they weren't aware that Sukunas personal territory spread so far, but it made no difference in the end. As you were preparing breakfast for your parents the next morning, the king showed up in your village.

You weren't even able to finish cooking, you were to go with him, immediately. Your parents had begged and apologized, but the King took what he wanted, when he wanted it.

You followed dutifully, knowing resisting would only get you killed, and possibly your parents as well. Sukuna planned to only keep you for a few weeks, just to let your parents wallow in misery. You were confined to a room with nothing more than a place to sleep, and a small desk with a candle.

The weeks passed slowly, and you rarely saw the King. His right had servant, Uraume, would bring yon food and water daily, and a small bucket of warm water and a cloth to clean yourself. Otherwise, you were alone.

It was sad, and frightening, as you weren't sure of his intentions. But, despite having a window in your room, you never thought about running away. Unfortunately, someone tried to "rescue" you. They snuck into your window one night, thinking they would be able to get you out of there. When you refused to go, and begged they leave, it was still all too late. Sukuna was well aware someone was lurking near his home, and he entered your room quickly, catching your failed rescuer.

Sukuna dragged you and the now dead body of your would be savior back to your village.

He threw their mangled body at the feet of your parents, and declared in the moment you would be married to him and remain with him forever. Since they wanted to play stupid games, they'd receive stupid prizes. You'd be included into his collection of wives and concubines, cutting you off from your parents.

Your parents wailed and pleaded for his mercy, but you knew there was no way out of this. The king claimed you as his wife in-front of your village, and the two of you drank sake from the same cup, sealing this abrupt arrangement.

You left with him once more, only this time as one of his declared wives.

Back to the room you went. Though, you were told you may come out if you wanted to. But not to leave the property. You passed time by working on your calligraphy and poems, and even learning to properly sew. Sukuna never made appearances to you, and though you were grateful that he wasn't going to abuse you in some way, it was, rather unfortunately, very lonely.

You asked Uraume one day about his other wives, if they lived here too. To your surprise, they didn't. In fact, most of them had been killed off or sent away to slavery villages. Sukuna merely punished those who wronged him by taking away their offspring in one way or another. He'd claim them as one of his brides just to degrade the family name, and to cease their bloodline.

So you waited, waited for when the King would eventually dispose of you. What more could you do?

However, while you took a small walk through his expansive home one afternoon, you crossed paths with him.

You immediately went to the floor in a submissive bow, asking your husband forgiveness if you've gotten in his way or disturbed him. He told you to rise from the ground, and to just carry on as you were. Before he could get far, you called out for him in a cracked voice, asking if you could accompany him for at least a little while. Even if he only let you near him for a few minutes, you'd be okay with that.

He stopped while looking back to you, a curious expression on his face.

When he gestured with his chin for you to come along, you happily did so, hurrying to his side. The two of you walked along in silence, but some form of relief washed over you. Sitting alone in that room or just roaming the home without any interaction was causing immense stress in your heart. In the village, you had multiple interactions daily, and now, you rarely saw anyone else. Apart form Uraume, or some maids, who weren't allowed to really talk to you anyway.

Passing near your room, you stopped and bowed to your husband, expressing your gratitude for being at his side even if it was only a moment.

The next day, you found yourself encountering him in the hall again, and same as before, you were allowed to be in his presence.

This continued for a couple of weeks, before Sukuna met you at your room for the first time. It made you nervous, for some reason. But you stepped aside of course and he came into your room, looking around with a small glimpse of interest.

"Your calligraphy is very elegant and refined." He commented, looking down to your small spread of papers along the desk. You bowed immediately at his praise, thanking him. His voice and tone seemed so much different now, compared to when he took you from your home. It was calm and gentle.

One of the nights, a particularly bad storm tore you out of your sleep. You went out into the hall with a small candle, in search of someone to not be alone.

As you passed the doorway to the garden and balcony, you spotted someone outside.

It was your king. He was seated beneath the covered area, just relaxing and watching the rolling and flashing sky. Before you could even say anything, Sukuna patted the wooded planks next to him, briefly looking back to you.

You ducked your head in a quick bow and went to his side, kneeling down in the presence of your King.

He leaned back while putting his kiseru to his lips, inhaling slowly. With every clash of thunder, your body trembled and you subconsciously moved closer to Sukuna.

"The storm bothers you?"

"Yes, I've never enjoyed them." You spoke honestly, wincing at another bright flash of lightening.

One of Sukunas hands came to your side, pulling you more against him so you didn't have to worry if you were allowed to or not. You glanced up to him in shock, but he paid no attention to it. With a grateful smile, you rested your head against him, feeling more at ease that you weren't alone during the storm. The covering over the balcony went out far enough to keep the rain off of both of you, so you could sit comfortably.

These small interactions went on for a while, and each time it stormed, you found your king out on the balcony. He had even began bringing a small cushion for you to sit upon while next to him, anticipating your arrivals. It became something you looked forward to. Storms couldn't happen quick enough.

You never doubted his ability to be a monster however, just because he was being gentle to you in these moments. It was very clear he enjoyed doing horrendous things to those that irritated him. But you felt like you could relax a little, knowing you weren't someone getting on his nerves.

When the cold months arrived, your king still sat outside to relax on occasion, and you found yourself staying inside more, unable to handle the chilly temperatures. In the middle of the nights, you'd stay in the kitchen for a while, soaking up the warmth from the irori so you could get to sleep. But it was difficult...

With your village, a few families would bundle together in a larger home, and everyone would sleep next to each other for body heat. The kitchen irori would keep you warm, but once you had to go back to your room, the cold quickly found its way into your bones again.

Passing back to your room from the kitchen, your King was stepping in from the outside. You immediately bowed down in his presence, though visibly shaking from the cold.

A soft chuckle made you lift your head, and you saw him gesture with his hand to follow. He took you into his personal chambers, and you felt out of place for being in here, as only Uraume was allowed in to clean.

He had his own irori in the middle of his room, and it made it so warm and cozy inside.

You sighed out quietly as your body adjusted, feeling at ease from the warmth.

Sukuna leaned down to his bed, moving the blankets aside before motioning you over without words. For once, you had a moment of hesitation, worried what he was wanting. The two of you rarely spoke, and apart from him letting you be against him outside during a storm, you never touched. You swallowed your fears, and went to him as he expected.

He laid down on the cushions and pillows, seeming to save a spot next to him for you. You crawled into the space besides him, shuddering even more when you felt the heat from his body mix with your colder one.

One of his arms came around you, and pulled you closer, making you gulp.

"Relax." He said finally, pulling the blankets over both of your bodies.

"I'm just...I'm not sure what to do."

"You don't have to do anything. Just sleep." He reassured, caressing your back gently while closing his eyes.

You looked at him fondly, a small smile taking over your lips as you cuddled closer to him. His scent was so amazing, almost intoxicating actually. You nuzzled into his warm chest, so honored that the King was allowing such a thing. It certainly didn’t take you long to fall asleep after that, feeling safe and warm against the monster that was your husband.

#sukuna jjk #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna fluff #heian era

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queenshelby · 1 month

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The Babysitter (Part Two)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Just Smut, Reader is 18! No Plot!

The following week, you again had a call from Cillian's wife Danielle, asking you to babysit their children again for the evening. It was a routine encounter that was about to change.

"Hey, Y/N. Could you babysit the kids tonight?" Danielle asked in her usual cheerful tone and, before you could respond, she nonchalantly added "Cillian and I were hoping to go out for dinner and some drinks this evening, so I thought it would be nice if you stayed late, say until nine? And, as always, you can help yourself to anything in the fridge."

You hesitantly agreed, with a slight trembling in your voice. “Sure, Mrs. Murphy. I can do that," you told her, the words barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest as you wondered what it would be like to see Cillian again after he had slept with you and paid you for sex.

"Amazing!" Danielle said, sounding cheerful as ever. "See you this evening, Y/N. Thank you."

You hung up the phone and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you braced yourself for the evening lying ahead.

As the school day came to a close, you made your way to Cillian’s and Danielle’s picturesque residence, nestled in the heart of the city's most upscale neighbourhood. As you stepped through the door, you were greeted by Cillian who gave you a knowing look.

Your nervous demeanour was a dead giveaway. "You are back," he said with a voice so velvety, it could have tamed a thousand restless souls just as Danielle came walking down the stairs.

"Thanks Y/N," she said. "I know it's short notice, but I'm so glad that you were available. You are such a lifesaver and, when we come back tonight, Cillian will drive you back home to your house, alright?" Danielle said but Cillian had a better idea.

"Or I could get the guestroom ready for Y/N and she could spend the night. I will drive her to school in the morning," Cillian suggested nonchalantly, letting the proposal hang in the air for a moment, a deliberate move on his part that caught you off guard and made your pulse race.

"That's a great idea!" Danielle added cheerily. "What do you think Y/N?" she asked you, causing you to blush heavily.

"I-I think that would be all right," you stuttered, trying to conceal the whirlpool of nerves, excitement, and trepidation welling up inside you.

Danielle beamed with delight, oblivious to the fact what her husband had planned for you when he came back from his date with his wife.

***

As the evening wore on, Danielle and Cillian left for their date, and you were left to your own devices. At 18, this wasn’t a big deal really, but you had an idea of what lay ahead.

You busied yourself with light housekeeping duties and doting on the children, and after you had put them to bed, you went to the guestroom where you found an envelope laying on the bed. It contained a note with a single line that sent a sudden chill down your spine.

"For our arrangement,” was what was written on it and, in the envelope there were two $100 notes, folded neatly.

Seeing the money was a stark reminder of your illicit agreement, namely the payment for services yet to be rendered.

You couldn't deny the knot in your stomach that suddenly appeared - whether it was from excitement or fear, you didn't quite know.

When Cillian and his wife returned home around 10 o’clock, you could hear the front door open. You remained in the guestroom, knowing all too well why he had offered it to you in the first place and, just as expected, around midnight, Cillian sneaked into your room.

The creaking of the door sent a rush of adrenaline down your spine and the thudding of your heart intensified.

"Hey," Cillian whispered as he closed the door behind him but you couldn't speak, your voice had vanished.

In the dim ambiance of the room, he approached the bed where you lay and ran his fingers through your hair.

"We need to be quiet, okay?" Cillian whispered, his velvety voice a mere whisper in the darkness.

You nodded your head mutely, too surprised to even form words as you tried to steady your breathing.

"Good girl," Cillian praised as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before removing the blanket from your body.

"Take off your panties, I want you ready for me," he instructed in a low, sultry tone that left no room for argument as he stepped out of his briefs.

You nervously shimmied out of your panties and slid them down your legs, your breath hitching as Cillian climbed into bed beside you.

"Sshh, it's okay," Cillian murmured as he ran his hand along your thigh, the warmth from his touch sending goosebumps spreading across your skin.

With an expert touch, he brushed his fingers against the soft, velvety folds between your legs, teasing your entrance and making you gasp from the overwhelming sensations.

"You're so wet already," Cillian growled, lingering on the spot where you craved him most.

The feeling of his fingers tracing intricate patterns along your slick folds drove you crazy, and you couldn't help but think about how forbidden this all felt.

"And you make me so fucking hard, Y/N," Cillian admitted in a hushed voice as he shifted closer to you, positioning himself behind you rolled to the side, facing the wall.

His proud length brushed against your thigh, leaving a trail of pre-cum behind as he whispered into your ear.

"I'm going to put my cock in to your tight little pussy now, alright?" Cillian murmured into your ear. "It shouldn't hurt this time, I promise."

His reassurance was hardly a comfort as you tensed up, unsure of how your body would react to his invasion.

"Ssh," he told you as he started to press himself against you, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the pain. But to your utter surprise, you barely felt a thing.

"See?" Cillian asked, nipping at your earlobe as he slowly sank deeper.

You whimpered quietly, this intimate sensation foreign yet electrifying and, more importantly, pain-free. He shifted his hips, adjusting the angle until you couldn't help the involuntary gasp that escaped your throat when he brushed against your pleasure spot.

"Be nice and quiet for me," he reminded you while covering your mouth with the palm of his hand.

Your heart raced as he began to thrust in and out, a hot whisper fanning across your ear, "Do you know how much I've wanted this, Y/N?"

You couldn't help but feel your insides tighten around him, heightening the intensity of each thrust as he began to hit that spot inside you repeatedly. All the while he demanded your silence, and a secret thrill of rebellion rushed through you as you bit back the moans threatening to spill from your lips.

"Such a good girl, taking my cock so well," Cillian murmured into your ear while his thrusts gained steady speed.

Cillian's hand snaked around your waist and into your shirt, teasingly pinching your nipples as he continued thrusting in and out relentlessly, swallowing each moan you stifled behind his hand.

"I am going to cum so hard inside you," Cillian growled into your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. The sound alone sparked your curiosity, wondering how it would feel to have him release his seed inside you again.

His hand slid further down your body, twirling around your clit, "Cum for me, I want to feel you cum around my cock," he commanded, his thumb rolling around your swollen nub and sending a jolt of electricity spreading throughout your body.

You clenched around him, your inner walls tugging desperately against his thick girth as you came in hot, intense waves. Cillian groaned with the surge of bliss that washed over him—the guttural instinctual response when gripped tightly in the throes of an orgasmic release.

"You are going to leak my cum tomorrow at school, won't you, my sweet little Y/N?" he whispered wickedly in your ear as he spilled his warm essence into the depths of your young, pleasantly pliable body.

That thought of you displaying the very evidence of his carnal pleasure sent further shivers down his spine as the last drops of his release pulsed into you.

With a final kiss, Cillian slowly pulled out, leaving you with a sense of warmth spreading in the atoms of your being.

"Hmm, good girl," Cillian murmured, rubbing his finger over your swollen cum leaking pussy before he tucked himself back into his briefs and stood up, disappearing out of the guestroom, leaving you lingering in the lingering waves of pleasure and shame.

To be continued...

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut

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agoodroughandtumble · 2 months

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Roronoa Zoro x Reader - I Didn't Need Saving

I Didn't Need Saving - Roronoa Zoro/Reader

Status: Incomplete Summary: Reader is hurt after battling with the marines Warnings: 18+. Language, injury, implied violence (in keeping with the show)

“You’re not dead then.”

You turned your head – trying to ignore the pain currently surging through you even at the smallest of movements. A small smile found its way onto your lips at the sight of Zoro leant against the doorway, arms folded across his chest and signature frown gracing his features. He was fine. He was safe. “Apparently not.”

“Good.” Zoro crossed across the room to stand at the edge of the bed. He didn’t look like that was good. “Means I get to kill you myself.”

“Excuse me?” If this was the swordsman’s attempt at humour, you weren’t understanding the joke. The wound in your side was preventing you from sitting up so you had to make do with glaring at him. “Most people would be grateful-”

“Grateful?” He snapped, raised voice making you recoil. “For your recklessness? Your complete disregard of anyone but yourself?”

You were silent, blinking back tears, unable to look at him lest the dam broke. Images of the battle flashed through your mind – marines everywhere, reinforcements and cannonballs seemingly appearing out of thin air. The invading stench of blood and smoke. Everything happened all at once, and yet time had seemed to stretch endlessly. And then. The explosion. Wooden shrapnel hurtling towards him.

“Well?”

The sharpness of his voice forced you to look at him. His expression was unlike anything you had seen – eyes burning into you, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth were sure to break. It was then you noticed one hand gripping his sword, knuckles almost turning white. Maybe he was going to kill you. Maybe that would be preferable.

Zoro was still staring at you. Expectantly. You took a deep inhale – shouting was definitely beyond you at present but that didn’t mean you weren’t internally screaming at the audacity. Next time you would just let him die – that would teach the arsehole to be grateful. “I saved you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but the silence was so thick you were certain he could hear the rapid increase of your heartbeat.

Zoro was unmoved. “I didn’t need saving.”

“Next time I won’t.”

“Next time?” He scoffed. “What makes you think you’re going anywhere near a battle again?”

You didn’t answer. Instead turned away from him to focus on the ceiling. Tears of either anger or hurt were pricking the corners of your eyes but you’d be damned if you let him of all people see you cry. “Just fuck off, Zoro. I’m tired; turns out taking a stake to the ribs for someone really takes it out of you.”

If you had still been facing him you would have caught the way he flinched for a second at the venom hanging from your words. Fortunately for Zoro, his voice could remain composed even when his expression couldn’t. “I can’t.” He replied blankly before pulling up a chair and settling himself beside you – boots propped up on your bed (prick). “Chopper wants someone watching you. Guess who drew the short straw.”

A frustrated groan left you. Surely if he was that angry with you one of the others would be a better nurse? You really weren’t going to risk your life again if this was the bullshit you’d have to endure. “Well if you are going to kill me yourself at least wait until I’m asleep.” With that you rolled onto your side away from him. “Ah-fu-” Sharp, white hot pain flooded your system causing you to immediately collapse onto your back – eyes screwed shut and teeth almost biting clean through your lower lip.

“Shit, Y/N are you okay? Do you want Chopper?”

“I’m fine.” You forced out through gritted teeth, trying your best to focus on long, deep breaths until the pain rescinded enough to open your eyes. Only to be met with his. Despite yourself you felt your heart skip a beat at the intensity with which he stared at you. The concern.

“Why did you do that?”

“You were pissing me off.”

“No,” he sighed and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he did so. “Why did you do that?”

“Oh.” Heat rose in your cheeks and you relished in the smell of him, the feel of his skin against yours. You could stay in this moment forever, well, maybe if your heart didn’t feel like it was about to burst open. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You’re being evasive.”

You fidgeted uncomfortably beneath him. And swallowed. Hard. If he had asked you ten minutes before you would have thought the answer was obvious. As it happened, his reaction just showed how completely oblivious he was. Did you really have to spell it out? How were you even supposed to start? Hell, how could any words of declaration be any more glaring, any more indisputable than literally risking your life for his? Zoro was an idiot, sure, but he couldn’t be this much of an idiot.

Fighting through the pain you managed to wriggle an arm free of the covers Zoro’s large frame was currently trapping you under and a ran a hand through mossy green hair. A small, lazy smile tugged at your lips but you weren’t there just yet, not until you felt him relax into your touch.

His eyes opened again, leaning back slightly to look at you properly. “If you don’t answer, I will kill you this time.”

You cocked your head, although this threat came with a raised eyebrow and lips threatening to twitch into a smirk you couldn’t help but be a little curious. “Why do you keep saying that?”

Zoro leant back fully, cutting off the contact between the two of you but looking at you just as intensely. “Only I get to decide when you die. And how. And it’s certainly not going to be because you stupidly decided to be a god-damn hero for me. So if you’re still waiting for me to be grateful that you were willing to leave me when-”

You chewed your lips and stared at him. Desperately praying for him to continue. Instead he was stubbornly staring at his boots. “When what?”

Silence.

“When what, Zoro?”

“Don’t do that shit again.” He forced out, still not trusting himself to look at anything other than his boots.

“Zoro, I…” You sighed defeatedly. Your heart would shatter into a million pieces before it mustered the courage to say the words burning your tongue.

He stood up and headed towards the door, still not looking at you. “I’ll ask Nami to watch you. Get some sleep.” With that, he was gone.

You were wrong. Your heart only needed to be cleaved in two.

#opla #one piece #one piece live action #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro

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mrs-kmikaelson · 4 months

Text

Our Song and Dance⁴

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: LONGGGG, descriptions of torture, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, violence, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, grief, and some unhealthy coping mechanisms Words: 18.2K

Masterlist

a/n: since it's that time of year, i decided to give u guys a lil present. merry christmas and enjoy!!!

You had never felt so cold.

Growing up in a working home, you sometimes went through winter just hoping that your sheets would be enough to keep you alive, unable to afford a heater. In your first Games, you nearly froze to death, your matches being the only thing that saved you. Then once you had won and made it to the Capitol, you went through those cold nights with Finnick, sometimes hoping that you really would freeze to death, even if you never told him that.

Yet none of those times could compare to how cold you felt now.

Cold as you were brought out of the Capitol. Cold on the hovercraft. Cold when they sedated you. Cold as you were wrapped in blankets. Cold as Finnick went to touch you. And now, as the doctors examined you like you were an artifact, you were still just as cold.

But you were an artifact, weren’t you? You were the Princess.

So it didn’t really matter how cold you were at all.

You had been transported from the open medical area to your own room. It was almost like you blinked and, just like that, you were in a different room. Like magic.

Even though magic did not exist. Not in Panem. Not in this world.

Someone named Boggs had come to see you, explaining that you were in district 13, a district that you thought didn’t exist for your entire life. This is the revolution, he said. He was meant to bring you up to speed, ease your confusion, but you weren’t sure that was possible at the moment.

Throughout his explanation, you didn’t say a word, just staring up at him. This may have been seen as rude, but you weren’t doing it on purpose. You really didn’t know what to say.

He eventually left, not getting anywhere with you. From what you could tell, he had a lot more to deal with than just one girl. For a supposedly dead district, there was a lot going on in 13, but that wasn’t where your mind was.

Your body was in 13, but your mind was in the Capitol.

“Please, don’t-”

You closed your eyes, trying to rid yourself of these memories, but that only made it worse, images appearing underneath your eyelids. Your eyes quickly snapped open, darting around the room, your chest rapidly falling and rising.

You were in a bed. There was a desk, some chairs, a glass of water on the night stand next to you. The floor was white, tiled, not grey concrete. There were lights. You were in 13, where the lights were on, not in the Capitol, surrounded by darkness.

You’re alive, Y/N, you told yourself. But that didn’t seem to make anything better.

When did it ever?

You ran your hands up and down your arms, feeling new scars that hadn’t been there before, scars that could maybe heal one day, but you knew there were still open wounds you had that couldn’t be treated, open wounds that may never scar at all.

You didn’t think the wounds you had right now would ever close.

Your heart was racing, beating so loudly that you could hear it, so you imagined it wasn’t yours at all, that it was Finnick’s heart that you heard. Though you supposed that your heart did belong to him.

Even though you didn’t want to see him.

Nevertheless, imagining him sitting with you and pretending to listen to his heartbeat was what calmed you down. It always would. In a way, that was the only thing about you that remained sure, the only thing you had left from the life you lived.

Because that’s what it was: a life lived. Y/N Y/L/N lived her life. For a time, she was happy. She fell in love. And then she died. Now… now, you didn’t know who you were.

What you did know was that you weren’t the same Y/N that Finnick knew, the same Y/N who’d fall asleep in his arms. Now, you weren’t sure you could fall asleep at all, not for long, never for long.

Johanna and Peeta’s faces flashed through your mind. Their screams still echoed in your head. They were different now, too. Johanna wasn’t so fearless anymore, and the golden boy wasn’t so golden. His bright gold had been captured by darkness, and you weren’t sure if any of you would ever see it again.

At that thought, you finally got up, ignoring the ache in your bones. You couldn’t just sit there. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t think anymore- you wouldn’t. You had to see them.

You left your room, a nurse coming up to you right away. “Ma’am, please, you need to rest-”

“I’m fine.” Your voice was raspy and scratched at your throat, so you cleared it. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you knew it couldn’t have been great with the way the nurse was looking at you. “Could you please take me to my friend Johanna?”

Hesitance was painted all over her face, as well as fear. You didn’t know why; you weren’t in any position to fight. “I’m sorry, I- I can’t-”

You cut her off. “I just want to see my friend.” Annoyance laced your voice, but if one listened closely, they’d also hear the desperation. You needed to see her, you needed to see someone familiar, someone that wasn’t there just because you were their responsibility, someone that wasn’t the boy you loved.

Her mouth opened and closed for several seconds before she responded, “I- she’s with a counsellor right now-”

You sharply inhaled, blinking and seeing Johanna, hearing her cry. When you opened your eyes again, you only saw the nurse staring at you anxiously, expectantly. You ran a hand through your hair. You needed to see someone. “Peeta then,” you said. “Take me to Peeta.”

Her fright seemed to increase. She looked at you like you weren’t in your right mind, which was right, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. There was something else in her expression, like there was something you didn’t know, something she didn’t want to tell you, but she nodded, anyway, agreeing.

This nurse was young, kind, and even a little naive. If you were in your right mind, you’d feel more empathy for her, be more compassionate or soft, but you weren’t. Your mind was in all of the wrong places all at once.

She reminded you of the nurse you had in the Capitol. She wasn’t there to ease your pain but to keep you alive, make sure you didn’t bleed to death so that you could go through the whole routine all over again the next day. She looked at you like that, too, like she was scared of you, even though you were the one that was powerless, even though you were the one on the brink of death.

Now you weren’t. You’re safe now, Boggs had told you. You didn’t say anything in that moment, but what you wanted to say was that he was wrong.

You’d never feel safe again.

When the nurse brought you to Peeta, Katniss was also there, but she didn’t notice you, staring through the glass of a white room. There was a blond boy in that room, strapped down to the bed.

But this boy wasn’t Peeta.

He wasn’t Peeta at all.

“Y/N?”

You turned away from the sight in front of you to the voice that called your name. The voice belonged to none other than Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th Hunger Games and second Quarter Quell, but you knew him better as the man who drank his sorrows away until he couldn’t remember all that’d happened to him.

You nodded in greeting, but didn’t speak. He looked like he had more he wanted to say but held it in as he glanced back at the room, a young blonde girl entering it and carefully going to sit on the bed.

“She’s too close,” he remarked.

“It’s okay,” someone else responded. You turned and saw a greying man on the other side of Katniss, recognizing him immediately as opposed to when you first met him. Plutarch Heavensbee.

You glanced to Haymitch who was already looking at you. He glanced at the Gamemaker then nodded to you. Whatever he was trying to say didn’t fully translate, and you didn’t understand why this man who had caused so much pain was standing right next to Katniss like it was nothing, but for now, you still remained silent, choosing to let it be.

Throughout this interaction, Katniss had practically been none the wiser, eyes fixed on the inside of that room. When you redirected your attention to the scene, you realized why she was so focused. You still recognized the blonde girl from the reaping, even though it’d been over a year since they took place.

Primrose Everdeen.

Yet little Primrose never went into The Games. Her sister took her place. This was Katniss’ sister.

We live in district 13 now, she told him, her voice soft, soft enough to tell you that even though she was surrounded by war, her childhood was still there. It’s a real place. Stories are true. A pause. You were rescued.

Peeta didn’t look fazed by what she was saying, his attention on something else entirely. The look in his eyes was contained, but you saw it. Anger. My family hasn’t come to see me, he said, but he was talking to himself more than he was talking to Prim.

Family.

You saw your mother’s face in your mind, but you weren’t sure if that was still what she looked like. The last time you saw her was a year ago, her face stricken with grief, tears leaking from her eyes.

She hadn’t come to see you, either.

And you realized it was probably for the same reason Peeta’s family hadn’t come to see him.

At that realization, anything else Peeta or Prim said fell upon deaf ears. You couldn’t hear a thing, your song playing in your head on a loop, dancing so fast that the world blurred and you couldn’t see a thing.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

“Y/N.”

The call of your name cut through the music, making you turn your head to see Katniss staring at you. You glanced around; Haymitch and Plutarch were gone now, so was Prim. It was just Peeta on the other side of the glass, kicking and yelling, people in scrubs going to sedate him.

You actually looked at her now, noticing the purple marks around her neck that matched the bags underneath her eyes. She looked different now, different from the last time you saw her in person and different from when you saw her on TV.

The Girl on Fire looked like her spark had been extinguished.

And, suddenly, she reminded you of yourself now more than ever.

You nodded to her and then turned to walk away, but her hand caught your wrist. Like a reflex, you yanked it away, spinning around to face her. She muttered a sorry under her breath, making you inhale.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice quiet. She couldn’t be blamed for how you could no longer handle touch, neither could Finnick. You felt guilt wash over you as you heard his voice cracking in your head, remembering how you didn’t say a word to him.

He’s fine, you told yourself. He has Annie.

Your thoughts were diverted away from him and back to Katniss as she spoke. “Has anyone explained it all to you yet?” This was a question, even though her voice was monotone while she asked it.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, thinking back to Boggs. “Yeah- um, a little.”

She looked at you like you were a puzzle and she was rearranging the pieces in her head, using what little energy she had. “Did they tell you?”

You furrowed your brows. You were just as if not more tired than her, your mind all over the place, too all over the place to understand what she was asking you. “Tell me what?” You questioned.

She didn’t respond right away, still looking at you as if she was trying to figure you out. Her eyes told you this story; however, her expression was blank. You’d seen snippets of her videos, not in full, never in full, but even from a snippet, you were able to see that look.

The way a victor looked.

When you met Katniss, you thought to yourself that she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough to have been burned.

But with the spotlight they had on her now, she’d gone up in flames.

After a beat, she ceased her mental debate and decided to speak her thoughts. “I think we should talk.”

And she may not have known it, but what she told you may have just changed the course of your life.

Katniss took you to her room, sat you down, and with her raspy voice, she explained your situation to you. I’m The Mockingjay, she said. And they wanted you, too, Y/N. They wanted the Princess of Panem and The Mockingjay to be the voices of this revolution.

You stared at her wordlessly as she went on, just listening. To her, you must have looked crazy, listening to everything she said without any reaction whatsoever, but you knew that Katniss had been dancing long enough now to read you, too.

You were mind-blown. She was telling you that they wanted you to be a voice for the people, but wasn’t that so ironic? Your voice had been on mute for years. You were silent as you were used in the Capitol. You were silent as they made you go back and take everything from kids, kids just like you. Even when you thought you were about to die and had so many things to say to the boy that you loved, you didn’t say any of it.

How could you ever be a voice?

They chose the wrong person. Katniss was good. She was good at being The Mockingjay, good at saying the right things, and great at being a voice for Panem. But you? You weren’t cut out for this.

Why would she tell you this? This revolution had been well-planned and was proceeding fine without you. Why would she tell you this- why now?

You cut her off mid-sentence. “Katniss, what exactly are you trying to tell me?”

She paused as if she didn’t know the answer, either. Her red eyes glazed over and, for a few seconds, you both sat in silence. You thought she wouldn’t say anything until she looked back up at you. This time, her eyes were full of light, like she’d just realized she held the key to all she ever wanted, all you ever wanted.

And, in a way, she did.

“Hope,” she breathed. “I’m telling you that I have hope for a better world.”

A better world.

Once, you had hopes, too. You hoped that your kids would make it through The Games. You hoped that you could be loved back by the person you loved. You hoped that you could one day mend your relationship with your mother. You hoped that you could be happy.

But each of these hopes were crushed until nothing remained but disappointment.

You didn’t have any hope left.

After Katniss’ declaration, you sat silently before eventually leaving without saying a word.

She was so young. Sometimes, you forgot that. She wasn’t a child, but she was supposed to be. She was supposed to have a childhood, not the weight of a country resting on her shoulders.

But you’d carried the weight of the crown for years now.

You knew better.

You abandoned the idea of hope as soon as you dived off that pedestal in The Games, and then it abandoned you for good the second you woke up in the Capitol.

There wasn’t any hope left, not for you.

You got back to your room, ignoring your nurse who opened her mouth to speak to you but ultimately didn’t say anything, letting the door close in her face. It wasn’t personal. There were too many different people on your mind to think about her, so many words you said and didn’t say floating around, things you did and what was done to you.

You didn’t want to be awake anymore, to think about these things. Sometimes, nightmares offered more relief than your real life ever could.

But as you went to go lie down, you suddenly stopped, seeing something on your bed that hadn’t been there before. It was a sleek black box, one that wasn’t so common back where you were from but became an everyday custom after you won The Games. You picked up, clicking the side button and watching light shoot of it and project an image in front of you.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped.

Because that image that the box projected was of Finnick Odair.

It was a video shot here, in 13, similar to others you’d seen, but you’d never seen this. This was the first time you saw him on camera since before the Quell. And this was also the first time you’d looked into his eyes since you left that night.

Even if you weren’t really looking at him.

Finnick was always charming, the corners of his lips always quirked upward. He had mastered this façade- oh, Finnick knew how to dance, dance around all of the hard topics, dance around everything that was wrong with your lives to make you seem like the perfect happy couple, like victors.

But he didn’t look like that in the video.

He looked solemn. And maybe even a little scared.

No matter his appearance, you could’ve never expected the words that came out of his mouth, never from Finnick, never from one of you, from a victor. But he still said them.

Your mouth fell open. For the first time since you arrived in 13, you let tears fall down your cheeks, though you didn’t know if you could stop them, even if you tried. They burned on their way down, rubbing salt into the bruises you could see and the bruises you could never fix.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

The box in your hands clattered to the ground, the video cutting out as you ran to the toilet, but Finnick’s voice still echoed in your ears. You threw up what very little you had eaten, head spinning.

Dancing, dancing, dancing.

This song didn’t sound right anymore. This dance didn’t feel right anymore. You were so tired of dancing- you just wanted to stop.

But Finnick hadn’t stopped at all.

Finnick was still dancing. Katniss was still dancing. Peeta, Johanna, every single person in Panem was now dancing with you. They knew now. They could hear the music, too. And who would save them?

You had wished for years and years that someone would pull you off the dance floor, that someone would make it stop. There were so many people that knew, so many people that just let you endure it- let you all endure it. How could you let any more people endure anything close to that?

You couldn’t stand on the sidelines and watch as everything burned to the ground. No, you wanted to help them set fire to the Capitol and burn Snow alive.

Hope. I’m telling you that I have hope for a better world.

You may not have had this hope. There was no better world out there for you.

But you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make one for every kid out there that cried and prayed their name didn’t get called at the reapings.

You would not get to live in this better world.

But you would make it in memory of the younger you that could have.

You later found Katniss again, telling her that you’d do it. You left out the part about how you sobbed for hours at the recording you knew she left you because that wasn’t what was important right now. You were not important right now.

This was about something much bigger.

She took you to Coin, who cleared the room at the sight of you, a surprised expression on her face. “Ms. Y/L/N, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She stood up, shaking your hand, glancing at Katniss periodically before looking back to you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you sooner-”

“It’s alright,” you cut her off, trying your best to pull your lips into a smile. You had barely been in the room with her for a few seconds, but there was something about this woman that threw you off.

Katniss explained her story to you, how she was a widow, how her entire family died in a day. You sympathized with that, but Alma Coin did not remind you of a widow in the slightest.

She reminded you of the people you saw in the Capitol.

Clearly, she sensed the tension, giving you a smile and letting go of your hand, beckoning you both to sit. You sat down in the chair across from her, surveying the room, looking at the blueprints and papers sprawled everywhere. Your attention was drawn back to the woman when she spoke.

“So, how may I help you? I know adjusting to life here must be hard for you. But I will be here every step of the if you so need it.” You opened your mouth to speak, but she kept going, “You are an incredibly strong young woman. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to live through those Games, nor could I imagine what it must have been like within the walls of the Capitol.”

No, you couldn’t, you thought, but you didn’t say that. Instead, you gave her a stiff smile, hoping that all your practice faking it could make it look believable. It seemed that President Coin had some practice faking it, too.

However, you cut straight to the point. “Madam President, I want to help the rebels in any way that I can.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, as if that was the last thing she was expecting. She looked to Katniss again, like you were out of it. And maybe you were, but so was The Girl on Fire. So were all of you.

It wasn’t fair of her to treat you like glass because, the truth was, she was right. You went through The Games not once but twice, and then you were immediately thrown into the Capitol, facing horrors that you weren’t sure you could ever speak aloud, horrors that flashed before your eyes every time you blinked, even as you sat across from her.

But you were. You were sitting across from her. You were ready to do something.

You may have just been pulled from the Devil’s clutches, but you were ready to walk through Hell all over again if it meant you got to kill him.

Katniss didn’t waver. “So do I.”

Coin’s hesitance was easier than expected to spot. For someone who wanted to lead Panem, she surely wore her heart on her sleeve. Or maybe you had just gotten too good at this dance that you could spot anyone’s slightest misstep.

Slowly, she cautioned, “You both are going through a lot right now-”

The brunette sharply cut her off, “That doesn’t matter.” Your eyes were trained on Coin, but if you stole a glance at Katniss, then you knew you would’ve seen the fire in her eyes. In a way, she hadn’t changed at all since the last time you saw her.

And you wished that was true.

“Send me to the Capitol- send us to the Capitol.” Underneath her demand was pleading. “I’ll do anything.”

Coin brought her hand to her mouth, an indent on her finger where her ring was supposed to be yet no ring in sight. “I can’t.” But she wanted to. “I can’t send you there. We can’t get into the Capitol until we control district 2.”

“Then send us to 2,” you spoke up, her eyes moving to yours. There was some emotion in her eyes, pity or fear, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t want to know what you looked like to find out. “I can fire up your troops, call out to the loyalists. You’ve seen what The Mockingjay can do, and I don’t doubt that you know what I am capable of.” You paused. “Let us win this for you, Madam President.”

She was silent for a moment, continuing to stare at you as if she was waiting for you to break, to do something that showed her that you weren’t capable of this, but she wouldn’t get that opening. You wanted this more than anything, and you would stop at nothing to get it.

Finally, she blinked, and you knew you had her.

“It would be an honour.”

You didn’t tell Katniss, and you certainly didn’t tell Coin, but a part of you was relieved that you weren’t going back to the Capitol so soon. You just left, and yet it felt like it had both been a world ago and just yesterday.

You didn’t know if you could handle it so soon, going back there. You could barely even handle looking at Finnick.

It wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault. You could never blame him, never for this.

How could you blame him when picturing his face was what got you through it?

How could you blame him when the only reason you survived was to find out if he was still alive?

They told you he was dead. They played his screams on a loop until you couldn’t tell that they stopped. His screams now blended in with the music so well.

Oh, you loved him. You loved him so much more than you could ever express. And maybe that’s why you never told him, but now you knew it was for the best. Finnick was strong, and beautiful, and he had a long life ahead of him with the woman of his dreams. You weren’t gonna get in the way of that.

You knew that you’d never truly be happy without him.

But you also knew from experience that he’d never be happy with you.

These were the thoughts that filled your head on the hovercraft. Even as he was nowhere in sight, his face was still all you could see.

He was here, too. You knew he was. Katniss told you beforehand. She didn’t know the whole story between you two, but she still told you. She had no idea how grateful you were.

You were hiding from him. You accepted the fact that the two of you would never get a happy ending, but that didn’t mean that you were ready to see him, knowing that. If you looked into his ocean blue eyes, God knew that he’d only pull you in and drown you in them.

You couldn’t do that.

It wasn’t fair to him.

It wasn’t fair to Annie.

It wasn’t fair to you.

And it wasn’t fair to all the people that were depending on you.

Suddenly, your thoughts were cut off the sound of footsteps came your way. You looked up, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw it was just Haymitch.

He nodded to you. “Princess.”

You held back a scoff as he sat down next to you on the floor. “Haymitch.”

You still remembered when you met him. He was one of the first people to actually speak to you after you won your Games. For some reason, the others were too “intimidated” by you, but Haymitch didn’t have much left to be scared of, not when he went into an arena with 47 people and was the only one who walked out.

What you couldn’t remember was the last time you had an actual conversation with him, or at least the last time you had a conversation and he was sober.

“How’d you find me?” you asked, but your eyes were still trained on the floor. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I hang around here sometimes, go through the boxes and see if there’s anything medicinal in ‘em,” he responded, making you chuckle.

If he was looking for something medicinal, then you weren’t such a great replacement.

“Well, sorry you couldn’t find what you were looking for.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head. “No, I need to be brought back to reality, anyway. And you, uh, you do a good job at that.”

You snorted, sensing the compliment was backhanded, even if he didn’t see it that way. Or maybe he did, but Haymitch was never one to hold his thoughts in. “Why, because I’m so fucked up?”

“No.” A beat of silence passed. “Because you remind me of a human’s will to live better than those Games ever did.”

You finally looked up, seeing that he was already looking at you. The sincerity in his eyes was so strong that it burned into yours, making you look away before it burned just enough to spark tears. “I don’t think I’m the best example of that.”

His reply came quick, like he didn’t even have to think about it, but he had no idea how much you would after he said it. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

Aren’t you?

You didn’t say anything after that, nor did you look at him, and he didn’t force you to. You spent the rest of the ride pondering over his words.

You thought of every painful thing you ever went through. The Hunger Games. Being sold. The Quarter Quell. The Capitol. Falling in love.

You went through all that, and you were still here. You were still standing.

Weren’t you?

Or were you just waiting for the right moment to fall?

Your thoughts were halted as you felt the hovercraft come to a stop, realizing just how long you’d been thinking. You both stood up, going to leave this room. Like most real conversation you’d had with victors, you thought you both would just pretend it never happened, but right before you were about to enter the main ops room, he stopped you, grabbing your wrist. This time, you stopped the flinch before it could happen, looking up at him.

Haymitch Abernathy was not a soft man. After being cut so many times, his edges were jagged and sharp, but looking at you in that moment, he looked more than just soft. He looked sorry.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure to say what he wanted to say or not, something unusual for him. He seemed to have made up his mind, telling you, “Stay standing, Y/N. There are still people out there that can’t do that by themselves.” Then he paused, eyes glazing over.

“Show them that they can.”

Getting off the hovercraft, damage surrounded you. The once pristine nature of district 2 was gone, replaced by devastation, rubble everywhere. If this was district 2, then you couldn’t imagine that any of the other districts were any better, that your district was any better.

Your mind was drawn back to your mother before you shook it away. You couldn’t be thinking of that right now.

A man in black attire carrying an assault rifle greeted you. Not a Peacekeeper. But a chill still went down your spine.

You couldn’t really tell if it was because of the soldier or if it was because you felt Finnick staring at you.

He wasn’t far behind you, in the row behind you and Katniss with Boggs and Gale. You tried to ignore it, but that proved to be harder said than done.

Katniss carried her bow in her hand while a sword was strapped to your belt, lightly hitting your leg as you walked, but you got used to this feeling during your first Games. In a way, it was almost comforting, even though it never should’ve been, even though weapons should’ve never been comforting to a child so young.

But you weren’t a child anymore.

In your hand, you carried a crossbow, Beetee’s special arrows on your back. The sword was really only there for show. This wasn’t The Hunger Games; no, this was a very different and special game entirely.

This was war.

You wouldn’t be getting up close for combat very often, so a crossbow made more sense, but after The Games, weapons started to hold sentimental value, both for the victors and the viewers that watched them. For Katniss, it was her bow; for Finnick, it was his trident; and for you, it was your sword.

Suddenly, as you were making your way to the Justice Building, a bomb went off, shaking the ground and making you spin, your grip on your bow tightening. Your heart was beating rapidly, but Corporal Homes wasn’t fazed, even letting out a little laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s just how the loyalists say good morning.”

You let out a shaky breath, holding the bow tighter to try and stop your hands from trembling. You shut your eyes, trying to calm down, but all that did was bring you right back to the Capitol. Your eyes quickly reopened, but when they did, they met those ocean blues that you’d been trying to avoid.

Your body went rigid. It begged you to look away, but you couldn’t. You were pulled to him like a magnet, a magnet that scraped against you, a magnet that nearly stopped your heart with how strong it was, but no matter how much it hurt you, fighting against it was useless.

Concern swam through his eyes, along with another familiar emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. It had been so long since you last saw him, since you last really saw him. Maybe that was why you couldn’t decipher it.

But, really, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Are you okay?” God, and his voice. How was it possible that his voice could both fill and create a hole in your heart at the same time? It was both quiet and loud, both sure and uncertain, and caring in every sense of the word.

So warm but made you feel so cold at the same time.

You just looked at him for a few seconds, as if you were hypnotized, until you realized you needed to respond. You nodded, afraid that your voice would crack if you tried to speak.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but a hand came to your shoulder, yanking you out of trance. You turned to see Katniss, glancing between you both for a second before her eyes rested on you. She nodded towards the building and the rest of the crew who had walked ahead of you. You nodded back, walking away from Finnick without another word.

How did we get here? you wondered.

We’re gonna be fine. Look, whenever you get nervous up there, you just hold my hand, alright? You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.

He was right there. He was still right there.

But the difference between then and now was that you could no longer just hold his hand.

He was right there.

But you were still alone.

Once you had put some distance between yourselves and Finnick, Katniss whispered, “I’m sorry.” You turned your head, but her eyes were directed in front of her. “That looked personal.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured her, and then you left it at that. Because, truth be told, you were grateful for Katniss interrupting you. You weren’t sure you would’ve ever walked away if she hadn’t. But you did. And now you had bigger problems to worry about than your love life, if you could even call it that.

You finally made it into the Justice Building, being greeted by both Commander Lyme and Paylor. While they lived in higher ranks, they were still soldiers. You appreciated how they cut right to the chase.

You and your squad from 13 stood around a table projecting a hologram of district 2’s mountains with at least a dozen other soldiers, more littered throughout the room with Coin on a TV in front of you.

Lyme started, “President Coin, we’re indebted to you for the reinforcements, the Princess, and the Mockingjay.” She glanced at you. “But I’m not sure that anyone outside of 2 knows what we’ve been up against.” She pointed at the hologram. “This is The Nut. The Capitol’s headquarters for all offensive operations. It’s manned by both military and civilian personnel from district 2.” She then continued to explain what all more or less knew, that it lied so deep beneath bedrock that it was untouchable.

“Yesterday, we attempted to take the northeastern gate. The enemy countered from higher up and we were forced to pull back.” She momentarily looked down, her mask of a stone cold commander falling and showing the human behind it. “We took heavy losses.”

Another commander spoke up. “Could we create a decoy? Send troops towards one gate, launch a staggered attack on another.”

Paylor didn’t miss a beat. “Whose troops do you propose as a decoy, Commander?”

Although the question was not directed towards her, Coin still responded, “We have the Mockingjay and we have the Princess of Panem. Do not underestimate their influence. We could use them to erode support, sway some of the loyalists.”

“You’ve been underground a long time, Madam Coin,” Lyme said. “This isn’t like the rest of Panem. Support for the Capitol runs deep here.” And why wouldn’t it? When the oppressor had done just about everything but oppress you, then how could you see the oppression happening everywhere else?

Coin quickly retorted, “Then there is no sacrifice too great.” Her voice was like that of a widow: soft enough that you could tell what she’d been through but firm enough for the exact same reason.

No sacrifice too great… but wasn’t there?

“We need to control the arsenal inside that fortress. Even with every district in this alliance, we are outgunned.” All twelve other districts could band together, but without 2, none of you stood a chance.

No sacrifice too great.

“I won’t commit my people to a ground assault just to pillage weapons.”

“Commander Paylor, your people have suffered more than just about anyone else at the hands of the Capitol.”

“Which is why I won’t condone a mass suicide.”

“If we don’t take district 2, we won’t get into the Capitol.”

For the first time since your entrance, you spoke up. “What if we don’t have to take it?” You felt everyone’s eyes on you but yours remained focused on the hologram in front of you, unblinking as if you weren’t there at all.

And maybe you weren’t.

Lyme responded, “What are you proposing, Ms. Y/L/N?”

What were you proposing? You couldn’t be sure. But you knew what you needed, and that was this war ending in Snow’s final breath.

No sacrifice too great.

“What if we don’t need The Nut to win?” You looked up. “What if we could take it away from them instead?”

Gale seemed to be the only one who caught onto what you were saying, or at least the only one willing to speak it aloud. “We could disable it, trap them inside or flush ‘em out.” He continued, gesturing the hologram. “If we can’t attack straight on, then couldn’t we use our hovercraft to strike around it? We’ll use the mountains; we’ll hit weak spots in the peaks.”

“We could design the bomb targets in sequence using seismic data.”

“Trigger avalanches,” you muttered just above a whisper, imagining it in your head. Something like this happened in The Games once, one of the years you were mentoring. It was catastrophic, akin to a bloodbath. It was a miracle there was even anyone left alive to fight for a victor’s title.

You wondered if Finnick thought of this, too, but you didn’t dare look over at him, looking back to hologram and trying to block the images of blood and terror from your mind.

But as you stood there and spoke about war, you didn’t know if that was possible.

Not when the war in your mind had still yet to be won.

“Block all exits, cut off their supplies. You make it impossible for them to launch their hovercraft.”

Paylor had a look of realization on her face. “Bury them alive.”

“We’d forfeit any chance to control the weapons-”

Beetee cut Coin off, “Yes, but we’d face a weakened Capitol.”

“There’s civilians in there,” Boggs interjected, stoic but any hearing person could hear the compassion in his voice. Civilians. Is that what they were?

You were a civilian too, once. Then you were a tribute, a pawn, a victor, the Princess. Did civilians still exist? What kind of civilians could support the Capitol? What kind of human beings could support the torture you were subjected to, the torture people in the districts were subjected to on a daily basis?

You wondered if your mother was given the courtesy of a civilian before the Capitol took her life.

You weren’t.

“They should be given a chance to surrender. Could use one of the supply tunnels for the evacuees.”

“It’s a luxury we weren’t given when they firebombed 12,” Gale said, as if he were reminding you, as if any of you needed a reminder.

“There’s gotta be a better way.” You were already so focused, but if you were losing attention in any way, Katniss brought it back, the disbelief in her voice audible to everyone in the room. She glanced in between Gale and you, but she didn’t get whatever response she expected of you.

Katniss may have had hope for the good of humanity, but you didn’t have that. The Capitol took that away from you without a second thought. She may have been driven by hope, but you were driven by anger.

There was no sacrifice too great.

“I suggest we try the avalanche, but leave the train tunnel alone,” Coin decided. “Civilians can escape into the square, where our armies will be waiting for their surrender.”

“We should have every available medic standing by.”

“And if they won’t surrender?” Lyme challenged.

Coin’s lips almost formed a smile. “Then we will need a compelling voice to persuade them.” And a voice was something she had.

The Mockingjay and the Princess, two sides of the same coin. Heads or tails, luck was on the President’s side either way.

You tuned out after that, letting everyone else talk logistics. Throughout the entire conversation, you didn’t hear Finnick say a word. He was perhaps the most talkative person you had ever met, and yet now, he had nothing to say.

He only looked at you the whole time, like an artifact.

And even as you walked away, you still felt the cold burn of his stare.

You watched from a broken window of the Justice Building as the hovercrafts started, rubble blowing in the wind. The sight was magnetic, pulling you in to look at it. It was almost beautiful.

This world could’ve been beautiful.

You wished that this dance could have been more beautiful before it made your feet bleed.

You watched as the hovercrafts danced in the sky before dropping bombs on the mountains, dancing to the sound of explosions and then to the sound of cheers around you.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

“This isn’t right.” A voice brought you out of your trance. You turned to see Katniss, her eyes on the scene outside the window, as mesmerized as you were. But mesmerized wasn’t the right word. She was stricken by horror.

Oh, if she saw what happened to you that could make you ever justify this. If she saw what happened to Peeta to make him hysteric. If she saw what happened to Johanna to make her numb. If she saw, then would she still be so transfixed then?

If she saw, would she still be standing?

If she saw, would she understand why you still were?

You stared at her for a moment, contemplating if you would say any of this before deciding against it, turning back and monotonously replying, “It’s fire catching, Everdeen.”

She scoffed, “And we’re lighting the match.”

Sharply, you countered, “Don’t forget that the Capitol poured gasoline everywhere first.” You turned back to see her already looking at you. A sigh left your lips. “They did this, Katniss.”

“And so anyone that had anything to do with it deserves to burn for it?”

No.

Yes.

“Did we deserve to burn, Girl on Fire?” You caught her off guard, anger slipping through the cracks of your voice, resolution filling your eyes. “Did we deserve to burn in those reapings, in those parades, in those damn Games as they all made a spectacle of it? All those kids and their families, did they deserve to burn just because the Capitol saw fit?” She was silent, tears coming to her eyes that she refused to let fall, so different from that girl you were with in the arena yet the exact same. Your eyes burned, too. “The way I see it, we’re fighting fire with fire.” You scoffed. “At least we’re giving them a way out.”

You didn’t stick around to hear Katniss’ response, walking away to find whoever would tell you what do next. You could’ve stood by that window for the rest of the night, watching as the terror unfolded, but you had more important things to do than watch the fire.

You had to go light a match.

You examined yourself in the mirror blankly. You were donning a black costume, and a costume it was. Because what was a costume if not an impersonation of something you were not?

But someone thought that this was what you were. Someone thought that you could be a leader. Cinna did—or at least that’s what Effie Trinket told you. You didn’t know why she seemed to be in charge of “design” or why she showed such an interest in you, but you supposed it wasn’t so unusual for an artifact.

Your makeup artists did their jobs fabulously, painting your face until you were almost unrecognizable, until you looked like that girl from before The Games, that girl that the people of Panem knew and loved. With this makeup, you couldn’t see the circles under your eyes, the discolouration of your face. They made you look alive again.

On the outside, at least.

On the inside, you weren’t sure if there was any makeup that could repair the damage that’d been done.

Your hair had been braided into an updo, like a crown. They tried to give you back your necklace, the one Finnick gave to you before The Games, but you never wanted to see that necklace again, never wanted to see a rose ever again.

You would hate the smell of roses for the rest of your life.

“It’s time.” You looked away from your reflection to see Haymitch standing at the door. You nodded to him, glancing back at the mirror one last time before exiting the room. Katniss fell into step with you both as you made your way toward the train tunnel, but remained silent. You didn’t speak, either.

Soon, you were joined by the rest of your Star Squad, but you avoided any and all eye contact with Finnick. It’d be a shame to cry and ruin all that beautiful makeup on your face.

It’d be a shame to feel something right now when you felt so numb.

But you’d quickly be feeling a lot.

“Don’t worry, Katniss. There’ll be survivors,” Boggs tried to reassure. She glanced at him, but didn’t respond.

Haymitch was more concentrated on what you came here to do. “Let’s focus on what it is you gotta say.” He looked in between both of you. “Now, Plutarch wrote a speech that either of you can read-”

“No,” you both simultaneously said, briefly glancing at each other.

Haymitch sighed, throwing the cards to the side. “Okay, didn’t think so. Let’s, uh…” he stopped you both, standing in front of you. “But just remember you’re talking to everybody. Not just the rebels, but the Capitol, the survivors in 2. We want them to lay down their arms. So you- both of you might wanna experiment with a little sensitivity, warmth.”

They have the upper-hand, that’s what he was really saying. But you understood how this worked. You’ve danced this dance a million times already.

“Don’t worry, Haymitch. I know how to fake it.” He looked over at you as if he wanted to say something, but Boggs spoke before he could.

“Make it quick, you’re exposed.”

Katniss walked toward the tunnel first, turning once she was far enough to face the rest of you. They decided that she would go first. She had been at this for a while now, much longer than you.

You’re lucky, you know.

How so?

You just are.

Maybe the Katniss Everdeen that you met in the training centre was lucky, but this one, the one who shot an arrow at the force field in the Quarter Quell, the one who became a symbol before she could even blink… you weren’t so sure that this one was so lucky. Not anymore. Not in this world.

Luck didn’t exist in this new world.

“This is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to all of the loyalists from the heart of district 2-”

“Survivors! Inbound!”

The sound of the train’s horn became audible to you, its wheels screeching against the train tracks. Boggs went running for Katniss while a hand grabbed your shoulder. This time, you couldn’t hold back the flinch.

“We need to go, Y/N.” And then your body went rigid.

That was your name.

That was your name coming from Finnick Odair.

You didn’t even notice when he moved so close to you.

You swallowed, nodding, but it was like your feet were cemented to ground. You couldn’t move. If you moved, if you turned around, then you’d be looking right into his eyes.

Oh, there was time when the only thing you wanted to do was stare into his eyes all day. And maybe the problem was that you still wanted to.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a shaky breath, and when you opened them, the survivors were jumping off the train, being forced down to the ground, guns pointed at them, loud noise everywhere. Suddenly, you couldn’t take your eyes off of what was happening, even as every bone in your body begged you to, even as your head spun.

Finnick’s hand was still on your shoulder, but neither of you moved. None of you did.

Another man jumped off, looking disoriented, but what drew your attention to him wasn’t his appearance but the gun in his hand. The grip on your shoulder got tighter.

“Drop it! Drop your weapon! You! Drop it,” Boggs shouted, aiming his machine gun at him as he moved in your direction. “Drop the gun! Drop it-”

Suddenly, a gun went off, and everyone was screaming. You ducked down, eyes frantically darting everywhere before they settled on Katniss, running towards him, yelling. Your eyes widened, a wave of déjà vu passing over you as you remembered this exact scenario in the Quell, Katniss running towards danger and you running after her.

And just like that, even though you were paralyzed by fear, you quickly shot up, running after her without a thought. “Katniss!”

“Y/N!”

“Stop! He needs help!” She screamed as you were about to reach her. The next moment happened too fast for you to grasp it, the man jabbing his gun at her chin and cocking it. You skidded to a stop where you were, your breath catching in your throat.

Boggs was shouting, but your ears rang. It was almost as if you could feel that barrel on your own skin, and maybe it was because you had.

Snow’s voice rang through your head, Tell me about the rebel plan, Y/N.

You’re gonna have to kill me first.

Oh, sweet girl. He had knelt down next to you. I will make you wish that you died in that arena.

The man’s voice shook you out of your daze. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you.”

“Drop the gun!”

Katniss was silent, staring right into his eyes, but you saw what was behind the brave façade she was putting on. She didn’t have a reason.

“She can’t.” His eyes went to you, widening as if he hadn’t realized you were there. You stepped forward, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. Inside, you were shaking, but on the outside, you were calm and collected. On the inside, you were just a tribute in this game, but on the outside, you were the victor that everyone had crowned you.

“We blew up your mine. But you burned her district to the ground- my district to the ground.” You stepped closer, your resolve hardening. “So I guess we both have every reason to want to kill each other, but, really, does that make sense?” You asked, not looking away from his eyes once. “You know who I am. You know who she is, and I can bet that you know a few of the people standing behind me. So many people that the Capitol has rooted for, that you have rooted for- why would we be doing this? After the riches, and the glitz, and the glamour, why would we fight back against a system that has supposedly given us everything?”

Because they took everything from you first.

You took another step closer, putting your hands up when he jabbed the gun in Katniss’ neck. “Look around you.” He quickly glanced around before his eyes fell back on you. “Are these the people you want to kill? The same people that you cheered for?” Slowly, your hands fell. “Why are you fighting us? Why are you fighting the rebels? You’re neighbours. You’re family.”

He looked up at you for a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. In his eyes, you could see evil, chaos. But you also a sliver of humanity, and you prayed to God that you reached past the chaos to the humanity. You prayed to whoever would listen that he heard you. And, maybe, for the first time, the universe was on your side, because his gun slowly lowered to the ground.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Katniss was stuck in a trance until you pulled her up, but you weren’t so focused on her. Your eyes panned over the people, your people and the loyalists alike, but they were all just people, you realized.

They were all just people.

“There is no our side or your side,” you yelled, backing away from the man and facing everyone. “There is only freedom and captivity. These people are not your enemy.” You turned, facing the rest of the crowd. “We all have one enemy. And that’s Snow.” Tears gathered in your eyes. “He does not care who you are or how loyal you are, how important you are—to him, we are all just pieces in a game.”

You pointed to your people behind you. “Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Finnick Odair, Peeta Mellark, Annie Cresta, Johanna, Beetee, Enobaria- we are all that is left from three generations of victors. The rest of them are dead.” The faces of those that you killed flashed through your mind. “Slaughtered in the Quarter Quell or killed in the aftermath, it’s all the same. They were murdered by the Capitol—and it didn’t matter how important, or loyal, or loved they were- their lives were ended like they didn’t mean a thing.”

“And they would do the same to any of you if it benefit them.” You shook your head, raising your voice. “Stop killing for him.” You paused, breathing heavily. Your fight was not with people in the districts. Your fight was with one person and one person only. It was time that everyone else saw that. “Tonight, turn your weapons to the Capitol. Turn your weapons to Snow.”

Before you could say another word, gunfire erupted and you were falling to the ground.

And then your vision went black.

“Please, I don’t know anything,” you sobbed, fighting against your restraints, but it was no use.

Snow tutted, coming out from the shadows in which he hid. “Oh, Y/N, I wish I could believe that.”

Your body shook. “Please, I’m telling the truth, I don’t know anything about a revolution.”

“And yet all of your comrades did?”

You rapidly shook your head back and forth, worsening the pounding in your mind. They kept telling you about an uprising, but you didn’t know what they were talking about. They said you knew, but you didn’t know. They said that Katniss knew, that Peeta knew, that Johanna knew, that Finnick knew, but they couldn’t have.

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know where they were.

You prayed that Finnick was safe, but if he wasn’t, then you prayed that he was dead. You’d rather him be dead than ever face what you were facing now.

“They didn’t. I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Snow looked at you silently for a few moments, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Then brought his hand up. You flinched, but his hand only went to your hair, petting it. The look in his eyes was almost something like pity, you realized, but it wasn’t real. You didn’t know how long you’d been there, wherever you were, but in the time you there, you learned that President Snow was incapable of sympathy.

You even thought that he enjoyed this.

“Oh, my dear princess… I would’ve hoped that you would’ve learned to be honest with me by now,” he sighed, and then he took his hand away and looked away from you altogether, looking to the Peacekeeper that’d moved to the wall. “Again. And let’s be a little more… effective this time.” He moved to walk away, and you shook your head.

“No, no- please don’t- please, please- no- no!”

You shot up, panting, your hands digging into blankets. Your eyes darted around the room and you realized you were back in your bed in the medical centre. A hand was placed over yours and you immediately shuffled away, your eyes going to the person and meeting blue, concerned orbs.

Finnick held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” Your chest still rapidly fell up and down, but for some reason his presence calmed you down and put you into a panic all at the same time.

Only Finnick could do that to you.

You closed your eyes, blinking the remnants of your nightmare away, even if that nightmare wasn’t a nightmare but rather just the life you so happened to live. You’re here, Y/N. You’re alive.

But why?

“How am I alive?” you croaked, looking down at the dull bed sheets instead of into his eyes. It was funny: you looked down to avoid the blue of his eyes, but the colour of these sheets was so similar.

What’s your favourite colour?

It’s blue, not really dark or light either. Sort of green- it’s close to grey, too.

Now that colour just made you want to cry.

Finnick didn’t say anything for a moment, as if he was shocked that you were even speaking to him. And you were, too. You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, and if you went back to the last time you spoke, back in the arena, you would’ve never thought that this was how it would turn out. Even if you went back to just your first days in the Capitol, you still could’ve never imagined a reality where you didn’t speak to Finnick.

But you could’ve never imagined any of this happening in the first place.

If you went back to the night you met him, you could’ve never imagined how deeply you’d fall for this boy.

And you never could’ve imagined how much it’d hurt when you hit the ground.

Finnick’s voice was low when he finally spoke. “You were shot back in 2. But the bullets were stopped by your costume. Cinna made sure that it was bulletproof.”

Cinna.

The way people spoke about him, in the past tense, the way you hadn’t seen him anywhere. You’d figured that he was dead.

You wondered how many more people would die for this revolution before you could all be free.

“The doctor says you sustained minor injuries, bruised rib, bruised lung. But nothing worse than the injuries you came back from the Capitol with.” At that, you turned your head to face him, meeting his eyes immediately. His eyes were soft but almost hard. He was almost looking at you the same way he did after you volunteered for Annie. In his eyes, you saw care, confusion, sadness, some anger, and emotions you couldn’t name, but most of all, you could see the pure exhaustion weighing him down.

He stared at you for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, maybe longer than that—time didn’t seem to exist. “Why would you do that, Y/N?” He whispered. And in that moment, you knew you weren’t talking to the Prince of Panem, the victor of The 65th Hunger Games, or the soldier who wanted to build a better world.

You were just talking to Finnick.

And that scared you.

Your breath hitched.

Why would you do that?

Finn-

Why would you volunteer?

Because you had to.You volunteered for Annie because you had to, the same way you did what you just did because you had to. To you, there was no choice, only one path to follow.

“I did what I was meant to do, Finnick.” Even as you willed it not to, your body betrayed you, your voice cracking on his name, but this time, you kept eye contact. And even though you were talking to Finnick, the Finnick that held you at night and soothed you when you cried, your Finnick, he was not talking to Y/N, not the Y/N that he held and soothed.

That Y/N could not talk to Finnick, not this Finnick.

If she did, you didn’t know if you’d ever get her back again.

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking. “No, you could’ve died.” I’m already dead.

“But I didn’t.” But I did.

“But you almost did!” You flinched as his hands went up in the air, and then he froze, freezing you with him. You flinched. You flinched like he was gonna hit you, and he saw that. You cursed yourself immediately, wishing you could take it back as the look that encompassed his eyes became hurt.

There were few times when Finnick ever looked at you like that, and you could remember each as if they just happened. You never wanted to see that look on his face again, to be the reason for that look.

Time stopped again. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t find the words. And before you could, time picked back up. Finnick’s hands fell down to the bed, and he looked away from you, lowering his voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”

Tears welled in your eyes. He didn’t know what he was saying. “You could have the world at your fingertips, Finnick.”

“There is no world for me if you’re not in it.” He looked back at you. And you couldn’t tell if your imagination was playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes, too. “You’re my world, Y/N.” And just like that, any hope you had of remaining invulnerable shattered and the dam you were trying to hold in your eyes broke, tears falling down your face.

You shook your head, silent sobs wracking your body. Did he have any idea the effect he had on you? Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? “Why are you saying these things?”

Something akin to a scoff left his lips. “Because it’s true-”

“No- no, they’re not-”

Finnick latched onto your hand, making you look right at him. This time, you saw tears trailing down his cheeks, and they seemed so real. “Y/N, I swear to you on everything I believe in that I’m telling you the truth.”

You wished it was the truth. You wished that this was real. You had been wishing that your pretending could become real for ages now.

But you’d danced this dance long enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.

Even if Finnick had convinced himself that it would.

“It’s impossible.”

“I l-”

“Ms Y/L/N?” You both turned the source of the new voice, finding your doctor at your door. She glanced between you both carefully as you ripped your hands away from Finnick’s, wiping at the tears that’d fallen and the ones that continued to fall. “May I speak with you, please?” She requested, glancing at him.

He quickly stood up, but this time, you weren’t looking. “Yeah, I’ll, uh- I’ll head out.” He paused for a second, like he was waiting for you to say something, but you weren’t sure that you could continue to speak to him right now, even if you wanted to. When you remained silent, you heard his shoes pitter-patter against the ground as he made his way out of the room.

When he was gone, you exhaled and Dr. Terren looked back at you. She hesitated, “Did I… interrupt something?”

“No,” you breathed out. “Nothing important.”

She nodded after a beat, getting right into her medical talk, but she didn’t look so convinced.

And you weren’t sure that you were, either.

You were hit bad, the doctor said, but it could’ve been worse. And she was right. It could’ve been worse.

You didn’t feel a thing. Lung, ribs—all you felt was heartache. Maybe it was good that you couldn’t feel the pain. But you couldn’t be sure.

She kept pushing the same idea: therapy. That’s where Johanna was. That’s where Peeta was. But that wasn’t gonna be where you were. Terren kept talking about trauma, about how this near-death experience called for you to talk to someone, but really, what good would that do?

Would that therapist understand? Did they go through what you went through? Did they understand what you were going through? You didn’t have time to stop and talk about your feelings, if you could even sort them out into words, nor did you want to reminisce over anything that happened while you were in the Capitol.

Even if reminiscing was all you could do.

When Terren left, you ripped the IV out of your arm, leaving your hospital room to go to the other room they gave you. At least that one wasn’t filled with your favourite colour.

Your room in 13 was grey, like most things here. It was drab, but you wouldn’t complain. Anything was better than the Capitol. The door to your room slid open, and then you stopped. On your floor was the same black box Katniss left you, the same one you watched Finnick from.

Poison.

You swallowed, deciding to ignore the box altogether and go to your ensuite. You never wanted to see that video again. Watching it from that box was the first time you ever saw it, and it would be the last.

They must have gone through extra effort to hide it from you in the Capitol. They made you believe he was dead. You believed this was such conviction that, when you saw him again after the rescue, you thought you were dreaming.

You even thought you’d died.

You even wished you did.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, dead is what you looked like. That bullet may not have killed you, but you still looked like a corpse. You’re very lucky to be alive, Y/N, Dr. Terren told you.

Luck.

If luck was what kept you alive, then it wasn’t good luck at all. Luck would’ve been that bullet puncturing like it was intended to.

Your hand went to your ribs, looking at the bandages wrapped around them in the mirror. Then your hand travelled to your hair. Long and silky, so sought after in Panem. But as you ran your hands through it, you didn’t feel its softness. All you felt was Snow’s hand, petting you as you begged him not to kill you.

And then that turned into you begging for the exact opposite.

You don’t know how long you were looking at your reflection before you were opening and closing the sink drawers, your hands moving with a mind of their own. Part of you didn’t know what you were doing, but another part of you must have as you suddenly stopped, having found what you were looking for.

Scissors.

You picked them up, staring at them as if they were treasures, watching the light glare off the blades. You didn’t know what you were doing.

All you knew was that this feeling was tearing you apart.

And that’s all you could focus on.

Suddenly, your hand holding the scissors was moving. You still didn’t know what you were doing, but before you could find out, your name sounded.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, seeing Katniss stand in the doorway, confusion on her face that slowly contorted to fear. She glanced down at your hands, making you do the same. Quickly, you moved the scissors away from your wrist, unknowing of how they even got there.

You looked back at Katniss, your mouth opening and closing. You didn’t know what to say. Finally, you stammered, “I- I-” she looked back up at you and you realized that she, too, didn’t know what to say. “My hair. It’s- I want to cut my hair.”

That’s not what you were doing.

Katniss seemed to know that, not looking convinced in the slightest. She was quiet for a few moments, eyes on the scissors before she was walking towards you. Gently, she pried them out of your hand, as if you were a child holding a gun.

Then her eyes met yours. The eyes that were once hard as stone now looked at you with softness. “I’ll help you,” she whispered. She nodded to herself, repeating, “I’ll help you.”

You were grateful for her going with your story, even if it was just because she didn’t know what to say to what she really saw. She moved behind you, exhaling and getting ready right away.

And she may not have known this, but in just her walking in, she had already helped you more than you could’ve ever helped yourself.

Muffled chatter came to your ears as you sat in one of the common areas. Most people ate in the cafeteria, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go in there. Finnick was in there, along with Katniss, and you couldn’t really talk to either of them right now.

With Finnick, you didn’t know where you stood. He said so much to you in your hospital room, after you were shot, but you didn’t know what to make of any of it. He was talking to you like you were more than just fake lovers—and truth be told, that’s what you were. You may have forgotten that for a while or pretended for too long, but it was fake. The dance changed every so often, but at its core, it was the same.

Finnick was acting like this was a dance you engaged in voluntarily, like this was a dance he enjoyed dancing. While you had no one you’d rather dance with, you knew it wasn’t the same for him. You saw the way he looked at Annie; you saw it for the entirety of your “relationship.” He looked at her with such tenderness and care, like she put the stars in the sky. The second you saw her, the second you saw the way he looked at her, you knew that you didn’t stand a chance.

But for some reason, in that hospital room, you almost felt like he looked at you that way.

And that didn’t make sense.

That didn’t make sense at all.

Another part of you didn’t want him to see you like this, not again. Katniss did, and you weren’t ready to see her so soon, either. It was a weak moment, you told yourself, but you were fine now. You were here for a reason—you were still here for a reason.

Show them that they can.

You didn’t have hope, but you were still the hope of so many people, the hope of Panem. You weren’t gonna let them down. You were not going to stand by and let Snow’s reign of terror continue.

You made a pact with yourself. As Katniss was cutting your hair, you promised yourself that you would see this through. Afterward, it didn’t matter what happened, but you would fight until this country was free.

Even if you died for it in the process.

“Looking good, Princess.”

Your head shot up from your tray and, for the first time since you arrived in 13, you felt a smile arise on your face. “Johanna.” Your tray was pushed to the side as you stood, wrapping your arms around her.

“Easy. I hear you’re injured.”

“I’m fine, Jo,” you reassured her, pulling away. She mirrored your smile, a sight you never thought you’d see again after what you heard in the Capitol.

“You always are, aren’t you?” She retorted. You only continued to smile, opting not to respond. She must’ve seen your discomfort—of course she did, she knew you so well—so she changed the subject. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ditto,” you responded, even if it was a little untrue. You loved Johanna. She was the first person you looked for when you got to 13, and seeing her right now made you so unbelievably happy, a happy you didn’t anticipate feeling for a long time, but it wasn’t good to see her like this.

She had always put on a brave face, was always so much stronger than you, but right now, she looked like she was barely holding on. Her eyes were hollow, bags underneath them that matched yours. Her face was pale. And the beautiful red streaks that had once filled her hair, the hair that she loved, was now gone. It was all gone.

The Capitol took it just to show her that they could.

And even though you cut yours out of your own will, they still took yours, too.

Eventually, she sat down with you, resting her head on your shoulder. Before, when things were bad before they got worse, you’d sit together in the Capitol, you, her and Finnick, and you’d pass time together, just like this.

Except Finnick wasn’t here.

However, you convinced yourself that it was for the best.

Annie. He had Annie. You volunteered for Annie, got yourself in this position for Annie, so that he could have a life with her, the life he always wanted. He may have denied it, or maybe he didn’t know that you knew, but some nights, he’d dream about her, talking in his sleep. He wanted to marry her, to have kids with her.

He could do that now. This is what you did this for, so that he could have his happy ending. Even if it meant taking away yours for good.

Like she was reading your thoughts, Johanna muttered, “How come you aren’t in the cafeteria with prince charming?”

You stiffened, but you still knew how to dance this dance, deflecting, “Why aren’t you?”

She lightly chuckled. “Good point.” She didn’t answer, even though you knew the reason why, just as she probably knew the answer to her question. You expected her to drop it, but you supposed you should’ve known better from Johanna Mason. She was silent for a few moments until she spoke again. “He loves you, you know.”

You sighed, “Jo-”

“That boy loves you with all he has, Y/N.” She lifted her head up from your shoulder, making you look at her. “Always has, still does.”

Oh, Finnick and you were incredible. You made the masses believe that the love you shared was real- he made them believe it. You didn’t have to do any work. It wasn’t acting for you, but you knew it was for him.

Not even Johanna knew that it wasn’t real. She might’ve suspected, but for all she knew, you two were really in love. You wished that was true. For years, you wished that was true.

But your wishes rarely ever came true.

“It’s not that simple,” you said.

She slightly tilted her head. “Isn’t it?” Her words echoed throughout your head. Isn’t it? It should’ve been. In a different world, maybe it was that simple. In a different world, maybe the two of you really were as in love as everyone thought you were. In a different world, maybe all those wishes and all that pretending could’ve been a reality.

But that was not this world.

So you didn’t say anything, instead resting your head on her shoulder this time, conveying your thoughts to her without speaking them.

I wish it was.

You lied on your bed in silence, staring up at the plain ceiling and imagining patterns of your own. Back at home, the ceilings had colourful swirls on them, muted tones swooshing together. But that wasn’t really your home. The home you came from didn’t have pretty designs or fancy furniture. The home you came from had paint peeling off the walls. The home you came from didn’t have furniture at all.

But that wasn’t really your home, either.

At some point, you think, that place was something like a home. When your dad was still alive, you’d wake up every morning to the scent of food cooking in the kitchen, even if it was only a bit. But then he died, and there was no one to buy food at all.

That year, you barely ate a thing.

The next year, you picked up the slack. You could still remember it, being ten years old and finding your father’s hunting gear. Going into the forest, you were scared. You didn’t want to harm an animal.

But you did.

And then you did it every time after that.

When you came home, you saw the way your mother looked at you. Somewhere inside of her, something cracked. Somewhere inside of her, she saw something that you couldn’t. And, after that, she started looking at you a lot less.

Five years later, you were sent off to The Games. You could remember seeing your mother in the crowd, but when you got into the Justice Building, she wasn’t there. You waited. And she never showed. But you held your tears and told yourself you had to stay strong, for her, because she couldn’t.

You thought about her in the arena. You thought about her when you picked up that sword. You thought about her when you took your first life. You thought about her when Bay died. And you thought about her when Claudius announced that you, Y/N Y/L/N, had won the 67th Hunger Games.

Was she watching? you wondered. Is she happy?

When you got back to 4 and opened the door to your house, her jaw fell. Like she didn’t know. Like she was shocked. Like she never thought you’d win at all.

Like she didn’t want you to.

Mom, I- I won. Did you watch?

Silence. I watched. I tried, I just- I couldn’t watch you kill after that first- that-... The boy. A boy your age. A boy you stabbed into. A boy who you watched bleed out. A boy whose blood was on your hands–and with the way your mother stared at you, you almost felt like the stains were still there.

And they might as well have been.

She hugged you. But it didn’t feel like she was doing it because she missed you. It felt like she was doing it because that’s what a mother is supposed to do. They’re supposed to hug you–they’re supposed to love you.

But you weren’t you anymore.

You moved into the new house together. Then, soon after, you were moving into Finnick’s, leaving the house to her. You think she was relieved, relieved that she wouldn’t be sleeping in the same house as a killer.

And now, as you lied on this rough bed in 13, there was no house at all. No old house, no new one, no Finnick’s house, no district 4 at all. No mom, either.

What was the last thing I said to her? you wondered. Why can’t I remember the last thing I said to her?

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t even remember when you last spoke to her. Your own mother. She was the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who raised you. Yet you couldn’t remember the last time you were in the same room.

And now you’d never be in the same room again.

A burning grew in your throat, but you didn’t let the tears fall, blinking them away. You’d cried an ocean of tears already. Now wasn’t the time to cry anymore. Now was the time to be strong.

You never wanted this. You didn’t choose this, to be princess of a country that only abused its citizens, a country that threw you to the wolves then claimed they loved you when you came out seemingly unscathed, a country that wouldn’t have loved you so much if they knew just how scathed you were.

You did not choose this. But, for some reason, it chose you. The people chose you. The people believed in you. They believed that you were some sort of hero, coming to save them all from this villain that had hurt them all so badly. They didn’t know that it wasn’t true, that you weren’t a hero. They didn’t know that you were scared of the villain, too.

But if the people in the districts could believe in you, the people being bombed and attacked, the people grieving the loss of their loved ones–if they could believe that, then you could, too.

If the people of Panem believed you could be a hero, then you promised yourself that that’s what you’d be.

“So I changed the chemical compound of the powder, adding more fluorine to excite the electrons, causing them to jump more rapidly from orbital to orbital and ignite faster as-”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Beetee paused, like he was surprised that you couldn’t understand. To him, it was so simple, but to most people, like yourself, it had no meaning. “Chemical reaction,” he reiterated. “I increased the strength of the chemical reaction so you can hit more.”

Your mouth formed an O shape. “Makes sense. That’s all you had to say, y’know.”

His mouth opened, likely to say something sweet and snarky as per usual when the two of you spoke, but he was halted by the door to the armory sliding open. You both turned to see The Mockingjay making her way into the room.

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment before you regulated it, calming yourself down. You hadn’t seen Katniss since she walked in on you in the bathroom. The way her eyes met yours told you that she remembered that day well, too. But if you knew anything about Katniss Everdeen, it was that feelings were not her strong suit. If you knew her as well as you thought you did, then she’d pretend it never happened.

You hoped she’d pretend. If you knew Katniss as well as you thought you did, then she was just as good at pretending as you.

“You wanted to see me?” she queried, directing her vision to Beetee. A breath left you.

“Yeah, I wanted to show you both your new arrows. I adde-”

You cut him off, “He did something to the chemicals to make the arrows better.”

“Reaction. I increased the force of the chemical reaction.”

“Same difference.”

Beetee took a deep breath, closing his eyes and then reopening them. “Since you’re so… well-versed, you can explain it to her.” You snorted at his response while he wheeled away. Beetee always had the ability to make you laugh, even if it wasn’t his intention.

When you looked away from his retreating figure, you were met with Katniss staring right at you, realizing she was still in the room. Her brows furrowed, a light, light smile on her face that would otherwise be invisible to a stranger. “I’ve never seen Beetee get so… irritated.”

The tension in your shoulders dissipated as they shook with your laughter. Nobody had seen him get annoyed often, unless you were around. “Yeah, that happens when you're stuck in the Capitol with someone for years on end.”

Beetee was always a pretty good friend. You met at a Capitol function, of course, and from then on, you made it a point to annoy him whenever you could. Besides amusing you, it also served as a reminder that he was a human, too, not just some Capitol pawn.

Snow didn’t sell Beetee, but he used him in so many other ways. You and Finnick were their pride, but insiders knew that Beetee was their prize. He was perhaps the smartest person you’d ever met, but you figured that, every once in a while, he deserved to let his guard down and just be normal for a few minutes.

And, deep down, you knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he seemed.

Even though you were laughing, the smile on the brunette’s face slowly dimmed as she looked down. Your smile disappeared. “What is it?”

She was quiet for a second until she spoke, “You and the other victors… you all seemed close.”

Seemed.

Pictures flashed through your mind, pictures of your time in the Capitol. Normally, when you thought about your time there, you pictured all the bad, all the conversations behind closed doors, all the grown men and women who used you when you were still a child. What you didn’t think about was all the kids who were there with you, all the kids who had to grow up just as you did.

Some of these people were people you killed, the same people you had conversations with, the same people who were going through exactly what you were going through.

You were close.

Until you weren’t.

You didn’t say anything for a while, letting yourself remember it all. “Yeah,” you finally responded. “Yeah, we were.” And you didn’t say anything more on the matter. You didn’t know what more there was to say. You cleared your throat, changing the topic. “Anyways, this is what Beetee wanted to show us.” You picked up the arrows, showing them to her.

She hummed, looking back up. You knew that she knew what you were doing, but fortunately, she went along with it. “Never knew you could shoot.”

“Oh, please, Everdeen, anyone who grew up in the districts can shoot.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean they’re any good,” she retorted, shrugging.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know, is it?”

Another laugh left your lips, your third time laughing since arriving in 13. “You’re on, Girl on Fire.” You grabbed one of the non-incendiary arrows and a random bow lying on the table, loading the arrow in.

You faced your body to the targets across the room, bringing the bow up to your ear, pulling the arrow back, and eying the red. The corners of your lips quirked upward and, as soon as you turned your head to face Katniss, you let it fly. The look on her face made your smirk widen, turning to see that you hit the target dead-centre.

“How the hell did you just do that?” She walked closer, shock etched onto her face.

“Precision. And years of experience,” you replied, lowering the bow. “My father was a hunter.”

When you looked back at her, she had a different expression, like she was remembering something. Her eyes glazed over. “So was mine.” Her eyes found yours again, and this time, there was something there that wasn’t there before.

Back when you met, she was just Katniss Everdeen, and you were just the Princess. But now, you were both a lot more than that.

It seemed that you and Katniss Everdeen were more alike than you thought.

Right before the 74th Hunger Games, when you and Finnick were watching the training scores on TV, you didn’t think the tributes from 12 stood a chance, even though the girl had the highest score.

Watching the Games, you disregarded them completely, even as they got just as many sponsors as your tributes. You watched as Haymitch Abernathy actually tried, actually cared for these kids, but not even that deterred you.

You ignored the possibility of them winning at all. You wanted it to be your tributes, so badly. They were good. You wanted them to survive, one of them to survive, to make it out of this, to live the rest of their lives. But you should’ve known better.

No matter your best efforts, those kids died, and there was nothing you could’ve done about it.

After that, you assumed it’d go to the Careers. Glimmer and Marvel were crowd favourites, flashy and luxurious, but not as cutthroat as Cato and Clove. A part of you even rooted for them. Maybe tradition would be broken, you thought, maybe it’d go to that kid from 11. Thresh had the determination and resilience to win.

That’s why you were surprised when you turned on the TV to see Peeta and Katniss as the last ones standing.

One of us has to die; they have to have their victor.

No. They don’t.

You were even more surprised when they both walked out of that arena alive.

Peeta became Panem’s golden boy, and he knew exactly what strings to pull, as if he’d been doing this his whole life. Katniss, on the other hand, was not a performer, not the performer you knew Snow wanted her to be. You could tell she was angry, but being angry was not her job.

You knew this because it wasn’t yours, either.

People like you and her didn’t get to be angry. You were supposed to be grateful for the opportunity that the Capitol so generously bestowed upon you, not angry or sad or guilty. That wasn’t for you.

You saw so much of yourself in her. And for that reason, you thought you’d never meet her. Too rebellious, too jagged, too questioning–she was nothing that Snow wanted around the Princess. You were right; you didn’t meet her.

Until the time came for the 75th Hunger Games.

You were surprised when she was the one who came up to you. She was confident and put-together, but you knew better. This was your dance she was dancing. You could hear the lyrics so well.

She was scared.

And she was angry.

Her attitude made you like her. You could’ve been friends, you noted, but not in this lifetime, not when she was meant to be your opponent. You never thought that you and Katniss Everdeen would be friends.

Little did you know, she’d become one of the only friends you had.

“C’mon, Everdeen. You’re going easy on me,” you said, holding your arms out. Katniss stood opposite to you, lightly panting with her hands held up.

“I’m just- I’m just tired-”

“No, you’re not. You’re going easy,” you deadpanned. “Stop stalling and hit me.”

The brunette hesitated for a moment before going in for a punch that you easily caught. “You call that a punch? Where’s that Mockingjay fire?”

She scoffed, yanking her fist out of your grasp. “I’m not going to hit you, Y/N. You were just shot-”

“Well, the revolution doesn’t care if I’m shot or not.” You gestured to your body. “I’m perfectly fine. So hit me like you mean it.”

“No-”

“Hit me like I’m Snow.”

She scoffed again. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going to hit you. You’ve barely healed-”

You cut her off. “Fine. If you won’t, then I will.” Without another word, you threw a sharp punch for her face that she narrowly dodged. You didn’t miss a beat, throwing another one right after, and another one right after that like rapid fire.

She blocked your hits, but your pace didn’t alter. The two of you moved around the ring, but Katniss' hands remained in front of her face, not once swinging. You weren’t relenting; you weren’t gonna stop until she swung back.

You had almost backed her into the corner when, suddenly, the wind was knocked out of you and your back was hitting the ground. The world spun. You blinked and you were back in the arena, lying on the ground with Johanna hovering over you. You opened them and you were back in the training room, and now it was Katniss that hovered.

“Holy shit, Y/N, are you okay?” Her eyes were worried and her voice was panicked. Holy shit, she actually hit me. With that realization, a smile slowly formed on your face. “What? Why are you smiling-”

She was abruptly cut off as you swept her feet out from under her, sending her to the ground right next to you. She groaned while you laughed, almost hysterical.

If the old you could’ve seen you now. You never thought you’d be friends with Katniss Everdeen, much less that you’d be laughing with her after she kicked you.

“It’s not that funny,” she heaved, but you didn’t stop, uncontrollably giggling.

“You- you actually did it-” you cackled, tears in your eyes. She looked over at you, still panting, until you made eye contact and she was laughing, too.

You stayed there on the floor together for a while, laughing your hearts out. For all you knew, you wouldn’t get many moments like this for a while, moments where you could just lie down and rest. For all you knew, this revolution would kill you.

So there you were, the Princess and The Mockingjay, pretending that you were just Y/N, and she was just Katniss.

And for now, that made you forget about everything else.

“Please. Please, I’m begging you- please don’t do it again.” Your shoulders shook with sobs, vision blurred.

“Ah, you know that that is not how the game works, my dear.”

“Please- please, I don’t want to play anymore.”

Snow tutted. “You know the rules. You give me something, and you get something in return. If you do not give me anything, then I will take something.”

“Please, I don’t- I don’t have anything more to give-”

He sighed. “Is that so?” He didn’t give you time to say anything else. “In that case, I won’t take from you.”

You blinked the tears in your eyes away to look up at him, a chill going down your spine at his expression. He didn’t look angry. No, he was smiling. “W-what?”

He hummed. “I’ll take from Peeta.” Your heart dropped. You pulled at your restraints as he turned to leave the room.

“No, please! Please, stop! Stop!” He ignored you, walking out the door and letting the door slide closed behind him.

And then the room went black.

You shot up out of bed panting, heart racing with your eyes darting around the room. The walls were grey, but there was a window. There wasn’t a window where you were in the tribute centre. Moonlight shone into the room. There was light. There weren’t Peacekeepers waiting by your bed, waking you up when you fell asleep. You were alone. You were safe. It’s okay. You’re in 13. You’re alive.

You’re alive.

Somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

You breathed in and out slowly, trying to regain control of your breathing like how Dr. Terren showed you. When you were rescued, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t be consoled. This feeling that you felt right now was like that, but you don’t know if any panic attack could ever compare to that one.

You were rescued. But it didn’t feel that way.

It didn’t feel that way at all.

Once you calmed down or reached some semblance of feeling calm, your mind went right back to Peeta. You hadn’t been to see him since you first arrived in 13–and even then, you didn’t speak. He wasn’t really in a condition to be spoken to. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. But there was more to it than that.

There was always more to it than what you were willing to acknowledge.

As if your body was moving on its own accord, you threw your bed sheets to the side, slipping on a sweater and sliding your feet into the slippers next to your bed. Walking out of the room, you didn’t spare the clock a glance, walking with a subtle determination that many wouldn’t understand.

You called it a victor’s drive. It was a certain determination that came with fighting for your life, even if it meant taking another’s. It was not wanting to kill, but doing it anyway. It was not wanting to live, but doing that, too.

There were many things a victor did not want to do.

And there were just as many things that you’d do, anyway.

A part of you didn’t know where you were going while the other part was sure of herself. Regardless, you let your body take you to where your mind didn’t want to go, making your way through the dark hallways with no sound other than your feet heard.

Before you knew it, you stood in front of the glass wall that you hadn’t seen since you first got to 13. On the other side lied Peeta, looking no better than the last time you saw him. His screams echoed throughout your brain.

Please! Stop! No-

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to block out the noise that surrounded you even in such silence. His screams quieted after a few seconds, but no matter your resilience or techniques the doctor taught you, no matter what, you’d never be able to silence your song.

There was a time when you almost believed that you could escape it, the music. When Finnick and you were pretending, it felt like you could really have it, a family, like one day it would be more than pretending. But now you knew that wasn’t possible.

This song would never skip.

And you’d be dancing until the day you died.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with blue ones staring back at you, as if he knew you were there. You took in a sharp breath, scared, but maintained your stare. His hair looked shorter and more unkept than you’d ever seen it. It wasn’t so gold anymore.

Peeta’s eyes were blue, but not blue like Finnick’s. They were bright like the sky and full of a childlike innocence that you no longer saw. His eyes weren’t so bright anymore.

He looked like a ghost.

And maybe that’s what you looked like, too.

Without thinking, you went for the door, pulling the handle only for it to remain still. You furrowed your brows, trying again with the same outcome. That’s when you saw the pin pad on the side and realized that it was locked.

Of course, it was. They weren’t gonna leave Peeta Mellark in a room by himself with the door unlocked. Not this Peeta.

This Peeta had to be strapped down to the bed because his one and only objective was to kill the woman he loved. This Peeta wasn’t the same Peeta you met at the parade.

This wasn’t him at all.

With that realization, you turned around, letting his eyes burn into your skull as you walked away. You weren’t sure of anything, but what you were sure of was that you couldn’t be alone right now. If you listened to the music by yourself right now, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Your feet pitter-pattered against the floor in quick motions. You didn’t know where you were going, just that you needed to find Johanna. If you couldn’t talk to Peeta, then you needed to talk to her.

Suddenly, you turned a corner and went tumbling to the ground. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the fall, but it never came. Slowly, you opened them and the first thing you saw were another set of blue eyes, not bright or vibrant, but your favourite colour.

Finnick.

Your heart sped up. Suddenly, you could feel that the hands on your arms were his. Suddenly, you realized you were in Finnick Odair’s arms.

You think he only just realized that, too.

He cleared his throat, helping you up and letting you go. As soon as his hands were no longer on your skin, you felt cold. You felt just as cold as when the two of you were in the Capitol, standing outside together.

Except, now, you couldn’t hold each other like you did then.

Even if it was the one thing you wanted more than anything in the world.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you realized just how close he was. He was right there, in front of you.

You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here.

Right here.

And not at all at the same time.

He looked at you quietly, not saying a word, but after so long, you’d learned to read Finnick well. He looked like he had so much to say but couldn’t find the words to put them in. He looked like how he looked that night, that night that you were in the Capitol and that poor boy and girl died, that night that you kissed for the first time.

But as you looked at him, really looked at him, he also looked nothing like the Finnick you knew. You’d avoided looking into his eyes ever since you got to 13, in fear of what you’d see, and now that you finally were, you could see that his eyes weren’t so lively anymore. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Could you ever?

“What are you-” he cleared his throat again, “What are you doing up?”

At his question, you diverted your eyes, suddenly finding the floors much more interesting to look at. “I, um, I couldn’t sleep,” you reasoned. You didn’t explain why.

“Yeah, neither could I,” he muttered back, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t explain, either.

There was a time when you’d seek him out if you couldn’t sleep, a time when you’d go to him if you had a nightmare. That wasn’t possible anymore.

If you danced with him, you didn’t know if he’d be enough to keep you from collapsing.

If you danced with him, you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to keep going.

After a beat of silence, you spoke, “I should, um… I should get going now.”

You moved to leave, but Finnick grabbing onto your wrist stopped you. You masked your flinch, not because someone was touching you anymore, but because of who that person was. Your skin ignited so hot that it burned.

“Wait, can-” he hesitated, “can we talk?”

Your breath hitched, back still turned to him. His voice was pleading, a tone you never would’ve imagined him taking when you first met. You closed your eyes at the memory, feeling tears gather.

You wanted to say yes—oh, you always wanted to say yes to Finnick. His happiness became the only thing you strived for. You stayed with him even when you knew he loved Annie, you fought for her, you volunteered for her, you pretended you were okay, you pretended you didn’t love him, you pretended all the time.

But you couldn’t pretend anymore.

A nation was counting on you. People were counting on you. People needed you.

You couldn’t fall apart right now. And if you talked to Finnick, you weren’t sure you’d be able to put yourself back together again.

“I-” your voice cracked, “I can’t-”

“Please. Please, Y/N, I just need to talk to you.” You shook your head, holding in the sobs that were begging to escape.

Why was he doing this to you? Why, why, why, why, why, why-

“Please.”

Y/N, please. I’m just asking you to trust me. Please just trust me.

Trust you to do what?

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

I trust you.

You would die for this man. You died for this man. And if it came down to it, you’d die again if it meant that he’d get to live in a better world. But you couldn’t talk to him now.

If you talked to him, then it didn’t matter what the Capitol would throw at you, what bullets you’d take. Those eyes would drown you.

You couldn’t do this. Not now.

“No.” You removed your hand from his grasp and walked away as fast as you could, even as your feet felt anchored to the ground, each step hurting more and more. You didn’t turn back once.

The tears that you held in fell as you walked away, running down your face like a waterfall. You walked faster and faster until your walk escalated into a run. The door to your room slid open before you ran in, locking it as it closed. You slid down the metal and let out a sob, more and more following it.

Your hands went over your ears, trying to block out the music, but it only got louder and louder.

No, no, nothing is okay!

We will never be free, Y/N.

Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.

Mom?

President Snow used to sell me.

We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

You screamed in agony, nearly ripping your hair out, uncaring if anyone heard you. Your body shook with sobs and your heart ached. It hurt so bad. You never thought it could hurt this bad.

You didn’t wanna dance anymore. You didn’t wanna feel like this anymore. You didn’t wanna feel anymore at all if this was all it’d feel like.

But it didn’t matter. How you felt didn’t matter. What you wanted didn’t matter. It stopped mattering the second you won those Games, the second you stabbed that boy. You stopped being a person and became the person Snow wanted you to be. You became the Princess.

And now it was your job to make sure there wouldn’t ever be another Princess, another you, another Finnick, another Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Haymitch, Annie, Bay—it was your job to make sure this never happened to anyone again, that there would never be another group of kids that were forced to kill each other and themselves in the process. It was your job to make sure nobody else ever felt how you felt right now.

As you reminded yourself of that, your sobs gradually subsided and your heart rate came down. You weren’t okay.

But you had to be. You still had things to do- dancing to do.

You were gonna dance one last time, for this country, for all the kids that died, for the kids you were, for the kids you could’ve had, for yourself, and for the man that you loved. You were gonna dance until you couldn’t anymore. You were gonna dance until the music stopped. And amidst all the unknown, one thing was certain.

The day the music died, so would you.

It’s the things we love most, that destroy us.

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons @hnslchw @unholyhuntress @aclmagic @gloryekaterina @ayme301 @lem0ns77 @kisskittenn @onlyangel-444 @moonagedaydream505 @spderm4nnnn @satellitespeirs @glitzcute @iammirrorball @corpsebasil @forever-sleepy-sloth @omwtkydttfym @divinelovers @maggiecc @i-am-a-simp1 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @nelliereadsstuff @how2besalty @dreaminglandsworld @eilaharmonia @catvader101 @lexa138 @h0neylemon @dakotali @hermionelove @theseerbetweenus @whosscruffylooking @yourdailymemedelivery @emma-andrea1 @s1lngwns @meenyminymoes-blog @roxi-reid @rattertatter @sunnybunnyy2 @just-levyy @amaranth-writing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @joshhutchersonisdaddy @my-name-is-baby @hehehe13356 @quazsz @chloecharms23 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thehairington86 @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @ment1tavoid @hereliesme @tayrae515 @mottergirl99 @blackdxggr @giverosespls @erindiggory @feyretopia @bibliosaurous @sleila @soursonnets

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too-much-tma-stuff · 11 months

Text

Neither Gone Nor Forgotten

sequel to No Body to Bury. This isn’t edited, if you find any errors feel free to let me nice, just be nice about it.

------

Planning a funeral for Danny turned out both easier, and harder, then Batman had anticipated. Easier because he wasn’t deep in grief the way he had been when planning previous funerals, and harder because, well, the person the funeral was for was still around to have opinions. Not that Danny was hard to please, he seemed happy with just about everything, but he was struggling with whether he should tell his human family and friends. He really wanted to, but he was scared.

“I don’t think they’ll understand,” Danny said, his legs dangling over the edge of the tall building he and Batman were currently sitting on, holding a milkshake Bruce had bought for him. “Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all supported me while I was still only half dead and knew. I haven’t kept entirely out of the news since starting to work with you guys and I know they’re upset I abandoned them, I’ve seen it when I check on them. There’s no way they can understand how much changes when you die, I watch over them, but Ic an never go back.

“I can’t be what they want me to be, I’m not really Danny anymore at all, and they’d want me to be what I was. They’d want me to be human, and I’m just not anymore. I would want them to think I was completely dead and gone, but they’ve seen me in the news so there’s no chance of that.”

“Hm,” Batman said helpfully. “Write them a letter, I’ll make sure it’s delivered and then they can come on your terms, or not,” He suggested, he’d found writing letters to be a lot easier. “Like a will?”

Danny cocked his head to the side as he thought about that and then nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea, thanks Batman. You’re not nearly as bad at emotions as everyone says,” The young ghost said, bumping his shoulder against Bruce’s. It made the older hero smile. He wasn’t surprised to find that Phantom was gone when he turned back towards where the boy was sitting, his small smile remained as he threw out the abandoned milkshake and went on with his patrol.

It was two days later when the letter appeared on his desk, not yet folded or in an envelope which Bruce knew was permission to read it. He appreciated that because he would have had a hard time resisting the curiosity even if it was already sealed.

Dear Sam, Jazz, and Tucker

First of all, I want to say I’m sorry. I loved you all and I didn’t run away, I didn’t want to leave you. It was the GIW, remember when I said I was a ‘who’s who of who can’t catch ghosts’? I guess I underestimated at least one of them because they finally got me. Of course it was Phantom they were trying to kill, but is anyone surprised that they failed? It was Danny who they ended up killing, and now I can’t go back.

I didn’t realize what a big difference there would be between being half dead and all dead, a little humanity goes a long way I guess. Don’t worry I’m not going to become Dan, but I can’t be Danny anymore either, just Phantom left now and while I still love you and watch over you as I am, it’s not like I can just ‘live my life’ anymore. It hurts too much to try and pretend to be alive now, and ghosts are creatures of instinct, I can’t go against the natural order of life and death and come back to you, no matter how much I love you or how much you miss me.

Batman and some of the other heroes have offered to arrange a funeral for Danny, this time there’s actually a corpse to bury after all. I won’t be there, but it’s important for both the living and the dead that the dead have a grave, a place to grieve lost life. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, if it’s too hard or you’re too mad at me still. But if you do come or ever visit I’ll feel you there and it’ll make me happy, and maybe it’ll be some closure for you? I never meant to hurt you.

I’ll still be around to protect you, I’ll protect everyone I can. That’s been my obsession since the start hasn’t it? And Jazz don’t you start, ghost’s obsessions are what keeps us here and in one piece, I don’t need therapy. And I guess that’s the heart of it isn’t it? I’m not human anymore, and I can’t pretend to be, and we wouldn’t understand each other anymore. Not really. Ghosts don’t change much though so I’ll always love you and when you die maybe we can be friends again, if you can forgive me for this.

Forever young and yours,

Phantom

Batman read the letter and sat quietly with it for a few long minutes, thinking about it and also questioning some parts, like who Dan was. It was sad of course, but it was sweet too, and he didn’t think that Phantom’s friends would be nearly as upset with him as he thought they would be. Finally he sighed and folded it up, finding a envelope and address it to Danny’s sister since she seemed like the best one to make sure they were all there when it was opened and read. He put it in the folder to be sent out and then leaned against his desk.

“Are you really not going to come?” He asked the empty room, and after waiting for a moment wasn’t surprised when Danny stepped out from nowhere. He’d started to get a sense of when Phantom was there, untouchable and unseen.

“No, I’ll be there, but only the way spirits usually are. I won’t be there physically, just in spirit,” He said, smiling at his own pun. Batman chuckled a little and nodded.

“I understand why you don’t want them to know that, I won’t let on,” He assured. “I think you’ve done the right thing letting them know.”

Danny nodded and then vanished again, this time out through the window, properly leaving the office and Batman alone again.

Batman had the discussion with the rest of the Justice League without Phantom present so they could avoid accidental offense. Not everyone would come, not everyone could come, Batman banned a few of the more literal heroes who would not understand why they were having a funeral when Phantom was still here, even though he had actually died. But a decent amount did come, and Batman had a feeling that the ones Phantom would care about most was Bruce himself, and Diana, who was coming.

-----

When the day of the funeral came Batman and Diana stood outside the little chapel to welcome people. They weren’t technically family of course, apparently Diana was distantly through an ancestor of hers and adoption, and Bruce thought of himself as a paternal figure to Danny, besides they’d been here early setting everything up. The nice coffin was already at the front of the room, closed since it was empty with while lilies placed on top and decorating the little building along with some roses and candles.

He wasn’t particularly surprised when the first person who showed up was Danny’s big sister Jasmine Fenton driving Danny’s two friends. His parents weren’t there but Phantom had mentioned it might not be a good idea for them to come because they would probably be disruptive. Both Jazz and Tucker’s eyes were rimmed red like they’d been crying and Sam’s jaw had a stubborn set to it like clenching it was the only thing keeping her lips from trembling.

They reached the steps, Batman nodded to them and Diana gave them a sad smile. Jazz looked through the open doors, her breath hitching. “Is he in there?” She asked, pointing to the coffin.

Batman shook his head, voice soft and rough as he responded. “Phantom said he’d bring the body later, Less chance for something to go wrong and… I don’t know if it would hurt him, but I think it’s easy to see why he’d be protective of it.”

Jazz’s lip trembled and she took a deep breath, behind her Sam had wrapped an arm around Tucker who had started to cry again, turning to hide against her shoulder. “When you see him again tell him we’re not mad at him, please?” Sam said, her voice hard with repressed emotions, it almost sounded angry but there was a subtle difference.

“He’s right that we can’t understand everything,” Jazz said, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. “But after something like this he needs space, and we won’t rush him. If he needs to start a new life, we get it, everything must remind him of trauma right now, but if he ever wants to get back in touch with us. Well, I’ll love him forever too. But also tell him that he should have been more careful in that letter he wrote if any of us had been feeling suicidal his comment about being friends again after death might have been the last push we needed over the metaphorical edge-”

She was taking a deep breath to continue her lecture when Sam wrapped her other arm around Jazz’ shoulder and pulled her away. “Well we’re not, it’s fine, let’s go sit down before Tucker collapses from dehydration from all these tears.”

“I’m not going to collapse! I’m not even crying that much!” Tucker insisted, his voice audibly wet.

Batman and Diane kept their faces straight while Sam dragged them all into the little building and to seats in the front row. Then Batman’s lips twitched up in a slight smile and Diana gave a weak laugh. “I knew they wouldn’t be as angry with Phantom as he feared,” Batman said, trying to keep his amusement under control.

“What a precocious girl, a big sister through and through,” Diana agreed and sniffled a little, it seemed their grief had gotten to her a little. He understood.

Slowly more people filtered in, just other heroes now, and one young woman called Val. Sam said to let her in even though there was clearly tension there, the heroes didn’t ask.

The scheduled time of the funeral Diana and Batman went inside, closing the door after them and, since Danny hadn’t wanted a priest so Batman started to make his way to the front to start things off.

“We’re here today in remembrance of Danny Phantom, a brave young man lost to soon in the line of duty. He never should have had to join the fight so young,” Batman stumbled a little when he saw Jason slip in at the back of the chapel. He had sort of though Jason wasn’t coming, but there he was, dressed in his Red Hood get up, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Batman could tell that he was on edge, but he was here, and it would make Danny happy. He took a deep breath and carried on with his planned remarks.

When he was done he stepped down off the little podium and Jazz stepped up, pulling some queue cards out of her pocket, taking a deep breath and launching into a planned speech. She was a good public speaker, she managed to keep it together through her speech but her words were clearly very heartfelt.

It went well, a few more people spoke, by the end Batman was actually having a hard time keeping his feeling under control, he maybe should have came as Bruce Wayne so he could have cried. He kept it under control though and eventually it was time to bring the coffin out to the prepared grave. They hadn’t fully planned who would carry it because they hadn’t known if Danny’s friends and sister were going to come, but now that they were here of course they were invited to help carry the coffin.

Batman and Diana took the majority of the weight of course, but all three of them took the offer to help carry the coffin the prepared grave. They lowered it in and Superman placed the specially made vault over top that would protect Danny’s body from, well, the usual stuff super heroes had to deal with, bodies being stolen for experimentation, attempted cloning’s, resurrection but wrong, all that jazz.

Jasmin through in the first handful of dirt, then Sam, then Tucker and then the heroes joined in. When the grave started to be filled properly a lot of the heroes started to wander away, Batman approached Jason who was hanging back.

“Please stay,” He murmured to his estranged son, seeing Jason’s shoulders tense, his arms were still crossed defensively. “Phantom will be bringing his body one most of the people clear out and he’d really like to meet you. If you don’t mind, he just died, and it’s been hard on him, I think meeting you would be a comfort.” He watched with bated breath as Jason’s fingers twitched and tightened on his own arms before he nodded. Bruce breathed a subtle sigh of relief and nodded, turning back towards the grave.

Once the grave was filled and basically everyone else had either left or gone back to the little chapel to socialize, Danny finally arrived. He faded into view, seemingly almost shy, watching them both closely for their reaction. Bruce understood why, he had to carefully school his expression when he saw the state that Danny’s body was in. It wasn’t that he was dead obviously, ashen and limp, passed the stage of rigger it seemed, it was the visible injuries. He was littered with cuts and bruises, there were stull cuffs around his ankles and wrists which had clearly burned into his skin. The wound that had killed him was, well, it looked like an autopsy had been done, his chest was fully open, but Batman knew it had been done while he was still alive. It was horrific.

Batman managed to keep himself under control though his breathing sped up, Hood’s mask completely hid his face but he rocked back like he’d been struck. Danny hesitated, licked his lips a little and stepped forward.

“I can’t touch the cuffs, but I don’t want too bury him with them still on. Will you take them off for me? They shouldn’t burn you,” Danny asked Bruce.

He was about to say yes when Jason cut in, “I’m better at picking locks then him, I’ll do it.” He practically growled, stalking forward and pulling his lock picking kit out of one of the pockets on his suit. “Who did this to him,- You?” He asked softly as Danny knelt, cradling his own corps close to his chest, letting Jason kneel in front of him and take one of the limp arms to start on the cuffs. Jason hissed when he touched it, it burned a little but he breathed through it and started to pick the lock.

“It was the GIW, the ghost investigation ward. I killed the ones who did it, and the justice league helped me disband the rest of the organization and overturn the laws that enabled it,” Danny responded, his green eyes locked unblinkingly on Jason, watching him as he watched Jason work on the locks.

“Good, I’m glad their dead. That must have felt good,” He chuckled vindictively.

“I am too, but I’m more glad they won’t get to hurt anyone else. They might have gone for you if they were still able.”

“Me? Why?” Jason asked, his fingers twitching, he cursed softly when the lock pick slipped, he grumbled and started again.

“Because you died before didn’t you? The cuffs burn you because you’re not… completely alive anymore I won’t ask anything about it, I know that’s private but if you ever want to talk about it, or if you need help with the… side affects, I’d be happy to help you,” Phantom offered softly. Jason only hummed in response, he needed to process and consider that.

When the final cuff fell to the ground Danny took a deep breath and curled around himself, resting his forehead against his body’s hair. From the way his shoulders were shaking they could tell he was crying, Jason rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder, just being there for him until Phantom was ready and finally sunk into the ground. He was down there for a long time before he surfaced again, flying over to hug batman, burrowing against his chest a little while Batman patted his back gently, Jason standing by awkwardly.

“Thank you so much for doing this, and thank you both so much for coming. This really means so much to me.”

“Of course kid,” Jason said, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s soft white hair.

Batman nodded, giving Danny a gentle squeeze, “No one deserves to be forgotten.”

Tag list: @kikkobara @phlebocuffs @spikethecrazycat @spookytragedyshark @thatonegaybitch68 @stargazer-luna @fangirlnerd001 @seraphinedemort @yjfk @rosieparker1856 @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun and thank you too @your-local-idiot-savant for giving me feedback on some parts

#Danny Phantom #Jason todd #batman #wonderwoman #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #Danny 'crashes his own funeral' fenton #full dead AU #dc x dp #dc #Danny gets a funeral #I have an extra little bit of the doctors Fenton crashing the funeral that I cut out #I'll probably post it separately #danny fenton #Danny got vivisected

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the-au-thor · 3 months

Text

Bestfriend Blurb #6 | Spencer Reid

Yep, as I always say: if you ask, you'll receive. You asked for them to figure it out. You asked them to finally say it out loud. Here we go! Hope you like it. If you have anything to say, just say it please. And remember this is not my first language and I tried to translate this the best I could. Also I love you, thanks for your love

Remember this is one of a series of blurbs you could read in the links down below:

#1- When he preferred your smile

#2- When he proved he knows you well

#3 - When he wanted you to choose him

#4- When you wanted to make him smile

#5- When you he loved you and you loved him back

Summary: Spencer and reader are bestfriends that love each other, just they haven't done anything about it. Let's see how they'll figure all out.

Words: 1.5k

Warnins: none

You saw Spencer leaving Hotchner's office, appearing to have a serious conversation, but Hotchner had a half-smile and seemed content with whatever they discussed. You hid behind your laptop as your boss briefly glanced in your direction. Spencer started descending the stairs, and you sank further into your seat, but you still felt his gaze on you. You listened to his footsteps leaving the room, then straightened up to make sure he was really gone.

Your heart paused from the marathon it started this morning when you saw him enter the office after you left a note in your apartment explaining "you had to do something (absolutely nothing) before arriving at Quantico". You let out a deep sigh of relief, deciding you could finally focus on the paperwork from the previous case.

"What are you doing exactly?" Emily's voice interrupted you from her desk.

You moved your gaze from the glass door to look at her, as if she had caught you doing something mischievous. "Me?"

Emily dropped her pen on the desk and leaned back, studying you slowly.

"No, my nemesis who has risen from the dead, Doyle," she replied sarcastically, then leaned against her desk and whispered, "Why are we hiding from Reid?"

You furrowed your brow and leaned back in your chair, letting out a nasal laugh. "I'm not hiding from Spencer..."

"You are. You know it. I know it; J.J, Rossi, and Derek know it."

Derek turned a page of his report and nodded without taking his eyes off the file. "Oh yeah."

"Yup," David agreed from his seat.

You looked at J.J on the adjacent desk, and she shrugged while munching on an Oreo, nodding her head slightly. You turned back to Emily, who wore one of her know-it-all smiles and shrugged.

"García doesn't say yes only because she's not here," she added, and then her expression shifted to a slightly more concerned one. "What happened? I thought Reid's surprise would cheer you up.

"You looked at them in surprise. "Wait, did he tell you?"

"No," Prentiss chuckled.

"We are profilers," Rossi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, sipping from his coffee cup with a small satisfied smile. "We know things."

You gave him a annoyed look and sulked in your chair.

"The surprise was good, thanks for asking."

"I didn't ask; I affirmed. I know whatever the boy genius orchestrated made you very happy, which brings me to ask, why aren't you happy?" Emily inquired with curiosity.

"Well, what is this? One of your tenacious and terrifying interrogation room talks?" you asked everyone, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Derek finally stopped looking at his work to pay attention to you with a sigh.

"Sugar it is very simple, either you tell us what's going on, or we profile you."

You rolled your eyes, knowing they would somehow figure out what was happening with you. On one hand, you were tempted to let them profile you; perhaps they could unravel the mess inside you that you couldn't even identify.

"Don't you think it's weird?" you asked, but none of them seemed to understand what you were talking about. "This, his surprises, don't you find it strange?"

David pressed his lips together but remained silent. J.J then let out a surprised laugh.

"What do you mean? It's... Spencer we're talking about. The Spencer who took you to a Peter Gabriel concert because he knew you were dying to hear 'Solsbury Hill' live, even though he hates crowds," she reminded you.

"The one who didn't reveal certain details in cases so that you could provide them and not feel less in your first months at the BAU," Derek recalled with a half-smile.

"He didn't do that..."

"No, of course not," Prentiss laughed. "Because he also doesn't let you win at chess" she added ironically.

"Hey, I've become very good at chess"

"Not better than Spencer," Derek clarified with a sing-song tone.

You gave him a displeased look.

"Thanks, huh?"

"It's just the truth," Emily genuinely chuckled at your stubbornness. "The point is, Spencer does these thoughtful things for you. It would be strange if he didn't do anything to congratulate you on your exhibition; something we all know meant a great challenge for you."

They all nodded in silent agreement with Emily. Without words, you had no choice but to stop arguing with them. If such behavior was normal for Spencer, did that mean you were perhaps reading too much into it, and your love for him was truly one-sided? Could it be that all this time, Spencer had just been himself and hadn't shown any interest in more than a platonic friendship with you? Since yesterday, you had acted like a coward because you had discovered you loved him, and there was a possibility he felt the same way. After all, who gives up a date just to spend an afternoon locked in with their best friend watching Doctor Who reruns that they could watch any other time? You panicked; he was your best friend, and even though you promised that if something happened, it wouldn't affect the friendship, you knew it was inevitable. Besides, he was also your colleague, and that kind of fraternization within the FBI was practically impossible. There would be tough decisions, inquiries, interrogations, and a probationary period to prove that the relationship wouldn't affect your performance in the field. But what scared you even more was that you could just lose him. Because you loved him so much; you loved how he closed up whenever strong emotions came into him, and you loved stripping away each of his layers until he let you in. You loved listening to him chatter endlessly about something he was passionate about or thought you might find interesting. You loved that he knew so many languages but sometimes struggled to understand the slang of his own mother tongue. You loved his pure heart and always innocent intentions. You loved seeing him with his peculiar weapon and how, in every case, he wished he didn't have to use it. You didn't want to stop loving him just because you couldn't give him what he needed.

"Hey, we didn't say Spencer does that with everyone," J.J, who seemed to read your intrusive thoughts perfectly, saved you from drowning in them, bringing you back to the surface. "He's like that with you," she added firmly, as if wanting to make it clear.

You tried to breathe but found it difficult. It was as if the air had suddenly become dense. You were about to hyperventilate when Hotchner came out of his office at the same time Spencer entered again, looking relieved. Hotch looked at you and then at Spencer, nodding with a solemn gaze before addressing everyone.

"I must announce a new decision that the bureau established starting this morning; Reid will begin to reduce his fieldwork hours to teach university classes."

You furrowed your brow, and your gaze inevitably turned to Spencer, whose eyes were on you as if expecting some kind of reaction. It would come, for sure.

"What?" you asked. "Why?"

The guys turned to Hotchner, awaiting an answer just like you.

"By Spencer's own request" Hotch frowned, somewhat confused, surprising everyone and making everything suddenly move around you.

Thoughts began to bombard you like a meteor shower. Spencer knew; he had found out what you felt for him and was starting to distance himself so as not to hurt you because Spencer was like that. He was considerate even when breaking your heart. Obviously, he would discover your feelings; he was an eminent profiler and knew you like the back of his hand.

"Hey..." you heard your name on Spencer's lips because he had identified the panic on your face and the distress in your eyes.

You looked at him, trying to hold back your tears and compose yourself as best as you could. With false calmness, you placed your hands on the table and then verbalized a decision that seemed to be the most reasonable thing to say.

"I resign."

A sepulchral silence invaded the room, and if you hadn't been so focused on keeping a decent image for a little longer, you might have heard the surprised squeal that came from Derek's throat. Without taking your eyes off Hotchner, you stood up and excused yourself to go to the bathroom because you weren't sure if you could maintain a decent appearance for much longer.

You held on until you crossed the door to start running towards the elevator and try to escape from something that was encapsulated in your head, dulling it, and trying to push the tears out of you. You pressed the elevator button that would take you away from Spencer when you saw his hand preventing doors from closing. You saw his face on the other side of the elevator, and you stayed inside, looking at his stern face and inquisitive gaze; he was searching for some kind of answer in your own face. He would have it, for sure.

"What was that?" He asked

Your lips trembled with nervousness, and then you decided to be completely honest.

"You don't have to leave; I'm leaving. This has been your job since before I arrived, and you shouldn't have to do this for me..."

He frowned almost offended. "What are you talking about?" he asked, taking a step forward and stopping the elevator pressing a button. "What's going on with you? You ignore me the entire weekend, and suddenly you decide to resign to take care of my feelings? How considerate!"

This time, you furrowed your brow. "Ignore you?"

"I'm not an idiot," he accused, making a small accusatory gesture with his hand. "You made your gratitude waffles and left them on the table with a note?"

"I had to go for a run; I wasn't performing as I should in the field, and..." you started to explain but he interrupted you.

"Lies," he lamented. "Lies! You hate sports as much as you hate mornings," he recalled. "And you did the same thing today," he cornered you with his words. "How am I supposed to think you don't want me to leave when you've only been pushing me away?"

That question completely disarmed you; you had left no choice but to opt for silence. You saw him press his lips with determination.

"What do you want?"

Flustered, you gasped, unable to give a neutral answer that would protect you from a broken heart.

"I don't want you to leave."

That genuine response seemed to calm him. His face and shoulders relaxed until the furrowed brow became history, and there was only a hint of weariness in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving, and you don't have to resign," he clarified. "It was a decision I made in conjunction with human resources."

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Why would you involve yourself with human resources?" you asked.

Spencer took the time to answer, silently studying you.

"Because I have to prove that I can do my job even when there are feelings involved and assure them that you can do the same thing."

A tingling sensation began to coat the walls of your stomach, and damn if you didn't already know what Spencer was insinuating, but you had to ask him.

"Your feelings have never stopped you from doing your job. Why would the bureau be concerned now...?"

Spencer let out a laugh and briefly looked away from you.

"It's different now because I fell in love with you," he admitted so honestly, so directly, so bravely, and without a hint of fear that the shame for your own fears silenced you. There was something effervescent inside you that numbed your tongue and destabilized any reasoning. Spencer took a step toward you, somewhat hesitant, but he didn't let his shyness stop him. He cradled your face with one of his hands, and his eyes studied your expression. He seemed excited. "And my dear, you fell in love with me," he murmured the last part, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes to caress your cheek with the soft pad of his fingers. "And I knew you would have fears; I knew your mind would play tricks on you. I knew it in the gallery; that I had to make sure that not a single one of your fears would come true."

You could live a thousand different lives and never do anything remotely worthy of deserving someone like Spencer.

"Spence..." you cried distressed, returning the gesture and cradling his face.

Because while you chose to isolate yourself and heal wounds you didn't yet have, Spencer was trying to eliminate anything that could cause you those wounds in the first place.

"Hey," he tried to calm you while continuing to caress your skin in circular motions. "That's why I talked to Hotchner this morning. That's why I talked to human resources. That's why I'm going to reduce my hours in the field. Because by taking a step back, I'll be closer to you," he admitted as your tears fell down your cheeks and he wiped them away one by one, brushing his nose against yours. "I want this, do you want it?"

You nodded, but you knew it wouldn't be enough; you had to say it out loud.

"I love you too, Spencer. And I'm scared that everything will change" you confessed with a trembling voice.

You felt his soothing smile just millimeters from your lips.

"It will be better," he said before pressing his lips against yours.

You let out a little squeal when the tip of your tongue brushed the smooth surface of his lips. Your back pressed against the cold wall of the elevator, and his chest collided with you as his other hand tenderly caressed your hair.

Nothing in a million years could have prepared you for what a single gesture from Spencer was making you feel. While his lips moved over yours with controlled emotion, and you stretched because you had been so far from him for so long that you needed to be as close as possible now. And for the first time, you didn't need your camera to capture the moment because you knew there was nothing in the world that could make you forget this first kiss.

Spencer watched you as you reluctantly pulled away. He had to maintain control; he could stick to you as much as he wanted at home later. For now, there was a mess to repair in the office with Hotchner; so he took your hand, and waited for the elevator to descend and the doors to open. He didn't expect to face the expectant gazes of your colleagues waiting for both of you outside the elevator. Hotchner had his arms crossed, and Penelope, who apparently had been informed by her not-so-discreet friends, observed your intertwined hands and opened her mouth in surprise.

"Is it done?" she shouted. "And did you wait until I wasn't in the room for everything to happen? Lunatics, I love you, but you are a pain in my elegant ass. I hope you're happy; I bet on this months ago, and frankly, I expected a faster move from you. Now I'll have to give my money to Emily and..."

Hotchner interrupted her to look directly into your eyes.

"I'll ignore your resignation from a few minutes ago, and honestly, I hope something like that doesn't happen again. I didn't bet money, but I did bet on you with the bureau; I vouched for your professionalism, and I know I won't be wrong. But don't make me doubt."

You felt Spencer's fingers give you a calm squeeze, ensuring that you wouldn't hyperventilate again in front of your unit chief because it wouldn't look good.

"Of course, sir. It won't happen again."

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Hotch remained serious, and then out of nowhere, he broke into a cheerful smile.

"That's what I wanted to hear. I'm very happy for you guys."

That brought your soul back into your body, and it was the green light your colleagues needed to let out a cheer and congratulate you.

Penelope jumped at you, and Derek at Spencer, while receiving your friend's hug, Spencer watched you, with that look of appreciation that had been directed at you all the time, and then you smiled at him. You gave him that smile that Spencer was willing to choose over anything every day for the rest of his life.

And things changed a bit. But not as your fears predicted. It turns out that now Mondays were Doctor Who Mondays too; the popcorn actually tasted better, and as you nestled between Spencer's legs and he cradled you in his arms that evening upon arriving at your apartment, your home, you knew it wasn't because of the butter, nope. It was because Spencer Walter Reid had chosen you, and you had chosen him.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid bestfriend blurb #friends to lovers #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #david rossi

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37-drc89 · 4 months

Text

should be the last night we’re apart; kim seungmin

trope: exes to lovers.

genre: angst with good ending.

warnings: self-hatred.

word count: 1,4k.

note: i will appreciate every reblog, comment, feedback, as always! thank you so much for reading! x

masterlist

Slight lantern light shined through the glass, painting the room's walls weak orange. Other than that, only darkness wrapped your body tightly, so tightly it could almost suffocate you. Cold wind blew through opened window, sending unpleasant shivers down your spine, but there’s no strength in you to close it. There’s no strength to look in the mirror in front of you. No strength to look at yourself.

How many days passed? Eight? Nine? Nineteen?

How many days passed since Seungmin left?

Counting was useless, it always successfully blurred into nothing. Or maybe it was just you who never tried recalling that day, as it sent physical pain into your crashed, aching heart. However, it seemed to be the only thing your mind could ever go back to.

You promised each other to be infinite, until death and further. But the problem about every good book is that it always has its end, and that's all you've learned since the day you were born. Maybe Seungmin didn't enjoy your book. Maybe he got bored of the plot, maybe the characters were a mismatch for him, maybe there were typos on your side that made him go. You could be searching for any explanation all day and night, but the proper words were taken away from you, along with your promised eternal love, with Seungmin.

Your head rests on your knees, eyes focused out somewhere on the floor, looking for any other emotion that could fill you, other than pure guilt. You need to go on. You might be hurt, but life doesn't end here. At least that's what movies say, so why does it feel otherwise?

Obviously, your friends did reach out to you. They sat there, held your hand, patted your back, wiped your tears. They rewatched your favourite shows over and over again, joked around, and you smiled, you laughed even, only for the grin to go long forgotten when doors closed behind them. Additional guilt creeping on your back for being nothing but a burden, weight even your closest friends couldn't lift for you.

And Seungmin was nowhere to be found. Everytime someone walked around the stairway, useless hope grew in your chest, only to brutally be dragged back down when it happened to be your neighbour. Every notification your phone popped made your breath stop, but his name never appeared on the screen. Your fingers always hovered above that send button, unsure about the millionth message you've been preparing the whole day, always ending up deleting it anyway. You stopped trying and your phone remained untouched since. No point of waiting if there's nothing to be waiting for.

It felt as if every good thing was taken away from you. Your every first time, every good joke, every tooth-rotting sweet message, every pleasant morning and evening when you got to lay down next to the love of your life. Was it all really something you have to say goodbye to... for good?

Even the time when your first kiss happened, on that one regular sleepovers of yours? When air thickened during a simple conversation you always had, right before going to bed, his hand slipped over yours, but eyes never left the wall in front of him. Silence grew between the two of you as you quietly blinked at him. "Can I kiss you?" he murmured with dead serious face and you nodded before you could even think. Situation got to you only when his lips connected with yours, staying there for what felt like eternity. Back then you could swear you've never seen Seungmin so passionate about something, so whipped. Your lips felt like they were meant to be kissing each other, and it felt right. Something finally felt right. When your lungs started yearning for breath and he pulled away, first genuine smile appeared on his lips that night, eyes softer than they have ever been, and your heart told you right there that you indeed love the boy in front of you. And as much as your heart fooled you sometimes, you trusted it - do you now have to let it down and forget?

Or about the night he found you in your bathroom, face soaked in burning tears, body completely nude, all but painful whimpers coming out of you, the night you felt especially unattractive, ugly, hideous. When he caged you inside his comforting embrace, not letting you speak as Seungmin knew nothing but self-hatred will come out of you. When his lips carefully kissed every part of your body, slowly, mumbling sugar sweet words into your skin, as if he wanted them to linger underneath it. He kissed every scar, every mole, every beauty mark, your every insecurity. In the end he kissed away your tears, not bothering the salty taste, whispering his admiration and love. The night you felt gentler about yourself for the first time in your life.

Now you despise what you see once again. There is nothing to love.

1 am struck on the clock, reminding you about how long you've been rotting into your bed, another four hours flew by your head before you could catch them. Few messages from your friends already cold on your phone, you should check them, you should at least let them know that you are alive, but are you really? Can you consider your current state as living?

Krrrth.

Your ears fail to catch that familiar sound of key being inserted into the keyhole, lock sliding open right after. You only notice stairway light sliding into your apartment along with doors opening quietly, but it disappears seconds after. Faint steps growing louder as a figure stands in the doorframe, in complete dark. But the silhouette is so well known to you you could recognize it half-blinded.

He locked his gaze at your poor, small figure, finding your eyes in the dark immediately. Soft pants leave his lips, a sign that he most likely ran. To you.

Kim Seungmin.

The last person you need. The only one you want to see.

"y/n,"

Your name on his lips feel like a curse and like a blessing, and you can't tell if the knot inside your stomach is tightening or loosening. You want to punch him, you want to scream, you want to kick him out and tell him not to come see you ever again. But more than that, you want to hold him and never let him go again. To kiss him all over, to cry into his chest, to confess your love for him over and over again.

Your mind quiets as Seungmin makes his way to you, kneeling in front of you. Moonlight perfectly reflects dried tear stains on his face, you hear his breath shake. His hand lifts up, reaching out for yours, but he doesn't dare to touch you, to scare you, waiting for your permission. Only when your cold, trembling hand leans in into his, Seungmin carefully holds it. His other hand sneaks itself around your back, scooping you into his embrace. You could protest. But this moment feels like a dream come true. Like something you've been searching for for your whole life. He holds you so gently like you're the most fragile, porcelain masterpiece ever created, just like you remember. Your hands roll into weak fists, ready to punish him for leaving, but all you're capable of is clutching them on his hoodie as strongly as you can. Tears that seemed dried out for the past days start flowing, and they run, run, run down your face one by one, creating a steady stream.

Time passes. Minutes or hours, you're not sure. Seungmin pulls away gently, hands coming up to hold both of your wet cheeks. His heart trembles at the poor sight, another set of tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. He knows he hurt you. He knows he's the one responsible for what he sees. And he is ready for you to punch his face, aware that this is the only thing he deserves from you.

But instead, you lean in, laying your swollen, red lips on top of his. And he can't help but hold you closer, like he's getting the greatest award for being the worst dick existing.

"My love. I will explain to you, everything," stream of tears go down his cheek, bottom lip trembling. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. For everything you've been through, because of me."

"This better be the last night we were apart." You squeak weakly, running your thumb over his lips, effectively shushing him. Right now that doesn't matter, because Kim Seungmin is by your side once again.

You can tell if something is right when most things in this world are plain wrong.

And you know this is right.

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teriri-sayes · 6 months

Text

Reactions to Deal Maker's Chapter 200

TL;DR - Angry dragons. Emperor and Wi talk about Cale's rumors. Caleism in Central Plains. Cale and Eru talk about Aipotu and Maxi. Cale returns home and meets Clopeh.

Angry Dragons Continuing with the last chapter, the dragons were noticeably angry. Even our tsundere Rasheel was muttering, "How dare those dragon bastards of another world, to our youngest..." Not much happened here. Raon was only confused with the atmosphere, while Cale was holding back his laugh at the Aipotu dragons being cursed at by his world's dragons.

Caleism in Central Plains I thought murim arc was over, but we get a scene of the emperor and Chief Eunuch Wi. They were talking about the rumors spreading about Cale.

The emperor's impression of Cale was an arrogant man, but thought that Cale did not deserve to remain a human, so he had gifted the immortal's clothes to Cale.

Wi knew that the Hainan Island's residents who witnessed Cale's miracle had now become Caleism believers. The murim people even treated Cale as a pioneer and their goal in martial arts.

What these two did not know was that Cale gained two new titles. One was the Sea Emperor, and the second was Martial God (or God of Martial Arts)... 🤣🤣🤣

Crazy Clopeh Cale and Eruhaben had some conversation about Aipotu, the World Tree, and Maxi (the dead dragon in Central Plains). Afterwards, Eruhaben left to visit the WT while Cale had some small talk with Alberu before going home to Sheritt's black castle.

Before leaving, Cale had informed Alberu that he had contacted Hannah and Clopeh to come to Roan, so they would probably be arriving in a few days. But lo and behold, when Cale arrived at the black castle's entrance, he immediately saw Clopeh... 😂

Clopeh was his usual strange self, kneeling down to Cale and looking at him with burning eyes as he said that he was waiting for Cale to call him... 🤣🤣🤣 Raon said something about how Clopeh was the best, and Cale wondered what he meant, but didn't want to know the answer. 😂

Cale only told Clopeh to come and did not say that he had a way to fix Clopeh's body. As Clopeh let out a strange laugh and was saying something like he finally had a chance to join the legend, Cale realized that no one in the other worlds could rival Clopeh in his strangeness... 🤣🤣🤣

Ending Remarks Today was a good chapter, with Clopeh's appearance at the end as the highlight. And because today's the 200th chapter, the author included a message for us!

Author's Notes Greetings, this is Yoo Ryeo Han. This is my greetings in celebration of the 200th episode of Part 2. …Part 2… Episode 200… 2…200… 2… 2… Two, two… I'm sorry. But it's really strange. Clearly, at the time of preparing Part 2, I thought… 'Around 50 chapters per family, so 250 chapters! I'll add 50 more chapters to finish it in 300 episodes!' Did I plan it like this? I definitely thought this was possible. It's really mysterious. We've now gone through 2 families and 2 worlds, and it's episode 200. If this continues, I don't even know how far Part 2 will go. Haha! There are 3 families left, so if we add 300 episodes, will it end in 500 episodes? Haha! I don't know! Hahaha! Thank you for joining me this far. Thanks to you, I feel greatly strengthened. Really. I hope this series can bring a little joy and small pleasure to the readers' daily lives. Thank you. -Yoo Ryeo Han

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family #tcf author's notes

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mazosstuff · 6 months

Text

Drunk thoughts are sincere thoughts

pairing: Dan Heng × fem!reader

Cw!: none (maybe being drunk? Idk, nothing major happens to the reader or to anyone)

Words: < 800

A tiny bit suggestive but nothing happens!!

Sitting in the data bank, there are 2 young adults that are merely hanging out with a bottle or two of wine.

That night, she gulped down way too many glasses for how much alcohol she could tolerate.

"You've had one to many drinks, [name]" the black haired boy said.

"Y-you know... I was t-thinking about your other name..." She said between hiccups and a few pauses.

"My... other name? Please, tell me more. What were you thinking?" He wasn't even sure about what other name could she be possibly referring to.

"Imbibitor Lunae" She said while looking at the stars outside the window of the data bank.

"That... is more of a title, I guess... why were you thinking about it...?"

"Because people on the Xianzhou ships talk chinese... but... your name is in latin"

"Latin? I've never heard of this language"

"It comes from my homeland, Earth. It's more of a dead language, b-but I don't know how it got to you..."

"Still... that is a title that be-"

"Belongs to D-Dan Feng... I got it... you're making me tired of hearing the same thing over and over again"

"Think of how tired I am for telling everyone the same thing"

"Good though. Why would you ever want to d-drink the moon?"

Was the alcohol starting to get in her system? "Drink the moon?"

"Imbibitor Lunae means drinker of the moon..." She got up and sat right in front of him "Why would y-you ever want to d-drink the moon? I-it's so pretty!" She almost sounded whiny now, but not in an annoying way.

In her eyes, she was making him understand a very important thing for her: She loved the moon, and she loved him, but having her boyfriend's title be 'moon drinker'? Blasfemy!

In his eyes, however, he saw the love of his life getting in a position that was hard to describe: she was sat in between his legs, she grabbed him gently by his hips and started shaking him a little bit.

A faint blush transformed into him becoming even redder than Himeko's hair.

"Could you stop moving me like that?"

"Why do you wanna drink the moon? It's so pretty! It's so pretty that I'd marry it if it were a real person"

Something snapped inside of him with the last sentence. Surely he wasn't jealous of the moon... was he?

"Didn't you tell me you wanted to marry me?"

"That's another thing! I bet you'd leave me too for the moon"

Oh, silly [name]. He could never.

With what little courage there was left inside of him, he cupped her face into his hands and kissed her.

It was almost as if it had a hidden meaning.

He wanted to tell her he wasn't going anywhere. The moon may be pretty, but she was prettier. The moon could never beat her in a contest because it would have lost even before the beginning. But he couldn't find the words to say it.

"I will always choose you" He broke the kiss and hugged her.

She remained dumbfounded, frozen like a statue and unable to process everything that happened.

"By the way, how many drinks did you have? I can taste the alcohol on your lips"

"Uhhh... i don't know, I never counted...I'm not really a math gal"

"[Name]..." He sounded serious now

"Okay... maybe 5... or 6...?"

"My Aeons, you're unbelievably irresponsible with alcohol. It makes me wonder how you survived until now"

"Oops..." She said as she suddenly fell on him. From being on her knees, in between his legs, she just let herself fall on him.

Thinking about the various mentions of his past reincarnation, she felt like it was appropriate to remind him of who she loved.

"I love you... Dan Heng" She made sure to highlight the character 'Heng' in his name.

"And I love you not because of who you once were, b-but because of who you are now. Yeah... your vidyadhara appearance may be so cool and it's nice to tease you while you're in that form, but I fell in love with you, not Dan Feng, and if i had to choose between you and him, i would choose you every single time somebody asked me that"

He could feel his eyes tingling and ready to burst out in tears.

"If you ever get tired of reminding people who you are, t-tell me... because I w-will not let anyone disrespect you like that"

And with that she fell asleep on him.

He looked at her with a smile on his face

"How could I have been so lucky to have met you, my dear?"

People say that drunk thoughts are sincere thoughts.

A/n: hope you liked this little one shot. I swear, inspiration comes when you don't find the things you're looking for.

Another character that I love to the moon and back is Dan Heng. I have his E1 in his 5 star version and E2 in his normal one and I swear I'm tryna build him, but the drops of the calyx are awful.

As always, if you have a request for a one-shot, don't hesitate to send it to me!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader

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alicerosejensen · 7 months

Text

Where It All Began

Warning: a little angst, fear for the loss of a partner, caring, open final, fem/reader.

Synopsis: He will always be afraid of losing you and will not forgive himself if something happens to you.

A/N: I don't know what it is. It's just necessary to throw out these emotions somewhere. I like to write such lyrics to sad melodies that make me long for someone who's gone… (I am the queen of drama)

Leon never wanted to let anyone get too close to him. Long-term scars respond with pain and fear that at any moment a zombie will appear behind his back, clutching his shoulder with its jaws, tearing off the flesh, so he was always calmer alone. Perhaps of course not always, before Raccoon City he was less traumatized, even loved the girl with whom he naively thought to spend his life until she left him before leaving, but now Leon thinks that it was for the best. That rookie cop has been gone for a long time. He remained buried under the ashes of the destroyed city.

In his eyes there remains a lost light and not dead nobility. The desire to save every innocent life that is being taken away by corrupt corporations. There are few like Leon, but… he never fully appreciated his life. It wasn't even modesty, he just considers himself an instrument of the government. An ordinary pawn and never denies it.

Love is disgusting and causes pain when the object of your adoration is not around. Leon ignored that dull ache in his chest just like he ignored his feelings for you. He couldn't even figure out exactly when it started with him, you were one of those he saved and who didn't haunt him in nightmares, but you appeared in others and brought fleeting comfort, making him want to feel warmth and affection, You made him be so needy, but when he flirted with you, you only responded to a minor flirtation with your friendship.

Perfect love comes softly

Do you know all these poets beautifully praising a deep light feeling that also becomes a sweet poison that drives you crazy? Beautiful words will come to mind, the heart will want to do things for the sake of a loved one and Leon really wants to hold you in his hands and his heart. At the same time, he is afraid of being tied down, but this feeling grows in him like a branching tree that he gently cherishes looking at you, helping to do some little things.

No matter how much his soul broke into pieces after all the encounters with bioweapons, it was you who arranged it to blossom with renewed vigor with your beautiful inner light.

It was as if your hand was always outstretched for you to take him home, and he could heal all wounds and dispel longing by pressing his head against your rhythmically beating heart.

But Leon is not going to say "I love you." He is so afraid of these words, as if after their utterance there will be another outbreak that will take the lives of thousands of innocent people. He doesn't want to bring you to tears, he doesn't want you to worry about him, and he knows that he has nothing to offer you, so why then does this feeling that you evoke in him so much choke him, causing tears in his eyes when he sees that someone else showing romantic interest in you?

To his angel, who each time leads him out of the darkness to the warm light. For which he is still fighting.

Actually, this guy is cute, he doesn't hurt you, but Leon can't be happy. Only time after time he asks himself why, out of many saved, it is you, an ordinary civilian, who arouse such a feeling in him?

The storm clouds melt with you when you walk with him along the snowy sidewalks with a cup of hot coffee in your hands, discussing some everyday things, and Leon again catches every word, suppressing the desire to take his beloved by the hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. He looks into those lovely tired eyes that shine for him like a monument to the hope of something else worth fighting for. Then these tales of eternal pure love no longer seem so cloying and fictional.

And if something happens to you again, God forbid, he is ready to dig one grave for two.

Some new kind of love and Leon doesn't care at all that your boyfriend looks so enviously at how you dance with him, laughing joyfully, hugging him as a friend. Let someone dare to touch you - he can be rude not only to the bastards of the zombie creator.

Once you told him that despite the monsters living in the world, this world is not bad at all.

"Only you will never be mine in this world,"

Leon did not say it out loud, but clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze. From this thought, the world really became more and more terrible.

You were his angel even though he has big problems with religion.

Paradise could be found in your arms. You were more reliable than any honest words when you stroked his back hugging him in a difficult hour while he was not ashamed of his helplessness squeezed you in his vice. You've never manipulated him. They broke him, beat him, and you healed him. It was possible to be silent with you without feeling awkward. It is when Leon finally breaks down that he finally comes to you because his love poisons him. It hurts even when it becomes difficult for you to breathe and your lungs can't inhale enough oxygen because of this steel grip.

"I've lost so many people, but I can't lose you…" his head was buried in your neck and you could feel warm lips on your skin.

He could have hidden you from everyone, but he didn't let his selfishness get the better of his mind. That's why Leon doesn't want to leave, grabbing your face, staring intently into your eyes, leaning against your forehead. He wants to make tender love to you, forcing you to grab his shoulders, shouting a long "Leon" so that the sheets crumple to hell and your cheeks turn red from the heat while he takes possession of you. he wants more than anything to cover every inch of your body with kisses, grab your hands, interlacing your fingers and tell the stupid guy to get off you.

Leon loves to kiss this nose, although he does it for the first time being afraid of what is happening in it. The world will stop being so disgusting again because there is a house in which there is love….

And yet Leon is afraid. He allows himself an acceptable amount of destroying the fragile edge of friendship by laying you under him, whispering various pleasant epithets promising how you will feel good with him but then… You know yourself that this person is afraid of attachment and in the morning your heart will break into a million pieces when he leaves. Therefore, with tears on your cheeks, your palms are on his chest when you push him away from you, looking away.

"I'm sorry," Leon whispers, holding his hands on your waist when he realizes that this is the end.

You didn't accept his love and it's his fault that salty tears flow down your sweet cheeks that he loved so much. His wounded heart begins to bleed and if you understood this, you would never turn away from him. It wasn't worth destroying this fragile friendship because now that he realized that you don't have feelings for him, everything collapsed like a house of cards. Despite the fact that his soul screams from injustice, Leon does not dare to accuse you, so he calmly lets go of his love, knowing that he will look for a ghostly trace in the beloved place where you most often met.

Every day.

His beautiful love that still burns in his chest. He wanted so much to know the desired happiness with you, but you can't force someone to love, so he leaves, closing the door behind him and not understanding the reason for your tears, because you, just like him, were afraid that your heart would break…

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x you #leon x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader

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linkspooky · 1 year

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Jujutsu Kaisen, Chapter 215 Thoughts

Yuji remains one of the most interesting shonen protagonists in the manga. Precisely because being the protagonist affords him no special breaks. The world of Jujutsu Kaisen is challenging for everyone to live in, especially Yuji. Now, Yuji after losing Sukuna has basically lost his protagonist status. He’s lost his entire purpose for becoming a Jujutsu Sorcerer in the first place because he can no longer become the sacrifice to permanently exorcise Sukuna. Yuji is no longer “special” and never really was in the narrative. Whenever Yuji acts like a shonen protagonist in the shonen manga Jujutsu Kaisen it never works out for him.

More thoughts underneath the cut.

1. Hero to Zero

What struck me with the whole Sukuna and Yuji fight scene is how tropey it was. Stop me if you’ve heard this before. In a shonen manga the villain suddenly appears easily knocks out the rest of the hero’s friends. All hope is lost and the protagonist looks dead, until they get back on their feet again and start fighting back through sheer force of will alone.

Yuji was having his protagonist moment when facing down Sukuna. He even gets to make a speech. Yuji and Sukuna faced off with their opposite philosophies, Sukuna beliving the weak should be crushed and put out of their misery, and Yuji continuing to fight Sukuna even if he’s too weak to make a difference. Yuji was determined enough to resist being sliced apart by Sukuna’s cleave technique. Not only is Yuji strong enough to fight back, but he also has Megumi fighting back from within in a show of the power of their bond.

Not only that but Yuji is shown to have unlocked a new level of strength for as-of-yet-unexplained reasons. Sukuna’s line of dialogue that it’s Kenjaku’s meddling, he either unlocked a heavenly restriction on his body, or Kenjaku was planning something else for Yuji when Sukuna left his body. Either way, Yuji survives being punched through a building and falling several stories.

Yuji fighting Sukuna at this moment is stronger than he ever was before. He gets the last minute power that shonen protagonists all seem to get at the most convenient moment possible. Maki also shows up at the right time where it looks like Yuji might have a fighting chance, especially with Megumi fighting back from within. Maki just like Yuji is at her peak physical strength. Her fight with Naoya allowed her to climb a greater height than before. She was strong enough to massacre the entire Zen’in Clan, and now she’s even stronger.

Maki is strong enough at this point that even Sukuna is acknowledging her strength. Maki and Yuji have near-perfect teamwork and neither of them is holding back, they’re both fighting with the intention to kill Sukuna if that’s what it takes to stop him.

They fight with everything they have, both of them having a recent power-up, and they still lose. They lose because of outside interference because Kenjaku and Ura-Ume both have plans that Maki and Yuji are unaware of. There are outside factors that are bigger than either of them no matter how individually strong they may be.

Yuji has all this strength, he just keeps getting stronger and yet at moments like this there’s nothing he can do but shout at Sukuna. Sukuna just finds all of his efforts laughable. This scene is clearly a parallel to this.

Yuji even repeats the line and has the same moment of realization. Think of how much stronger Yuji has gotten between the young finish and reverse punishment arc. How much he’s grown. He was strong enough to face Mahito. He accepted Mahito’s statment that they are the same, and resolved to continue killing curses as a cog in the system. Yet, after all this time Yuji ends up in the exact same situation. He is as powerless to save Megumi as he was to save Junpei.

This happens because Yuji is not the protagonist of a shonen manga. Jujutsu Kaisen is a deconstruction of the kind of story Yuji thinks he is in.

2. The Protagonist of Reality

Yuji’s assumption that everything will work out fine once he releases Gojo from the box, and finishes playing his “role” just reeks of storybook logic. Yuji employs narrative thinking a lot. Basically he assumes that the world works like a fictional story. Instead of everything being random and meaningless, events are connected to each other, those events have meaning, and things progress naturally towards an ending. Which is why Yuji says that Megumi and Gojo gave him a “role” to play, like he is a character in a cast of actors performing on stage and reading off a script.

This is not to say that Yuji thinks fiction and reality are the same thing. He just employs narrative thinking as a coping mechanism. He thinks of his life like a story and gives himself a part to play in that story to give his life meaning. If you think about it, Yuji’s trying to cope with an extremely tragic situation even before Sukuna is unleashed. He is a fifteen year old who will never grow up. His only living family member died at the start of the story, and the few friends he does make through his new school are always risking their lives. He is afraid of losing them. Then he does lose them.

Yuji goes through a lot of suffering, and at the end of that tunnel he doesn’t see a happy future, no he’s going to die for the sake helping others. Yuji is trying to reconcile his death by giving himself narrative purpose. He wants to die a meaningful death because he can’t accept the unfair reality he has to die young.

Whether or not Yuji actually sees himself as the main character in the story he’s telling is up for debate. This is not much of an answer but he does and he does not. Yuji clearly does not see himself as important as Megumi and Gojo. They’re the ones who gave him a role to play. That makes sense because they were already Jujutsu Sorcerers at the beginning of the story, Yuji is just the stranger who wandered into their world by accident, he wasn’t even born with a cursed technique and he can only fight thanks to borrowed power from Sukuna. He also only sees himself as a cog in the machine and constantly belittles his own importance.

At the same time, Yuji can have quite an ego sometimes in a sneaky way. Gojo tells Megumi that someone like Yuji is always swinging for the fences and even likens Yuji to himself. Also, Yuji’s martyr complex still puts himself as the center of the story. It’s his sacrifice that’s going to save everyone. His sacrifice is important, and matters, and he has a function as long as he plays his part.

Yuji may regard himself as the main character, or maybe the selfless savior of the story, but the people around him do not. Especially Kenjaku who created Yuji and played author for a good portion of his life.

Kenjaku mentions that Yuji has no longer specific role to play. He’s just the firestarter, it was his actions that started the story by eating the finger and becoming the vessel to Sukuna. What he says here, and the fact Sukuna was already registered as a player in the Culling Games before Yuji entered the boundary (and Ura-Ume was preparing the bath in advance) all imply that Kenjaku always knew that Sukuna was going to leave Yuji’s body. Yuji’s purpose wasn’t just to be Sukuna’s host like Yuji assumed it was.

Sukuna also reveals that what we as the audience and Yuji himself assumed that Yuji being a one in a thousand special vessel that can contain Sukuna without losing control or dying is not actually the case. Sukuna could have jumped into Megumi’s body from the beginning and was merely biding his time.

All of these things that made Yuji special, the attributes that made him the main character have essentially been stripped away. He was made into a vessel by Kenjaku, but Kenjaku has no specific plans for him anymore. He was set to serve as Sukuna’s vessel, collect all the fingers and then be exorcised but now that Sukuna has jumped bodies he no longer has that purpose. He no longer is able to just simply die to save the world because it’s Megumi who is possessed by Sukuna now. They might not even be able to free Gojo considering Angel’s fate is now up in the air.

This is what makes Jujutsu Kaisen unique as a manga, whenever the characters assume that things are going to work out the way they would in a story they get punished. This isn’t just Yuji who’s affected by this. Megumi loses his body to Sukuna because he assumes he can save Tsumiki and makes the mistake that she’s a princess waiting for him to rescue her. Therefore he doesn’t notice that Tsumiki isn’t even acting like herself. Hana is grievously hurt by Sukuna for assuming the exorcism worked and she managed to rescue Megumi with the power of love. That leads her into walking into an obvious trap and not listening to Angel’s warning.

These characters all walk into obvious traps and pitfalls because they’re not looking at the reality in front of them, they’re blinding themselves because they want the world to be more like a story.

#yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #sukuna #hana kurusu #angel #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen theory #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers

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wannaeatramyeon · 8 months

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Gurl your writing is getting better and better with each new story! Especially the last one with Goo was so fun to read!! Buuuut if its okay to make a small request with our boy Jake? Let's say he falls for a bit different girl. She is the same age as him, travels everywhere on her bike, and has fiery red hair. For the most part, she is like one of the guys type, straightforward, honest, and won't hold back from fighting, but it takes time for her to become interested in Jake, rather at first she thinks he is a bit of a (I am sorry for this language) fuckboi~

Ah ty for the kind words anon! Buddha, it's been so long I'm not even sure which Goo one but I'm glad you're liked it! Sorry I could only really fit in the bike naturally in this 🙇🏻‍♀️

Jake Kim x Reader: Cleaning duties

F!Reader. Jake cleans your motorbike.

"Boss, what are you doing?"

The sweltering summer sun is blocked out by Jerry's shadow.

"Cleaning." Jake answers simply, avoiding looking at his second in command.

Jerry looks pointedly at Jake's car, courtesy of Sinu, sitting off to the side and covered in crap and dead bugs and bits of debris... Then back to the motorbike Jake is very very thoroughly cleaning.

It's spotless.

"Shut up, Jerry."

"I didn't say anything."

"..."

"I can hear what you're thinking."

"...Ok."

Jake takes a step back to admire his handiwork, wiping the sweat off his brow.

It looks good, probably cleaner than the day that it left the shop.

Sure he has more important things to do, but he thinks of your face when you see your baby pristine and immaculate, glistening in the light.

And perhaps he shouldn't be so transparent with his approach, with how much he likes you... Except he's always found it hard to hide his feelings around you. It's a small indulgence he allows.

Ah, speak of the devil.

You appear next to him, giving him a good-natured nudge with your elbow. "You trying to get into my good books?"

Jake looks at you and now knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was definitely not a waste of two hours. Your face remains as neutral as ever though your eyes grow fond.

It holds a softness that he's been seeing more and more of.

He wants that softness all the time and all for himself.

"Maybe."

"Does this work on all the girls?"

Jake chuckles softly, "Only the girls with bikes... " Then flashing you a cheeky grin, "So is it working?"

A snort. "No."

"A little?"

"Nope." And you crack a smile.

Ok, you gotta admit... It is working.

Only a little though.

Jason and Brad watch your exchange from across the road.

The latter turns to his friend, "Our boss is doomed, isn't he?"

"Yep."

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung x reader #kim gimyeong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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xoxoavenger · 4 months

Text

I'll Always Find You

pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

summary: Loki finds Y/N at the TVA when he begins to time slip.

word count: 961

warnings: none

12 Days of Christmas main masterlist

As soon as Loki realized he was getting pulled through time, he suddenly felt like he didn't have enough of it.

The problem with time was that when he would be pulled to the past, his present still continued. It made him wonder about the time he came from, where that version of him was at this point. It just confused him more, because he knew the TVA didn't work like that. He knew that the version of him he was supposed to be was no longer a 'present' being.

It was confusing and making his head hurt, though he wasn't sure if part of that was because of the time warping or not.

He was running through the halls, away from the hunters who didn't know who he was. He turned around for just a second to check how close they were before he was warping again, pain shooting across his body. He couldn't stop himself from running when he saw someone appear in front of him, so he ended up tripping over them and sending them both to the ground.

"Sorry," He was already pushing himself up and beginning to run before he saw their face. It stopped him dead in his tracks, slipping to the ground as he took her in.

"What's got you in such a rush?" She asked, brows furrowing.

"Y/N," He whispered. She was wearing the robes he'd seen Rayvonna wear, looking more regal than she had even in Asgard. Her head cocked as her eyebrows raised. She was clearly confused.

"Are you alright?" She doesn't recognize him.

This hurts worse than Mobius. It hurts because Y/N is his person. Y/N is his. They were close on Asgard, always causing trouble together. When she was sent away to study, Loki had rebelled even harder. It's why he tried to take over Midgard. Looking back, it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but originally he was hoping

"It's me, Loki!" He knows it's not worth the effort, knows that she's had her memory wiped, probably multiple times. But he can't help but beg, can't help but hope against hope. He doesn't even want to think about what made her end up at the TVA.

The last time he saw Y/N, it was bad.

He didn't like to think about it. Which was funny, because it didn't stop him from thinking about it as much as possible. All he could think about was how he left them. How he let her be banished, too afraid to be banished himself. How he cried that night, so hard his mother was called.

He had been on his way to find Y/N when the TVA took him.

"Are you okay?" She asks, looking at his dirtied shirt and the cut on his arm that he couldn't even feel anymore.

"No, no," He cannot handle Y/N not remembering him. This version of her is close to the most recent version he remembers. He tries to figure out if she's different, but he can't. This is Y/N. She is his.

"It's alright," She says, though it's clear she doesn't actually think it's fine. She's looking at him like he's crazy.

Maybe he is.

"I'm gonna leave, I can't," He feels sick until a thought enters his head. He could just enchant her.

"I should call someone," She says, her fake-nice voice on. Loki doesn't take time to apologize, simply putting a hand to her head.

It doesn't take much searching for him to find her memories. He never thought He Who Remains actually took them, that'd be impossible. They're always hidden, and he would search as long as it takes.

Except he can't, because as soon as he pulls back and sees her, sees the realization dawn on her face, he can feel it.

"You can't tell anyone you know, it's not safe!" He rushes out as he warps through time once more. He looks around, realizing he was in the present now. Mobius is looking at him in awe, pulling him close and hugging him.

"Loki, you're really back!" He says, clearly excited about his friend's return.

"Y/N's here." Loki mutters, still in shock. He's hugging Mobius back, but lightly, because he can't really think about anything but the woman that has haunted his dreams since he came to the TVA.

"What?" Mobius mutters, pulling back.

"She was, I saw her," Loki looks around, as if she'll be there.

"We'll find her, Loki." Mobius tries to console, but Loki is already walking down the hall. He just needs to find her, even if she doesn't remember, because he can make her remember again. She just needs to be there.

It's almost as if he hadn't felt her loss deeply. He hadn't had the time, too busy rebelling against his father for crowning Thor when he was the rightful heir. Knowing where she was, knowing that she had been stuck here for God knows how long, it made him sick. He had no idea how long it had been since he had given her memories back.

"Have you seen her?" Loki asks, describing her appearance as quick as he can as they walk through the TVA.

"Actually, yeah," Mobius pauses, causing Loki to turn. "She was friends with Rayvonna. I think her office was right next to her's!" The two of them turn to begin on the path to the offices when Loki ran straight into someone.

"Loki!" Y/N threw her arms around him, letting him hold her close. "Oh God, I thought you'd never come back. I thought you'd never find me." She whispered, trying not to cry.

"I'll always find you." He kissed the side of her head, tucked into the side of his shoulder and tried to keep the tears at bay. "Always."

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371

#loki x reader #loki layfeson #loki odinson #loki #loki imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader

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riacte · 2 years

Text

You don’t have to love your “soulmate.”

Heck, you can even hate them.

That’s what Cleo and Martyn do. At first, she’s frustrated and upset by how little her so-called soulmate seems to care about her health— their health. Then she sees him with Pearl, the two having emerged from the fiery depths of the Nether, and he’s as nonchalant and as unaffected as always.

And Cleo stops caring.

She punches him and he punches her, and they’re both stubborn, awful, loyal people. Their bruised knuckles are mirrors of each other, they add pain onto layers of pain, fully knowing they’re hurting themselves by hurting the other. But no, Cleo doesn’t care. And ironically, Martyn is on the same page as she is. They’re soulmates, she thinks with a scornful huff, and they share the same views about this stupid connection the universe has oh-so-kindly graced them with. What bullshit.

Because yes, it turns out Cleo and Martyn are similar after all in the sense they don’t like it when the universe decides for them. Cleo chose Scott. She has free will, and her mind is independent from the incessant tug in her heart, thank you very much. Now she chooses to hate Martyn and vice versa.

It’s war. They don’t speak, but it’s war. Cleo stubs her toe in the mines. Martyn runs through prickly bushes. Cleo goes out hunting in the night and Martyn wakes up gasping at the feeling of an arrow through his arm. Cleo’s out with Scott when she abruptly feels flames licking her legs, and it remains there for a suspicious few seconds before she feels the cool relief from water. (Cleo’s not stupid. She knows Martyn has quick reflexes. And she knows he’s petty; she just knows.)

Sometimes neither of them eat. They let the hunger gnaw at them, hollowness in their stomachs, but their hearts ache with pride and stubbornness. It becomes a competition to see who can last longer without breaking. It’s not self harm, because Cleo knows they’re both guarded and all about self preservation. And as much as they bother each other, they don’t laugh when someone eats first. After all, it’s for their own benefit. It’ll be like laughing at themselves.

And it’s not like they ever did something terrible to each other. No, no, no. They just exist and are inconveniently soulbounded. They annoy each other out of spite. It’s their way of rebelling against the fabric of the universe that wraps around them. And as strange as it is, they share the same goals. They’re united in their desire to not be united. They’re twin flames burning independently.

And it’s fine. It’s really fine.

Until Scott dies.

He’s been shaking for a few minutes now, frantically shoving food into his mouth. Cleo’s panicking and messaging Pearl, but she’s not replying. Cleo doesn’t have health potions, she doesn’t know what’s going on, she knows Pearl won’t intentionally harm Scott, but Pearl’s dying, and Scott’s dying, so—

Scott doesn’t even get to say goodbye. Cleo blinks and her chosen partner is gone, leaving behind a hollow suit of armour and half-eaten fish. A flower from his inventory flops lifelessly on the ground.

No.

Scott’s not dead, he can’t be dead—

No.

Scott still has a life left, right? He totally wasn’t on red. He wasn’t on red, despite Cleo seeing him every day. He can’t be dead for real.

NO.

Cleo picks up Scott’s gear, his chest plate over her thumping heart, his trusty sword in her sweaty palm, and she runs.

Hunger throbs inside her, her hearts are low, and she feels wounds on her legs. Martyn must be hurt. Her lungs ache with effort (how does she feel so dead and alive at the same time?) and she doesn’t know whether it’s from him or her. Cleo barges through a thick forest, the branches scratching her face, and she thinks with a vindictive sort of satisfaction that Martyn must be feeling her pain too.

Martyn’s panting and resting on a rock, holding what appears to be the remains of Pearl’s tattered armour. His face is oddly frozen but Cleo knows the grief churning behind his eyes. She doesn’t feel it, but she knows because they’re similar people.

“Pearl died to a mob. I couldn’t save her.”

Cleo flops down on the rock next to Martyn. There’s a sizeable distance between them. Their hearts are half down and neither of them have eaten. They share the familiar aches of hunger and pain and untreated wounds and oh, the grief of losing someone.

Now both of their loyalties are to dead people. Cleo sees the fresh scars on Martyn’s face, the ones she got from running through a forest. He doesn’t do anything about it. She doesn’t do anything about it.

It hurts. They hurt together, yet they’re fiercely determined to not to be.

“Do you want to eat?” Cleo finally asks, because it’s their health that they’re sharing, and while she and Martyn are soulbounded enemies, it doesn’t feel right to do stuff without his consent when he’s next to her.

Martyn shakes his head. Cleo thinks he feels guilty because he and Pearl didn’t part on best terms. There’s a trickle of blood running down his lip. Cleo feels it too.

“Not now,” he says, and Cleo can assume he feels apologetic, because that’s what she would do in his position. Martyn’s suffering, and he wants to have his moment before he’s reminded of his unbreakable ties to Cleo. Their hunger can gnaw at him for a little more, a punishment for how Martyn failed to save Pearl.

They sit next to each other, twin wounds littering their bodies and souls.

It hurts. They hurt.

A little inspired by this. Really intrigued by Cleo-Martyn and their potential dynamic.

I don’t want this to be an enemies to lovers thing or even an enemies to friends thing. They’re soulmates who can’t stand each other because they’re so similar. That’s it.

I know I’m being melodramatic here but like, it’s the Life series. We’re all dramatic about block people lol

#double life smp #double life spoilers #zombiecleo #inthelittlewood #sorry martyn if you see this #long post #ria.fic #trafficblr #mcyt

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