#either he has it super long still and looks like a princess

[mettywiththenotes]

(Yeah I couldn't think of an example for the top one. Just use your imagination ig srry)

Sometimes when I try to picture Tomura in the future, I find that I don't really have a concrete idea of what he'd look like. Cuz I LOVE long haired Tomura but I also love the idea of it being short again as to symbolize starting over

I'm wondering if there are others who struggle to settle on this lol

[buckyalpine]

I need a feral and unhinged, touch starved Bucky to ruin me.

He’s selfish in giving and taking.

He's gone years without touching his cock, no orgasm, no relief, nothing. Any experience he has had has been long forgotten. The man loves getting his cock sucked. There’s something so filthy about the way he goes feral for it, torn between throwing his head back in pleasure and watching his cock disappear into your mouth.

He used to be such a gentleman but he can’t anymore.

He's a fucking menace because he loves how dirty it is, having his dick in your mouth of all places, letting you slobber and drool all over his length, getting his balls wet in the process.

He doesn't give a fuck who hears either, letting anyone and everyone know his cock is in your mouth, that he's getting the best head of his life.

"Fuck, suck me princess, just-yeah just like that, sucking my cock so good babydoll, makin' me so hard"

You let out a muffled whine in response, still on your knees, tears streaking down your face while he holds your face, his thumbs swiping your wet cheeks. He bites his lip while thrusting his hips forward, pushing his length down your throat. You claw at his thighs, gagging and he lets out a delicious moan seeing your arousal starting to drip with how turned on you are.

"You're makin' me feel so good sugar, you know that? Y'have any idea how good my dick feels right now, how much cum there is in my balls?" He takes a a hand off his thigh and makes you cup his heavy sack, guiding you to squeeze him while you suck, the combined feeling making his eyes roll back.

"C'mon princess, suck my balls next, never had them sucked before-oh fuck-yeah-just like that baby shit-oh fuck feels so good-" His abs tense as he moans loudly again, jerking himself while you move to lap and suck at his sack, precum dribbling down, making a mess everywhere.

He might as well be addicted to the feeling. On more than one occasion, he's missed morning training because you decided to wake him up with head and he loses himself to you, not giving a shit who is waiting for him at the door.

He hears the knocks, hears them calling for him and he'll let them know what's keeping him so busy.

"Buck, you coming-?"

"Oh Fuck yes! Suck my cock, yes, yes, yes, gonna cum, drink it up baby, c'mon, swallow, fuck yes, m'gonna cum again-don't stop princess"

"Well...technically he's coming" Sam snorted, hearing every filthy word the super soldier spewed out while Steve bit back a smirk, "I think your best friend is busy"

Steve couldn't help the proud smile that made it's way onto his face, shaking his head, quickly walking away before round two started.

Tony occasionally goes as far as cheering outside of Bucky's bedroom, especially when the steady thump of the headboard banging against the wall can be heard from downstairs.

No point hiding anything from Tony, especially when he's the one who had to install the xl mirror in the bedroom Bucky requested and god knows he didn't ask for it because he's into fashion.

He's gonna put you in positions that are unholy as it gets. He wants to watch every detail. He's gonna throw your legs all the way back till your knees hit the bed. He wants to watch his cock stretch you open. He's gonna experimentally flick that little button between your legs, using it as his own personal play toy, rubbing and pinching it to his delight just to hear you squeal.

“That’s-that’s your spot, huh princess-take my fat cock baby, doin' so good, moaning for me" He growls, watching he way you take his cock. His favorite thing to do is lock eyes with you in the mirror while your on your hands and knees watching you watch him while he fucks your brains out. Your breasts bounce with each thrust and he doesn't know what he loves to watch more. God forbid your eyes roll back, he spanks you till you focus again.

"Look at me when you take my cock baby, look at how pretty you are when you're all stretched open"

"Sargent-I-fuck-can't-

"Yeah, can't even speak huh, that how good your pussy feels baby? You wanna cum? Want me to make you cum?"

"Please!" You wail and he grabs your hair and pulls you till your back is flush against his chest. He forces your thighs apart as wide as they'll go before grabbing his phone and positioning it under, getting a perfect video of his cock pumping you full of cum while his fingers reach around to rub your swollen button.

"Go on and cum baby, cum with me, together, make your Sargent proud princess, make me dick feel good, fuck, gonna fill you till it spills out, mother fucker-FUCKK" He moans loudly with you, letting your convulsing pussy milk him dry, his veins throbbing as he shoots ropes of cum into you. The end of the video is blurry after all his cum drips onto the screen but it makes it so much filthier.

He's going to record all of this along with taking pictures, always getting you to spread your legs for him, laying on his bed after he's poured load after load into you. I want him to be the dirtiest fuck, looking at all the pictures and videos he's taken, jerking himself off afterwards when you're away for a mission. He can't have you but he's gonna take what he can get. He loves how you moan and scream, how cock drunk you get. A part of him almost feels like a pervert, tugging at his dick like a horny teenager but he can't keep his hands off when he thinks of you.

He's fucking feral even when he jerks off. Legs spread wide apart, no clothes on, back arched off the bed, fucking his hips up into his fist. He doesn't care if you walk in anymore. He was shy at first but now he just smirks while continuing to lazily touch himself, using his own spend to palm himself, the other arm propped behind his head. He knows you love the sight, planting his feet onto the bed to give you a better view while you take your clothes off-

Anyway, my bad, this was sitting in the drafts for long enough, you can go about your day now.

[papercorgiworld]

No smoke, only love in the air

Mattheo and Theo imagine

When the guys notice that you don’t like their smoking habit they quit, but dealing with the withdrawal has your boyfriend constantly needy for a kiss. 

A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long with this request. I still got few messages in my inbox. I will get to them I’m just short on inspiration, witch is new for me and kinda sad. I’m not super happy with this one but I wanted it finished and out here so I can have some inner peace. Anyways happy readings hopefully it’s not too bad and lots of love to all you darlings, may your week be filled with joy and good fictions. 💛

Mattheo 

You and your boyfriend join his friends at the astronomy tower. As soon Mattheo spots Theodore taking a drag from his cigarette he starts to crave one as well. Your boyfriend lets go of your hand. “Gimme.” Mattheo says reaching out his hand to his friend to ask for a kind donation of cigarettes, either because he was out of smokes or he had forgotten his pack somewhere. Theodore rolls his eyes and growls with his cigarette still between his lips. “Why are you so cheap, Riddle?” Theo complains while reaching in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Mattheo smiles wickedly at his friend’s annoyance as he still gets what he wants. 

Finally, with a cigarette between his fingers Mattheo’s eyes wander back to you. He gently tugs you towards him as he leans against the side of the railing. You let yourself fall against his chest and stay there in his arms for a few seconds as he argues with Theodore about him not being cheap. You roll your eyes in disgust when Mattheo starts mumbling with the cigarette between his lips.

You turn away when he lights his smoke. “Come back, princess.” Mattheo whines, he wants you back in his arms. “Nah I got to study, see you later.” You kiss him on the cheek. When you’re out of sight Draco lets out a howling laugh. “Future Miss Riddle doesn’t like it when you smoke.” Blaise snorts. “I don’t blame her, you better not smoke around her she deserves better than to inhale that filth”. Mattheo stares at his cigarette as if he had just now figured out it wasn’t a healthy snack. Truth is, he never cared and it never mattered but now you were in his life, it did matter.

That evening he smoked his last cigarette and ordered Theodore to not give him any smokes from now on. 

However dedicated Mattheo was to his plan to quit, it didn’t make it any easier. His body craved the nicotine and nothing calmed him… except for you. Your presence was some magical cure to relax his mind and body. Which resulted in Mattheo constantly searching for you and more specifically your lips. A kiss before class. A kiss after class. Maybe during class when the teacher wasn’t paying attention. A quick kiss in the hallway when he passed you. It seemed innocent and still quite normal, but the longer your boyfriend stayed away from the cigarettes the crazier he got about your kisses. Crawling in between crowds to get to you as quickly as possible for just a small peck. Sneaking into your classes to kiss you and of course getting detention for doing so. It could be the middle of dinner and he would just come sit between you and your friends to kiss you.

You sit in the great half for dinner with Hermoine and Luna on either side of you when Mattheo shamelessly puts his leg between you and Luna. “Excuse me.” He announces, urging Luna to scoot aside, which she does looking a little more confused than she normally does. “Matt?” You ask, surprised by his sudden appearance. He slings his arm around you without a word, before pulling you in for a tender kiss. Your friends blink a few times and Mattheo pulls away, leaving your eyes twinkly from the loving kiss. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Granger. Odd girl from Ravenclaw.” Mattheo nods to your friends and gets up leaving you very confused as your boyfriend has again stolen a kiss from you at a most random moment. “How am I the odd one?” Luna asks, turning to her food after watching Mattheo leave. “I think it’s cute.” Hermione says, not sounding convincing at all.

***

“Something’s off and you have to tell me what… because it’s getting out of hand.” You demand an explanation after Mattheo had just tackled you in the hallway to pull you into him and kiss you like his life depended on it. “What?” He laughed, “I'm allowed to kiss you, I’m your boyfriend.” Ron snorts, unable to keep his opinion to himself making Mattheo glare at him. You grab Mattheo’s face forcing him to look at you. “Matt, I love that you kiss me any time and all the time, but you’re kinda overdoing it.” You whisper those last words hesitantly, but Mattheo hears and is slightly offended. His tongue moves over his bottom lips as he seems to drown in serious thoughts. “Matt, I love you, talk to me.” You urge him to let you in. He sighs and gives in, pulling you into a more quiet hallway.

“I quit smoking.” He breathes out, immediately glad to have confessed it, and you let out a soft laugh. “That’s great… but what does that have to do with you going on a kissing-spree?” Mattheo moves a nervous hand through his hair and chuckles. “I get nervous without my smokes and my body craves the nicotine and you calm me.” His voice turns into a whisper as he confesses how important you are to him. You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Mattheo Riddle, are you using me as a drug?” You quip, crossing your arms, but unable to hide your obvious amusement. “No! You’re more like my favourite healthy snack.” Mattheo leans in for his millionth kiss and you're happy to snake an arm around him and deepen it. As silly as it was, it wasn't the worst to be constantly kissed by your boyfriend. 

Theodore

Your boyfriend sees you happily skip towards him and he immediately drops his cigarette, quickly crushing it with his foot to keep it from burning further. “Hi.” You smile with a happy face. You lean towards him for a kiss and Theodore eagerly wraps his arms around your figure. “Hi.” He whispers suggestively, while drowning in your eyes, but just as your lips are about to touch you pull away a little. “Ugh, you smell like cigarettes.” Draco and Mattheo snicker in the background and Theo is about to snap at them when Luna calls you. “Hi, (y/n)! Are you joining us in Hogsmeade?” You nod her way and place your hand on Theo’s chest. “See you later.”

“No kiss?” Theodore whines as you leave and you just crunch your nose making it clear to him that it was the cigarette smell and taste that came in between the kiss. As soon as you’re out of sight, Theodore curses. “I’m gonna have to quit, aren’t I?” Enzo nods and Theodore growls, before reaching for his pack and throwing it at Mattheo. “Early Christmas gift?” Mattheo grins and Theodore rolls his eyes. “Just, don’t give it back no matter how I beg.” Mattheo’s grin grows and turns wicked. “This is going to be fun.

***

“One?” Theodore asks Mattheo who’s lounging in the slytherin common room. “One of these?” Mattheo shows the pack of smokes, shaking it before quickly putting it away, earning a loud groan of frustration from his friend and in turn making Mattheo snicker. Theo lets himself fall on the couch opposite of Mattheo. “I’m going insane.” He complains, but just then you walk in and take a seat on your boyfriend’s lap. You want to greet Theo but he doesn’t let you, instantly crashing his lips into yours. “Hello to you.” You giggle and he responds with another kiss. Maybe this not smoking can work out after all. When the kisses turn more heated, some of Theo’s friends start howling while Blaise just looks annoyed at how his quiet reading moment got disturbed. “For the love of hygiëne, go to your room, Theo.” Your boyfriend breaks the kiss to make eye contact and check up on your opinion of Blaise’s idea. Without saying a word you grab Theo’s tie, leading him to his room.

Ever since that day Theo knew he had cracked the code. Your kisses calm him, so when he feels an urge to smoke again after class he doesn’t go begging for a cigarette with Mattheo but turns to you. You are still packing your books when your boyfriend walks over, snatching one of your books. You laugh and hold your hand out for him to return it. “Only if you kiss me.” You chuckle but lean into him and with an intense passion he takes your breath away. You blink a few times when he finally pulls away. “Here’s your book. See you later.” Again he lips meet yours, this time for a short and sweet kiss, but it still leaves you watching your boyfriend in shock. Since when is he so needy?

***

“Look at that, look at that.” Mattheo mocks with a cigarette between his lips, making Enzo and Theo turn in the direction he’s looking. Theodore doesn’t say anything, but a low grunt escapes him as you and Potter come into view. “The man’s flirting with ya girl, Theo.” Mattheo pushes, making Theo instinctively reach for his pack of smokes in annoyance. “They’re just friends, have been since first year, they’re never going to be anything more.” Theo sighs when he remembers that he doesn’t smoke anymore. “There’s plenty of girls I’m friends with… that I’ve seen naked.” Enzo adds with a grinny smile. “You’re both shit friends, you know that.” Theo complains reaching for the cigarette hanging from Mattheo’s lips. “Na-ah.” Mattheo mumbles as he pushes Theo’s hands away. “You’re one of those good boyfriends that don’t smoke, remember.” Theodore rolls his eyes and lets his head fall a little as his eyes focus on you. Normally a smoke would calm him and help him deal with his annoying friends but now… the agitation crept through his whole body. “I need a kiss.” Theo blurred, making his friends eye him strangely. “I’ll not volunteer as tribute for that.” Mattheo jokes, earning an eye roll from an irritated Theo. After a second of watching you talk with Potter, Theo makes up his mind. “I need my fix.” Theo surrenders to his craving and walks over leaving a confused Mattheo and grinning Enzo. “Man’s addicted to his girl. That’s a new level of love.” 

“Nott.” Harry simply states. “Hi T-” Theodore ignores your friend and doesn’t even let you finish, but just hungerly crashes his lips onto yours. “Wha-? Theo! You can’t just kiss me.” Your boyfriend’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course I can and I just needed one small kiss… Or maybe just one more.” Before you can say anything his lips again passionately move against yours. “Now you can go about your day.” Theodore says and just grimly nods at Potter as he always does, before walking in the direction of the castle. You stand there perplexed and a little annoyed. “Slytherin boyfriends, right?” Harry sighs like he knows how frustrating it can be, making you furrow for a moment before shaking it off. “I need to get to the bottom of whatever he’s got going on.” Harry nods understandingly and you run after Theo.

“Were you jealous?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough to Theodore. He turns and immediately shakes his head. “I just really needed to kiss you.” He explains like it’s normal reasoning. “Theo, I sometimes really want to kiss you as well but I never do it so desperately and urgently as you’ve been kissing me the past few days. What’s gotten into you?” Theo sighs at your continuous pushing. “Fine.” He says reluctantly, giving in to you. “I quit smoking… but it’s not exactly been easy.” Your brain tries to see a link between smoking and kissing but it doesn’t make any sense to you and your eyes show your genuine confusion to Theo, who can’t help but smile a little. “Kissing you calms me and helps me stay away from cigarettes. If I could I would put you in my pocket so I could kiss you whenever I’m stressed out.” You chuckle at his adorable confession, but quickly focus on the most important part. “You quit smoking?” You close the space between him and you, and start playing with his tie. “Yeah. I did. I don’t want to miss a moment with you because I smell bad and you deserve the best version of me.” You have no words for him and just kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you against him by your hips. 

Walking in on your little make out, Blaise rolls his eyes. “Again? Can’t you two behave? You’re shocking the first years.” Theodore parts from you and licks his lips. “Can’t do that to those poor first years, can we?” You play along and shake your head. “No, we definitely should take this somewhere private.” Your suggestion causes a happy grin to tug on your boyfriend’s lips. Not smoking is definitely working out for me.

[revasserium]

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance¹

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

Masterlist | Part 2

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

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

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

You could still remember the night you met.

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

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

Finnick.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes just so imperceptibly narrowed. “Likewise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were in the exact same boat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will never be free, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that didn’t make life any more okay.

After all, nobody ever really won The Games.

“Annie- Annie, it’s alright-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished you could fall asleep so easily, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe he was right.

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

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

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

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

She could barely even look at you anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He reminded you of Finnick.

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

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

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

Too young. They were too young.

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

These kids were just kids, and they died young.

Just like you and Finnick did.

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

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

He’d never get to do that now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at how wrong you were.

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

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

It felt like nothing you’d ever experienced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was nothing you could do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

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

“What?”

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

“I know what colours are, Finnick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

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

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

You snorted. “I beg to differ.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t even feel like you were pretending.

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

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

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

He made you laugh often. You stopped crying so much.

Is this what happiness feels like? you wondered. If it was, you never wanted anything different. Whatever Finnick felt for you, it didn’t matter. As long as he kept making you happy, it didn’t matter.

You were so in love with him that it stopped mattering if he reciprocated your feelings. You didn’t want anything to ruin this, what you had. Your relationship was the most special thing you’d ever had, even if you didn’t know what to call it, so you were gonna do your damn best to hold onto it.

The things he’d say in front of the cameras felt real, then the things he did when you were alone made you believe it even more. Whatever this was between you, it felt real.

So real.

You were stirring something on the stove when two arms snaked around your waist, tickling you, making a squeal fly from your lips. “Finnick!” You screeched, trying to suppress your giggles as you turned around. The culprit (who was shirtless) didn’t look guilty at all, a shit-eating grin on his face. You shoved his shoulder. “I am trying to cook us breakfast.”

He snorted. “Yeah, trying and failing.” You shoved him again, causing him to laugh. “I’m sorry, you can’t cook!”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “I’ll have you know, I can cook very well, actually.”

He wrapped his arms around you again. “You know, you’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” You exclaimed, but a blush still arose on your cheeks that Finnick noticed right away. It was almost like he was always watching for those types of things, always trying to say or do something to get you red.

“You’re even cuter when you blush.” 

Your blush worsened, but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of your defeat. “I’m not blushing. We’re in a kitchen, and it’s hot.”

He pulled you closer to him, grin widening. “Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart, about your blushing or your cooking.” He glanced behind you. “Oh, look, burnt food.”

Your eyes went wide, immediately turning around. You groaned when you saw the brown eggs and the trail of smoke coming from them. “It’s all your fault, Finn, you distracted me.”

He gave your head a kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Sure, darling, whatever you say.” Luckily, you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see how your cheeks reddened. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though Finnick seemed to adore them. “Let’s leave the cooking to me from now on.”

You lightly scoffed, “Whatever.” He kissed your cheek before you started walking away, planning to sit on the couch while you waited for him to cook the food. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smug.

“Who messes up eggs?” he muttered under his breath once you were a few feet away.

“I heard that, Finnick!” you shouted, but he only let out a loud laugh.

You shook your head at him, plopping down onto the couch in the adjoining living room and turning the TV on, but it was really just background noise. You found it much more enticing to watch Finnick cook. The way he moved so swiftly looked effortless; he knew what he was doing, that was sure. And it didn’t help that he was shirtless.

You discreetly stared at him for a while—or, you thought you were being discreet. Without looking up from what he was doing, he teased, “You know that I can feel you ogling at me, right?”

You went red as a tomato. “Shut up, Finnick!” you shrieked, turning back to the TV as if you even knew what was playing. His laugh boomed and you turned up the volume to tune it out, only causing him to laugh even louder.

Even though you were thoroughly embarrassed that he’d caught you staring at him, a smile still found its way onto your face. Around Finnick, it was hard not find a reason to smile.

You’d be content if you didn’t do anything for the rest of your life but wake up to him every day.

You spent many more mornings like that together, and lunches, and dinners, and everything in between. You exchanged jokes and playful banter constantly. Finnick really did make your cheeks hurt.

But he knew when to be serious.

There were still nights when you’d wake up from nightmares, and he’d comfort you back to sleep every time. When you caught him in a nightmare, you’d try your best to repay the favour, even though that didn’t happen often. He rarely wanted you to see him like that, so he hid his nightmares, but you did everything you could to keep him happy while he was awake to make up for it.

When you went to the Capitol, all of the darkness crept back in, squeezing in through the cracks of the walls that you’d built—for both of you. But you kept each other grounded. You weren’t alone.

Once, he had to talk you back from the edge as you had a panic attack in the bathroom. He locked the door and stayed there with you until you calmed down. You told him that you saw someone you hadn’t seen up close in a while, an old patron, and that just opened the floodgates. You saw his hands ball up into fists; he tried to hide the anger on his face, but you saw it and you understood it. 

He was angry at the Capitol, and so were you. He’d been through the same things you had, and that made it so much easier to cope, to have someone that understood. He understood for you and you understood for him, and so when things were bad, they at least became more okay. As long as you were there for each other, things were okay.

Meeting Johanna Mason at a later event nearly brought you right back to the brink. Her family was dead, she’d told you. And you wished you hadn’t understood so fast. You wished that none of you ever had to understand these things, that you could’ve stayed kids for longer before childhood was ripped away from you.

It’s not fair, you cried to Finnick. He killed her family. She said no, and he killed her family.

He let you cry on his shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down your back as he whispered, I know. It’s not fair, I know. But it was the world you lived in, and, unfortunately, neither of you had the power to do anything about it, even though you were the so called Prince and Princess of Panem.

So you did what you could. You were there for Johanna like how you were there for Finnick when you still didn’t know him. Both of you were there for her, teaching her the moves to your dance so she could dance with you while you were all at the Capitol together.

She was brutally honest, maybe even rude to the average onlooker, but it was what The Games did to her. Finnick and you understood that, and that led to you both forming a friendship with her. Coping with other people, people who understood, was the best painkiller that not even money could provide.

The Games were the hardest, but you went through that together, too. You trained those tributes with everything you had. You tried your best, but sometimes, not even that was enough to keep them alive. Finnick and you would grieve together. At times, he was more rational than you, reminding you that it wasn’t your fault, that these were games made to kill.

Whatever you went through, you went through it together. The good days, the bad days, the laughs, the tears—you were together every step of the way.

Things went like this for years. You really were a team, and nothing could convince you otherwise this time. You loved him more and more each day, but you never told him that; you didn’t need to, and you didn’t need him to love you, either. Being there, being together was good enough.

Your song never got old. You were so in sync as you danced. Oh, you never would’ve thought that Finnick Odair of all people would not only make your life bearable, but also joyful.

You were fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and yeah those lines started to blur, but you also became best friends over time. 

Finnick and you lied together in bed, the TV going on in the background. Your head was on his chest as he pet your hair. It was your seventh time doing this mentor thing, but it never seemed to get easier.

Your tributes were promising, but they still died early on, even though you both got them as many sponsors as you could. Mentors were usually down in the lobby, talking to sponsors and watching The Games with everyone else, but after your tributes died, there was no point.

So you went upstairs, and you both just lied there. It was one of those times where neither of you had to say anything. You were together, alive together, and that was enough.

Listening to Finnick’s heartbeat could calm you down in any situation. You must’ve been doing something to help him, too, because his heartbeat was steady. You stayed like that for a bit until he moved a bit, murmuring under his breath, “What?”

He sat up, making you sit up, too, while he grabbed the remote, turning the volume up. You glanced at it and the scene immediately caught your attention. You heard the last bits of what the announcer was saying, that a rule about two victors was being annulled. Your brows furrowed; you must not have seen the part where any such thing was declared.

You recognized the tributes who you quickly realized were the last people left standing. They were the kids from district 12, the Girl on Fire and the boy in love with her.

You scoffed. “Of course, they want the star-crossed lovers to battle to the death.” You were about to turn away, refusing to indulge in the Capitol’s bullshit, but Finnick grabbed onto your arm.

“Wait.”

You stopped, turning back. The girl, Katniss, had a bow and arrow in her hands. Peeta was a few steps away from her. They were both staring at each other, Katniss looking like she didn’t know what do, but Peeta looked like he already accepted that he was going to die.

You didn’t want to watch this, watch two people fall apart on television, but for some reason, this had captured Finnick’s attention.

One of us should go home, he said. One of us has to die; they have to have their victor. Katniss was already shaking her head.

No. She dropped her arrow to the ground, walking forward. They don’t.

You tilted your head, but you understood what was happening when she pulled a handful of berries from her pocket. “Holy shit.”

Peeta grabbed her hand, rejecting the idea immediately, but she whispered, Trust me. He must’ve really been in love with her, because he did. She poured some berries into the palm of his hand, making you lean closer.

“You don’t think they’re gonna…” you trailed off, puzzled. There were people that’d killed themselves in past games, but this had never happened. There was always a victor.

Peeta hesitated, but looked sure when he looked back into Katniss’ eyes. Together? he mumbled.

She repeated his words. Together. She looked up for a second, and then you suddenly recognized the look on her face. This was a bluff.

They counted down from three, and just as they were gonna bring the berries to their mouths, the announcer frantically cut in, Stop- stop! He cleared his throat. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners… of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

Relief flooded into Katniss’ eyes as she embraced Peeta in a hug. Shock flowed through you, and Finnick’s expression was no different.

Once you had processed the information, you couldn’t help the grin that grew on your face, disbelief and pride filling you at the same time. “They just screwed the Capitol.”

You turned to see him smirking. “Hell yeah, they did.”

And this made your Hunger Games experience just a little bit better.

Neither of you were surprised that Seneca Crane was found dead days later. He made a grave mistake, letting two victors win. Snow wouldn’t have that, and you could guess why.

What Katniss and Peeta did was causing chatter, sparking hope. People in district 4 were more hush-hush about it, but outlying districts, like 11, had gone into revolts. The Capitol must’ve been stressed, and knowing that brought you some sick form of comfort.

Katniss and Peeta were spinning their actions, making them out to be this act of love, like they couldn’t bear to live without each other, but you and Finnick saw right through it. After all, if there was anyone who could spot a fake relationship, it was you two.

However, the two love-birds flew from your mind when you got home. You were brought back to your little world, living life alongside Finnick. The urge grew to ask him what you were, if you were still in a fake relationship just like Katniss and Peeta or if this was real, as real as you felt it was, but you didn’t wanna mess up the one good thing you had going.

The truth was, you don’t know how long you would’ve made it without him.

Finnick was your lifeline, and he had no idea.

The next time you were at the Capitol, you were in the Presidential Palace for the so called biggest party of the year. It was always hosted right before the Hunger Games, so being there gave you many things to be anxious about.

But, like always, you concealed it, smiling and shaking hands with the people you came across, even as you were disgusted. Some of these people, the very people who paid for your body at sixteen, were there with their families. You wondered how they could have children and still do what they did.

You were a child, too.

Normally, Finnick would be there to calm you down, but he snuck off somewhere without telling you.

You were wandering around, trying to find him when a head of brown hair streaked with red came into your view. “Hey, Princess.”

A sigh left your lips, both out of relief that you found someone you knew and discontent at the nickname. “Hey, Jo.” You would usually make conversation with her, but you were pretty distracted, glancing around behind her. “Have you seen Finnick anywhere? I’ve been looking for him for a while now.”

When you looked back to her, a look you couldn’t decipher flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “No, can’t say I have.”

For some reason, you got a weird feeling from her. It was almost like she knew something that you didn’t.

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a bite while we wait for him?” She suggested, gesturing to the buffet. “I’m starving.”

You shook your head, dazed. “I’ll catch up with you- I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

She perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

You were quick to decline. “No, that’s fine; go eat. I’ll be back in a sec.” She was hesitant  for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but she eventually nodded, agreeing to meet you later.

You walked through the halls, passing the bathrooms and not even sparing them a glance. You didn’t really know why you lied about where you were going, but in that moment, it felt like instinct. You trusted Johanna, but you were catching the same weird vibe from countless other people. All you wanted was to find Finnick and have him tell you everything was alright.

You didn’t have to look long before you found him, outside along with many other partygoers. But he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was a man you’d just recently seen on TV. You just couldn’t remember his name.

You made your way over to them. They cut themselves off as soon as they saw you, not letting you overhear a single detail of whatever they were talking about. You stifled the reappearance of that weird feeling that was starting to feel a lot like suspicion. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.”

Finnick waved you off, “No, it’s fine, sweetheart.” He pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. “This is Plutarch Heavensbee.” A lightbulb went off in your head as you looked to the man.

He was Seneca Crane’s replacement.

What the hell was Finnick doing talking to him?

“It’s an honour and a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N,” he greeted, holding his hand out. There was something about him that was throwing you off, not just your revelation of who he was, but you still shook his hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Heavensbee,” you replied, smiling your umpteenth fake smile of the night. But you had an inkling that no one in the Capitol was as genuine as they seemed.

Plutarch didn’t try to stay and make small talk like the rest of the people you encountered at the Capitol, bidding you both farewell and wishing you a good night. Something told you his departure had something to do with your arrival.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned in Finnick’s arms. “Was that the new head Gamemaker?” He nodded, but didn’t offer any explanation. You furrowed your brows. “What were you talking about?” 

Finnick shrugged nonchalantly, but for some reason, he seemed tense. “He wanted to meet the youngest victor of The Games.”

You found that hard to believe, holding back a scoff. “Well, he didn’t seem too interested in meeting me.���

A smile arose on his face as he wrapped his arms back around your waist. “That is because you, darling, are not the youngest person to ever win.”

This time, you did scoff, but the tense atmosphere dissipated. “You’re a dick.”

“You love me.” Your heart nearly stopped, but you kept your composure. You did love him, more than he’d ever know.

You shook your head, acting unaffected. “C’mon, Johanna’s waiting for us by the buffet.” You tried walking away, but your faux façade of annoyance was broken by Finnick latching onto your hand and walking forward with you, chuckling.

And then the entire matter of everyone’s weird behaviour was pushed to the back of your mind.

Returning home from the Capitol was always peaceful, like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but this time was unlike any of those other times. When you got home, the so called peace that the Capitol so delicately crafted was ripping at the seams.

The chatter from before, from when Katniss and Peeta defied the Capitol, was louder than ever. They had just gone on their victor’s tour, right before you left for the Presidential Palace, and they had apparently sparked a reaction in just about every district they visited, yours included.

You found out that district 4 had been in a revolt since Everdeen and Mellark came and gave their speech. The people were outraged. The news talked about seafood shortages due to bad weather, but the Capitol just didn’t want to let Panem know what was going on, that people were refusing work, that Peacekeepers were murdering innocent people left and right for the smallest of incidents.

When you were all caught up with what had happened, you were furious, too. You wanted to march out onto the streets and give the Capitol the finger, but Finnick pulled you back. 

“What are you gonna do, Y/N?” he questioned, not even giving you the time to answer. “You don’t even know.”

Your voice was vicious as you responded, a tone you’d never given him. You were angry, and you both knew you weren’t thinking clearly; you just didn’t care. “I don’t know right now, but I’m gonna do something, Finnick.” You tried pulling your arm away, but he was much stronger than you.

“I’m not gonna let you go out there and get yourself killed.” You could tell by his demeanour that he was angry, but not for the same reasons that you were.

You shook your head. “You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”

His eyes went hard. “You must not know me well if you think I’d let my girlfriend kill herself.” That shut you up.

His girlfriend.

He called you his girlfriend.

You got over the shock and, suddenly, you were even more angry than before. While you could pretend all you wanted to that you lived in candy-land, the cruel reality was still there. Finnick didn’t love you. He was only playing with your emotions.

Tears built up in your eyes: sad tears, angry tears—they were everything tears. You felt everything. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He scoffed, “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t be serious right now.”

“I am so serious right now.” 

At your deadpan, he finally let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair. A part of you felt bad that he was so stressed, but you were stressed, too. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say when he looked back up at you. His voice was no longer harsh, but small. “Y/N, please.”

You swallowed. 

“I’m just asking you to trust me.” He grabbed onto your hands. “Please just trust me.” He was begging you.

“Trust you to do what?”

“I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please.” He held your hands tighter. “Trust me.”

Oh, it didn’t matter how angry you were, if your thoughts were set in stone. Finnick would still be able to mold you like clay. Every time.

“I trust you.”

There was something different about him, but you were too distracted to try and figure it out.

There were so many things going on.

You were with Annie when it happened. Oh, that must have been some cruel joke from the universe. You were walking through the town square, on your way to Victors’ Village with pastries from the bakery in your hands. You were slowed down by the all of the people congregating together, watching the screen.

President Snow was announcing the third Quarter Quell, and they were eating it up. You weren’t gonna do that, entertain his lunacy. You’d go the Capitol and play your role, but you weren’t gonna watch these broadcasts anymore. You weren’t gonna play along.

Finnick could explain it to you later so you’d be able to prep your tributes. The Quells were always made out to be the hallmark of The Games; they were always harder. You felt for whatever kids would have to go through them.

You felt a lot more once you realized who these tributes were gonna be.

You weren’t listening to what Snow was was saying, but his words cut through any sort of mental block you had. “On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are… to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” 

Your stopped walking as if you’d hit a wall, the stuff in your hands falling the ground, but it was almost like you didn’t hear it. You stopped hearing anything, not Snow explaining the condition or everyone’s gasps. Your ears rang. Everything was muffled like you were underwater.

You were done. You were supposed to be done. You went through those Games, you won, and now you were supposed to be done.

He was gonna make you go through it all over again.

You were so shocked that you pinched yourself, like you were a child and this was some nightmare, and even though you didn’t wake up, even though you knew you were awake, you were still caught in a nightmare that you’d have to die to escape from.

Your senses came back to you and you spun around, pulling Annie into a tight hug the second you saw the tears streaming down her face. She muttered the same thing over and over into your shoulder.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.”

She couldn’t go through this again. The Games broke her beyond repair. She couldn’t mentor because of it; she could barely ever attend any of the Capitol parties you and Finnick frequented. She would die in that arena, either mentally or physically.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Your song played on a loop in your mind, making the decision for you. You were reminded that, even though your dance may have changed, Finnick didn’t love you. He loved Annie, and he would be destroyed if she died.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let Mags go back into the arena, either. He needed her. These were the only people he cared about; you couldn’t let them go through this.

Then and there, you decided your fate.

You were gonna be the one to go back into the arena, and no one was gonna stop you.

When you and Annie had made it to your house, ignoring all of the looks of pity thrown your way, Finnick looked just as beaten down as you, but not surprised. You didn’t have time to analyze that.

He hugged Annie first, shooting you an apologetic look, but you didn’t understand what it was for. You knew what Annie meant to him.

You weren’t so deluded that you’d believe you came before her. Besides, she needed to be consoled more than you did. You were calm. Annie was lost right now, but you knew exactly where you were headed.

That night, once Annie left, your clothes came off, and you and Finnick had the softest sex you ever had. It was gentle, and you let yourself feel loved one last time. You let yourself be selfish and have this one thing, just one last time.

You knew that the odds of coming out of that arena were slim, so you kissed Finnick like you were gonna die the very next day. I just might, you thought. And then as you fell asleep in his arms, you pretended that everything was alright. You pretended that your dance wasn’t gonna end so soon, that you weren’t gonna sign your life away when you woke up, that Finnick really loved you, that he loved you just as much as you loved him. You pretended one last time.

The next day, you and all of the other victors walked to the Hall of Justice, escorted by a dozen Peacekeepers. There were so many male tributes. As terrible as it sounded, you were praying that it’d be one of them that was chosen, not Finnick. If he was, then you would throw away any chance you had of winning.

If he went in with you, then he’d be the one walking out.

Cassia Locke stood in the middle of the stage, in between the male and female victors. You found it funny, almost: you were victors, but now the Capitol was gonna rip that refuge away after they’d already taken everything from you.

Cassia was just another mutt in your eyes. She was district 4’s Capitol escort; she was meant to be an advisor, but she didn’t do that well, not for you or the other tributes you mentored. But you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised. Her job was to make spectacles, not survivors.

However, she almost looked human for a moment, glancing at the women sympathetically before she pulled out a folded paper from the bowl. You stood on edge; there were only three of you. Unbeknownst to you, Finnick also stood straighter in trepidation.

She cleared her throat, announcing, “The female tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell is… Annie Cresta.”

Annie’s face fell, but you quickly stepped forward. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Annie whispered, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed her off and ignored her.

Cassia nodded. “Very well, then.” She moved back to the bowl. “Now for the males.”

You glanced over to see that Finnick was already looking at you, an unknown emotion written all over his face, though you realized what it was quickly. Betrayal.

You were confused why. If anything, he should’ve been relieved.

“The male tribute for the 75th Annual Hunger Games will be…” she unfolded the paper, “Finnick Odair.”

Your heart dropped. That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

The universe must’ve hated you.

Finnick’s mask was back on. Any trace of emotion on his face was erased and replaced with the cocky, charming façade that he’d perfected. He smirked as if he wasn’t just chosen for the most brutal “game” there ever was, like there was nothing to be worried about.

He was so good at pretending. Maybe even better than you.

You both walked toward the centre of the stage simultaneously, routinely. You’ve danced this dance before.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.”

Right after that, Peacekeepers came from the side, trying to grab at your arms, but you shook them off. “We know where to go,” you said. You don’t know if it was the your tone of voice or the look on your face, but they actually listened.

You were escorted into an inactive chamber, the same one you were brought to for your first Games. Memories flashed through your mind before you shook them away. You couldn’t get PTSD right before you went into this.

Finnick was stoic as he stared you, but before either of you could say anything, Mags and Annie came rushing into the room. Annie took you by surprise, immediately engulfing you tightly.

She was still crying, but manage to blubber out through her tears, “Why- why would you do that?”

You rubbed her back. “Annie-”

“Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to be me.” She kept repeating herself over and over, shaking in your arms.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Finnick and Mags watching you. “It’s gonna be okay, Annie,” you told her, but you knew it was a lie. “I’m gonna be fine.” You weren’t.

As if she knew this, she only cried harder. You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept rubbing her back, hoping that she’d calm down. Eventually, she stopped shaking, but tears kept flowing from her eyes like a waterfall. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming.

She sniffled, going over to hug Finnick, then hugging you one last time before she left. “Take care of each other- please,” she asked, and you weren’t thinking of doing anything but.

You nodded, assuring her that you would do just that. Mags hugged you, saying the words she couldn’t express through her gaze. You could tell that neither of them wanted to leave, but they had to. 

Only one of you was gonna come back, and that was gonna be hard to come to terms with.

They left, and then it was just you and Finnick. The music kept playing, and playing, and playing, and you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. You didn’t want to hear this song ever again if it could be your last time listening.

If you could have it your way, you’d dance together until the end of time. But forever was never promised, not in the world you lived in.

The silence, however, felt like it lasted a forever in the moment, so you broke it. “Can you say something?” Finnick just kept staring at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The music got louder. Tears came to your eyes. “Please.”

Maybe he took pity on you, because he did say something. You just weren’t sure if it was any better than the silence. “Why would you do that?” His voice was cold.

You felt cold.

You swallowed. “Finn-”

“Why would you volunteer?” He stepped closer to you, so much venom seeping through his tone that you thought you were gonna be sick. “Annie was going to go-”

You cut him off, throwing your hands up. “You saw her, Finnick. She’s a mess.”

“She was going to be fine-”

“She can’t go through The Games again!” You shouted, losing it. Why was he berating you as if you didn’t just save the love of his life? “It would kill whatever part of her is left.”

“She would’ve been fine. You would’ve been fine-”

“God, why do you care about what happens to me? Annie’s gonna be okay—you’re gonna be able to come home to her and build the family you’ve always wanted-”

He snapped. “You’re my family!” You recoiled like he just hit you with his words. It was like you’d been doused in cold water. Finnick sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was a beat where neither of you said anything, letting his revelation soak in.

But you didn’t know what that meant.

When he spoke up again, his voice was quieter. He didn’t look like the Finnick that smirked up on that stage; he looked defeated, not triumphant. “You’re my family, Y/N. Don’t you get that?” He looked back up at you. “I could’ve protected Annie in that arena, and you would’ve been safe, here—not there with me.”

You shook your head. “There is no protecting someone in an arena- you and I know that best.” You let a tear fall, smiling sadly. “You’re gonna come home, Finnick-”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna come home and you’re gonna live a long life with Annie-”

“Stop it.”

“You have people to take care of. I don’t.”

“Y/N, stop it.”

Another tear. “You deserve this-”

“Stop it.” Finnick grabbed onto your shoulders. You didn’t even know he got so close. “I’m not gonna let you die in there. Do you hear me? You’re not dying.”

“Only one of us is coming back, Finn. It’s gonna be you.”

You don’t know if your eyes were just really that blurry or if there were actually tears in his eyes, too. “No, you are coming home-”

“Finni-”

He grabbed you tighter. “We are both coming home.” The dam in your eyes broke, and all of the tears you were trying to hold came flooding down your cheeks.

Why was he saying these things? He knew it was impossible.

“We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear,” he promised, but these were promises he couldn’t keep. These were things he couldn’t control. Why was he lying to you- why was he lying to himself?

You wanted to say all these things, to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t true, that you were going to die. But then you remembered every other time you lied in bed together, every time you kissed and held each other. You’ve been lying to yourself all along, pretending you could have a future together when, deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

So you held everything in, pulling Finnick to you and hugging him with everything you had. You were gonna let him pretend, just this last time.

You were gonna dance together one last time.

You spent the entire train ride in each other’s arms, only getting up to eat and go to the bathroom before getting back in bed. You didn’t have mentors—you were the mentors. You’d been here before already, and that was surreal in and of itself.

You thought you already won. But nobody ever won, did they?

Those games killed everyone, victors included.

The press was insane, but just as you expected it. You were the Prince and Princess of Panem; they didn’t want to watch you die. Turns out, people in the Capitol did have hearts; clearly, they weren’t all too functional.

This visit, in more ways than one, was completely different from any other time you’d been in the city. Instead of the graceful show you normally put on, waving and smiling, you were much more mute. You were gonna die, anyway, so what was the point of continuing to be a puppet? 

Finnick was still his usual self, smirky and arrogant, but even his anger snuck through the cracks of his act. All of you were angry, all of the victors. You could tell just by the mere glances you’d gotten of them, by the news coverage. Nobody wanted to go into an arena and kill people, not even the Careers (who you’d admit were pretty crazy).

However, this was all still a show to the Capitol, with you as the unlucky cast. And the show had to go on.

You and Finnick were separated to be prepped by the “glam teams.” The first time around, you remember being scared, but now you were just bored.

You were sitting idly in the dressing room, waiting for your designer when a man walked in, making you raise a brow.

This was a designer, but not your designer.

“Wait, I know you.” You tilted your head as his face became more familiar to you. “You’re Cinna- you designed those outfits with the fire.”

Cinna nodded in a way that you perceived as both humble and prideful at the same time. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Princess.”

This elicited a bitter chuckle from you. “Please, call me Y/N.” You then stood up to shake his hand when your curiosity sparked. “Aren’t you Katniss’ designer?”

“Yes, but I’m also going to be designing your outfits, as well,” he replied. “The head Gamemaker requested it. You are the Princess, after all.”

The corners of your lips went up. Most people you met at the Capitol would beat around the bush, but this guy didn’t seem shy. It was refreshing. You teased, “Ah, and since I’m a princess, I get Panem’s best to dress me?” 

Cinna chuckled a bit under his breath, but didn’t confirm or deny your comment. He dived straight into his plans, explaining what he wanted to for you with a twinkle in his eye that you noticed most artists had when speaking about their work. “I want to stay true to the district 4 theme, but I want to make a statement.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

He smiled. “We’re gonna show the Capitol that they can’t control you.”

And then your little smile turned into a grin.

Cinna did not disappoint. You were in a golden, long-sleeve, grid shirt with holes where the squares were supposed to be; your velvet skirt was a dark blueish-green, skin-tight; and atop your head was a golden crown, decorated with blue jewels.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal outfit, but you were gonna save the theatrics for the parade.

Finnick was around somewhere, likely causing trouble while you were walking around, looking for Johanna. However, you ended up running into someone else.

“Peeta,” you called, and he turned around. He immediately reminded you of Finnick, a mask of charm hiding him. Although Peeta had only been at this for a year, he already knew how to play the game, unlike Katniss who was rather unapproachable.

“Y/N,” he greeted. He scrambled for something to say for a few seconds. “I heard about how you volunteered for that girl. It was really brave.”

You hummed, almost sarcastically. “You don’t have to suck up to me—it’s not like I bite.”

He got red, making you stifle a laugh. “That’s, uh- that’s not what I meant-”

“It’s fine, I get it,” you waved it off. “It’s probably intimidating to be here around all of us, just a year after you won.” He didn’t say anything, just awkwardly smiled. “You know, you don’t have to be scared. You have a lot of power ‘round here; you just need to learn how to wield it.”

He gave you a confused look, so you elaborated, “There’s power in the masses, Peeta. The people here love you.” You paused. “Use that.”

A look of realization crossed his face, and so you decided that you said all you needed to say. He thanked you, but his mind looked to be elsewhere. You nodded, then walked off to find your carriage.

Sure, the Capitol could try and treat you all like pieces on a chess board, but if you got rid of the board altogether, then there would be no game to play. You spoke to Peeta to help him realize that. It didn’t matter if you were all meant to be on different sides; until you got into that arena, you were all one team, and you were gonna try your hardest to stop The Games before they began.

If that didn’t work, then you would just have to concede. One way or another, you would make sure that Finnick made it out of that arena alive. Peeta reminded you an awful lot of him, and while you would otherwise be rooting for him, you would choose Finnick if it came down to it.

You met Finnick at the chariot not long after leaving Peeta. He was shirtless, wearing a skirt similar to your top, rope around his wrists like bracelets. If you weren’t about to go into this stupid parade, you would’ve probably been making out already, but you were far too worried to think about that.

You had Cinna to thank for calming your nerves, giving you something to look forward to. Once the parade had started and you were coming through, you pressed the button of the device he had given you and then your top went up in flames, disintegrating until you were just in a black bralette, revealing the swirls of blue they painted on your arms, resembling waves. The rope around Finnick’s wrists caught fire, too, burning up until there was nothing there.

The crowd cheered, chanting your names. The faintest of smirks grew on your lips, but you really had to stifle your enjoyment when you saw Snow staring your carriage down.

What you did symbolized freeing yourself of the shackles of the Capitol, of these stupid Games. They could try, but they wouldn’t control you. 

You would’ve usually felt some sort of fear- hell, you were never so defiant just in fear of what they would do to you. But what more could they do to you? They were already going to kill you. You didn’t care anymore.

After the parade, you ran into Johanna who gave you a good laugh as she told you how she stripped in the elevator. You would’ve paid good money to see it, that was for sure. You also talked to a few other victors on your way back to your suite.

You’d been friends with many of these people for years and now the Capitol was just gonna try and pit you against each other. None of you were looking forward to that—you were friends. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t make any allies.

Alliances didn’t last forever in the arena, but they lasted long enough. Considering your status, almost everyone wanted you and your “boyfriend” as allies; they certainly didn’t want you as enemies.

The next day was spent at the training centre, a brand new one made specially for the Quarter Quell. The thought made you roll your eyes. The Capitol would spend their money on things like this and yet there were still kids out there starving. What kind of world was that? One that you were okay with leaving, so long as Finnick would remain in it.

On your way in, you passed Cashmere and Gloss throwing knives at holograms. They were good, you noted, but not better at it than you. Johanna was off practicing by herself—though you were sure that she was doing it more so to release her pent-up aggression. Wiress and Beetee, Nuts and Volts as Jo called them, were by themselves, much less violent than everyone else here and much more strategic. Finnick was tying knots, looking more bored than anything. And you… you weren’t doing anything.

You leaned back on a wall, watching the other tributes instead of joining them. You didn’t care about the rankings or making yourself look dangerous. You didn’t have anything to prove; you did that already, and you really didn’t need to “practice,” either.

You’ve danced this dance before.

However, not everyone was so aware of just how well you danced last time.

“Not practicing?” You turned your head, seeing the newest victor walking up to you, donning her famous hairstyle. The corners of your lips quirked up in amusement. 

She must have been told to make friends. You couldn’t imagine it was working out so well if she was coming to you.

“Don’t need to, Everdeen,” you replied, shrugging. “I don’t need the spotlight; got enough of that.”

She lightly snorted. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” And you didn’t doubt that. Katniss had definitely captured the attention of Panem with her actions, and she certainly acquired the attention of the Capitol. Snow couldn’t have been her biggest fan.

In another life, you could picture you and her being friends, but you knew it wasn’t gonna happen in this one.

“You’re lucky, you know,” you said. You knew she didn’t see that way, and maybe it was a little bitter of you to say that, but it was true. At least she hadn’t been under the spotlight long enough for it to burn her like it’d burned you. 

She scoffed, “How so?” The girl had restraint, you’d give her that. She clearly wanted to say a lot more than that, but she was smart. She knew better.

You shrugged again. “You just are.” And you left it there. If she wanted all the dirty details about you, she could try her luck with one of the other victors, but you doubted she sensed the real meaning of your words. She hadn’t been dancing long enough to even hear the song yet.

A dramatic sigh then escaped your lips. “Ah, though I suppose even your luck can only run so far, Girl on Fire. So sorry about your wedding.” The sarcasm in your voice was toned down just enough that it wasn’t so evident but evident enough to make your point.

She gave you a tense smile, although you weren’t sure if any of Katniss’ smiles ever weren’t tense. “Thanks,” she responded with zero sincerity in her tone. “I’m sorry you and Finnick never had one, either. Would’ve been a real royal occasion.”

You hummed, smiling your royal smile back at her. The Kat has claws, you thought. But you didn’t really feel like standing here and trading subliminals with her all day; you’d have enough of that with everyone else, anyway.

You left it at that, going to walk away before pausing as if you’d forgotten something. “Tell Haymitch I said hi.” You gave her a once over. “He’s done a good job.” And then you walked away.

Finnick’s voice rang through your head: May the odds be ever in your favour, darling. You almost felt like recycling that line and repeating it to Katniss, but you had already messed with her enough. 

Your demeanour was in stark contrast of how you normally behaved. You may have been more agreeable or kind at home, sweet on cameras, but in this territory, you had an entirely different reputation. Sharp, cunning, unpredictable—ruthless. That’s the way it needed to be if you wanted to survive, or at least survive long enough to do what you needed to do.

So, you supposed that you had a mask, too.

You all did.

When you got back to your suite later in the evening, Finnick informed you of Katniss’ display with her bow and arrow, how she had renowned victors quaking in their boots, but people were even more scared of you, and you hadn’t even done anything at training.  

You basically had the entire pool of tributes to choose from for an alliance. You were choosing Johanna, of course, and Finnick already had his mind made up on his pick.

Making his way over to you, he tossed you something that you swiftly caught before sitting down on the armchair across from the sofa you were sitting on. You looked down, opening your hand to see a golden pendant, a medallion with a rose in the middle.

You raised a brow. This wasn’t a present. “A rose?”

“They’re a Capitol favourite.” Precisely why you hated them.

“Alright, and why are you giving it to me?”

Finnick brought his wrist up, showing you a golden bracelet made of vines while wiggling his fingers. “They’re gifts,” he told you, “from Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy.”

You were familiar with both people. Effie Trinket was crazy, but that wasn’t the dominant thought on your mind. “Gifts for what?”

He answered, “They’ve brokered an alliance with us on behalf of Katniss and Peeta.” At that, you groaned, but Finnick readily cut you off. “This will be good for us, Y/N.”

“They’re brand new to this,” you countered. Sure, you liked the spark that the Girl on Fire had, and Peeta was quite the catch, but they only won a year ago. The Careers would be a better pick, even though you didn’t exactly like them, either.

“Yes, but they’re good; you’ve seen them. And the Capitol’s gonna love it, the two pairs of lovers together. C’mon, you know all this.” You did. You knew that this was one of the best avenues to take, but something in you was against it.

Maybe it was just that Peeta reminded you of the man you were in love with, and Katniss reminded you of yourself. But right now, you had to remind yourself to think with your head, not your heart. You needed to disregard your feelings and do whatever it took to win this.

To you, winning didn’t mean surviving this. Winning meant that Finnick did.

So, with a sigh, you surrendered, agreeing to this little deal. “So, these accessories are, what? Bargaining chips?”

He smirked. “No, they’re symbols. Katniss and Peeta have theirs, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head and mocking, “So we’re in a little golden alliance, then?”

“It appears so, darling.”

After a little more conversation, Finnick and you headed off to bed, even though neither of you could really sleep. You held each other, though, and so the insomnia was bearable. He told you to stow the necklace away, that you were saving the objects for The Games. Apparently, Katniss and Peeta still needed a little persuasion for this, especially the former.

She was smart not to trust you, but she was equally as naive for the same reason. If you wanted to, you could be judgemental all day, but you didn’t have the time for it, so your mind didn’t linger on the subject.

When you were waiting to be assessed the next day with the rest of the tributes, your mind didn’t really linger on anything. You felt numb: not pleased, not sad, just numb. If you could pin-point an emotion, it had to be anger, but that feeling hadn’t left you since your first Games.

Finnick, on the other hand, looked no different, maybe even a little amused by the tension in the room, too amused for somebody who had to go back to the arena. But Finnick was always one to look a challenge into the eye and, instead of looking away, give it a wink. That was his persona while you were here, in the Capitol, so you’d let him indulge in it if that’s what made him feel better.

You’d do anything for him, even if he didn’t love you back.

He went into the room first. You didn’t know exactly what he was gonna do, but you knew that you were all basically doing the same thing. Plutarch Heavensbee may have been new, but even he knew who you all were. You’ve all shown your skills already, been here already, danced this dance already.

The song was getting old.

You were all giving your own personal fuck you to the Capitol.

When Finnick walked out, he flashed you a smirk that almost made you laugh. You stifled a smile as you walked into the room yourself, but it was quickly wiped off your face as memories played in your head like a movie.

You remembered the first time you did this, coming in and saying your name, scared out of your mind but ready to win, ready to impress the sponsors.

Now, you didn’t have to say your name. You caught their attention as soon as you walked in. You were the Princess. You needed no introduction.

It was funny, though, how that imaginary crown couldn’t save you from this.

The thought of your inevitable death was what fuelled you. You were known for your abilities with a sword, but that wasn’t what you reached for. You reached for the jug of gasoline and a lighter, immediately opening it and pouring in a circle in the middle of the room before stepping into it.

Then you looked right up at all of them and their confused faces, and threw the open lighter to the liquid in front of you, igniting a circle of fire around you.

You stared right at the head Gamemaker as you did it, expressionless. His expression told you that he got the message, or at least your hostility.

You would burn this place to the ground if you had to, even if you got burned while doing it. 

When the flames got smaller, you turned and stepped over them, walking out of the room without another glance or word to the Capitol mutts. As far as you were concerned, they weren’t worth your time—you were running out of that, anyways.

Once the assessments were over, all any of you had time to do was get ready for the show. Caesar wasn’t exactly a face you wanted to see right now. Maybe he saw his enthusiasm as a way of “calming the tributes down,” but it was really just his lack of empathy. You didn’t need him cheering and practically gossiping about your death before it happened. 

As much as the people in the Capitol liked to think of these Games as games, they weren’t. They were your lives. But you really could spend days obsessing over it, days that you didn’t have.

It was time to dance, and there was nothing you did better.

You were backstage, standing with Finnick and Johanna, waiting your turns. Cinna had made you very pretty. He was good at what he did.

You were wearing a dark blue dress with wide straps tied into blue bows at your shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom half was pretty fitted, but it was covered by a sparkly, golden, A-line, hoop petticoat made of the same material as your top from the parade, gridded with holes like before. And of course, your crown sat atop your head—Cinna insisted.

He really wanted to nail the whole Princess thing, milk it for all it was worth. And you let him, because his designs were great. Part of you wished you could’ve gotten more into fashion; now you’d never get the chance to.

You couldn’t blame Katniss for being so stand-offish. You’d be intimidated, too, if you were new to the club, watching from the sidelines. You, Finnick, and Johanna didn’t really seem all too approachable right now, either, even the ever so charming Odair. They were exchanging jokes and laughing at the interviews, mocking them, while you were rather stoic, observing the interviews watchfully.

Cashmere and Gloss went first, of course. They did theirs together since they were brother and sister. It was odd to you, how two siblings managed to get reaped together out of all the victors district 1 had, but you were paying more attention to the act they were putting on. 

Casmere was sobbing. She’s a much better killer than she is an actor, you thought, but the people in the audience clearly bought it. You’d give her credit, though; you were all trying your best to get this thing cancelled, even if that was highly unlikely.

Next came the two crazy Careers who made Gloss’ acting look world class. Then Beetee went on stage, using logic as a tactic rather than emotion. Smart, but logic wouldn’t sway President Snow’s wishes. The Capitol sent innocent kids off to die every year in a televised event to pay for something that happened years before any of them were born—logic was obviously not their strong suit.

Wiress went next, and that’s basically when you tuned out. She was pretty out of it, not really saying much. Finnick was going after her. That’s what occupied your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Your were snapped out of your daze by the very man you were thinking about, as if he was reading your mind. Those blue eyes that you loved so much stared down at you, concern swimming through them.

Those ocean eyes. You could drown in them.

You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “Yeah, I’m good.” He continued to stare down at you like he was completely unconvinced, but before he could say anything, they were calling his name.

He cursed under his breath then placed a soft kiss on your temple before having to walk out on stage, that famous smirk on his face. He was so good at that, at going from hard to soft so easily, cursing to kissing you.

He was good. He was real good, and he was a much better actor than any other tribute here. He was so good that he could make even you believe his performance.

You watched them from the TV backstage. “Finnick,” Caesar started. “As I recall, the last time we spoke, it was with your other half, who is here today.” The crowd cheered.

Finn nodded, smiling tensely, which you were sure he did on purpose. “That’s right.”

“You and the Princess have so graciously shared your love with us, and we have fallen in love with you both, perhaps as much as you love each other.” You and Johanna simultaneously rolled your eyes. Finnick, though, smiled to the cheering audience, mouthing thank you’s that no doubt made them swoon. “None of us know how to deal with the fact that you are both going into The Games- I certainly haven’t come to terms with it. Tell us, how are you dealing with this?”

You scoffed. If there was something the people of the Capitol liked to do, it was pretending that your tragedy was their own. They didn’t know even half of your pain, any of yours. 

Caesar practically shoved the microphone in Finnick’s face. He looked down, like he was thinking, but you knew he probably had this bit down pat already. “If I’m being honest, neither Y/N nor I have come to terms with it, either.” He now looked right to the camera. “What I do know is that I will do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love.” The crowd cooed as you looked straight at the TV, as if Finnick was staring into your eyes. “And if I… if I die in that arena, then my last thought will be of her lips… and how lucky I was to have met her and have had the opportunity to give her my heart.”

The crowd went wild and Caesar said something in response, but you couldn’t hear it. You were stuck staring into Finnick’s eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. Oh, he was so good. He could dance the dance so much better than you. Because everything he said, he almost made you believe that he meant it.

You blinked the tears in your eyes away when Johanna shook you, telling you they were about to announce your name. You put the mask back on, and it was your love for Finnick that made you do it. You were doing this for him.

An exhale left your lips as you waited for your cue. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, as our Prince exits, I have the honour of welcoming his counterpart to the stage. The winner of the 67th Hunger Games. The Princess of Panem. Y/N Y/L/N!”

The doors you stood behind opened and you walked onto the stage, a stellar smile on your face as you waved to the roaring crowd. You just had to play the role, and everything would be fine.

When the cheers died down, Caesar gave you a sympathetic look, or at least a look that he thought was sympathetic. “Now, Y/N, it is lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Caesar. It’s always wonderful to see you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.” You glanced to the crowd, catching their pity. For once, that was the exact emotion you wished to inspire.

“Yes, I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not easy.” You tightly smiled, even though you really just wanted to flip him off. “We just spoke to Finnick, he has been quite expressive these past few days in the Capitol, but you, Y/N, you have not been as revealing. Please, we’d like to know what’s been on your mind.”

If Caesar really heard what was on your mind, then he’d be appalled. That wasn’t your goal, even though you’d greatly enjoy that. Instead, you had a different play.

The audience was very quiet in anticipation of your response. You sighed, keeping the tired smile. “I, um… I’ve had a lot on my mind, really. Finnick and I, we thought we had more time, time to get married and even have kids, but now it’s like that time has just been… stolen from us.” Collective awes resounded throughout the crowd as Caesar brought his other hand to his chest, like your words moved him. “It’s- it’s just not fair, simple as that. But I love him, and that love will survive, even if I don’t.”

The audience let their dismay be known while Caesar shook his head. “Oh, my dear, I have seen your love- we all have, and I know that it will never die.” You nodded in agreement, listening to everyone else agree with you.

The acting was easier than you thought it’d be. Maybe that was because it wasn’t all acting, not for you. You knew your role, and you knew it well, but your love for Finnick was not something you had to fake. It was perhaps one of the only real things you had left.

“Now, we are all in for an emotional night, so I’d just like to lighten the mood a little- is that alright?” You nodded again, though you wondered how he would’ve reacted if you didn’t. “Okay, now we all saw your display at the parade- isn’t that right, everyone?” He paused, letting them applaud. “Yes, it was magnificent. Would I be right in assuming that you have something similar planned tonight?”

“Oh, you’d be correct,” you responded, flashing a grin at the whooping crowd.

“Please, please.” He stepped back. “Go right ahead.”

You glanced at Cinna sitting front row before pressing the button of the device he gave you. The golden petticoat then went up in flames, seemingly “ejecting” the skirt of your dress, sending it from above your knees to your ankles as it went from skin-tight to flowy. The very bottom faded into a teal colour, like the sea.

The crowd’s cheers got louder than you thought possible. Caesar wowed, then raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess of Panem!” You gave the crowd one last wave before making your way up the stairs to stand with the rest of the victors.

You were standing next to Finnick by the time the next tribute was called out and the attention was on them. To your surprise, he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. But what really surprised you was the slight tremble you felt.

You looked up at him to see him already staring down at you. His mask fell a little, and instead of the at-ease Finnick you just saw, you were looking at a much more serious, stern version. You were confused by what could’ve brought this on, but then he leant down slightly, whispering in your ear, “I told you. I’m not letting you die.” When he pulled away, he didn’t look any less serious.

Oh, what a great liar he could be. There he was, making you believe in things that couldn’t possibly be true. You were going to die. You knew that, and you’d accepted it already. But Finnick hadn’t accepted it at all. He looked like he was believing his own lie.

You don’t know why this had shaken him so badly. Maybe he felt obligated to you, maybe he felt bad for you, but whatever it was, you weren’t gonna make it worse.

You could be a good actor, too.

For him.

You nodded, whispering back, “I know.” This looked to have calmed him down a little. He kissed the side of your head, and then the mask was back up. He kept his tight hold on your hand, and you let him.

You never know when it’d be the last time you held hands, and so you were gonna enjoy this while it lasted.

Even though this was an “emotional night,” as Caesar had dubbed it, you still got satisfaction out of everything the victors were pulling. When Johanna came on stage, she had a totally different approach than all of your sad acts and Beetee’s logic: she said what you all really wanted to say, giving the Capitol a loud fuck you.

You and Finnick had to stop yourselves from laughing amidst your shock. Caesar definitely wasn’t expecting that. You knew Snow definitely wasn’t expecting that, either. You hoped he was watching this right now, and you hoped that all of Panem could feel your outrage.

But if you were surprised by anything, it was the so called star-crossed lovers from district 12. Katniss’ wedding dress was a nice touch; she could’ve convinced even you that they were in love, if you didn’t know any better.

You weren’t the only one with a message to send to the Capitol with your attire. She spun around and her white dress was engulfed in flames, transforming into a midnight blue dress similar to yours. And when she lifted her arms, wings were revealed, and the smile on your lips widened.

“It’s a bird,” Caesar stammered in awe. “It’s like, a- it’s got feathers- it’s a bird- like a-”

You murmured at the same time as Katniss spoke up, “Like a Mockingjay.” You looked up to Finnick, seeing him already smirking. Everdeen was a lot ballsier than you thought.

“Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn’t he? Bestowing not one, but two just astonishing looks upon us! What theatricality.” The attention was drawn to your designer. “Cinna! Take a bow.”

You were growing to like this man more and more, knowing that the Capitol must have hated him.

When the cheers died down and Katniss came and joined you all, the event was almost over with just Peeta left. You remembered the advice you gave him; you had high hopes for him, and he did not disappoint. 

He claimed he and Katniss had a secret wedding, reeled them all in, and then he added the cherry on top. “You know, Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. And I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” he paused, choking up, “i-if, if it weren’t… if…”

“If it weren’t for what? What, Peeta?”

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

The audience clamoured. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide the upturn of your lips, feigning horror. Finnick was in the same boat, stifling a laugh.

Golden boy was smarter than he got credit for.

People in the audience stood up, shouting while Caesar tried to calm them down. They were calling for The Games to be stopped, exactly what you’d been trying to achieve all night. Caesar whispered something to Peeta away from the microphone, and he walked up the stairs to the rest of you, hugging his apparent wife.

Then suddenly, you were nudged by the person next to you, looking down to see their hand outstretched. You quickly realized what was going on and grabbed it. And then amidst all the fury, you brought your hands up together. Yes, they wanted you to kill each other, but you were all united in the same fight first.

It became obvious that Caesar couldn’t contain the crowd’s indignation any longer, so the anthem played, increasing in volume to try and drown them out, but your actions were still so much louder than words. 

That’s when the lights cut out.

But it would be a lot harder for the Capitol to snuff out the spark you all lit.

While you all did your best, your efforts appeared to be futile. Snow wasn’t against killing children, so you supposed that you all should’ve known better than to think that he’d cancel The Games for Everdeen’s baby.

However, it wasn’t completely useless. You had the public’s support. Sponsors wouldn’t be hard to get, so at least that was something. But all in all, The Games were still happening. One winner. Twenty-three of you would be dead, and you were going to be one of them.

Your last Games, you were relentless, selling your soul to stay alive. And you were gonna do it all over again, but this time, your objective wasn’t staying alive at all. It was making sure Finnick could make it home to Annie. 

Lying there in Finnick’s arms that night for what could possibly be the last time, you realized that you would die without ever having been loved by someone. You were with Finnick, and you loved him, but he didn’t love you back.

These last few days, you had been consumed by fire, knowing that you would burn everything down if it meant your lover would be safe, but it was like it was just hitting you that you’d been warming yourself up with a flame that wasn’t ever really yours.

You knew without a doubt that Finnick Odair was your soulmate.

But you weren’t his.

Tears pooled into your eyes at the thought, and so you quickly buried your head into his chest before a panic attack could came on. You calmed down to the sound of his heartbeat, the heartbeat that you personally would make sure didn’t stop until he was old and his hair was grey.

The next day was a blur between the hovercraft, having the trackers injected into you, and then being separated from Finnick. The only thing you really could remember was how he kissed your cheek before he left.

And then you were in the tube, rising up into the arena. You couldn’t get a good look at it. Every time you blinked, your Games flashed before your eyes. Sun, cold, dirt, blood, screaming, murder.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as the announcer counted down. Pull yourself together, Y/N, you thought.

And then The Games begun.

Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade

[leqonsluv3r]

Hey, do you have a lot of requests rn?

I'd have a fic idea👀 so reader (female) would have been taken to Leon's family for some reason, been living there sometime now and Leon's dad just despises her and makes her do gross chores or whatnot, being mean for no reason, degrading a bit and Leon would let it happen, just kinda watch from aside but quickly enough he'd feel bad and would apologize for his dad behavior and tell her that he (Leon) doesn't feel that way, that he actually likes having her around etc. He could be plotting to kick his dads ass for it but the reader would stop those thoughts, then they'd talk and some things leads to others and soon they're making out and they have sex?! 🫣 You can decide if either one is a virgin or both🤔

my own cinderella

—re!4 leon kennedy x fem!reader

—a oneshot (request)

masterlist taglist

warnings: MDNI, 18+, virgin!reader, kinda dom!leon, best friends to lovers, leon’s dad being an asshole, reader is definitely like cinderella (loosely), grinding, lots of kissing and making out, unprotected pnv action, he’s soft with reader but not rough either (if that makes any sense lmao), they both love each other but they’re too chicken shit to admit it, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon calls reader princess, nipple play, oral (f receiving), aftercare.

“she’s the sweetest thing in his life. always has been since they were kids, she was the lace to his leather. the flowers to his dirt, the sugar to his salt. so when he needs her, as her best friend. he takes her in, takes care of her. as they get older, he grows attached. having her living in his house, living this close. he needs to help her, to love her. his father is taking advantage of her, letting her pay him back in chores. she was his princess, he needed to save her. what better way then to just have her all to himself?”

—or leon gets his very own cinderella and gives her the happy ending she deserves

an: i’m so sorry this took so long to get written. my life has been a crazy mess lately. i’m still unpacking and decorating my new place, working and all the other shit that comes with life. i hope this is what you wanted, pls reblog and like, i appreciate it <3 it’s super long, a gift for being MIA for so long my lovelies.

she started living with leon and his family when she was around 15. it wasn’t her first choice of course, she was supposed to go live with her aunt in maine. but leon was one of her best friends, they were practically next door neighbors.

but when her aunt was tested for drugs and came back as an unfit guardian for her, leon’s father stepped in and made sure she had a place to live.

she loved that she had a place to stay, especially with leon around. everything wasn’t so scary. her parents getting sent to jail for embezzlement…wasn’t on her bingo card for that year. but leon made it okay, he made her laugh and he made sure she was comfortable staying with him and his family.

she got to keep attending the same private school as he did, got to experience life with her friends. she got somewhat of a happy ending.

at least that’s what it looked like from the outside.

what came with leon’s father taking guardianship over her, came with her getting the brunt of the chores. doing laundry for him and his family, cleaning all the rooms of the large house. it was things that she didn’t sign up for but she got to live in a large house with her best friend.

that was good enough? right?

wrong, even the years that passed as she became older became more difficult. especially when she turned 18 and the guardianship broke. she couldn’t leave because she had no money to her name, plus, leon’s dad offered to pay for her college courses.

so on-top of trying to attend lectures and do the loads of homework that came with being a college student. she had to stay and keep “working” around the house that should’ve been her sanctuary that was anything but.

she felt miserable but it wasn’t all bad, leon stayed home with her. he took a gap year, plus his dad was away a lot. she knew she should keep her wandering eyes to herself, that she shouldn’t have a crush on her bestfriend. she should just mind her own business and work until she can pay off her debt.

but no, he was there.

he was so handsome. so sweet to her, he always had been. she didn’t know how he was still single. he had the money, the title that came with his last name and the looks. if she was any other girl, she would’ve snatched him up by now.

but this was a different reality, leon was her friend. she couldn’t think of another reality where he was anything but that. where his thoughts were anything past platonic.

only if she saw the times he would look at her when she was bending over to clean, the times she didn’t see him looking. the dark blue of his eyes tracing her curves with just a small widening of his irises.

then she would know his thoughts were way past platonic and had been for a very long time.

one day in particular, leon’s dad was gone on a buisness trip. she had cleaned the entire house with the help of the maids, making sure her list of tasks was completed for her “guardians” approval.

she was sitting in her room, looking at the assignments on her desk. she knew she had so many classes that she needed to finish her assignments for. she had just been so busy with her chores or tasks, she hadn’t even had time to start her homework.

she started working and as she did, she got so immersed into it that she didn’t notice leon who was standing at her open bedroom doorway.

he cleared his throat and she whipped around in her desk chair, “christ! leon!” she says with a small gasp as she looked at him. he crossed his arms over his chest, “studying hard, princess?” he says with one of his famous smirks on his face.

the nickname he always called her had stuck from childhood and it still made her blush, she tipped her lips up in a crooked grin. “i didn’t know you’d be home today.”

he shrugs and walks into her bedroom, looking around at all the various things hung on the walls, he sees a couple pictures of them as kids. “i had an off day.” he says as he smiles at the picture of the them as kids.

she follows his eyes and tilts her head, “do you remember that?” she gets up from the desk chair and stands beside him, looking at the pictures on the cork board.

he looks from the cork board full of miscellaneous pictures of them, the one he saw in particular was a picture of them when they were 11 and they were getting they’re faces painted. she remembers that day, it was one of the happiest days she’d ever had. her parents were not in jail, her and leon were happy kids and things hadn’t gone to shit yet.

he nods, “yeah, that was a good day.” he says with a look of nostalgia on his face. he was the only constant good thing in her life and they both knew that. the only good thing she could rely on.

he has the urge to tell her things that he’s said a thousand times, but now it feels different since the change inside of him.

since he started looking at her differently, since he started feeling things deep down that he normally wouldn’t feel in a situation like this.

but his best friend was living with him, had been living with him for years because of her parents. his dad had been kind, gracious even and offered her a roof.

he knew that she worked her ass off, made the house and the mansion look impeccable with the help of the maids hired by his father.

but he still wanted her, wanted to take her away. he wanted to do something, he wanted her. he needed her and he was going to have her.

one way or another.

because she was his princess and she deserved more then what was given to her.

later that night, he was staying home instead of going out. normally on a friday night he would be hanging with his friends or going to the bar. but tonight, he was staying home.

he didn’t know how much longer he could take of watching her move around his orbit and not be his. how much menial labor he could watch her do for his father until he snapped. he wanted to scream and yell at his father, tell him it was unfair. but it was like trying to convince an ocean not to be blue, completely out of nature.

but he wanted to give her a break, give her something that she could latch onto so things didn’t seem so terrible. he already had her as a best friend, his love…went way beyond platonic.

so did his attraction.

so he offered for her to watch a movie with him, like when they both were kids.

she had obliged, she needed a break from studying and homework anyways. she was coming up on her midterms for her classes at college and she was losing her mind.

so this was a welcome distraction, he was also the welcome distraction. she had noticed changes over the years in him, his hair and his facial structure. more importantly, he’d been going to the gym. a lot.

his muscles almost needed their own names, they were a part of them. but they were huge. she had never seen muscles that big on any man ever. he could probably crush her like a grape, the thought was welcoming as it was arousing.

she shouldn’t be attracted to her best friend, not when she’s living under his dads roof and basically living here somewhat rent free.

but she was a girl, she had eyes. how could she not ogle him when he was mowing the lawn or had come back all sweaty from the gym? it was human nature. that was her justification in her mind, she was free to look but not to touch.

she’d ruin her friendship and her living situation if she even kissed him.

at least that’s what she thought.

they had been watching the movie for about 30 minutes when she felt his hand on her leg. she didn’t think much of it at first, it didn’t bother her.

she just thought that maybe it was accident and maybe he was just needing some comfort. excuses that she made up in her mind to make herself try and not feel the attraction that was pulsing in between her thighs.

she shifted under his hand on her thigh, letting him rest it there comfortably. out of the corner of her eye she could see the way his hand laid there almost protectively.

however, about halfway through the movie his hand was holding protectively and tightly to her inner thigh. so close and yet so far from where her clit was pulsing beneath her sweats.

she licked her lips, her mouth feeling dry. she didn’t dare look over in his direction, then he would know that this was affecting her. that his possessive and small hold on her leg was affecting every nerve ending in her body.

she prayed that he would just forget it, move his hand away. that was one part of her anyway, the other part wanted him to dip his fingers underneath her underwear and sweatpants.

but the was the horny part of her.

she swallowed when he gripped the fat of her thigh, hard. making her clit pulse in her panties and her pussy practically start drooling. she keeps her eyes on the tv, trying to get rid of the not so PG thoughts that were circulating around her brain.

but he was determined, unbeknownst to her.

he leaned over next to her and brushed some hair back behind her ear with his free hand, making her shiver. “got something on your mind, princess?” he says in a low timbre that she had never heard before.

she felt something inside of her change after he said that, his hand still roughly gripping at her thigh. she willed her mouth to work and words to leave it. she shakily exhaled, “leon…your hand on my thigh…” she says weakly.

she wish it would’ve come out better, not the words she would’ve opted before but it was something. she felt nervous, aroused and a million other things all at once. her virgin body didn’t know how much more it could handle.

“what about it?” he whispers as he lowers his mouth to nip at the shell of her ear, she felt like that alone would make her moan but she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, keeping quiet.

“feels good…” she mumbles out as she leans into his touch on her leg, trying to subtly get his fingers to move closer to where she really needed them. he chuckles softly against her ear, “poor baby, i’m touching your thigh and your already a mess.”

his mocking only furthered her arousal, made her underwear uncomfortably wet. she turned her face to look at him, her nose brushing against his. their close proximity on the couch made her mind fuzzier then usual.

“you sure about this, princess?” he says softly against her lips, their breath mingling together. she thinks for a second, feeling the warmth of him and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly but with a tender sweep of his thumb.

does she want to ruin her friendship for the attraction she’s feeling? yes, yes she does. she might regret this later but a part of her thinks she can trust him. she’s known him for years, he’s her best friend, they’ve seen each other at their worst.

so when she says, “yes.” she doesn’t regret what happens next.

he smirks widely against her lips, his hand squeezes her thigh more. his lips press against her and she moans a little against his lips.

they make out for what feels like an eternity, her hands intertwined into his hair and their lips never leaving each others. the movie drowning on in the background and they both couldn’t care less.

she ends up on top of his lap, not even noticing that she’s grinding on his pants. she knows what it is she’s grinding against, she wasn’t born yesterday. she’s read smut book upon smut book in her lifetime.

he groans against her lips, carding a hand into her own hair and tugging on it as he feels her grind against his erection in his pants. “keep doing that and i’ll bust in my pants.” he whispers with a low husky chuckle in between kisses.

she feels her cheeks flush, “sorry.” she whispers with a tinge of embarrassment in her features, pulling back a little and her movements against his hips stopping. he brushes some hair out of her face, seeing her pink flushed cheeks.

“don’t be sorry, princess. i just don’t think you understand what your doing.” he says with a small daze in his eyes, she finds herself leaning into his touch on her hair. she blinks at him, “i knew what i was doing…i think?” she says with a small doubtful furrow of her brows.

he shakes his head and laughs, knowing that she knew some things but probably not a lot. “let me ask you something, okay? from one best friend to another?” he says with a small tilt of his head, letting his hands coast down to her hips and hold her protectively.

she nods and blinks at him, adjusting herself on his lap a little. he takes a deep breath and gives her a reassuring smile, “are you still a virgin?” he asks her softly, not a hint of judgement in his voice. there’s was no ulterior motive, he just wanted to know.

she swallows and nods, letting a shaky breath leave her pink lips. he kneads at her skin between her sweats and her top, making sure he can comfort her in some way. he knew that she never got anywhere with guys, half the ones she chose were complete idiots anyways.

“do you want to lose it?” he says softly, another gentle question that’s not close to being an ulterior motive. he just wants to understand where her head is at right now since they kissed.

“i do…i mean, yeah.” she shrugs as she stumbles over her words a little, her cheeks still flushed easily. he thought that the way her cheeks turned red, her eyes wide and docile. it was cute, it was something that only she could pull off. if any other girl did that with him, he would be gone in a matter of minutes.

but she was different. she wanted to lose it. he just needed to make sure, make sure she understood what he was going to ask next.

“well, if you wanna lose it…i’ll give that to you.” he says gently as he caresses the skin of her hips. she blinks at him, still feeling the blush on her cheeks. she doesn’t know how to feel, should she feel nervous? feel like the butterflies are going to burst out of her stomach?

he was giving her an opportunity to lose it, to take care of her, make her feel better. he was her best friend, she trusted him more then anything. but still, she felt nervous. he would be seeing her naked, it would be intimate and vulnerable.

but also, she loved him deep down in a way that was way more then platonic.

so that’s why she leaned forward and kissed him, pressing a kiss to his lips. he smiled against her lips and gripped her hips tighter, taking her kiss as an answer.

“are you sure?” he mumbles in between kisses, making sure she’s not going to regret this later when it’s over. she nods and keeps kissing him, resuming her movements on his hips, moving them against his erection that was still very much there in his boxers and jeans.

she moans softly against his lips as she keeps grinding on him. she wraps her arms around his neck and carding her hands into his hair. she’s taking it one step at a time, listening to her gut and the butterflies swarming it.

he keeps his hands on her hips, almost guiding her as she rolls her hips over his. he groans against her lips, keeping her with him. he doesn’t want to ever let her go.

he didn’t realize that the butterflies in his own stomach were swarming wildly, attacking him when he was keeping her this close. all it took was kissing her, teasing her, holding her ontop of him.

it was years of friendship that had bubbled up into something that they both ignored until now.

he lightly guides her to lay back on the couch, pressing his chest against her own, their lips still moving against each other in a soft tangle of lips, tongues and teeth.

“princess, i’m gonna get you ready for me, okay?” he says when he pulls away from her lips, looking into her eyes. he’s going to take good care of her, as her best friend and someone who has had feelings for her for years.

she nods slowly up at him, he sees the nerves in her eyes. “if you want me to stop at any time, you tell me okay? and i will. i don’t want you to be uncomfortable, i would never want you to be.” he says gently as he brushes some hair out of her face.

“i will, i promise.” she whispers, the nervous energy thrumming through her body was put at ease a little by his words. “okay, princess.” he whispers softly as he leans down and presses kisses along her jawline to the collar of her shirt.

“such a pretty girl…” he whispers in between kisses to her neck, one of his hands going under her shirt and tracing the soft skin of her stomach.

she feels herself get more aroused with every kiss and word he says, helping her take off her shirt. he is gentle with his movements, taking off each piece of her clothing until she’s down to her bra and panties.

he leans back between her spread legs on the couch, admiring the way she looks all flushed and half-naked on the couch, she really is a dream. he feels more protective of her now, possessive, like he needs to keep her for himself.

the part of him that’s almost primal, a part he would like to keep hidden but he doesn’t know how much longer he can, not when he’s about to take her virginity.

“god, your so beautiful.” he says softly, his eyes roving over her frame. she feels her cheeks heat up all over again, wanting to hide from the embarrassment and just the way he’s eating her alive with his blue eyes.

he doesn’t let her hide, he leans down and presses his lips to the skin of her breast right where her bra is hiding her breasts. “good fucking…” he growls as he nips at the skin of her breast.

her body is shaking and she lets out some whimpers, squirming a little underneath him on the couch. “i’m gonna take your bra off, see these beautiful titties you’re hiding from me.” he says with another nip right above her bra.

she nodded and grabbed at his shirt, “take yours off.” she says with a small pant of her lips. he chuckles lowly and leans back on his haunches in between her legs.

he strips off his own t-shirt to showcase the soft muscles and planes of skin, she’s seen him shirtless before but these circumstances were far different. she lets out a breathy exhale.

“your turn.” he says with a small chuckle as he leans down and pulls down the bra straps on her bra. “lean up,” he guides her up so he can reach around and unclip it on the back.

finally, her bra is off and he throws it with her other clothes on the floor. he looks at her breasts, a groan leaving his lips. “my fucking…god, princess.” he says with a small sigh, he’s trying his best not to bust in his pants at the sight of her bare.

he doesn’t even hesitate as he leans down and captures one of her breasts in his mouth, using his other hand to pinch and pull at her nipple. he’s feasting on her like he’s a man starved.

she feels her underwear practically drenched at this point, moaning and gripping at his hair to keep his mouth on her.

she’s never felt like this before and he hasn’t really even done anything yet. she arches her back more, pushing her breast into his mouth more.

he swirls his tongue around her breast, feeling his cock straining in his pants, if he doesn’t release it soon…it’s going to bust in his pants.

he groans around her nipple and then moves to the next one giving it the same attention he just gave the other one, her body shaking and writhing beneath him like crazy.

he trails his lips away from her breasts, kissing down the plane of her stomach until he reaches the band of her underwear. he looks up at her from between her legs and silently asks her for permission.

she nods down at him and he hooks his fingers in the band of her underwear, pulling them down over her hips and tossing them with the rest of her clothes. he pulls back to marvel at her wet folds, how completely wrecked she is and he hasn’t even done that much yet.

the thought that he’s the first one to do any of this, touch her body like this, it drives him insane. it makes him almost feral as he leans in between her legs, keeping her thighs open and pressing kisses to the skin of her inner thighs.

“so fucking gorgeous, princess. is this all for me?” he grumbles lowly against the skin of her thighs, she feels the flushed skin of her cheeks heat up more.

the compliment only making her more aroused, practically painful at this point. she licks her dried lips, “yes…all for you.” she mumbles as she tries to control her breathing.

he chuckles against the skin of her inner thigh, still going farther down to her core. she feels her chest rise and falling faster and faster, those nerves returning as he leans down and presses a kiss to her clit.

her body instantly reacting, he loops his hands around her thighs and keeps them open. he presses more kisses to her clit until she’s a moaning mess, finally deciding to put her out of her misery.

he licks a stripe up her wet slit with his tongue, she moans softly and tilts her head back against the couch. she has never felt anything like this before, a whole other feeling that she couldn’t get from her fingers or a toy.

he keeps licking over her slit, practically drinking her up and devouring her like she was a five course meal. he uses one of his hands and plunges two fingers into her dripping entrance.

he had to prep her, he didn’t want to completely just rush in and hurt her. it didn’t matter how wet she was, he didn’t want to risk it.

she feels that feeling in her belly warm up and coil tighter, she starts shaking and moaning more, her moans growing in pitch. “so close…” she whimpers as he keeps plunging his fingers in and out of her entrance.

“mhm, gonna come all over my fingers like a good girl.” he mumbles softly, almost a feline smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to her slit and licks it as he keeps fingering her, his words twisted that coil tighter.

she feels herself fall apart after a few more pumps of his fingers and then another kiss to her clit, working her through her orgasm. he’s trying to be gentle, take his time but it’s hard when he’s watching her fall apart like that.

“so good, you did so good.” he praises lowly as he kisses up from her slit, over her stomach and breasts, then kisses her lips. she moans softly against his lips, tasting her own release on his mouth. she feels the fingers that were inside of her, trailing over her stomach.

his hand grabbing at her breast and squeezing it as he keeps kissing her. he pulls away slowly and looks down at her flushed face, “your so beautiful.” he whispers as he looks at her with nothing but admiration in his eyes.

she smiles lazily up at him, “thank you.” she whispers with a small pant out of her lips, he strokes some more hair out of her face. “you did amazing.” he whispers softly as he looks down at her.

the praise melts her into a puddle, still wet and probably leaking all over his dads couch. she doesn’t even care at this point. his dad was a whole other issue entirely that she didn’t want to even think of when she was with him.

it was just her and leon right now, the outside world ceased to exist.

“do you want me to keep going, princess?” he says with a small sigh as he traces lines down her stomach and down to her hips.

she thinks about it, about all of it. about his hands on her body and about the way he touches her so tenderly. how he’s not forcing her, how much she trusts him.

she can’t say no now, she can’t back out.

she licks her lips, “yeah, i want you to keep going. i want it.” she whispers as she looks up at him.

he smiles a boyish grin that makes her heart flutter uncontrollably, one that she’s seen a thousand times and it makes her breath catch. he presses a soft kiss to her lips, “i can do that. if it hurts too much, let me know. let me know and we can stop, okay? i already told you…” he trails off and she smiles softly up at him.

“yeah, i know. you’ve said that already.” she giggles softly as he leans back on his knees again in between her legs on the couch. “i know, i just…i want you to feel comfortable. i love you.” he mumbles the last part and if she wasn’t really listening, she wouldn’t have caught it.

but she did.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

it was echoing through her brain as he took off his pants and boxers, mixing her brain and making her all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

even when she saw his cock, all hard and long, the precum oozing out of the tip. she shakily exhales, the beating of her heart intensifies. she doesn’t know if it’s from his confession or the fact that his erection is just out.

she’s seeing him naked, fully naked. they match each other now, fully bare in front of each other. they can’t go back to normal after this, a reality she doesn’t want to face yet.

especially after…

i love you. i love you. i love you.

she looks up at him, reaching out for his arm as he starts to lean over her. he looks at her, his blue eyes linking with her own eyes. “what? what’s that look on your face for?” he says huskily as he takes in the look of admiration and lust in her eyes.

“you love me?” she whispers shakily, doesn’t feel like it’s falling out of her lips. he feels his breath catch and then escape, he can’t lie to her. not when she heard it. when she was naked and beautiful, everything he’s ever wanted wrapped up underneath him.

“i do, i love you…i think i’ve loved you for a long time.” he whispers as he slots himself between her legs, his cock rubbing against her wet folds. the intimacy, she thought she would hate it, run from it. but no, she was here with him and this was happening.

the words made this moment more sweet and memorable, the ache in her heart was bittersweet. to know that the feeling that she kept hidden for so long was reciprocated.

“i love you too. in a non-platonic way.” she whispers with a small nervous smile as she reaches up and touches the skin of his cheekbone.

he has that boyish smirk on his face as he hovers over her, looking into her eyes and tracing the lines of her face. “you do, huh? how long…?” he says with a small bit of teasing in his voice.

her arousal still uncomfortable but she put it on the back burner for now, she was finally getting to confess. finally getting to tell him all she felt for him over their years of friendship.

“maybe three or four years? i don’t know.” she giggles softly, “i couldn’t explain when it started.” she whispers as she traces a line down his jaw and over the moles on his neck.

“that’s okay, princess. i don’t need a timeline. i’m just glad you love me back, that’s all i could ever want from you.” he says softly and he’s almost sentimental deep down underneath it all.

but his dick is still rock hard against her wet folds. she doesn’t feel it go unnoticed, not any of this. “that and my virginity.” she jokes poorly as she smiles shyly up at him.

he shakes his head, smirking playfully, “no, you’re giving it to me. there’s a difference. i’m gonna make it so good for you. it’s what someone like you deserves.” he says sweetly as he leans down and presses a firm but soft kiss against her lips.

she sighs against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hovers over her. they love each other, it’s echoing in his brain and he doesn’t want it to ever disappear.

he slips his hand in between them and guides his cock through her wet folds, coating it with arousal and causing her to moan into his kiss. he hovers his lips over hers, “just relax, take a deep breath or it’s going to hurt.” he says gently as he nudges the tip of his cock into her entrance.

she nods and cards a hand into his hair, following his gentle command and taking deep breaths. he gently slides in inch by inch, letting her breathe through it. “it’s okay, you can take it.” he whispers softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips.

she heaved a small breath, his cock slipping farther and farther in until he was fully sheathed inside of her. he stills for a couple moments, reading her expression.

“are you okay? does it hurt?” he asks gently as he caresses her cheek, she takes a shaky inhale and exhale. “not as bad…” she whispers softly as she looks up at him.

she feels a small sting, he’s definitely bigger then she expected. “take a moment, adjust and then i’ll move.” he says as he presses another soft kiss to her lips.

he stays still for a moment until she nods slowly, gesturing for him to move. he doesn’t hesitate, he slowly starts rocking his hips against hers.

she feels her eyes squeeze shut, she feels so full and just so happy. everything feels blissful like she’s on cloud nine. he presses a kiss to her neck, burying his head there as he keeps rolling his hips against hers. she wraps her arms around his neck and then her legs around his hips.

her pussy was squeezing him and it was hard for him to hold back, she was so tight, he was trying to control himself as best as he could.

“fuck…so tight…” he mumbles against her neck as he keeps rolling his hips, he goes a little bit harder. his hips rolling a little bit deeper and faster.

she leans her head back, her lips parted in bliss as she moans and whimpers. her little noises only making him more desperate to give her what she wants.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

it echoes through both of their brains simultaneously as they bring each other closer and closer to the edge. she’s so sweet, so good to him, always been the girl that he can go to.

been her best friend, been her confidant. he even gave her a place to stay, he helped her. her moans and his groans mingling together like sweet music as he keeps pounding his hips into hers.

“sweet girl, so fucking beautiful.” mumbled praises and compliments in between every thrust of his hips, her lips parting. she’s never looked more beautiful then right now. offering herself to him and him gladly obliging.

she’s melting underneath him, she’s close. she can feel it. he can feel the way she’s clenching around his cock, her moans growing in pitch. “don’t worry, princess. gonna let you come all over my cock.” he groans as he presses kisses all over her jaw.

that only spurs her on further, she feels it snap before she can even say anything, her nails digging into his back. she feels her body shaking as she comes all over his cock.

“oh fuck…” he groans as he feels her clench and coat his fuck in her come. he keeps rolling his hips, fucking her through her orgasm to chase his own release.

“i’m almost there, i’m almost there…” he repeats over and over as he keeps fucking into her, her eyes almost rolling into the back of her head from the overstimulation.

he keeps going until it was almost unbearable for her, his cock shooting ropes of come into her, a loud moan leaving his lips. he just kept his dick inside of her, waiting for it to soften. he needed to catch his breath, he feels like that orgasm took everything out of the both of them.

he pulls back a little to look into her eyes, “was it good? are you okay?” she blissfully smiles up at him in return. “it was perfect, felt good.” she mumbles with a small blink of her eyes.

“god, your so fucking good, princess.” he whispers in a low voice as he presses a gentle and loving kiss against her lips. she smiles against it, rubbing her hands over the small scratches on his back in a soothing gesture.

he pours all his love into the kiss, making sure she knew that he loved her, genuinely. this wasn’t just something he said to get her underneath him.

he loved her, she loved him.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

he leans back and pulls himself off of her, “im gonna clean us up, okay?” he says with a small gentle smile, slowly pulling his cock out of her entrance.

she sighs softly at the loss of his cock, feeling herself flutter around nothing. he strokes a hand over her stomach, “stay here.” he says firmly as he gets up, pulling his boxers back on. he walks into the kitchen down the long hallway, grabbing a damp paper towel and walking back.

he sits down next to her on the couch, her eyes slowly opening and closing from the exhaustion of the two orgasms she experienced. he wipes gently in between her legs, cleaning up their shared arousal.

“your okay, your okay.” he caresses her stomach in gentle rubs as he cleans in between her. she laughs a little as she looks over at the tv on the far wall of the living room.

he follows her eyes, seeing the reason for the laughter. the movies credits were rolling, he shakes his head. “if you want to actually watch it tomorrow, we can.” he says with a small teasing grin.

“if you can keep your hands off me tomorrow.” she says with a lazy smirk as she looks over at him. he gets up to throw away the paper towel, “don’t worry, i think i can manage.” he jokes.

she slowly sits up on the couch, looking at him, “do you think…your dad will kick me out when he finds out about us?” she says with a small bite to her bottom lip. he shakes his head, a small sigh leaving his lips.

he grabs his t-shirt and her underwear, handing them to her to put on. he sits down next to her as she slips the underwear over her hips and puts on his t-shirt. “don’t worry about him, i can handle him. if he has a problem we can always move out.” he says with a small smile, brushing some hair out of her face.

he continues, “i won’t leave you here with him. wherever you go, i go.” he says gently as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “your mine now, okay? you might not have agreed to it yet. but i’m not gonna let you stay here with him.” she feels her eyes swell up a little bit with tears.

just the love that he’s always had for her coming out 10x stronger than before, the whispered confessions before he took her virginity.

she smiles almost brokenly at him, a heartbreaking smile that he wants to make go away. he pulls her closer to him on the couch, wrapping his arms around her.

“i’ll follow you wherever you go.” she whispers against his bare chest, sniffling a little as she tries to keep the lump of tears at bay.

“i know you will.” he says with a small chuckle, pressing a kiss against the side of her hair. he rubs his hands over her back, the material of his t-shirt that she’s wearing kissing his palms.

“i love you.” she says softly into his chest, her breath shaky and trembling. he presses a kiss to the top of her head again, solidifying the words with his actions. “i love you too, princess. always have, always will.” he whispers tenderly against her skull.

he would always love her, he didn’t think he could ever stop. she would stick with him, he would take her away and make her happy. she’d never have to do another chore again, not if he had anything to say about it.

he rescued his princess, he won.

that mattered more then anything else.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @laceycoffins @porcelainseashore @squazmine (if you want to be added interact with the link at the beginning <3)

[energonbunny]

I know that one of the popular reveal theories has Thorn Princess being sent to kill Agent Twilight, but as time goes on I think it's less and less likely that particular scenario will come about. The big reason that Loid can use his real face while playing Papa Forger is because no one outside of WISE knows what Twilight looks like.

In order for Yor to be sent after him, his identity would have to be revealed at large, and at that point I think he would be taking countermeasures to protect himself/his ability to work and that would quite possibly mean abandoning Yor and Anya since he would have such a large target on his back. And, while it is technically possible that his identity is found out and he doesn't know, I doubt that Garden would send Yor after him because they likely know the face is attached to her husband, which means Twilight impersonates him or he is Twilight, but either way it could lead to her having issues committing.

However, I do think it's incredibly likely that they could cross paths on a mission, and come to blows that way. In a Twilight's goal is to infiltrate and find The Plans, so he neutralizes A and disguises as them and Thorn Princess' goal is to kill A and their underlings, way.

Loid doesn't stand a chance against Yor in hand to hand combat. He can fight well, but he doesn't have anything on Yor's strength. When it comes to intelligence he's the clear winner, but he'd have to keep her off of him long enough to do something.

This scenario could go one of two ways, I figure. Loid manages to get Yor to listen and shows her that A is actually knocked out in a closet, and dips while she's going "????", OR Yor doesn't stop to listen (which even she might not, I feel like her targets would have tried talking her around before) and Loid is forced to reveal who he is.

I feel like this could be a nice way to do it without super high stakes being on the line, and it would still give Loid the opportunity to chose between lying about some things or being honest and revealing everything.

[here-comes-the-moose]

Modern Bad Batch at the Airport/on a Flight

Inspired by the fact that I’ve been flying a lot recently with and without my family, here are some Bad Batch Headcanons of how I think they’d be like.

Hunter

The passenger princess of air travel. Has no idea what time they board, barely knows where they’re going. Only job is to sit there and look pretty.

Actually I lied his other job is constantly fussing over Crosshair.

Constantly gets snapped at by Crosshair for this.

Does not let this deter him from fussing, hovering around Crosshair, and even following him to the bathroom.

Given a number from at least one person on the plane.

His siblings are just glad he remembered his ID and/or passport, since he forgot it one time and had needed to go home and come back to the airport, which had stressed everyone out to no end. He has not lived this down.

Passes out the second his ass is in his seat and will stay asleep the whole time, but somehow has a sixth sense when it comes to one of his sibling’s needing him and will immediately jolt awake and spring into action.

Wrecker

Orders ginger ale on the plane because he LIVES for the ginger ale biscoff cookie/pretzel combo.

Will only sit in the aisle seat because he does not like to look out the window (fear of heights).

Super chill and is the one who keeps the others from killing each other and/or getting pulled aside by TSA.

Sharing snacks with Omega and Hunter.

Not as intense as Hunter, but regularly checks in on Crosshair. Will get snapped at a little bit.

Always watches rom-coms on flights, it’s his routine. He cries every time, but doesn’t really feel embarrassed by it because once they see that he’s watching The Notebook they’re like “understandable sir have a nice day”.

Falls asleep half an hour before the flight ends, every time without fail.

Tech

Has all the boarding passes and knows their gate number and seats from memory.

Made them leave extremely early and still pissed at Hunter for making them leave behind schedule.

In charge of the itinerary.

Loves the window seat since he enjoys looking out the window as he listens to music or a podcast, but also likes to point things out to Omega, since she loves when he does so.

Also checking on Crosshair, but more through observation than outright asking him. Has disappeared and gotten Crosshair something he needs to feel a bit better before wordlessly giving it to his twin. This form of care is much appreciated by Crosshair.

Loves to shop in the airport. He’s a fan of the cute knickknacks, books, and the duty free section as a whole. May or may not be buying something for Phee.

Crosshair

Hates airports and air travel, so he’s miserable the whole time.

Very irritable and short-tempered because of this, but his siblings let it slide since he’s not feeling great.

Ordering a ginger ale on the flight, but because he gets sick not because he likes it.

Needs to sit in the window seat. He wants the privacy if he starts feeling too sick but also looking outside helps him a bit.

Spends most of the flight napping or at least trying to nap. Either way, he’s resting his head on Echo’s shoulder most of the time.

Not that anyone enjoys it, but he hates when they’re hit with turbulence. He’s gripping his armrests (and Echo), he’s scared, he’s nauseous, he’s dizzy and headachey, overall he’s just not having a good time. Spends the whole time there’s turbulence praying, even though he’s not religious.

Echo

Hates and dreads going through TSA.

Pretty chill after it’s over though.

Has a bag (affectionately referred to as “the diaper bag”) that has EVERYTHING in it. Tons of snacks, OTC medicine for basically an anything you can or can’t think of, hand sanitizer, two types of wipes, ear plugs, eye masks, you name it.

Also fussing over Crosshair, but not as much as Hunter since he knows when to just give Crosshair his space to sulk.

Crosshair usually seeks him out for comfort because of this.

Doesn’t care much about where he sits as long as he has the most room available for his prosthetics.

Usually sits next to Crosshair on the plane, since by the time they board Hunter has made Crosshair ban him from occupying the seat next to him.

Hunter is usually on the other side of him.

Omega

Just having a good time.

Tech explains a lot of the technical things to her and she finds it so cool.

Loves takeoff and landing; thinks they’re so fun.

Spends most of the flight watching movies and eating snacks.

Even though she’s having a good time, she’s still worried about Crosshair and always tries to help and/or do something nice for him. The only one who can get away with this without him getting irritated for the most part, but even if he does get irritated it’s just for a second and very mild.

Sharing her snacks with Wrecker and passes some to Hunter as well across the aisle.

Always says thank you to the pilot and flight attendants. Chats with the pilots if she’s given the chance and they always love her and her questions. One time early on into living with the batch and traveling with them she very bluntly said to the pilot “thank you for not making my brother throw up”. Crosshair was mortified but the pilot laughed and thanked her for the compliment.

[a-pups-writing]

Hi beautifullll💋🩷 got super excited when I saw ur ok with writing suicide, so can I ask for twst headcanons with first years + riddle when they learn that reader(gn) had a failed suicide attempt at ramshackle? Platonic or romantic, though I don't think it would matter much in this particular scenario. Thanks in advance, love ur writing💖

A/N; love this, and thank you for the kind words dear pink princess. No specification on what kind of suicide, so I'm going with an OD (overdose) hope that's okay. Also I have faves, I think its noticeable..

P.S.: if you ever deal with suicidal thoughts, you can and deserve to get help! Either from friends or a specialist, as someone who has the same problems it may feel like there isn't another out but there is. Life can be worth living. <3

CW; GN!reader, angst/fluff, suicide/mental health themes, some Sanders vibes(??)

Chars.; Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola/Deuce (??), Epel Felmier, Jack Howl

Riddle Rosehearts; Romantic

first thinks its a joke, albeit not a very funny one, when he's told you're in the infirmary from an apparent overdose. He even collars those who told him, unable to believe such lies and rumors.

still, he goes to the infirmary, just to see if there's any proof of you..having done something, maybe you just hurt yourself accidentally- his heart almost stops when he sees you lying there, on an IV drop.

you just look so frail on that moment, pale skin and shaky breaths - he's grateful for the heart monitor standing besides you, showing him your heartbeat.

he cries, while holding your hand and just waiting for you to wake up and come back to him. He's gonna have to be forced to leave (Trey comes to get him, only able to convince him with tarts and promises of returning the next day, he even leaves one of those tarts for you..just in case you wake up.)

during classes/when he's not with you he's more irritable then normal and he sometimes reverts back into his snappy behavior - he just worries so much, and everyone seems to be breaking more rules.

as soon as you wake up he's by your side, holding your hand while his own is shaking in pure happiness. He might even cry again, tho he tries not to let you see that part of him.

definitely gets you help as soon as you're discharged, you can talk to him (or Trey) but he'll also search for an actual therapist/psychiatrist.

depending on the problem he'll do his best to help you, like studying with you, talking to those who were rude, etc.

he starts treating you more carefully, not that he really means to but you just got so much more fragile in his eyes.

Ace/Deuce; Platonic

pure unfiltered panic and chaos. Ace slaps Deuce to get him to work again, and then Deuce has to slap Ace to do it in return.

they run to the infirmary, almost getting kicked out my one of the medics, but they're allowed to stay..as long as they don't start to make loud noises again or something similar.

Ace jut stares at you while Deuce actually started to shed a few tears - seeing you so lifeless is new, definitely blame themselves for not having noticed it earlier and thinking they're bad friends because of it.

they'll be more down in general/less energetic, and mostly try to stay by your side (tho it can get to Mich for Deuce, he just can't take seeing you like that.)

both start to ask you questions the moment you wake up, the most prominent one; WHY?! Was it them? Someone else?-

they only calm down after a little while, but don't worry it'll happen..soon..maybe..

as soon as you get discharged try to help you with everything, chores, homework, people. It'll get overwhelming, and you'll have to tell them to calm down, after a few times they lay off a little.

Epel Felmier; ?

what?..his little apple? Doing something like that? He can't believe it, but runs out of the lesson as soon as he caught wind of the rumor. (Much to Vil's dismay)

cries a little when he sees you, but does his best to hold it back for his own sake.

starts wondering why you did it, is it because of him? Is he not strong/manly enough? Was he to weak for you to feel comfortable coming to him? He just becomes an insecure mess.

looses some of his spark, and even while Rook tries to cheer him up it doesn't help. Even Vil lays off a little during that time, stress causes wrinkles after all.

as soon as he sees you awake its like a dam breaks and he can't stop crying and hugging you.

he's definitely the type to demand answers. He wants them, to help you, and he wants them now!

it'll take some talking to get the point of mental health across, how its not just something that can be put aside. But he'll listen and do his best to learn.

asks you how you're doing everyday, and might even ask Rook to look after you when he gets worried..just for your safety of course.

Jack Howl; platonic, kinda sire/cub (y'all want an romantic version?)

wolf boy is worried about his little cub, he believes it when he hears it and mentally prepares for the worst while jogging to the infirmary.

is calm..on the outside, the only tell is his tail being down and his ears flat against his head. On the inside he's a mess, thinking of what could have prevented this and how he can help you when you wake up.

stays mostly by your side, and gets more aggressive when he can't - actually growled at Leona when the man pissed him off, he's just constantly stressed and hoping you wake up - takes a toll on him.

sees you as soon as you wake up, he might not have a smile on but his tail sags and starts to wag quite a bit. He might even hugs you, but would mostly likely wait for you to open your arms/ask him.

much more protective of you, talks with you once a day about your mental health and even gets you a support plush. Its a little wolf, to help you in times of need.

Sebek; so sorry for the Sebek fans, I've never written for him before and am scared of just writing something completely OOC (out of character), I'm still practising how's to write him and until I feel confident enough I won't. I ask for your understanding.

[saeyoungchoismaid]

Okay so I just finished my first round of Andromeda Six and here are some thoughts I have (both good and bad!). Pls feel free to comment with your thoughts or send asks or message me or whatever!! I'll update this anytime I get more info or think of smth new to add lol. Warning: obvi will contain spoilers.

The amnesia thing - I think the biggest thing for me that I wanna talk about rn is the whole royalty thing. While in general the whole thing is a really cool idea and either way I still love the plot, I think the whole 'I'm royalty' thing was WAY too obvious. Like the SECOND the a6 crew revealed where they found me, I was like "okay cool so I'm the princess got it." and then everything after that only fueled that theory (which obvi turned out to be right). Idk I just think if you're gonna have a game that's based around your main protagonist having amnesia, you need to make the player just confused as the char yk what I'm sayin? Like I shouldn't be able to know stuff that the char I'm playing as doesn't know yk? 😂

Nerissa - I think one of the biggest things for the fandom (that I've seen really only on Tumblr by the way lol) is the whole Nerissa thing so here's my two cents lol. I actually really like the plot twist of Nerissa being alive. My only thing is that it doesn't really make sense and bc she's alive, the whole thing with Vexx at the prison where he breaks down kinda gets (almost?) vetoed in response. To explain, I think it doesn't really add up that, at first, Oppo and others were like 'yeah, only the youngest princess' body wasn't found' (which in general was already weird cause ??? how do they know that her body wasn't found but then people also apparently quote unquote "didn't know she existed" like huh????). They mentioned NOTHING about the literal heir's body being missing??? Like idk if Zovack did that on purpose (and if so ???? homie wyd lmao) but if not, it's a big plot hole in my opinion lmao. Also just the fact that she was literally shot by Vexx (who held her bleeding out and dying body in his arms) and then shows up later like 'yeah no I'm completely fine actually' is CRAZY. Like what kinda medicine do these folks got that makes that so easy?? Like she's not on crutches, has a cast, a limp, like ANYTHING. It's absolutely bonkers to me. It's just very OP like okay so she can literally be shot in the future now and I literally won't react cause she's apparently immortal 💀 N e ways I think it's cool that the MC can choose to basically defy Nerissa and be like miss girl you're so wrong and I don't wanna do that is SO SLAY. Cause yeah no she was not it at first (and I lowkey didn't like her for a phat min). Also, kinda off topic, but I was surprised they actually showed what she looked like. Like, I guess her skin tone is ambiguous enough to work, but I think it would make more sense if they just said somewhere that the king had more than one wife, had a side hoe he got pregnant, yk smth like that lmao

Different species/race - As someone who has only played the game once, I'm not completely sure about what I'm about to say next, so pls correct me if I'm wrong! I think it's really cool that you get to choose from 3 different species in the beginning of the game. I was hoping that this meant that this would change your backstory, but from seeing some posts about this on Tumblr, I'm assuming this means that certain things will change but overall your backstory is the same and you're still royalty. Which is fine as long as the different species thing actually makes a difference. I just thought it'd be cool for one if it's like oh you're a human? Yeah, you're Peg'asi. Oh, you wanna be Tilaari? That's cool, but this character doesn't like you bc of it. Like that kind of thing would be super cool! Anyway, either way it's fine lol it's just a thought I had

Vexx - I haven't seen anyone say otherwise, but I personally really love Vexx and his arc/development. I never really blamed him for what he did since it was literally done against his will (and turns out Nerissa is alive anyway so it's like okay I can't even be upset that you killed her when she's literally alive). Something I will say though (which is kinda similar to my stance on the amnesia thing) is that I think it'd be nice to have a little more doubt on whether or not Vexx is on our side or not. Like, when you first find him and regain your memories, he's pretty cutthroat after the shock he initially feels. After that though, anytime you see him, it'd be described as 'an emotion I can't decipher crosses his face' or 'a piece of the old him flashes in his eyes' kind of thing and I was just like "yeah okay so he's good but is just being brainwashed or being blackmailed or smth." Like, there was no danger in it. Not once was I ever like "omg no he's gonna kill me/my friends/my boyfriend/etc!!!!!" Like no dude he's just a lil guy that needs help lmao. So yeah, a lil more uncertainty about him would've been super cool (or even an alt route where he really is bad and they didn't make him do anything. like there could be choices in the memory section of the game of your time in the palace where like if you were rude to him, he actually betrayed y'all kind of thing)

Kitalpha - I might just be dumb, but when Aya was explaining her backstory about her home planet, I was a little lost. Like, I understand the basics ig, but I overall am still confused on how it actually got destroyed lol. I read the Wiki and it still kinda doesn't make sense to me. Also, the info dump they give on this (and a lot of stuff in general) is CRAZY. Like I need so much time to process what you just said and you're already laying another bomb on me lmoa. That aside, I think it's really weird that such a (apparently) major planet that (apparently) hosted a major species went supernova 10 years ago and you just never hear anyone talk about it??? Even Aya says that people kinda just forgot about it and moved on. Like girl HOW?? (Like okay yeah with the whole Zovack thing I can understand cause they got more important matters ig but he only overthrew the throne a MONTH ago like what were people doing before then lmao). It also didn't make sense to me as to why no one wanted to help them??? Like Aya explains that they were just met with closed doors from EVERYONE. Like why??? What about a dying planet/species is so bad that people are like 'yeah, that sucks and all, but we aren't gonna help. Good luck w that tho! 🥰' Also, I saw someone on here say that they wish there was more definitive features for the Kitalphan than just having gills and I agree! I didn't even notice that Vexx had them for the longest time. Also the fact that we never get a scene where Aya/you/Vexx get to actually use them (to my knowledge anyway) is insane. Like, what's even the point of giving them the gills then??? lmao

Update: I found this post that explains more in detail about the races. "It was, despite that, their own choice as to whether to live above or under water, and those who chose to do so submerged, had their bodies altered to further adapt to their environment; webbed fingers and toes, bright colored skins to allow for better camouflage among sea life, nictitating membrane over their eyes. Those who chose to live inland, on the other hand, kept to the more human appearance, with only the gills telling the difference." So, from my understanding, those who choose/chose to live underwater are the ones that are more fish like whereas the ones who choose/chose to live on ground are the ones who look like Vexx and Aya (more humanoid looking but still fish-like qualities like gills). Still think it would be cool if we could then meet a Kitalphan that chooses to live underwater!!

Time - speaking of it only being a month, it's only been a MONTH bro???? Like, Zovack overthrew the throne, had the entire Peg'asi family killed, you've been with the A6 crew trying to regain your memories, visit like 4 planets, find love, discover your sister is alive, and start planning out your plans for a war all in ONE MONTH. Like, ig it's not super inaccurate, it's just kinda crazy yk? 😂 I saw someone say that they wished we could've spent more time on all the planets and I completely agree. For some like Orion, it makes sense that we couldn't really stick around lmao. For others though, I didn't understand why there couldn't be more downtime ig? Idk maybe it's as simple as there's nothing interesting enough to write about that will keep the player's attention that's not just boring filler? But eh idk how much I believe that. Instead of info dumping a lot of stuff, they could've spread it out for moments like these where like yeah we aren't exploring this planet or whatever necessarily, but we are learning more lore while we are here getting gas lol. Also the fact that other planets get mentioned but we don't actually get to see or learn anything about them. I can't think of any examples off the top of my head (but if anyone really wants I can go through the logs to find them), but like planets or stations they'd stop to refuel or whatever just never really get talked about. I think there was a place that was similar to Teranium or Cersa that everyone was like 'omg be careful here like don't wander off alone' and then like nothing happens (or am I crazy and mixing my stuff up and I'm just yappin??? lmao. I'll probs come back and edit this once I play the game again). (I actually think it might've been the pitstop they mentioned that was ruled by mercs so they probs wouldn't have any problems with the K'Merii. Maybe it's the place they're supposed to go to on their way to Goldis?? Cause isn't it that the place that Khandar (help is that their name??? Google isn't telling me his name help pls 😭) said he has contacts??)

Damon - I'm so down bad for this man it's not even funny. His route is the first and only route I've done so far and I really just have one thing to critique I suppose. I fell in love w his char bc he's this super tough, mysterious, elusive guy that teases the shit outta you and just in general dgaf lmao. When you choose his route, pretty much all of that goes out the window. Now, don't get me wrong here. I still love Damon and I love that we get to see his sweeter/softer side, but I don't like how his bad boy side kinda just disappears. Like, maybe in chap 9/10 it'll show up more, but since choosing his route, he's kinda just become a big ol softy (which again I love that about him but I just kinda miss mean Damon lmao). Like, when the whole Wren thing happened, I feel like as soon as Wren points the gun in our face, OG Damon would've gone FERAL. Like, even if knows he can't actually like stop them or whatever by fighting, like just starting to mouth off to get attention off of us would've been so UGH. Idk maybe this is just a me thing bc I like crazy men but yeah would've liked more consistency ig in that aspect?? lmao. Like, there was one point in the game where I lowkey almost didn't choose Damon cause he was such an asshole (and almost went w the other loml Bash). Like THATS THE ENERGY IM HERE FOR. Make him a morally grey char and stick w it yk what I mean? Yes, he has walls up and he's actually very sweet and care about his found family and has a soft spot for cats and blah blah blah, but you also need to remember his upbringing and why he is the way he is ykkkkk

June - Maybe this gets explained later or more in his route, but when he's explaining his backstory and who he is, I was a little stumped. I mean, he wonders the exact same thing, but why is it that he can withstand the testing that was done to him and is now a super human, but his own twin brother and soldiers and whoever can't. What makes him so special? I figured he was able to become this super human and the K'Merii and whoever couldn't bc he was being tested on when he was still in the womb. Again though, if this is the case, why did his brother not make it? Would love to know more about that whole thing

Okay I'll stfu for now...but I'm sure I'll be back LMAO

[artist-issues]

A little late, but reading your take on Enchanted made me remember how much I love that movie. What are your thoughts on the rest of it? Like say, what do the Prince and Nancy represent? What about the villains? I’m curious how they fit into the allegory

Prince Edward is just like Giselle in the sense that he does what people accuse Disney Princes of doing, and it's funny--but it's rewarded by the narrative, because it's actually a good thing.

People think a Disney Prince is just some dumb hunk with no personality, because he's "just there to be the obligatory love interest so the girl can't save herself." But that's a twisted, hollow way to look at it.

Prince Edward is

Active -- he actually does something, not just in his spare time but when faced with a problem or a dilemma. Doesn't matter if it's troll-hunting or braving a strange world to rescue his bride or turning on a dime to fight his own step-mother when she turns out to be evil. He actually acts.

Keeps His Commitments -- When Prince Eric commits to Ariel he commits; jumps in the water to fight a sea-goddess single-handedly. When Prince Charming says he'll give his heart to Snow White but then she disappears, he won't rest till he's found her. When Prince Edward's fiancée disappears, he won't stop searching for her, either.

Genuinely Cares About the Princess -- People act like Princes in Disney movies are just obligatory--they don't actually care about the girl, there's no real tension or getting to know each other or whatever. That's such bull, obviously. In fairy tales, you cram a lot of nuance into a little scene. The Prince meets Snow White singing at a well and promises his heart to her; but it's after he hears her singing about her heart's fondest desires, after he observes that she's surrounded by doves that aren't afraid of her, after he notices she's just a scullery maid; and he still chooses her. Disney appeased everybody by adding in more rom-com moments with later Princes, like Aladdin and the Beast, but truthfully, Princes do what Princesses do; they know what virtues they're looking for in a good soulmate, so they don't need much to recognize it when it crosses their paths. Then they commit. Edward is willing to go on a date with Giselle. When she grows, he's confused, but he'll go with her. She doesn't sing with him anymore but that doesn't mean he ditches her. When she's cursed and be can't wake her he's 100% onboard with Robert doing it--because it doesn't have to be him, he just cares about her.

Has Just As Much Faith As the Princess -- One of the things Princes and Princesses use as the litmus test of whether or not they're soulmates in Disney movies is if they're both believers in the same Idea. Ariel and Eric are the perfect example. They both believe in something that everyone around them thinks is totally crazy. Eric believes in the fated, Right Girl. Ariel believes the Surface World can be worth loving. Those two things get united when they meet each other. Prince Edward longs to find the woman who's his other half, a companion who fits into his heart and makes his life more than just one quest after the other. (And he's so sweet about it.) He's very romantic. Giselle's been dreaming of her true companion, too. They have that in common, that faith that somebody right for them is out there. It just...so happens that that person isn't each other. But they're not wrong that someone is out there, which is why he is rewarded by winding up with Nancy.

Anyway. If Giselle is the Disney movie, so is Prince Edward.

And yeah, he's not quick on the uptake, he's super confident that everything he's doing is right, and he's definitely convinced that Nathaniel actually likes him. But that is okay. Because Edward is uncomplicated. He knows that what he's setting out to do is Right, so what bothers him is never "people here are mean" or "I'm not the hero in this world." Did you notice that? He's never bothered when he finds out he's not the hero. He's only bothered when the idea that Good won't win is threatened.

He's the first one to turn and look at Robert and go "unless...!" excitedly when he realizes his own kiss isn't working. No trace of bitterness. No suspicion. Just eager to solve the problem.

That's why he's great. His confidence came from being the champion of Goodness. Doing the right thing. He doesn't care if he's not the one who wins. He just cares that it's someone Good who's winning.

Then you have Nancy, who is the first of the "normal" people from our world to really give in to the idea of "True Love's Kiss" being a viable solution, right on the spot. Meaning there was space in her brain to believe in it.

I guess if I had to try to distill it, I'd say Nancy is just the reverse-Giselle. In the allegory (it's not all one-to-one) I would say...if Giselle (and to a lesser extent, Edward) is the Disney movie, and Robert is the skeptic, Nancy is us. She's not quite Giselle, not quite Robert...she's someone who wants to believe that the Disney Philosophy is true, but the problem is, nobody in our world believes it or acts like it.

She's looking for a fairy tale but she's stuck in our world. The moments where she's happy with Robert are moments when he's doing something an open-hearted, genuine, selfless and chivalrous Disney Prince would do. The kind of guy who knows who he is and knows what's Good and values Love, so he isn't ashamed or insecure to come right out and declare it.

Gentleness is power, under control. A man in love should have no fear of vulnerability, which again, takes faith—because love isn't about you. It's selfless. Why worry about how telling a girl you love her will make you look, will make you feel? So what if she rejects you; you thought she was worth loving, you gave her that enormous compliment--so what if she doesn't return it? You know who you are. You didn't need her validation--that was never the point of the love-declaration--it was for her. You kindly gave her the world's best compliment, good job, now on to other worthy things. It would've been great if she wanted the same outcome of that love as you did, but she didn't, and that's great too, because it was never that much about you. So you don't have to be hurt, angry, embarrassed, jealous, or any of the anti-love things we associate with bogus unrequited "love."

But in our world, men don't act like that anymore. Because it's all about you. Can't tell the girl how you feel because she might hurt you. How would you be hurt? By finding out she doesn't feel the way you would prefer her to feel about you, by mocking what you've deemed precious, etc. It's all about you, you, you, fear fear fear, etc.

Still, you can tell Nancy thinks she got as close as she could to the fairy-tale guy with Robert because in her first scene, when she finds Robert and Giselle together, she goes on that rant about how she thought he was "sensitive" and "protecting Morgan." Those are the traits she's attracted to; the idea that he wasn't protecting himself, he was protecting his daughter--the idea that he was careful with emotions for other people's sake, not his own--that he cared about emotions at all.

But that's not what it was, it was self-protection, over-planning. Still, the second he's willing to send her flowers or make any kind of heart-on-his sleeve, straightforward gesture of affection, she is SO ready to believe in him again.

She's the grown up who wants to find the Disney fairy tale in "real life" and she's doing the best she can with what she can find. Kinda like a lot of us who grew up on Disney and didn't want to accept the derisive cynical mocking of Disney as we got older, but what could we do?

But good news! It's real! The Good, the Beautiful, the True, exists, and it comes for her.

Then you've got Narissa, the villainess.

She's interesting because she's totally the opposite of everything the movie says is Good. Giselle and Edward wear their hearts on their sleeves—Narissa manipulates people's fondest desires for her own gain. Robert needs to learn to have faith—Narissa believes everybody is out to take what's hers.

Edward gives the gift of love freely, first to Giselle, then, unshaken when she doesn't give him the same, to Nancy—Narissa takes the adoration of people like Nathaniel and treats them like garbage in return.

I also think Pip is important, and it's important that Narissa is defeated by him.

She's brought down by the tiny chipmunk who's been treated with true kindness and friendship by the Princess. The chipmunk who can talk and understand what's going on and be useful, even in a world where people like Robert think there's no such thing. Pip is the unlikely "something wonderful will happen" in our world that Robert didn't believe in. He's the little, fairy tale element that nobody could plan for or calculate or control, coming in to save the day.

How very Disney of him. Ya'll get off of Wish. Disney's tribute to 100 years of fairy tale animation? It has nothing on Enchanted.

[ratcate]

I'm here to admit that I may have developed a hyper fixation on your OCs (especially on Zerion and Sir. Valentine) so can you perhaps tell us more about them? (And other OCS)

oh hey!! great selection of characters. Makes me really happy you wanting to know more about them! I love them a lot, but Sir Valentine more, as Zerion's personality and setting is pretty nebulous still. info about them both under read more!

Zerion is some sort of cartoony super villain, heavily inspired in the night of the bald mountain monster interpretation from Fantasia(disney)

(art from 2020)

I think he's a very strong dark mage or something. Right now I have him reduced to a joke. A cartoony villain living his slice of life, but always awaiting action, the smallest spark chaos, to join in, in a world where nothing ever happens. He has his sidekick, Vampina (I think that was her name). A vampire chick who lives in the moment and is Zerion's servant, as long as he provides him with some blood every now and then

(2023)

(2021)

she almost never pulls off that relaxed smile from her face, her brain usually has no thoughts more than "can i eath this?" "I can eat this" Both of them are pretty evil. I remember once i tried to sketch out a first chapter, where they had a visit of income tax department agents, coming to remind Zerion he hadn't paid his taxes, and both Zerion and Vampina made a whole intricate plan on how to get rid of them and torture them, to show the government they're not to be fucked with. Though, all their scare tactics were just confusing, failed magic tricks for the men, now tied to apparent non functioning electric chairs, looking at each other through their sunglasses, stoic faces, while confused to what Zerion is yapping about in his villain monologue, while Vampina eats a stale bread in the BG. ---------------------------------------------------------

I don't have much about Sir Valentine either, but I certainly have drawn him more. For now, His name is Sir Cannon Valentine, but we'll get to that in a bit.

(both from 2020)

This is the first art ever I made of him, and that's a lot of his vibe. (2019)

This MAN, is some warrior who died in his armor but is back by some whack magic, and he's impatient, easily irritated, screams instead of talking, and I've always imagined having him a strong accent. He's here to fight and go headfirst into everything bc he really cannot die.

As of 2024, Sir Valentine is Sir Cannon Valentine (you can still call him the first version), BECAUSE, besides him being reborn and inmortal, angry and ready to fucking obliterate anything in his way, now his body works as a canonball

He went through my manic episode of redesigning many of my characters, after getting a taste of Pizza tower's cartoony characters, and became this. Much more functional, easily drawn, flowy. he just works, i can animate him in a snap of fingers. Still consistenly working to improve his design even more.

I will probs change the story, but this guy is resucitated as a last resort for a war between kingdoms, as a mistake, bc they wanted to revive some other guy, but got mistaken and went to his thomb. This guy revived him, after a ritualistic dance and some lightning

and then he is like "oh wait I fucked up", and Valentine is like "TOO LATE BITCH I'M FREE!!" and blasts away from him, as a cannonball, fueled by his own fire and methane gas from the catacombs he is in lol. This story is very not much constructed, but I love Sir Valentine a lot, and the characters I can surround him with. I see him falling for a bourgeoisie woman, or a princess even, bc all my stories need the romance, I'm nothing without the romance. I am also thinking of including another character of mine, Sayen, as the daughter of this death guy

Sayen previously appeared as a participant in a nsfw comic in my twt alt account lol. I love her and her design very much.

[thefuzzzz]

What Pets I Think Different Karasuno Ships Would Have In The Future:

KageHina would have a turtle for reasons I do not know and cannot confirm but just suspect deep in my heart. Like, Hinata seems like the type to think turtles are cool and Kageyama seems like the type of guy to really like reptiles (they’re autistic. bite me.) Turtles can be left alone for a while, as long as they have food, water, the right habitat and someone to at least check in on them daily, so I think it would fit their super fast paced pro volleyball player lives.

DaiSuga would have this giant ass ex-police dog that retired after working with Daichi for a while. It’d be a really sweet, but huge, German shepherd that lives only to torment Suga. It’s Daichi’s dog, but will happily stand directly under Suga’s feet while he’s trying to do literally anything. Suga pretends to hate it, but Daichi has like a million of those “my husband and the dog he didn��t want” pictures of the two of them being pals when Suga thinks no one is looking. Sometimes Daichi brings his huge dog with him when he drives to pick Suga up from the school. All the kids love that dog, and Suga bends and lets Daichi bring it for career day one day. The kids lose their minds.

TsukiYama would have Yamaguchi’s childhood dog that I SWEAR he had in the manga, but I just googled it and I may be crazy or mixing him up with someone else. Either way, he has a childhood dog now. It’s this mega-old Shiba that they’re both convinced will outlive them. Tsukishima pretends to be indifferent about the dog, but he treats it like a king when no one is looking. They also have like a lizard or something because they seem like the types to have a lizard. Maybe like a frog. Idk, but a reptile of some kind that Tsukishima just stares at sometimes.

AsaNoya would have two cats (Asahi’s) and a dog (Noya’s). It took the two of them a while to settle down, due to the nature of their careers, but after they did Asahi kept finding cats outside their house and begging Noya to let him keep them. Noya, of course, folds. They're both pretty scuffed-up alley cats, but they adjust to domestic life. I imagine that they’re both special needs cats of some kind and Asahi takes insanely good care of them. Noya decides that he needs a little high-energy friend, and they get a border collie. Noya very frequently goes on runs and stuff with it while Asahi stays home and cuddles with his cats. The dog is very gentle with the cats, and they like to cuddle pile while their humans take a million pictures of them.

TanaKiyo would have literally the dumbest looking pit bull with the biggest heart and a super sassy pretty white cat. The pittie is a super sweet older dog that Tanaka had for a long time, but is still super playful and silly. The cat is Kiyoko’s little princess, and is treated as such. That cat is a menace. Constantly antagonizes everyone and is so mean for no reason. Tanaka threatens to sell it daily. The only thing stopping him is how much Kiyoko loves it.

(P.S. I haven’t watched the show in a while and am just going through my annual summer Haikyuu withdrawals, so please excuse anything that’s OOC. Also, sorry if there’s a ship you don’t particularly like. I’m a huge multishipper, and would love to see your interpretations of other ships in the replies or reblogs!!! I sadly don’t know enough about the other teams to make one of these for them, so feel free to ham it up and make one of your own! Tag me tho cuz I wanna see lol)

[the-burd-lord]

Finally am confident enough to post my redesign of Charlie. Buckle up cause it’s a lot!

Kept her simple since I think her original design is kinda alright, but went with the doll aesthetic more.

Made her design simple enough for it to stand out in most any environment within Hell. Should probably have made a colored version for her, but I'm keeping the white and pink from her original design, but making her outfit yellow to compliment the reds of Hell and the blues of Heaven.

Here’s the newest design although I'm still fiddling around with different variations for the marks on her face, shown later in this post. Might lean towards stop motion look with how the mouths of the characters are always a separate segment from the face.

Eventually she goes from bellhop to more of a concierge roll as she gains more confidence in running the hotel, and eventually becomes the defacto ruler of Purgatory.

More on that later.

Also lil Lucifer resign too. Might make a whole post about him, but the basics are that I decided to go more “biblically accurate” angel for him.

He made Charlie's body, with Lilith drawing up the design for what she would look like. Overtime Charlie got to choose what she wanted to look like. She has accrued many bodies over her thousands of years of living.

Their relationship is close as although they don't see each other in person as often, Charlie always makes time to have at least one phone call a week with her dad. Especially with his worsening depression.

He doesn't fully believe in the hotel idea, but he’s willing to support his daughter anyway he can. Although he is hesitant when she requests to have an audience with Heaven as he knows how fickle they can be.

Especially when her first meeting with an angel is spent talking about rock bands.

I also changed up what Charlie is as not only is she a doll, but she is also the manifestation of “free will.” Spawned from Lilith and Lucifer’s union being an action that goes against "god's plan."

Although she barely remembers it, her actions caused Adam and Eve to eat the apple. She partially made the hotel out of guilt for condemning humanity, feeling as though she has to make it up to the sinners she condemned.

This makes her super hesitant to push the patrons to get help as although she knows that it'll help them in the long run it must fully be by their own free will to want to change. This hesitance also leads her to not fully interfere in their afterlives either, even when she knows a push is all they'll need.

She is able to literally be anyone or anything, and she is scared of this fact. Kinda getting decision paralysis. Also being that she is a being made out of pure energy this essentially means she's a bomb.

This is the result of what happens to her once her form is broken.

These are the old designs, went with a more streamlined look later.

Heavily inspired by the final form of the Princess from Slay the Princess. A game I highly recommend!

When in her "chimera form" she accidentally kills Adam, leading her to take him on as a guest at her hotel. It also leads her to convince Heaven and Hell to use Mount Purgatorio for her new liminal hotel. Kinda using Adam as a bargaining chip to show heaven that if angels can fall, then that doesn't mean sinners can't climb up the mountain to Heaven.

Overtime, with more horror influences I kept adding into her character and design I accidentally just made her into a creepy doll with some analog influences.

(It's almost like my subconscious is trying to tell me something 🤔)

Vaggie and her scary gf.

Decided to go for a more psychological route for Charlie’s abilities and personality. On the surface appearing normal, but still standing out in most environments because of her simplicity. That there's just something about her that doesn't quite fit anywhere.

Her character finally clicked for me after watching Paranoia Agent. She's not really based off any characters from the show, but some of the themes and imagery are baked into her character.

Along with the banger opening.

Eventually she builds her hotel in purgatory, and essentially becomes its ruler. Much to the chagrin of Heaven, who still only sees her as a demon. Even though she was technically born in the heavens.

Even though Charlie uses Adam as a bargaining chip they don't really care that he fell. But they don't want to be proven wrong either, so they reluctantly agree to the idea.

Also lil bonus of Charlie and Vaggie in nightwear. Gotta make another post for Vaggie, but I’m still working some things out with her story and character.

I apologize if so much of this post made no sense. I didn't realize how much I had written for Charlie. Although makes sense as she is supposed to be the main character.

I am happy to answer questions if y'all want more clarification.

[birdmitosis]

Voice of the Cold for the ask game, i hope I got here first D:

[ask game here]

OMG, you did! :D And I am so happy to answer about Cold.

First impression

Pretty sure my first impression was of him in the Spectre route, and I was curious, a bit positively inclined, mostly on the strengths of how well he fit how we got him and also how hot his voice was. 😔 Yeah, I'll admit it. I looked forward to seeing more from him and was intrigued by the seeming discrepancy between his "emotionless" claims and his blatant grudge against the Narrator.

Impression now

I LOVE COLD SO MUCH. Ohhh, he is as much of a trauma response as the rest of them and is both driven to keep himself safe and also experience something new (which is itself not safe) and also not care about safety... He is dismissive and deeply caring and he can't stand stagnancy and yet he feels at home when everything unravels into the Long Quiet. One of my Top 3 faves I think.

Favorite moment

There are a lot of moments I could choose here but I think I still have to give it to my bias: Cold in the Wraith chapter alongside Paranoid. Especially this sequence:

This has lived rent-free in my head since I first saw it, it just hits me so hard in a "none of them are fully wrong but none are fully right either" way and says so much about Cold in the context of other things... Especially the absolutely wild "If you can tolerate joy, you can tolerate pain" line, like UM EXCUSE ME?

(But the whole chapter is great, with Cheated as well as with Paranoid, but I have a bias for so many moments with the Paranoid version, like the "you think you are brave" line from Wraith and the fact that Cold must have helped with the efforts to toss the body into the void... Wraith is a severely underrated chapter, I feel!)

Idea for a story

Look, because of the way I fandom, all my ideas are for shipfic and ParaCold is 1000% my OTP, soooo...

That said, a specific idea I've actually had that I still kinda want to use with something, that I may have mentioned before, is Hunted making a point that they need each other (as a group) and at their best they cover each others' blind spots and shore up each others' weak points.

When Cold pulls something along the lines of his "I'm special" thing, Hunted ends up challenging him to a "play" fight (no actual wounds being left, "wounds" marked with something like chalk or berry juice or something, fake blade, etc.). And by the time Cold calls that he's "killed" Hunted (and so obviously he's right that he doesn't need help/he has no weak spots that actually matter), Hunted can point out that he's managed to land enough "minor" blows that Cold would be bleeding out by now too, because he doesn't guard himself at all.

(I also kinda want to look more into a super queer TTRPG called Moonlight on Roseville Beach because I wanna play around a bit with an AU for it where the six possible player character "origin stories" are filled by Hero, Contrarian, Cold, Paranoid, the Princess, and the Narrator... "[In] Moonlight on Roseville Beach, it's the summer of 1979 and you work in the village by day while protecting yourself, your housemates, and your neighbors from supernatural monstrosities and occult horrors by night," and it's in a queernorm setting where LGBTQIA+ characters are considered the norm, with a "focus on queer people succeeding at keeping themselves and their communities safe (at least for a time).")

Unpopular opinion

TBH I also agree that Cold isn't all that edgy. I think he's quite straightforward most of the time and definitely has some issues -- I think he likes prodding at some of the other characters more than some people realize but also less than some people act like, he really does jump to "we could stab" very quickly as a response, he seems happy to encourage potential violence against himself if he finds it interesting in some way, he has a surprisingly big ego -- but also blatantly cares despite how he often talks, is curious and wants new things, and seems to like connecting with the other voices and even, sometimes, the vessels.

I also think he isn't as hard to get along with as some people think, in the sense of, I think he has like three different "modes" when it comes to interacting with people:

He vibes with how you do things, in which case he goes along quite well, is agreeable and calm, and seems to like you. (Skeptic in the Drowned Grey chapter is a clear example, but so is Cheated in the Wraith I think; IMO Hero and Hunted would go here as well.)

There's enough push-and-pull there that he finds you interesting, in which case he can get a bit intense, prod you some just to see the push back, might sometimes go along just to see what you'll do, and it's a bit harder to tell if he likes you (but honestly he does). (IMO Paranoid would go here, and I do actually think Smitten goes here as well.)

Neither of the above apply, in which case he's just bored of you, and if forced into constant proximity with you, annoyed. (Stubborn in MOC is the most blatant example; IMO Broken would go here as well, ironically outside of if you somehow managed to get Cold alongside him in the Tower route.)

(The first two can be true simultaneously for some people; I feel like Contrarian would be in both. Weirdly, I feel like Opportunist is somehow in both #2 and #3? Stubborn could eventually go into #2, under better circumstances. And the Narrator fits a special category of "fuck you" where He doesn't quite fit #2 but there are some similarities, Cold just doesn't like Him.)

...This got a bit weird and long and out of Unpopular Opinion territory, huh. WELL, TL;DR Cold isn't edgy and actually likes a good number of the other voices.

Favorite relationship

I mean, y'all can guess this one, right? >_>

No, but honestly, as a ship it's definitely ParaCold. But in a totally platonic way, I also really love his dynamic with Hero in the Spectre route, especially if you free Her, and with Skeptic in the Drowned Grey chapter (okay, okay, I can see that one as either platonic or shippy). And his dynamic with the Narrator fascinates me but I can't ever see them getting along.

Favorite headcanon

I love the idea that Cold picks up new things all the time, and whether he sticks with them or not he gets surprisingly good at them first. Skills, hobbies, other languages. I can imagine his handwriting getting better more quickly than a lot of the other voices because of this, and him also managing to bond with the others over doing their hobbies with them.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Ok but Wukong claims MK as Yubei's honorary/sworn older brother. Macaque who was in the room suddenly feels a cold swear as he Realized Wukong Sees MK As His Kid. His Clcub, who Macaque had chased fown and hunted like an animal in an effort to keep LBD's attention off of Wukong himself.

Macaque has that revelation loooong before Yuebei is born.

You see...

When Macaque was still processing that Wukong (his former mate) had been pregnant with the Egg for many many years - he had a brief brain-fart during "Shadow Play" and at during his panic he asks;

Macaque: "Is it my kid!? Wait..." *glares at MK really hard* "Are you my kid???" MK: "Wut." Macaque: "No, no, wait, thats dumb, it's the same baby now as back then. Sorry bud, but I am totally freaking out right now." MK: "Because you spent the last couple hundred years being a deadbeat dad?" Macaque, grabs MK by the shoulders: "YES!!"

The rest of the MKrew escape the Shadow Lantern simply because Mac was panicking so hard he dropped it. Even being super mad at him, they stay until he stops hyperventillating. In Mac's defense, he's not sure how long normal Stone Monkey pregnancies should be.

Even once the realisation kicks in that the "Egg" is a Stone Egg formed from Wukong being encased in the mountain without resources - Macaque has a second "crap Im dad" realisation when he realises that him abandoning/cutting-off Wukong back then is what triggered the process. He still wants to take responsibility for the Egg as it's indirect creator.

And ofc during S3, Macaque notices how protective/paternal Wukong is with MK and starts to realise;

MK might not be Macaque's kid, but Wukong certainly considers MK to be *his* kid.

Macaque has tricked, fought, and psychologically tormented said kid in his goal to either hurt Wukong or extract information.

Macaque is now being forced to capture said kid and/or Wukong for LBD less he suffers a fate worse than death. And while Macaque would hate to do either, he can't stand the thought of handing Wukong over. So MK is his primary target throughout S3, even if Mac tries his best to "soften the blow" if it were when he tries capturing him.

MK is super excited to meet the Egg when it's finally born, and is acting in a manner typical of an older monkey cub wanting to care for their younger sibling. It's too fricking cute and-

Well crap, now Mac doesn't want to turn the kid over. Mostly cus doing so will def hurt Wukong and make his King somehow hate Mac even more than he does now.

Maybe if they do get the Samadhi Fire, him and Wukong might- Macaque, begings violently batting away his talkative shadow clones: "NOPE! Get the heck out of here with that!! I'm just getting the Fire to be free of LBD's influence!"

And once Yuebei is finally born...

Wukong, talking to the baby: "Bao bei [treasure], this is your big brother, MK. Well, honorary big brother, but you get what I mean." MK, holding Yuebei: *is so happy he can't form words + is happy-crying* Macaque: *trying his best not to ask MK "hey, wanna be our son?", cus Mk has his adoptive dads + Mac thinks the kid hates him anyway* "Hah. Crybaby." MK, still crying: "Shut up. You cried when you saw her for the first time." Macaque, trying his best not happy-cry again: "She looks like me! Of course I'd cry - such a curse to place upon a innocent soul!" Wukong: *sighs fondly at the back-and-forth*

Mac's gut reaction is to insult others/himself when he feels emotionally vulnerable, and MK knows how to flip it around.

It very much becomes a "Dad treating his eldest son vs younger daughter" situation, especially if Bai He is thrown into the mix. Mac will 100% spoil his little princesses, but MK...

MK can handle it. He's Wukong's heir. He's ok with Mac only really being soft on him when no one else is around. Secretly Mac's kinda jealous of the dad-attention Pigsy, Wukong, and even Tang get from the kidm even though in his heart he knows it's unlikely MK will ever see Mac as a father figure.