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smileysuh · 7 months ago

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sage & stardust

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol.

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu.

Prologue

Pandora lives in a little cottage in the forest. Even though she’s young, she knows the trees and ferns, the mushrooms and flowers. Who needs mundane playthings when you have four entire acres of wilderness to keep you entertained?

Her mother is an artist, and steady hands run in the family. Pandora spends her evenings carefully painting a dollhouse model of the cottage that her father had crafted for her in his little workshop shed outside.

All in all, it’s a peaceful existence, and things are very predictable. Mother is in the studio solarium room, fingers covered in inks and colorful spots. Father is crafting something in his shed, fixing up the house as he engages in an endless war against the elements of the forest.

Pandora flutters around, checking in on her parents, and exploring the immediate grounds around the cottage. Today, she’s following a particularly beautiful butterfly as it glides amongst the trees down by the pond. She’s so enamored with the pretty wings, that she almost doesn’t notice the fairy ring.

A circle of mushrooms, one she’s scouted out before, is along the bank of the murky water. Pandora has heard tales of fairies and pixies, and has been warned not to enter circles like this. She sidesteps the ring, and that’s when she notices something out of place, something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Just outside of the little circle, is a small creature. At first glance, the glossy wings look butterfly-like, but Pandora has never seen sage green wings like these on a bug. The small child pauses, hiking up her dress and kneeling down to get a better look.

Definitely not a butterfly. Where an insect would have a thorax at the joining of wings, this creature has a tiny little man. Well, he’s bigger than a butterfly would be, but it’s clear to the young girl that she’s looking at a fairy, and as she inspects him further, she notices one of his wings is torn.

Pandora has mended butterfly wings with her father before- she knows what to do, but she’s hesitant. Should she help this small fairy, as she’s helped many bugs before him? Is he simply resting and not in immediate danger?

She looks around, noting any predators in the surrounding area. A large bird circles overhead, and Pandora decides she has to act. Reaching for a leaf, she scoops the tiny fairy's body into the greenery, carefully carrying him back toward the cottage.

As she gets there, she sees her father getting into his work truck to head to town, and Pandora knows better than to stop him. She also knows better than to go interrupt her mother, who is on a deadline for a piece and has asked not to be disturbed.

No, Pandora will have to do this rescue mission herself, and she heads into her father’s workshop to find the glue.

She does her best to be gentle, even with her pudgy fingers, as she mends the torn wing. When she’s done, Pandora finds one of the many small boxes her father has made. It’s a cedar box, with a small, iron latch.

Leaving the fairy, she goes outside, collecting a little nest of moss to put into the box.

When everything is finished, she sets the fairy into the box, carefully closing it and latching it shut. He needs some rest, and as far as the small child is concerned, he’s safer in her little box than lying in the grass where big predators might hurt him.

One:

“I’m sure it’s no surprise that your grandmother left you the cottage,” the lawyer in charge of the estate tells you as he looks over the papers on his desk. “As you are the only artist in the family, Pandora wrote that she hopes the solace will inspire, as it had inspired her, and her mother before her.”

You nod solemnly. It’s a monumental gift, one your cousins would kill you for- but alas, you’d spent the most time with your grandmother in her later days, and the solarium studio is already set up as your own. To be young, and a homeowner now- this had never been your intention in spending time with her, but perhaps it’s a happy outcome, given the dire situation of her passing.

“She also wanted me to tell you, that you can finally open the box.” The lawyer looks at you expectantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you know what she was referring to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “She’d kept this small cedar box. Her father had made it for her when she was a child. It’s on her nightstand, but she’s never opened it.”

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, Pandora’s Box, I know the story,” you let out a sad chuckle. “Part of me doesn’t want to open it, she always told me not to, I guess I made it this big bad thing in my head as a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s just jewelry or something of the sort,” the lawyer assures you, and you remind yourself that men of the law are never the superstitious type.

Two:

You’re a few glasses deep into your bottle of wine, and you find yourself looking at your grandmother’s small cedar box. Curiosity is getting the better of you, and liquid courage is doing wonders to calm your superstitions.

There can’t be anything dangerous in the box, or your grandma wouldn’t have left it for you… right?

Taking a breath, you approach the box. It’s sitting on your dining room table, you’d gingerly carried it from the bedroom earlier, with the intention of opening it, and now, you will.

You sit, staring at it for a few moments. Your hands shake when you reach for it, but you push away your anxiety. The iron latch is old and worn, but it clicks open after a bit of work. Taking another deep breath, you lift the cedar lid.

Nothing happens, no surge of dark spirits releasing the worst of humanity, no hurricane or pestilence-

You lean forward, looking into the box, and you’re shocked by what you find there.

Half buried in a nest of mossy greens that looked like they were only picked hours ago, is a small winged man. It’s a fairy, you realize, with glossy wings-

He stirs a little, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

How could this be? Ignoring the moss that’s apparently been preserved for over seventy years, how is this tiny creature still alive after being shut away for a lifetime?

Part of you wants to close the box, to forget about it- but then the tiny man’s eyes open, and he stares up at you. You freeze immediately, as if paralyzed, your mind going blank in the face of the supernatural.

The fairy rubs his eyes, sitting up amongst the bed of moss. His hair is all messy, but in a way that’s kind of adorable. He gazes up at you, and then, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi?” It comes out a question, and you’re unsure how to proceed, so you say nothing else.

“Sorry, this is embarrassing,” he laughs, and you note the way his skin has turned pink. “Did you save me?”

“As horrible as this sounds, I uh… inherited you?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” the tiny man muses. “I remember being attacked by a large bird in my realm, my wing was damaged, I made my way to a fairy ring to come to your world and recuperate, but I must have passed out.”

You consider his words for a moment. “My grandma used to fix butterfly wings, is it possible she found you and fixed yours?”

The fairy extends one of his sage appendages, inspecting it. “It definitely looks repaired… Your grandma, you said?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I was told she’d had this box since she was a girl… have you been in here for a long time?”

“I was in hibernation, the dark and the moss- it was healing, I awoke because of the light.”

“So you have been in there for years,” you conclude, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“How many years is ‘years?’ You humans have a different view of time than I do.”

“Probably seventy or eighty?” you suggest.

“It didn’t feel like that long.” He cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, then he looks up at you again. “How long have you had me?”

“I uh…” you swallow thickly at the question. “Well, I just inherited the cottage, and my grandma left the box to me in her will too… so, only two days.”

He nods, looking down, continuing to think hard about whatever it is that fairies ponder deeply on.

“How… how do you feel?”

“Well rested,” he smiles, breaking the look of deep concentration. “I’m ready to get back to tinkering.”

Tinkering… that definitely sounds like a fairy word, and you don’t question him further.

“Please don’t let me stop you from getting back to your home,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of my grandmother keeping you in this box all this time.”

“It’s alright,” he yawns again, then pushes himself up from the moss. He’s dressed in a little green fairy outfit, and you do your best to commit him to your memory. His wings are truly beautiful, the way they shimmer even in the electric light of your kitchen. “I remember a pond.”

“Yes, there’s one right out the back way, must be a fairy circle there,” you nod.

“Thank you for the directions,” he smiles sincerely, and then, he begins to fly. You wonder how such delicate-looking wings could carry his body weight as he heads toward your open kitchen window. He lands on the ledge there, turning to give you one final nod of farewell, and then the fairy is gone.

You sit there for a few minutes, staring after him in shock.

How much wine did you have to drink?

Three:

It’s a Thursday like any other. You’re getting used to living in this cute cottage in the woods, spending your mornings waking up with the sun, heating a kettle for tea, and letting the creative juices flow in your mind before you ease your way to the studio to paint.

It’s the end of spring, and the promise of summer warmth is looming on the horizon.

You’re just beginning to contemplate breakfast when there’s a knock at your door, and it makes your heart freeze in your chest.

Although you might be getting somewhat accustomed to the seclusion, there are still very real dangers of being a single woman out on a large property alone in the woods, and this fact makes you hesitant as you head to your front door.

You can make out a large man through the glass, and you take a breath before peaking your head out. “Hello?”

It takes you a moment to recognize the man, as he’s substantially larger than the last time you saw him. The fairy is no longer palm-sized, instead, he’s well over six foot, and he flashes an awkward smile down at you. “Hi.”

You take in his attire, the worn jeans and the green flannel… you also note that he’s barefooted. “You’re wearing my grandpa's clothes.”

“Yeah, I uh… noticed the box in your truck, figured you might be getting rid of them anyways, so I slipped in through a crack in the window. I couldn’t just show up naked.”

Good point. “You’re big now,” you point out.

“Can I uh… can I come in?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, surveying your front porch.

You take a breath. Part of you says this is a bad idea, but part of you is also saying that this is a fairy the size of a human man, and if you don’t hear him out, you’ll be wondering what could have been for the rest of your life.

You push your door open for him. “I just made some tea, follow me.”

The fairy’s footsteps are loud on your wooden floors as he shadows you to the kitchen. You give him your cup, pouring a second one for yourself before leaning back against your sink.

“I don’t even know where to start,” the fairy sighs, taking a seat at your small dining table. He cups his large hands around the mug of tea, as if warming himself.

“Well, I’m y/n,” you tell him.

He smiles thankfully. “Mingyu.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mingyu, how about you tell me how you’re human-sized and your wings are gone?”

“Fairies can transform. In my own realm, keeping my smaller shape is easier, but here- it takes less energy to just… blend in. It’s a sort of, um, adaptation, for survival, I guess.”

“It doesn’t make sense how you can go from tiny to massive,” you point out.

“Well, you see, I’m big for a fairy,” Mingyu laughs nervously. “It’s part of the reason I never fit in that well with others of my kind.”

You frown at his words, giving him the space to continue.

“Yeah, so anyways, I went back home, and I had been gone a while, and it just felt weird. I hadn’t fit in before, and I didn’t fit in when I got back, and I guess I just figured… you’re a girl, and you’re here alone, in the forest- I mentioned I’m a tinkerer right? I fix things? Was thinking maybe I could help fix up your place.”

Is he seriously offering to fix your house? You stare at him in shock. “I’ve never really thought about fairies being blue-collared.”

“Blue-collared?” he looks down at his flannel in confusion.

“Never mind, it’s uh, it’s a phrase, it means you’re a worker, you do building and stuff.”

“I’m really good at building and fixing things,” he nods solemnly.

“So… you want to stay here with me? Room, board, food… in return, you’ll fix up the cottage?” you clarify.

“I guess.”

You study him. “I’ve heard about pixies and fairies who try to lure people into fairy rings-”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He meets your gaze. “Look, what if I fix your little shed workshop thing, show you what I can do, and you can decide later?”

You consider it for a moment. “I guess that could work, but first, you’ll need some workboots.”

“If you think that’s best.”

God, he probably does most of his tinkering while fairy-sized and barely wearing clothes… which isn’t something you want to think about.

Setting your tea down, you head to one of the back closets, where you’d stashed away a few of your grandfather’s possessions, the important things, unlike the donation box currently in your truck.

You find Mingyu some shoes, and when you go give them to him, he flashes you a smile and heads outside to get to work.

Four:

You’re doing your best to focus on painting, but your solarium gives you a perfect view of your grandfather's old work shed, where Mingyu is currently tinkering around.

He’s fast, and it’s clear he knows what he’s doing.

Your grandfather’s shed has a whole stash of tools, shingles, and wood, and Mingyu has already redone the roof, ripped a few worn boards off to replace them along the sides, and completed general tidying work.

He’s even weed-whacked the tall grass around the workstation, and as lunch turns into evening, he comes back from the woods with a small tree on his shoulder, which he then begins to chop for firewood.

You can definitely see how he’d be helpful to have around… and you can afford to feed him if he’s going to fix up your home. He’s probably already done a couple hundred dollars of work, maybe even a thousand- work that you’d been meaning to hire someone to deal with once you’d settled in a little more.

You get started on dinner. You’d planned on rice bowls, and it’s easy enough to make a plate for him. Then, you go outside, calling him toward you.

Mingyu’s sweaty, and he’s got some sawdust on his jeans- but God, does he look handsome and chipper.

“I made dinner,” you tell him.

He nods, smiling before following you inside. You note the way he takes off his boots at your door, brushing off his pants, careful not to bring any dirt into your otherwise tidy house.

The two of you sit down to eat, and he’s extremely verbal about how thankful he is for the food, and how good it tastes-

You come up with an avenue of discussion to distract him from his praises. “What would you living here entail?”

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought too hard about it.”

“I feed you, you do work, you live here?”

“Something like that.”

“How long do you keep your human shape?”

Mingyu takes a breath, setting down his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, whether you see it this way or not, your grandmother saved me. I was wounded, I came to your realm, anything could have gotten me, but your grandma saved me, glued my wing, and kept me safe so I could hibernate and heal. I owe your family. My home isn’t my home anymore, please let me help you make this cottage your home.”

“No, I-” you release the tension in your shoulders, “you can stay, but, seriously, how long do you keep your human shape?”

“Is it a space thing?” Mingyu looks around. “I can be small when I sleep if it’s a space thing-”

“I mean, my grandma has a replica doll house of the cottage that her dad made for her, was going to offer that up for you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Mingyu takes it completely seriously, nodding diligently.

“That works, I just have to go collect some moss to make a bed-”

“Are you being for real?” you ask, blinking at him.

“I should probably go back to my normal size when I sleep, it makes sense and takes up less space,” Mingyu nods.

“If you change your mind, I do have a spare bedroom.”

“Nope,” the man-sized fairy shakes his head, “the doll house works.”

“Well… if you want to go get some moss, I can grab the box of clothes from my truck,” you suggest.

“Let’s do it.” Mingyu is so easy, he just agrees to everything.

Soon the two of you are reconvening at your front door, you with a box, him with a palm full of moss. “The doll house is in the studio, I was planning to paint it.” Mingyu follows you to the solarium. In the dark of the evening, you have to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up, and Mingyu lets out a breath.

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art.

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

Five:

You wake up feeling as refreshed and well-rested as ever. It’s odd how much of a difference having a male presence in the house can make, even if he was the size of your palm while you were sleeping.

You’ve been here over a month, but you’ve not yet gotten used to the seclusion, the feeling of being alone. Mingyu is an unexpected comfort, and you quietly tiptoe to your solarium to see if he’s awake.

The nest of moss in the dollhouse is empty, and you move to your kitchen, getting a kettle started before looking out the window. Mingyu’s lumbering around in the tree line. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and damn does it look good.

You turn on some music, quietly making breakfast for two while trying to fight the urge to watch the beautiful man.

You’d slept in more than normal, another byproduct of feeling safe, and due to that, by the time you’re taking two plates of food outside, the temperature of the late spring air is already warming with the noon sun.

“Mingyu,” you call, finding him by the workshed, “breakfast!”

He bounds over like a puppy, and you set the plates down on a small circular table. The metal lawn set can be a bit rough, and you’ve tried to soften it with comfy pillows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind as he plops down, grabbing the bacon sandwich you’d prepared.

“Smells delicious,” he tells you, taking the largest bite of food you’ve ever seen.

You watch him, amused. “Did you get up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t need much sleep. Just spent eighty years sleeping, or so you tell me.” Mingyu smiles at you, a tight-lipped smile to hide the food in his mouth, you’re sure.

“It’s a nice day,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking at the world around you.

The sun is out, it’s a little cold, but the sky is clear. Dew drops are in the last stages of evaporation, clinging to the green strands of grass along the hillside area that leads down to the pond.

“Every day is a good day for tinkering,” Mingyu agrees. “Which, I meant to ask- is there anything you wanted me to do?”

“Uh… like what?”

“I’ll finish the shed soon,” Mingyu promises. “I already have ideas about extending it, but, if you wanted me to paint the house, fix anything inside that’s a little wonky and in need of tinkering-”

“I think you should focus on the shed, if you want to extend it, you should.” For some reason, you’re apprehensive about him coming into the house just yet- you need to… acclimatize to his presence, and right now, having a wall of glass between the two of you is keeping your heart from exploding every time you look at him. “Do you uh… do you need anything to build your addition?”

“Your grandfather kept a lot of tools, nails, screws- and we’re surrounded by trees. He had loads of extra shingles, enough for years of repairs to the cottage and the shed.” Mingyu smiles at you. “I think I’ll manage… but, when it comes time to paint it, maybe we could paint it together?”

“Maybe.” You can feel your skin heating at the idea. “Anyways, I wanted to bring you some food, now I’ve gotta go inside my studio and get to work.”

“Sounds good, tinkering calls, thanks for breakfast.” Mingyu pushes the last massive bite of his sandwich into his mouth before standing up.

He nods to you and then you watch him go, sneaking a look at his butt before you tear your eyes away.

This could either be the best idea of your life, or the worst.

Six:

Mingyu had taken his time with the shed. He’d made it twice the size, and added more windows that your grandfather had left sitting around in the original structure- it’s crazy how much he’s accomplished using only the things that are left over and semi discarded.

Then, Mingyu had taken to restoring the inside. He’d spent two days just moving stuff around, tidying and dusting- and another day just cutting wood to fill up his firewood stash.

Now, a week after showing up at your door, he’s finally come inside to begin tinkering with old hinges and loose screws. He’s going over every inch of your cottage to make sure it’s up to his fairy standards, and you’re extremely aware of him, especially when he makes it to the solarium to begin to work.

The french doors have been a little off for years, one hinge is a little wonky- and it’s hard to focus on your painting while Mingyu’s standing there and fiddling- or, scratch that, tinkering.

“Watcha working on?” Mingyu asks, and you suppose he must have caught you staring.

“Oh, uh… it’s a new project, and starting is always the hardest part.”

Mingyu comes around your easel, looking at the new blank canvas you had pulled out just an hour ago.

“Do you have any ideas?” he questions.

“I mean… one or two.”

Mingyu cocks his head at you. “Tell me.”

You release a deep sigh. “I guess… I was wondering if maybe… maybe I could paint your wings sometime, in an abstract sort of way.”

Mingyu is quiet for a few moments, and you immediately try to backpedal, but he stops you. “No, it’s okay, sorry, I was just- I’ve never been someone’s muse before.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head. “In uh… where I come from, my wings aren’t exactly that extraordinary.”

“Really?” you ask in shock.

“Yeah, they’re just green. I know a lot of fairies with all sorts of colored wings, pinks, purples- every color of the rainbow. Green is… well, it’s bland, it’s like everything else in the forest.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You seem to forget that I came to the forest for inspiration- the greens here are beautiful. If I remember correctly, your wings are like… sage and stardust.”

“Sage and stardust,” Mingyu repeats, his voice like a whisper. He cracks a smile. “I like that.”

“So you’ll let me paint them?”

“If it would make you happy.”

“It would.”

“Then yes, you can paint by wings.”

Seven:

Mingyu’s continued his daily tinkerings, but now, your evenings are spent in your solarium. You’d found one of your grandmother’s magnifying glasses, the type she used for butterfly wing repair, and Mingyu is the perfect muse, sitting patiently and letting you inspect him.

You’d spent half an hour just trying to get the color of his wings right, and now, you’re doing long brush strokes against the cream canvas. You’d found some glitter too, and while Mingyu spends most of the time sitting on your shoulder while you’re painting, he also offers to douse his hands in sparkles and do the small details for you.

It’s odd, thirsting for this large, beefy man during the day, only for him to downsize and nuzzle into your hair at night- he’s still so cute as a fairy, and his wings are truly beautiful.

“You see me like this?” Mingyu asks, fluttering off your shoulder to gaze at the painting. He’s so small in comparison to the large canvas. “These are really my wings?”

“They’re beautiful, Gyu,” you tell him, giving him a nickname without a second thought.

“Gyu,” Mingyu repeats, turning to look at you. “I like that.”

You hold out your paint brush, and he flutters over to it, balancing on the wooden handle.

It’s crazy how you’re already getting used to him- to the little things, Mingyu included.

Eight:

It’s gotten to the point where Mingyu wants to paint the shed, so the two of you decide to head into town together. It’s a small population, and you know that the sight of the two of you is raising a few eyebrows as you enter the paint store.

Mingyu sticks out, not only for his size, but his beauty as well. He truly is stunning, and you notice multiple women staring as the two of you wander around the store.

“So what coloring are you thinking?” Mingyu asks, heading to a wall of paint swatches.

“I mean… I just sort of figured we’d repaint it to match the house again?” you suggest.

“Well… it’s your house now,” Mingyu points out. “What are your dream colors?”

“My dream colors?”

“Yeah, I promised you I’d help you make it your dream home, didn’t I?”

Your heart melts as you stare up at this gorgeous man. He has such a soft heart, you can’t believe how much you care for him after only two weeks, how much he clearly cares for you- but you try not to read into it too deeply.

You turn to look at the paint swatches, truly considering what your dream home would look like.

You choose a pallet, showing it to Mingyu, and he nods. “This will be great.”

The two of you go to get the paint, and soon, you’re back in your truck. You try to play the radio, but it doesn’t drown out your thoughts, so you turn the music down.

“Did you notice how many people were looking at you today?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Mingyu tears his gaze from the trees moving by.

“Girls, a lot were staring.”

“Were you staring?”

You flash a glimpse at Mingyu and find him grinning at you… is there a mutual attraction here? Does he like you the way you like him?

Things are just so easy. Choosing paint with him for your house, letting him make your house your dream house- it all just feels so domestic, not to mention the fact that you generally don’t like people watching you work on your art, but you feel comfortable with him.

“I, uh… yeah, I look at you, we’re friends.” You cough, forcing your eyes back to the road.

“Close friends,” Mingyu confirms.

You turn the radio back up, and Mingyu looks out at the trees again, but he doesn’t stop smiling, and your heart doesn’t stop racing either.

Nine:

It’s hard to sleep. You can’t help but think about the car ride with Mingyu earlier.

He has to be attracted to you… right?

He’s been more touchy during your late-night painting sessions, and less afraid to cuddle up in your hair. You’ve noticed him watching you too… often when you look at him, you catch his gaze already on you.

Cohabitation with a man as fine as he is- well, you know where it leads, and you’re a little shocked you’ve gotten this far without breaking first.

You toss and turn in your bed, groaning.

God, when was the last time you were this horny?

Can you… can you touch yourself with him right downstairs? Is that weird? What if he catches you? Mingyu said it himself, he doesn’t sleep much- and… is his hearing better as a fairy? You don’t actually know much about his abilities when he has wings… maybe these are things you should ask.

You let out a sigh, bringing your hand to your breast through your sleeping shirt. In no time at all, your nipple is pebbled against your touch. You release another breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Mingyu.

You search through your memories, deciding to focus on the thought of him chopping wood. God, in his little tank top, his muscles all bulging and glorious- the way his sweat begins to drip, making the fabric stick to his skin, showing off his abdominal muscles-

You can feel your pussy getting wet, and you begin to glide a hand down between your legs-

You stop, opening your eyes. Fuck, you can’t do this. It feels dirty, sinful- and not in a fun flirty way.

This isn’t something that you can continue with- you can’t keep feeling this way. You have to tell Mingyu how you feel. If it ruins everything then it ruins everything, but you can’t keep this cohabitation agreement up if you’re falling in love with the man- or, should you say, fairy.

God, maybe you should have never opened Pandora’s Box. It wasn’t a flurry of chaos, not one you could see anyway, but you’re beginning to feel chaotic inside, and coming clean to Mingyu is the only way to get it settled.

Ten:

When you wake up the next morning, you move slowly. You have a shower, make some tea, and then, after going through an internal script numerous times, you decide to go outside to tell Mingyu how you feel.

He’s been painting the shed all morning, that much is obvious from how much he’s completed- and to make matters worse for yourself, he’s shirtless.

You almost turn and go right back inside, but instead, you pull up your big girl panties, taking a few deep breaths.

You have to do this, you’ll regret it if you don’t- just as you knew you’d regret it if you hadn’t let Mingyu inside a few weeks ago to hear him out.

“Gyu?” you call.

“Oh, hi!” he waves, and you watch paint splatter everywhere from the brush in his hand. “Oops!”

God, he’s so- he’s so- he’s a big dork, in the best way possible.

You watch Mingyu wipe his hand across his abdomen, clearing the splatter stain there. “Had to take my shirt off, painting isn’t my strong suit sometimes,” he explains, putting the brush back into the can before he approaches you. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, everything you’d planned to say to him just disappears from your mind.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Could use some water,” he nods.

“Come inside,” you instruct, tearing your gaze away from Mingyu’s perfect body to lead him back into your cottage.

He follows you like a good boy, taking his boots off on your deck before joining you in the kitchen where you have a cup of water waiting for him.

Your hand is practically shaking as you give him the cup, and he looks you up and down, an expression of concern appearing on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “Just… a little jittery.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Mingyu questions, taking a sip of his water.

God, he’s still shirtless, and it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it! It’s as if being half naked in your kitchen is the most normal thing in the world to him!

You take a deep breath, doing your best to hype yourself up. “I like you,” you say finally.

“I like you too,” Mingyu grins.

“No, I… I like like you.”

“Like like?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“As in… I think you’re really amazing and good with your hands, and you’re handsome, and I enjoy spending time with you,” you blurt.

“I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment.

You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

“Mingyu,” you take another very deep breath, stepping closer to him. “I feel for you, in here.” You put your hand over his heart, looking up at him, searching his brown eyes for some form of recognition, of understanding.

Mingyu’s lips part, and his gaze shifts to your hand, then, he slowly places his own over yours. His palm is warm, and he squeezes you gently. “Are you saying you love me?” he asks.

You blink… it feels like he’s skipping a few steps here. You love him as a friend, and you’re attracted to him, but you’re not… in love with him, not yet anyway.

“I-” You swallow thickly and decide to just be honest. “I think… things could be heading that way, with some more time.”

“More time?” Mingyu frowns a little. “Humans can be weird.”

“We can?” you laugh. “What’s love like for you?”

“Fairies don’t do anything halfway. We feel intensely, more so than humans I think.”

“Have you…” you cough. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.”

“So… how do you know what you’re feeling right now is love?”

“I know it because I would do anything for you. Just being near you makes me happy. I want to protect you, and provide for you- I’d give up my wings for you. I choose you over any of my own kind, because you understand me and accept me better than my own kind. I don’t need anyone else but you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you choose not to say anything. Instead, you get on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his own.

Mingyu freezes for a moment, but then he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you tight to his chest.

It’s a slow kiss, an exploratory one. It’s soft and gentle and every good thing, but you get the sense you’re going to have to lead the build-up of this. After a few kisses, you lick at his lower lip, and Mingyu responds by opening his mouth, allowing you to deepen the experience.

His hands grab your hips, and Mingyu pushes you backward until your bum hits the counter, then he lifts you onto it, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips.

As you kiss him, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that this is a fairy. His original form is small… but as he grinds against you, you realize that what’s inside his pants right now is anything but tiny.

God, he feels so good- and he’s already shirtless, which gives you the perfect opportunity to graze your hands along his body, teasing the muscle you find there. Mingyu shivers from the contact, breaking the kiss.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm.

“Do you want to do this? Even though you don’t love me the way I love you?” He asks.

“I want this, and I do love you Mingyu, I just…”

“You need more time,” he sighs.

“I think… do you remember how you said eighty years felt fast in the box for you? I feel like, you just move faster than I do, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… something we have to adjust for.”

“Adjust how?” Mingyu questions, looking down at you as his hands grip your hips harder.

You shrug. “Maybe you’ll just have to be patient with me.”

“Do I have to wait to say ‘I love you’ since you’re waiting?”

You smile up at him. “You can do anything that feels right, Mingyu.”

“This feels right,” Mingyu muses, pulling you closer to the edge of the table so he can grind his denim-clad cock against your core.

“Then do this,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and drawing his lips back to yours.

Mingyu doesn’t fight it, in fact, he melts into the kiss, and then, his hands are grabbing your thighs and he’s lifting you up.

You grip his strong shoulders, releasing a small squeal of shock- but you refuse to break the kiss as he begins to carry you through your cottage. He knows where your bedroom is, and it’s sweet that he wants your first time to be on an actual mattress- you’d half expected him to bend you over in your kitchen and have his way with you right there, but you suppose that’s not really his style.

You still have so much more to learn about Mingyu, and you’re excited to take your time learning it.

Mingyu lays you down gently on your bed, and his lips move to your throat. His hands find yours, and your fingers intertwine as he sucks on your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe against the bed beneath him.

“Fuck,” you groan, brows furrowing from the pleasure already coursing through you.

Mingyu grins against your throat, and then he begins to descend.

You’re wearing a sleeping shirt and boxers, and Mingyu’s hand is sneaking up the oversized fabric. “Can I take this off you?” he asks, pulling away and swallowing thickly, his gaze fixed on your covered chest.

You nod, but instead of forcing him to do it, you push on your wrist confines, prompting Mingyu to let you go so you can sit up, tearing the shirt off. You’re not wearing a bra, and Mingyu’s pupils blow at the sight.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again as he helps you back down to the bed. You relax against the duvet, enjoying the sensation of your bare chests rubbing against each other. Your nipples are pebbled from interest, and each brush of him against you feels like magic, especially when he begins to swivel his hips, grinding down against your pussy.

His mouth begins to move down again, and this time, there’s no fabric to stop him in his tracks. Mingyu’s lips wrap around your nipple, your fingers threading through his hair as you fight the urge to arch your back and moan like a whore in heat.

“Feels good,” you tell him, earning a groan from the large man who sucks on your pebbled bud even harder.

His free hand is on your hip, but soon, it’s rising to massage your neglected breast. His warm palm feels so good- your eyes close in pleasure, your body reacting to Mingyu and the foreplay he’s providing.

You thread your fingers deeper into his curls, gently massaging his scalp while he works you up, teasing you in the best possible way.

He’s clearly solely focused on you, you don’t think there’s an ulterior motive, a motive of getting you to beg or forcing you to wait, you think he’s simply enjoying you, and you love the feeling of being enjoyed in this way.

Even so- now it’s your patience that’s running thin, and you tug at his curls, forcing his mouth away from your breast. He looks up at you with confusion, lips parting in a silent question.

“I need you,” you tell him, swallowing thickly.

“You have me,” he assures you with a laugh.

“I mean-”

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your pussy through your boxers. “You mean, you need me here,” Mingyu finishes for you.

Fuck, he’s so hot- part of you had expected him to be a virgin fairy who’s never been in love, but it’s clear from his dirty talk that he’s no virgin.

Your pussy is wet, and you can feel a wet spot to match in your shorts, you’re sure Mingyu can feel it too.

“Since…” Mingyu takes a breath, and you can see his skin beginning to flush a pretty shade of pink, “since I’m the one who likes you more, maybe you’ll let me take my time and do what I want to do? Out of… pity?”

You laugh. “Pity? I don’t pity you- I kind of love you, Gyu, I said that-”

“Just kind of, though,” he points out, leaning down to bite your nipple gently.

You groan, arching your back and taking a deep breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want to me. Take your time. Worship me. Make me fall in love with you.”

Mingyu smiles, and then he whispers a soft, “Thank you,” before diving back toward your chest.

It’s clear that now that you’ve given him permission, he’s in no rush.

He worships your breasts, just like you’d told him to, taking all the time he wants to massage and lick and kiss and bite- and then, one of his hands returns between your legs, pushing your boxers to the side so he can access your dripping pussy.

He’s gentle at first, circling your sensitive clit and teasing your slit up and down. Then, after too much teasing for your tastes, he eases his finger into your tight hole. He’s gentle as he begins to finger fuck you, working you open at a snail's pace-

You think, as someone who time moves fast for, he really must be savoring every long moment of this. He wants to take his time with you, and for a fairy, that means something.

Mingyu’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, and as he adds a second digit to your core, you think you might just combust.

“Gyu,” you whimper.

He hums in response.

“I’m close,” you tell him, beginning to wiggle your hips against his hand. “I’m so close-”

Mingyu’s palm finds your clit, and he finger fucks you harder, crooking his digits to reach a spot that has your toes curling.

“Oh my god-” you groan, closing your eyes and latching onto Mingyu’s hair as an anchor, keeping his face buried in your tits as he works you closer and closer to the edge-

One graze of his teeth across your nipple has you cumming on his fingers, and Mingyu releases his own sound of pleasure to echo the whimpers escaping your lips.

He’s got you pinned to the bed, there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do except take what he’s giving you.

He works you through your high, allowing you to feel every lick of pleasure as it courses through your entire body-

You’re a gasping mess at the end of it, and Mingyu gingerly removes his fingers from your pussy, pulling away from your chest to sit up on his knees, licking his digits clean as he inspects you carefully.

“Are you okay, my star?”

You shiver at the nickname, a whispered echo of your pleasure running through you.

“Yeah,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, teasing his wet finger across your nipple and making you shiver again. “It was good for me.”

“It was so good,” you groan, shifting against the bed.

“Good.” Mingyu hooks his fingers in your boxers, tearing them down your legs.

You’re now completely bare for him, and you expect Mingyu to work on his jeans next, but he doesn’t. He lays down between your thighs, looking up at you as he peppers your skin with chaste kisses.

“Ready for more?” he questions.

You groan, and the groan turns into a laugh. “I guess I told you to do whatever you want to me,” you sigh, adjusting your legs so your feet are flat and your knees are bent, giving him better access to your pussy for what you know is about to come next.

“You did.” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your still pulsing core, and you grab at the duvet in preparation, knowing he’s about to completely rock your world for a second time.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything else, he continues to kiss up your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. When he reaches your core, he licks your clit gently, circling it.

You open your eyes, looking down at him to find his own lids are closed. He’s completely focused on pleasuring you, and as he pushes his tongue into your core, lapping at your slit- well, fuck, no thoughts are going through your mind.

You can only whimper, grabbing the duvet tighter, your toes curling deliciously as this man eats you out in a way that no man ever has.

He really is taking his time. It’s clear this isn’t just a duty or a ‘task’ he has to complete in order to fuck you, no, eating you out is as much his pleasure as it is yours, and somehow, that knowledge makes it even better.

You give yourself to the pleasure. There’s no anxiety, no racing thoughts, or pressures you’re imposing on yourself.

You know there’s not a time limit. Mingyu’s not eager to make you cum so he can fuck you, he’s simply enjoying the act of licking your pussy- so you simply enjoy it too.

You’re not keeping track of time, your focus is solely on the pleasure running through you, and the way it’s building.

Soon, you’re at the edge again, and you warn Mingyu, your thighs twitching around his head.

Mingyu groans in response, lips wrapping around your clit. A squeal escapes you, your chest heaving, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm slams into you.

This one is even more electric than the first, and it almost feels like you’re floating off the mattress- like you’re truly ascending to cloud nine, as if you - like Mingyu - have wings.

God, there’s not a feeling like it in the world, especially as Mingyu continues to suck your clit, working you through the most intense high of your entire life. Your legs are fully quaking around him now, your grip like a vice on the duvet.

Thank God you live in the middle of nowhere because you’re aware that you’re being loud.

Mingyu’s groaning too, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you pinned and in place for him to eat you through the pussy contracting pleasure convulsions that are threatening to overtake your entire body in an ecstasy you’ve never, ever experienced before.

The large man finally lets up, and you gasp, flopping back down against the bed. There are aftershocks of pleasure, and you jolt a little, goosebumps erupting on your flesh from the sensation.

You feel the bed shift, and you look from under heavy lids to see Mingyu standing at the foot of the mattress, finally taking off his jeans.

Fuck, he’s huge- maybe foreplay wasn’t so much of a want, as a necessity.

“You still want me?” Mingyu asks, joining you on the bed again, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds down against you, teasing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, I need you,” you tell him.

Mingyu kisses you then, grabbing your hands and putting them above your head. He collects your wrists in one grip, and with his free hand, he grabs his cock, lining it up with your core.

“If it hurts-”

“You’ve made me cum twice,” you tell him, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, my star,” he grins, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet hole.

You groan desperately, struggling against his grip on your wrists, but Mingyu doesn’t let up. In fact, he tightens his hold on you, pushing his cock even deeper into your core.

The sounds you’re making are feral as he kisses you, his lips and tongue are hot against your own in the most delicious way.

You can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate for his girth, and when his hips are finally flush against your own, you think this might just be the most full you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Mingyu breaks the kiss, panting and looking down at you. “You feel perfect,” he whispers.

“You feel perfect,” you counter, feeling a little dim with your repetition of his own works back to him, but also too fucked out to think of anything better.

He only grins, drawing his lips to yours. It’s a gentler kiss as he begins to fuck you, his motions slow so you can acclimatize to the massive cock that’s already rearranging your guts.

You get lost in him, and there’s a kind of safety in having your hands pinned down above your head. You can’t quite explain it- maybe it’s just a size kink? You can’t have a bondage kink, can you? Does Mingyu even know what bondage is? Do fairies watch porn?

You push the thoughts from your head, focusing on the cock that’s dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

Soon, you’re moaning loudly again, and Mingyu finally lets up on your wrists. “I kind of…” he swallows thickly, thrusts faltering, “I kind of want you to ride me when you cum.”

“You do?”

“I’ve… well, I know I’ve been a little rough-”

“You haven’t been rough,” you assure him.

“I just mean, the first two times you came, I did what I wanted, and I want you to be in control for this last one, don’t want to overstimulate you.”

It’s a soft idea, and you nod up at him. “I’ll ride you.”

“Good.” Mingyu kisses you gently, and then the two of you are adjusting.

He lays flat as you swing your leg over his hip, grabbing his cock to line it up with your core so you can slowly sink down on him.

Mingyu groans, his hands settling on your hips to help you be gentle as you come to a fully seated position on his cock.

“You look so perfect like this, my star,” he tells you, one free hand moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently and pinching at your nipple.

“Think you can cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, beginning to bounce.

You watch Mingyu’s lips part in concentration, his gaze fixed on your chest. He’s clearly in a daze, and it’s adorable. “I’ll cum with you,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smile.

Mingyu’s ears turn pink first, and it’s so endearing to watch the massive man flush from a compliment as you’re riding his cock.

God, he is a perfect man, isn’t he?

“I think… I think I was made to be found by you,” Mingyu says, looking up at you with eyes full of adoration. “I don’t know what I’d do If I never met you.”

“Gyu,” you coo, slowing your thrusts. Mingyu sits up, allowing you to pull him to your chest, cradling him to your breast as your fingers stroke through his hair.

“I do love you,” he continues. “And… it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way yet. I know it’s fast, even for me, but… yeah.”

“It’s fast, but that’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You don’t have to hide from me either,” Mingyu promises.

He lays back down flat, and you move with him, your chests pressed together as you ride his cock, groaning into his ear.

Mingyu’s hands are warm on your hips, and he steadies you, beginning to thrust up to meet your movements.

You both release sounds of pleasure, and you can feel your hearts racing together in your chests as they remain pressed to each other.

You’re tired, but you’re also eager to cum again, so you push through, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure instead of the increasing burn in your thighs.

“Are you close?” Mingyu pants in your ear. “I’m close.”

His sounds are like magic, and they help drag you to join Mingyu on the edge. “I’m close,” you confirm, swallowing thickly.

“Can we cum together?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, muscles clenching in preparation.

Mingyu fucks up into you even harder, and you put all of your energy into carrying this out, into riding this man until you pass out from how good everything is about to feel.

He releases another grunt, and you press your lips to his own, which is all it takes for you to both fall over the edge together.

You feel like you’re flying again, it’s almost an out-of-body pleasure-fueled experience, but this time, Mingyu’s with you, and you know you’ll be safe with the man who knows how to navigate the skies.

He cradles you to his chest, keeping his cock buried as deep as it can go in your core. You’re both kissing each other desperately, shaking and contracting from orgasms that continue to surge through you. Your hearts are racing together, and you’re both trying to catch your breaths even in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Everything just feels so right, and natural.

It’s as if your body was made to do this, with Mingyu especially.

Soon, your orgasms are subsiding, and you’re simply kissing now.

Mingyu holds you close, not letting you go until he’s good and satisfied.

You take a deep breath, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “So…”

“So,” he grins.

“So… I guess this changes our arrangement a little?”

Mingyu laughs, holding you tighter. “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse anymore?”

You find yourself chuckling too, and the contraction it causes of your pussy around Mingyu’s cock makes him groan desperately, his hand pushing on the small of your back.

“You don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse.”

“I meant it when I said I’d give up my wings for you,” Mingyu muses, turning serious as he looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The future-”

“Is something we can talk about later,” you assure him. “Right now, I just want to enjoy you.”

“I guess… I guess we can do that,” Mingyu concedes. His arms wrap tighter around you, securing you down against his chest. He tucks you under his chin, releasing a deep breath, and that’s where you fall asleep, completely content with your blue-collared, human-sized, fairy lover.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! we all need a domestic blue collar man who's obsessed with us and wants to build our dream house for us ✨MANIFESTING IT💅

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🔮 preview. “I’m happy where I am… but, when you cum, I’ll let you warm up while I fuck you stupid.” Mingyu never used to swear. He used to call sex ‘making love’ and something about it had made you uncomfortable in some weird way- so your soft lover has taken to using profanity for your own benefit, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to the term ‘fuck you stupid.’

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, size kink, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple play, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s summer, and you’re more in love than ever. Mingyu’s made you rethink what it is to live in your cottage. He’s done everything in his power to make it your dream home, and his latest upgrade is a small rowboat that he’d handcrafted with the purpose of meandering around your pond.

You can’t stop smiling and giggling as Mingyu rows you around, the sunlight kissing his skin in the most beautiful way. He’s so gorgeous, and his soul is just as stunning.

Every day is a dream with him… but there are still things on your mind, things you need to discuss.

“Mingyu?” you ask, drawing his attention away from his haphazard rowing.

“Yes, my star?” he pauses to look at you, setting down the oars to give you his complete, and undivided attention.

“I’m just… I’m thinking.”

“That’s not always the best sign,” Mingyu teases. “Thinking about what?”

“Just… we’ve been together a while now, and, I guess I’m starting to look at the future more, and I’m not really sure how to envision it.”

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heavenbloom · 2 months ago

Text

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE • BOYCOTT TLOU

⚭ — 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒊𝒏’𝒕 𝒎𝒆, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒆 | 𝒆.𝒘.

song: it ain’t me babe — joan baez and posing for cars — japanese breakfast

summary: you had always wanted to marry ellie williams, and if the ring on your finger meant anything, she wanted to marry you too. but your reveries of marital bliss are crushed when the words leave her lips — it isn’t the right time.

warnings: 18+ mdni. ANGST. modern!au, fem language and she/her pronouns used, profanities, heartbreak, confrontation, allusions to joel’s death and depression, mentions of grief, bittersweet ending. not proofread.

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i got all the ellie photos off of pinterest. i couldn’t find the exact creators but credits to all the people who took them nonetheless!! this was mainly dialogue practice but i think i botched it lmao

Dawn outstretched its sunlit fingers to the earth. Gold, warm and ripe, trailed through the white lace curtains that were draped across the window. The light spilled over the chipped wooden table and streaked the desolate mug sitting on top of it. It turned the glass cupboard kaleidoscopic and made the dust floating around the room visible. Above your head, spinning, spinning, spinning.

This scene was a thing too tender for the grief that bellowed in your gut, that clawed at the back of your throat, that pinched the flesh up your spine.

Domesticity, the simplicity of morning come. The absence of a person, a loved shape, hollowing your chest and letting the lonesome place gape.

You were dimly aware of the ring burning a hole in your robe pocket. Her ring. The one you had given to her in the hush of a green, vacant field. You had traced its fern etchings a hundred times over, felt the warmth of her skin seeping into the shining silver.

You slipped your hand into your robe pocket and you felt it now; cold. Abandoned at your door with little more than a sorrowful gaze.

Something rose to your throat, a scratched-raw emotion that climbed its way free.

The loss was knife-shaped now, a gutting. You couldn’t help it when you stumbled to the table, tears scattering over the wood in endless droplets as a gasping sob ripped past your lips. You clutched your chest, as if the action was a balm to keep you good and whole.

The sunlight caressed the tears over the wood, making them gleam. A winking, shimmering mockery. You swiped them away with quick fingers, but it couldn’t erase anything. Not your pain, not the aching and unfathomable chafe of loss.

They kept falling, and falling, and falling.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The house was hushed as the night creeped in, the coolness of it settling bone-deep. Only the silvery beams of full-moonlight illuminated inside. No lights warmed within.

Items were packed haphazardly into a box, while others were strewn across the table. You weren’t obligated to sort her things, but you had wanted to make the process swift, to be done with the humiliation and anguish that welled up over and over like lifeblood from unhealed wounds. But it wasn’t so simple.

Things like this never were.

How could you pack away a promise, a now bitter what-if? The dread of it coated your tongue, too grief-thick to swallow.

Most of her things bore your gentle mark on them. The sketchbook you leafed through with your face woven throughout. Her dear hand-painted mug that depicted your favourite flower. Her clothes, smelling of your favourite fabric softener and folded in the same way as yours.

This was it, then. Here, in the darkened home, you feel your future being snuffed out like a flickering flame, pinched between numb fingers. Your dreams existed now only in the confines of this little kitchen, in the intertwinings of two once-loving souls. The warmth had long left the remnants of what once was.

Your shaking fingers skimmed over a sweater slung over the back of a dining room chair. It was a deep forest green, the colour you adored most on her. It was soft beneath your hands, the wool moulding to the pressure of them. Your hands trembled as you lifted it to your face. Inhaled, long and slow, the lingering smell of her.

It was silly, wasn’t it, to mourn like this? She wasn’t dead, after all. But her absence was a wraith, clinging to you with a hooked, unyielding grasp. Something has died here, and the stench of it loiters. Joy, bliss, love. They all decompose at your feet now, ashes of a connection, of a life.

A shiver races up your spine as you hear the lock of the front door slowly slide open. There is an uncertain pause, silent as a windless day. She doesn’t stay at the threshold long, though. You hear her hesitant footfalls, tracing a familiar path into the kitchen.

You feel Ellie’s presence hovering behind you, but you’re not quick to turn to her. She approaches you like one would a wounded animal, muted and light on the balls of her feet. You know this silence and how she sees you right now. Unpredictable, pitiable. Will you snap your jaws or will you just lie there and bleed?

You take a deep breath and lower the sweater back onto the chair. That same prick of misery pierces you through, but this time it’s solid like a blow to the gut. The hopelessness of it stabs the roof of your mouth and dampens your swollen eyes.

You pivot, vision blurry as you face her in the rich dark, and you feel what little left of your heart sag, struck down by her own bleary-eyed gaze. If she wanted this, why did she look so upset? How was that fair?

You lodge your tongue behind your top teeth in order to suppress the ugly, jagged thing that lurches at the base of your throat. You would be civil, though you had every right to rip her apart. You wouldn’t make this worse than it was.

Instead, you clear your throat, your head bobbing to the box on the table. “I started– I started to pack your things, but I couldn’t finish the job. Sorry.”

The words were a whisper, your voice frayed and withered from the lonesome hours spent crying. There was a twitch to Ellie’s body at the shape of its sound, an impulse to comfort, but the moment flickered as quickly as it came.

“It’s okay,” she speaks, words gentle as a susurrating forest. “It’s really okay. I’ve got the rest.”

You nod once, backing away from the table and letting her softly press past you. The brush of her jacket against your shoulder, the fist-tight constriction of your chest at the subtle contact. Don’t let this be it.

Her back was now away from you, her short auburn hair sticking up in places as she bent her head down to view the contents splayed about. Your hands shifted at your sides, tugged by a phantom thread. The memory of smoothing those stubborn strands down danced in your memory, sweet and sentimental and useless.

“Ellie?”

Her name left the tip of your tongue before you could force it down, more a tentative question than anything else. You watched as her neck straightened, the pearly glow of moonlight sweeping over her in the swirls and patterns of the curtains.

A reluctant hum of acknowledgement, green eyes sliding back to look at you. There wasn’t any cruelty in them, nor was there irritation. There was only the gut-curdling nausea of anticipation. She could evade it no longer.

“Please… I can’t do this– not without a reason why.”

Her gaze immediately faltered, nervous hands distracting themselves with a comic book on the table.

Her voice was small, barely a mumble. “It's just… it’s not the right time–”

“Not this bullshit again, Ellie!” There was a blade sheathed within your voice now, sharpened where only desperation laid prior. “We know each other better than that, and I… I can’t stop you from leaving but you don’t just get to walk out of here without telling me why. Why isn’t it the right fucking time?”

Even with such little light, you could see the bow-tight tension in her shoulders snap. They slump as she faces you, her body propped up against the chair as if all strength has been leached from her bones. She never was very good at avoiding the truth, but this was one she especially wanted to. It was a stubborn bruise of a thing and she wasn’t sure she wanted it poked at.

But you’re right, of course. She owed you honesty, even if it hurt like a noose closing tighter around her throat. Her eyes met yours a second time, overbright and brimming.

“Why?” you prod again, taking one step closer, but not overstepping. “Were you… unhappy with me? Was it because of me? I want to know, Ellie. I-I want to know if I’m the reason.”

The words settle over her, a veil of suffocating smoke and her eyes flutter shut. “No, Jesus… it’s not because of you.”

“Then why?!” you agonise, hands flailing about in the air between you. Her dark brows furrow, a deep intake of breath drawing into her constricting lungs.

“It’s– fuck. I’m just not right for you anymore,” she says through gritted teeth, the skin around her closed eyes crinkling. Her hands twist in the confines of her jacket as she says this, the aged leather crackling from the movement. Joel’s old jacket.

Your demeanour softens around the edges, lips quivering. “Did… did I ever make you think that?”

“No,” she whispers, breeze-like. “Never.”

“Then what is it, Ellie? If it’s not me, then what is it?”

There’s a pause, weighted as her eyes open to slits. Her lashes are wet with tears and her lips are pressed into a sullen, crescented line.

“I’m not the same girl you fell in love with.” Her eyes flit from the tiles to her jeans to the yawning kitchen just beyond you, anywhere but your face. As certain as the sun rises, she knows the sight of your tear-stained cheeks will break her anew. There’s only so much heartache a person can carry in one lifetime, and she fears she’s exceeded her load.

“What I mean to say is… I… I’m so different after what happened,” she mumbles. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, or that I still don't love you. It’s the… the act of loving itself. Something in me’s– it’s gone. I can't.” A tear falls as the last few syllables tumble upon themselves, a piece of pent-up sorrow carving a path down her cheek.

Memories of the past few months flurry around in your skull, of sleepless nights and deadened days. The permeating silence besides the swish of the washing machine and the insistent buzz of the refrigerator. And the warm ghost cozied up at your side, eyes the hue of wilted leaves.

“Oh, Ellie,” you breathe as glacial pity stabs your gut. Your hands move instinctually as they grasp for hers. “That doesn’t mean you’ve changed. You’re just hurt. We can work it out, okay?”

Her head shakes frantically, but she makes no effort to move. “It’s not that simple. I’ve been trying and I just can’t. I love you, but I can’t keep pretending that everything about this life doesn’t remind me that Joel’s fucking gone. He won’t see us married, and I’ll spend every day thinking about it if I stay here.” You pull away as if singed. Her grief for Joel was the one thing too buried within her to dig out and hold to the light. She was so protective of it, though it was a thorn in her side. You couldn’t get close, especially not now.

A cold palm comes to rest at your cheek, smearing the streaks of dampness that gather there. When you look up, a shadow of a smile passes over her lips. It is a soft look, almost sweet in its vulnerability.

“There’ll be someone else,” she whispers, dipping her head to catch your gaze. “They'll cherish you more than I ever could and you’ll be so head-over-heels that you’ll forget all about me. This won't be the end of your life, I swear.”

Don’t you understand? you wanted to say. I wanted it to be you. It was supposed to be you.

But deeply you understood that there was no use fighting for it when you could feel the flames of your upset already cooling. She had given you an answer. Your relationship belonged to a sliver of peaceful bliss, and that time was over. Divergence was the only path forward, and the fact of it settled over you serenely like honey.

“Put out your hand.”

Hesitance rippled through her, but she complied nonetheless, outstretching her slim fingers towards you though they slightly trembled.

You hadn’t taken the ring off since she had slipped it onto your finger. It protested, gripping your flesh as you tugged on it, but eventually it came free. Your skin felt foreign without its constant swaddling. The aquamarine stone glinted like the ocean beneath a somber, moonlit night.

“Keep it,” you urged quietly as you placed it in her waiting palm. “Give it to the next girl you love if you think she’ll like it. Treasure her enough so that she wears it for the rest of her life.”

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as she caged it between her fingers. The metal was still warm, comforting. “Thank you…”

Salt-drenched lips came to her cheekbone, feather-soft as they pressed a single kiss there. One last act of affection. A farewell befit for such a kind love.

There were no words left to say after that. You let her pack in peace and helped her load her things into her car. You watched as she drove down the street she once called her home, breezing beneath familiar street lamps like a moth fluttering from one light source to another.

You continued to stare until she rounded the corner, melting into the quiet of the night. Only then, you let your fingers wander to your pocket. You traced the twinings of silver-etched leaves, a silent wish drifting away on the wind.

Some things are better left unsaid, you think.

It's better this way.

#subpar compared to what i usually write but it feels good to post smth again!#ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #tlou writing #tlou fanfiction #tlou2

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ilguna · 2 months ago

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☼ the connection web (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you didn't stand a chance, finnick knew that as soon as you were reaped for the 74th games. it was a punishment directed at him for disobeying. little did he know, that wasn't the only trick snow had up his sleeve.

warnings; swearing, death mention, weapon use, psychological torture (jabberjays), death by birds in description, mention of prostitution.

wc; 5.7k

notes; this was a very specific request. this is a little sister fic, please see the request -> HERE. before deciding to continue. ignore the tags, i did to make sure my fic gets out like usual.

Finnick numbly watches as his allies peer into the jungle, checking to see if they can tell what hour it is. They don’t dare to pass the treeline, bending in awkward positions to see past the trees that block their view. He doesn’t bother to join them, just keeps an eye on the beach to make sure the Careers don’t come back.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta says, turning to look at Katniss. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

Finnick shakes his head, he can’t let Peeta go in. He’s already barely functioning after yesterday’s fiasco with the force field. The last thing he needs is a mutt to attack and for Peeta to step in and get himself killed.

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick says.

Besides, if Enobaria and Brutus are out here, it’ll be easier to fight them if he’s not worrying about Peeta. He may have teamed up with the Careers briefly last year, but he was never really an ally of theirs. He can’t fight Brutus and Enobaria the way Finnick can. Although, he will give some credit to Peeta, because he was building up his muscles in the months leading up to the Quell.

“I’ll at least watch your back.” Peeta offers.

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says, sharing a look with Finnick. She gets it. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up to pull a large leaf off a tree, handing it over to him.

He’d much rather take Katniss, anyway. She’s the one that figured out what the spile was and she’s an excellent hunter. If anyone or anything comes running at them, she’ll be the first to spot it.

Katniss looks between Peeta and and Finnick for a moment, gauging the situation on her own. She must decide it’s nothing to worry about, because she ends up giving Peeta a shrug, then turns to Finnick. He leads her about fifteen yards into the jungle before he finds a good tree. Using the awl Mags owned, he starts stabbing at the bark, digging a hole.

It’s uncomfortably quiet out here, usually there’s some sort of noise with the birds and the bugs. They must’ve been startled when Finnick started to drill into the tree. He glances at Katniss out of the corner of his eye, making sure she’s keeping watch, and she is.

She’s staring off into the green, an arrow readied on her bow.

Finnick flicks out a large piece of bark, watching it disappear in the grass. He sticks his pinky into the hole, confirming it’s big enough to fit the spile, before looking back at her. “Katniss, got that spile?”

Katniss yanks the spile from her belt, vine still hanging on. He’s barely grabbing the metal tube when a scream cuts through the air. His hand freezes, Katniss’s head whips in the direction it came from. The spile slips from her fingers, Finnick barely catches it in his hand, and watches her take off like a bat out of hell.

“Katniss—!” Finnick reaches out to grab her, but she’s gone.

He struggles to get up to his feet, following after her trail. He watches for swinging branches and ferns, anything that might give away what direction she’s run off in. She’s faster than Finnick thought, but that might be because she doesn’t care. She’s ripping through vines and branches as if they don’t exist.

“Prim!” She cries. “Prim!” A scream pierces the air, one that belongs to her little sister. “Prim!”

Finnick’s lost Katniss now, he’s just following the sound of her voice at this point. He sucks in deep breaths of hot, humid air, ignoring the stinging in his muscles. He can’t blame Katniss for her reaction. He would run after his sister, too, if she were in the trees.

“Prim!” Katniss shouts again.

Finnick can see where she’s gone through a wall of green. He ducks through the hole she’s created and comes to a slow jog in the clearing she’s been brought to. Her head is tilted back to observe the tree above, there’s a piece of moss in her hand that she uses to clean an arrow.

“Katniss?” He asks, heaving breaths.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” She turns to him. “I thought I heard my sister but—”

A scream. Her scream cuts Katniss off. The blood washes from Finnick’s face, the same way it had when he heard her scream for the first time in the arena. His eyes widen, mouth opening. As if drawn by a magnet, his feet start to move without a thought behind it, going to her.

“Finnick, wait!” Is all Finnick hears before he’s gone.

She’s alive, Finnick thinks, as he barrels himself further into the jungle, my baby sister is here.

It’s his turn to create an unmistakable path that Katniss would have to be blind in order to miss. He elbows vines and ducks under branches and trips over snarls of roots hidden in the grass. They barely slow him down, and even though he’s traveling uphill, he seems to gain momentum the further he goes.

“(Y/n)!” Finnick calls. “(Y/n), I’m coming!”

I’ll save you this time, Finnick will make sure of it. He’ll take her into his arms and get her far from here. It’s been so long since he last saw her. He might squeeze her to death before she even gets a word out.

“Finnick!” Her voice calls back.

He’s here, he’s made it. He stops by the giant tree, throwing his head back as he circles the trunk, trying to catch his breath, observing the places he could climb. He’s never had to scale a tree before, but he will if he has to. He’ll get her down.

“(Y/n)!” He shouts. “(Y/n)!”

Katniss has finally caught up with him, looking over his state. There’s so many questions on her tongue that she wishes she could ask him, but she can’t. Not now. Not while he’s screaming her past ally’s name up the tree. Which she would climb if the limbs didn’t start about twenty feet up.

She chooses an adjacent tree to get up to the bird’s height, using her arrow to shoot it down. She slides back to the ground to join Finnick, who has the bird in his hand, staring down at it. There’s gears turning, lips turned downward.

The Capitol has successfully tricked him into thinking they had his sister alive. They’ve taken her away from him a second time, and using a jabberjay might as well have been a shot to his heart. The Gamemakers knew what they were doing when they decided to plant this mutt here.

“It’s all right, Finnick. It’s just a jabberjay. They’re playing a trick on us.” She tells him. “It’s not real. It’s not your… (Y/n).”

“No, it’s not (Y/n).” He agrees. “But the voice was hers. Jabberjays mimic what they hear. Where did they get those screams, Katniss?”

He knows they must’ve recorded his sister’s final moments last year. He wonders if Katniss recognizes the screams. She was there, after all. She was helpless to the situation. His sister was always going to die, Coriolanus Snow waited until the final six to eliminate her.

Katniss pales. “Oh, Finnick, you don’t think they…”

“Yes. I do. That’s exactly what I think.”

Katniss slowly sinks to the ground, fingers gripping at the grass. Finnick stares at her, not knowing what to say. Another bird interrupts the silence, this time belonging to a man. Katniss jerks in response, eyes wild and ready to run again, but Finnick is able to grab her arm this time.

“No. It’s not him.” Finnick has a tough hand on her, dragging her downhill, back to the beach so they can escape this nightmare before it gets any worse. “We’re getting out of here!” Katniss is struggling against him. “It’s not him, Katniss! It’s a mutt!” Finnick shouts at her. “Come on!”

It takes her several moments to register what Finnick is telling her. When she gets it, she stops fighting, and the two of them lightly jog down the hill, which is easier to navigate. It isn’t long before they find Johanna and Peeta standing at the treeline, palms in their direction, mouthing words at them.

Katniss and Finnick run directly into the transparent wall, and they’re thrown back several feet. There’s a wetness that spreads across Finnick’s lips, fingers tentatively touching the sensitive area, finding blood on his skin. His nose is gushing blood from the impact. Katniss cradles a shoulder in her hand.

Finnick watches as Beetee shakes his head on the other side, telling them there’s no way to escape out of the wedge during the next hour. Peeta and Johanna swing their weapons at the wall, but nothing makes a dent. Katniss places a hand on it and follows it several feet in both directions, and comes to the conclusion it’s going to be like that in every direction.

Finnick mops at the blood on his face with his undershirt, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes it’ll stop the bleeding. Peeta and Katniss press their hands against the wall on each side, trying to stay connected. She can’t understand a word Peeta’s trying to tell her, though.

The moment of peace is interrupted when the screaming starts again. One by one, the birds begin to arrive, perching on trees and looking down at them. An orchestrated attack, made to drive them crazy. All it takes is a scream from Annie, his beloved girlfriend back home, before he’s hunching over on the ground, clamping his hands over his ears, using his entire force to block it out.

He hates Coriolanus Snow, possibly now more than ever. At this rate, the old fucker has it coming for him. He won’t even know what hit him when this arena’s blown to pieces. When he realizes his Head Gamemaker has been planning an attack against him since the day he was elected for the position.

Katniss Everdeen is going to save them—the thousands of children that could’ve been reaped for hundreds of years to come. Whether she likes it or not, she started something, she began to stir trouble when she volunteered for her sister. When she laid those flowers out for that girl from Eleven, Rue. When she put Finnick’s sister out of her misery.

He can never scrub the image of her gurgling her own blood, eyes wide and vacant as she stared into the sky. Her lips were moving, it could’ve been her reciting her favorite line from a tragic sea song that Finnick begged her to stop singing. Or it could’ve been her pleading for Finnick, for her older brother, to come and save her before it was too late.

He couldn’t save her. All he could do was watch in tears as the Gamemakers dragged on the seconds of her death, instructions from Coriolanus, himself. Katniss wouldn’t allow it to happen, though. One arrow through the murder of crows and his sister was gone, no longer suffering.

Finnick knew Coriolanus Snow was right when he said that Finnick would come to regret saying no to him. It was the Seventy-Third Hunger Games, and Finnick was just trying to get through the year, it’d already been rough leading up to his departure, and the Capitol hadn’t made it any easier.

At the fifth late night visit denial, Finnick had been called into Coriolanus’s mansion, like he’d done many times before. Coriolanus wanted to know why Finnick was being so combative, and he got his answer. Finnick was tired of being a prostitute for the Capitol, he had other things to worry about.

His sister was getting older, she’d just recently become eligible for the Games. He wanted to be in a better mental state to take care of her. Annie was having relapses in her progress, and it’d be easier to convince her that he loves her if she didn’t see the bruises on his body when he came home every year.

He wanted to be done, permanently. And it would start that year.

Coriolanus made a face at him, lips turning upward in a knowing smile. “You will regret saying no to me, Mister Odair. You may go.”

After the meeting, Finnick was terrified of what would happen to his sister. The first time he said no to the president, he’d slaughtered his parents. The only reason why he spared his younger sister was so that he’d be able to use her as leverage in the future, if needed.

When he came home that year, he was sure she’d be dead when he entered the home, but she was fine. Still the same ray of sunshine she’d always been, and she couldn’t understand why Finnick held her so tight that night. He didn’t want to scare her into thinking something would come, because there was no telling when it’d happen.

The next year went as it normally did. There were no freak accidents that came close to stealing her from him. She went to school with her friends as she always did, she fished on a boat with him, she baked sweets with Mags, she made flower crowns with Annie in the village.

Finnick thought he was in the clear. In fact, he forgot all about the threat, until the morning of the Seventy-Fourth reaping. Finnick had a hushed conversation with Mags, telling her how worried he was for his sister. She was fourteen now. The same age he’d been when he was reaped. Who’s to say she won’t suffer the same fate?

Mags must have genuinely believed nothing would happen to (Y/n), because she told him that if Snow wanted to punish Finnick, he would have done it already. It’d been almost a year to the day when he said no. There’s a chance Snow had moved on to more important problems. He punishes with a quick hand.

Well, that wasn’t the case when it came to (Y/n).

Finnick had a front row viewing of the reaping, as it was tradition for the victors to sit on the stage where it took place. He watched as the escort pulled the girls name from the bowl, adjusted herself in front of the microphone, and paused for a couple seconds, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

She then cleared her throat, trying to regain the confidence she’d lost, “The female tribute for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games is (Y/n) Odair.”

The crowd went silent, no one moved, they didn’t want to give away his sister. Maybe she’d be able to blend into the crowd if she stayed still enough, but Mags had bought her this beautiful blue dress that could only be bought by the wealthy. She was picked out of the fourteen section in seconds, the Peacekeepers coming down on her.

Finnick’s hands gripped the bottom of his seat, leaning forward to look at Mags, shaking his head. This was his worst nightmare come true. The last thing he wanted was for his baby sister to suffer the same fate he did in the arena, much less the Capitol.

She made her way up to the stage gracefully, minding the manners she’d perfected, thanks to Mags. She stood by the escort, back to Finnick, staring off at her peers. Finnick crossed his fingers, hoping, praying, someone would come to her rescue. Fourteen is too young to have your innocence stolen.

The boy that was reaped was some seventeen year-old, he didn’t hear his name. He was too focused on the escort, begging her to ask for volunteers, to continue with the customs. And she did, you could hear the wind whistling from how quiet it was. No one dared to speak.

At that moment, she’d turned to look at Finnick, lips parted, absolutely terrified, tears welling up in her eyes. It took everything in him not to get to his feet and demand a volunteer. To remind the district the tragedy of his parents just years after he’d won his own Games.

They would let them take his sister too?

The mayor completed the speech, he watched his sister shake hands with the boy that would go to the Capitol with her, and then they were whisked away into the Justice Building. Finnick jumped at the escort, hands on her arms, shaking her, asking her what she knew, if it was rigged.

He had to be pulled away by Peacekeepers, sent to the nearest car to be brought to the train. He wouldn’t be allowed to see her, and neither would Mags since they were her mentors. He’s sure Annie would’ve tried to stop by, if (Y/n)’s name being drawn hadn’t sent her into a meltdown.

Finnick knew he was in trouble when she got to the train. How red and puffy her eyes already were from crying in the Justice Building. He hugged her, held her, consoled her as long as he could. This punishment would be the death of him, and possibly her, too.

He tried to keep her close, savoring every last moment he had with her. He knew the interview would creep up on him before he knew it, and that would be his final night with her. They’d watched a recap of the reaping together, where Finnick’s heart sank further and further with every tribute that came on screen.

The Career pack would be impossible for her to take on by herself. But there was a young girl from Eleven—Rue—that had been reaped, and he had a small shimmer of hope she’d be able to make friends out of her. He couldn’t make sense of the volunteer from Twelve, if that would make any difference in the Games at all.

It would.

The week in the Capitol was hell. Finnick did all he could to encourage his sister to seize every opportunity. He tried to remind her the Games are hers if she can manage it. He’s never seen by Snow again, but he knew it was a matter of time before they came face to face again.

(Y/n) did her best telling Finnick what she observed in the Training Center and what it could mean for her future. Rue didn’t really seem interested in her at the beginning, still they were able to make friends out of each other by the end. His sister scored a solid seven, which was better than what Finnick thought she could get. It was only because of the rigorous amount of training he’s put her through these past couple of years that allowed her to score so high.

Finnick hated every moment of the interview process. From arguing with her stylist about what was appropriate for her age to sending her off to talk to Caesar. She was so polite, though. She held her hands in her lap, she gave Caesar this dazzling smile that reflected Finnick’s. She answered every question with an edge to keep them guessing.

“You really are Finnick Odair’s sister, aren’t you?” Caesar had remarked at one point.

“I am not him and he is not me.” She answered, which is something Finnick surely would’ve said if the roles were reversed.

In their final hour together, Finnick tucked her into bed. He reminded her she was loved and she was a fighter when she wanted to be. She had training, she knew what to do in tough situations, all she had to do was remember. Remember what she’d been taught. Remember it’s first nature.

When he returned to the living room, Coriolanus Snow was there, a classic teacup in his hand. “I warned you that you’d regret your choices.”

“I’m not going back on anything.” Finnick dug his heels in. He was already in deep, what else could the president do? “She’s already reaped, there’s nothing worse that can happen.”

“Are you sure about that?” Snow challenged.

The start of the Games were smooth. She ran from the Cornucopia, stopped about a mile away and scaled a tree. She waited until the bloodbath cannons had sounded, gave it another hour, and then went back to gather any supplies she wanted. The Careers had cleared out by then, beginning their hunt.

It wasn’t long before (Y/n) came across a pond, and since it was a perfect place to set up base, she did. She stayed for several days, drinking water, eating the food in her backpack, scoping the pond out for any fish that may be inside. It was a perfect situation for her. If she could find a steady source of food, she could hide out the Games like many other victors had.

One of the days, while she’d been sitting out by the pond, observing the water patterns, the volunteer from District Twelve had stumbled in. His sister froze, afraid to move, as she watched the girl collapse face first into the mud, unmoving. (Y/n)’s eyes darted around, slowly raising herself from the ground to go back into hiding, not sure if the girl was dead or not. Or if she had someone with her.

Twelve’s fingers had dipped into the mud, swirling. His sister made the decision to flee while she could, until the other tribute brought themselves up, crawling through the mud, stopping just at the water's edge. His sister had enough sense not to move, waiting for the girl to get distracted before she did.

She held onto that spear like her life depended on it, knuckles turning pale. She must’ve moved just enough to set off the girl from Twelve, because her eyes landed on his sister, who’d been caught in the middle of trying to back away. They stared at each other, trying to decide if a fight was worth it or not.

Maybe his sister could get away and hide, after all, the girl from Twelve was clearly exhausted. But (Y/n) didn’t want to run, Finnick knew that. She was hungry, she hadn’t had a real meal since she left the Capitol, and she’d never had to go more than a few hours without eating. The hunger was getting to her. And the girl from Twelve had a belt full of rabbits.

“I’ll trade you water for the rabbit.” She said to the girl.

Twelve’s eyes narrowed, looking his sister over. He knew exactly what was going through her head. Why would she trade for water when it’s right in front of her? It wasn’t until his sister had readjusted the spear in her hand, did the girl from twelve realize she didn’t have a lot of choices.

“Sure.” She’d agreed.

In an instant, his sister dropped her bag to the ground, pulling out a plastic bottle full of water. “It’s clean.” She told the girl. “Help yourself.”

She tossed the water over to the girl from Twelve, watching her slowly take it in. She scored an Eleven. (Y/n) must’ve been full of curiosity on how she was able to do that. After all, Finnick was always saying the Twelve tributes are notorious for scoring low.

(Y/n) made her way over to the girl, taking her empty plastic bottle and filling it with pond water, purifying it, and setting it aside. That way, if her new friend was still thirsty, she’d be able to grab and drink the next one. However, she must’ve been satisfied with the first gallon, sitting back, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

“I’m (Y/n).” She told her, hold her hands out for her bottle back.

“Katniss.” Katniss said, passing over the empty container. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. My brother’s always telling me I need to take chances in order to advance.” She looked at the rabbit, bottom lip sucked in her mouth.

“Oh, right.” Katniss said, digging through her back. She unfolded a square of plastic to reveal cooked meat, ready to go. She picked a piece off, popping it in her mouth, showing his sister that it was safe to eat. “Here, take all of it. I can cook more later.”

“Thank you.” His sister murmured.

She took her time pulling apart the meat, one bite every minute, trying to savor the taste. When she was done, she packed up her water and her gear into the backpack, and got to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Katniss asked.

“To find somewhere to stay for the night. It was nice meeting you.”

“You could stay with me.” Katniss offered, shaking her head. “You don’t have to be out there alone.”

“I’ll be okay.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

She left, traveling several miles away to put some distance between her and Katniss, possibly afraid she wasn’t as friendly as she seemed. His sister found another bush to crawl under, using the backpack as a pillow, not entirely interested in the Fallen when it played.

She was woken in the middle of the night by the wall of fire, an event started by the Gamemakers to push the tributes together. She was fast, gathering her belongings and taking off. While she was never touched by the fire, the smoke infiltrated her lungs, coating her throat.

By the time she made it to the lake, she was barely hanging on. She took several gulps of her water, trying to get rid of the thick feeling. After, she dove into the lake, heading for a cave she spotted. It wasn’t long after when Katniss showed up, too. She didn’t see his sister, though, she was more focused on the burn on her leg.

(Y/n) spent too long deliberating whether or not she should reveal herself. By the time she started to move, the Careers came and they had their eyes on Katniss. So, she kept quiet, let them chase her off. When she knew the coast was clear, she waded out of the water, going right back into the woods.

She was in the trees for maybe a half hour before she ran across the little girl from Eleven, Rue. They didn’t seem threatened by each other. In fact, they stopped to have a conversation about Katniss. Where she was, where she might’ve gone. Rue told (Y/n) that she was going to scope out the local area to see if she could find Katniss.

His sister let Rue go, while she found a cozy place to stay to wait. About a hour later, Rue came back, told his sister there was a tracker jacker nest above Katniss and that she’d stay with her until the situation clears. Rue told (Y/n) that it’ll probably end with the nest being dropped, so his sister should probably find another place to stay.

They went their different ways, and a couple days later, they managed to find each other again. Katniss had just come out of her hallucination when they stumbled across paths. The three of them agreed to a temporary alliance, since the count was beginning to get low.

Rue healed Katniss’s stings, his sister shared the fish she’d caught, Katniss offered the balm to help the burns from the fire. It turned out to be helpful, there was a benefit for all three of them.

It started going downhill when Katniss decided she wanted to blow up the Career’s pile of food. Rue told her what it looked like, Katniss drew up a plan, his sister agreed to aid. They agreed to rendezvous after it was done, and they split up again.

The fires Rue lit drew the Careers away from their stockpile. (Y/n) watched the woods to make sure they didn’t return too quickly. Katniss shot at a bag of apples that triggered the sensitive explosives. Katniss was able to find his sister first, and together they went to go find Rue, but it was too late.

Rue died, and Katniss made sure she was seen as a child in her final moments. She looked peaceful lying beneath the willow, the flowers tucked in her hair, the bouquet between her fingers.

In less than three hours, his sister would have the same fate.

Katniss had split from her briefly, going to hunt for more food to support the two of them. It was clear Katniss was struggling with the death of their young ally, so (Y/n) let her go. Katniss didn’t make it very far before she heard the screams, of bloody murder, of pure agony.

He remembers what it was like standing in the Betting Room, surrounded by sponsors that had been buying him for years, up until his recent refusal to continue. The way his name, clear as day, pierced the air as (Y/n) cried for him to save her. As the birds took chunks of skin from her body, throwing their heads back to swallow before going in again.

By the time Katniss came back to base, a bird had already nosedived at his sister’s throat, taking away any chance of her living through the attack. Her skin turned red from the blood, lips coated in the thick stuff as she mouthed something. Maybe that song he was saying earlier, maybe telling Finnick it wasn’t his fault, maybe begging Katniss to get it over with.

Katniss ended her suffering. All it took was one arrow.

“Finnick?” A muffled voice says. “Finnick!”

A hand on his body makes him swing, slapping them off. He jerks in their direction, expecting to see Katniss, but Johanna’s standing there, axe in her hand. There’s a solemn look on her face, lips pressed together. She knows what he heard.

He gets to his feet, muscles sore from being tense for so long. The two of them walk back out to the beach, where Peeta, Katniss and Beetee are sitting together. Finnick picks a place to sit in the sand, staring off at the water, his mind full of Annie and (Y/n).

“Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta asks Katniss.

“Seven more of us die.” Katniss deadpans.

“No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He asks her, lifting her chin. “What happens? At the final eight?”

She pauses for a moment. “At the final eight? They interview your family and friends back home.”

“That’s right.” Peeta nods. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?”

“No?”

“No. That's how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?” He asks her. “First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge.” He continues. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.”

“You really believe that?” She asks him.

“I really do.” Peeta says.

“Do you believe it, Finnick?” Katniss turns to look at him.

He’s staring at Peeta, weighing the possibilities. He could be right, (Y/n) is dead, she’s been dead for over a year now. But then they switched to Annie, who’s still alive back home.

“It could be true. I don’t know.” He says. “Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

“Oh, yes. It’s not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school.” Beetee says.

“Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands.” Johanna tilts her head down at Katniss. “Don’t want that, do they?” She throws her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She looks back down at Katniss and Finnick, rolling her eyes. “I’m getting water.”

Katniss grabs at her. “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” Johanna says, freeing her hand. She returns a minute later with a shell of water, which she offers to Katniss.

The group splits up after this, with Johanna going to collect arrows, Beetee messing with his wire, and Finnick drags his feet out to the water. Katniss doesn’t move from Peeta’s arms for a long time, but when she does, she heads straight for Finnick.

“Finnick.” She murmurs, he turns to look at her, eyes tired. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He says, but doesn’t fully move to face her.

She wades into the water, going to stand beside him, back facing the beach. She watches the rocky waves, hovering her hand just above the surface. “You called for (Y/n).” Katniss says, looking at him. “How do you know her?”

Finnick was afraid this moment would come. He knew Katniss hadn’t put two and two together yet, because she likely would’ve brought it up a while ago. Possibly during the Tribute Parade when he approached her privately. She must not have paid attention to the last name when it was announced, or listened when Caesar called her his sister.

“(Y/n), the (Y/n) during your Games last year. She’s my sister.” Finnick tells her, watching the color drain from Katniss’s face. Her mouth opens, and then snaps shut, eyes falling to the water in front of her. “It’s okay you didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” Katniss says. “I never would have left her—either of them—if I knew what was coming.”

“She was always going to die.” Finnick tells her, shaking his head. “There was nothing you could do to stop it.” He nudges her, making her at him. “You made it so she wouldn’t suffer. Thank you.”

Katniss shrugs. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Mags and I, we were doing this all for her.”

Katniss’s face twists. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Finnick tells her, because by midnight, it’ll all be clear. “Thank you for being her ally while you could.”

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