#then BOOM it snows and its like

[pond-of-koi]

Winter haters cannot fathom the amount of childlike wonder one experiences after the first snow!!

[talkfastcal]

Back to spring theme because IM OVER WINTER

[bruciemilf]

Protective daddy Thomas Wayne.

No thoughts, only baby Bruce riding on his papa’s shoulders, mind ice cream in his tiny hand, much to Alfred’s utter dismay. “You’re getting so big, bunny! Oh don’t look so salty. He likes it.”

“If he wakes up and likes tigers, shall we commence to that, too?”

“Siberian tigers, sure.”

“T’ger,” Bruce just started speaking and it’s the most adorable and beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Thomas can’t deny himself peppering kisses all over him, and Alfred, too.

His hair shivers.

Carmine Falcone approaches them with a sharp eye. “Thomas Wayne outside and walking. Didn’t think I’d see you. And who’s this?” He’s bad at appearing harmless. Bruce hides behind Thomas’ head, peeking at him through his eyelashes.

Thomas’ radiant smile vanishes in something cold. “My baby.”

“My future competition,” he hums, “Pretty little thing. Like his daddy.”

A flat silence snows over them, and Thomas gently passes his baby boy to a still, smiling that switchblade smile of him.

“Let’s talk, Carmy.”

—

“Listen here, ya rat bastard,” He sneers, smile manic and eyes wide, like a scorned serpent baring its fangs, forearm pressed tight against Carmine’s throat. He watches that little vermin thrash and wheeze.

Thomas’ accent is honeyfire, drawling like a whiskey river and booming like lighting. “You even look at my son again, I swear on my mama’s body, boy, I’ll dig up your piece of shit daddy and make you eat the skin. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t fucking play with me, Falcone. “

“I swear,” he groans, clawing at Thomas’ arm, but he doesn’t even feel it, that’s how enraged he is. “On my father’s name, I swear.”

“Good. “ A knee to the stomach is unnecessary, yet greatly desired. “Get the fuck off my streets.” And if Alfred watches Thomas hide his bloody knuckles from Bruce while they’re at the park, who’s he to say anything?

[darkficlord69]

Fire & Ice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon

Warning: tastefully depicted smut (18+)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When fire meets ice, the very walls of Winterfell seem to tremble. But is the wolf a worthy match for the dragon?

Jacaerys Velaryon sat beneath the sprawling canopy of the godswood, a single white flower caught between his slender fingers. He plucked its petals one by one, watching them drift down to the withered grass like fallen snow. A sigh escaped his lips, soft as the summer breeze, and his fingers, adorned with silver rings fashioned in the shape of dragons' scaly tails, stilled when a bee landed upon his pink nipple. He dared not move, resembling a statue of marble, all sharp curves and delicate lines, carved by a true master’s hand. He held his breath until the bee took flight, then allowed a small smile to break across his face as he prepared to rise.

But then, a shadow fell over him, long and imposing, blotting out the sun. Jacaerys looked up, squinting against the sudden darkness.

"Good day, my prince," came a husky voice, roughened by the chill of the North.

"You too, Cregan," Jacaerys replied mildly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he feared to break the stillness of the godswood.

"The lords of the war council request your presence in the solar," Cregan Stark said. "I had hoped you would care to join us."

Jacaerys let his gaze wander over Stark’s solid frame, taking in the man’s sturdy build. Those legs, long and strong beneath plain woolen breeches; that broad heavy chest hidden beneath layers of soft furs and leather; his hair, brown as autumn leaves, and his hard eyes, grey as winter’s ice—eyes that could thaw even the heart of a dragonlord.

He was lost in girlish thoughts, caught up in the rugged beauty of the Stark, when a soft throaty cough brought him back to himself. Cregan extended a gloved hand.

"Of course, my lord," Jacaerys said, taking the offered hand and letting Cregan pull him to his feet. "Anything you need."

***

The great hall of Winterfell rang with voices of discontent. Lord Umber’s booming shout rose above the rest, his face as red as his hair. “Straining our armies will only increase the risk of wildling attacks!” The room responded with a chorus of grunts and murmurs of approval. “Southron skirmishes are no concern of ours, I say!”

Lord Manderly, heavyset and lounging in his chair, responded in a bored drawl. “The South is as much a part of the Seven Kingdoms as the North. Sooner or later, one king or queen will force us to choose a side.”

“The Iron Throne will not look kindly upon our allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Lord Hornwood intoned. Cregan Stark, seated at the head of the long oak table, had listened to enough prattle to make his head throb in annoyance. With a resounding thud, he slammed his large hands on the oak table, sending goblets rattling and silencing his bannermen. A sombre heaviness fell over the room, thick as the northern snows. The Warden of the North took a breath, his grey eyes hard and unyielding.

“We pledged our support to King Viserys’s heir long ago,” he said, his voice stern. “Never has a Stark broken his word, and I do not intend to be the first. Remember where your loyalties lie, my lords.”

With those words, dark and final as the grave, Cregan rose from the table, his wolfskin cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Jacaerys Velaryon followed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Once they were alone in the dim corridor of the Great Keep, Jacaerys’s mask of composure slipped, revealing the warmth beneath. “Cregan,” he said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude, “thank you.” The support of the North meant that his mother would be one step closer to claiming her birthright.

Cregan gave a curt nod, intent on heading to his chambers. But before he could take another step, he felt a firm yet gentle push, his back pressing against the cold stone of a column.

“Now let me show you how a dragon expresses his gratitude,” the prince murmured, a teasing grin curling his full, pouty lips. The words hung in the cold, still air, filled with a heat that made Cregan's blood pulse faster. Jacaerys moved with a lithe grace, every step a promise, every movement a dance of seduction.

Slowly, Jacaerys knelt before the Stark lord, his hands gliding up Cregan’s strong thighs. His touch was featherlight, just a whisper of fingers trailing over thick wool and leather, but it was enough to make Cregan’s breath catch in his throat. The prince’s eyes were dark, glimmering with mischief and desire, his expression one of pure intent as he let his fingers dance along the inside of Cregan's legs, feeling the muscles tense under his touch.

Cregan’s heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, insistent rhythm that matched the stirring in his loins. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling into fists as he fought the urge to pull Jacaerys up, to crush their mouths together in a desperate kiss. But he held back, held still, mesmerized by the sight of the prince at his knees, those nimble hands tracing patterns on his skin.

Jacaerys’s fingers found the edge of Cregan’s tunic, slipping beneath it, brushing against warm hair-covered flesh. The touch sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Jacaerys looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted slightly, his breath warm against Cregan’s thigh.

The prince leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Cregan’s leg, just above the knee. Cregan’s muscles tensed beneath the tender touch, his fingers twitching with the need to reach out, to bury them in the dark waves of Jacaerys’s hair. He watched, entranced, as Jacaerys continued his slow, torturous journey, his lips brushing lightly up the inside of Cregan’s thigh, each kiss a spark, each touch a flame.

The wolf stirred within Cregan, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he felt the heat of Jacaerys’s mouth moving higher. His desire, coiled tight like a spring, grew with every brush of those lips, every teasing touch. He felt himself harden, the ache of want becoming almost unbearable.

Jacaerys’s smirk widened as he felt the evidence of Cregan’s arousal beneath his hands. He looked up again, his eyes meeting Cregan’s, holding his gaze as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Cregan’s hip. Cregan’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, his control slipping, his need overtaking him.

With a growl, Cregan reached down, his hands tangling in Jacaerys’s hair, pulling the prince up with a rough urgency. Their lips crashed together, the kiss fierce and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a frantic dance. It was a kiss that spoke of hunger, of a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long, finally unleashed.

Jacaerys responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle. The prince’s lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. Cregan could taste the heat of him, could feel the fire that burned beneath his skin, and he met it with his own cold fury, his own wild, untamed desire.

Their mouths moved together, each kiss deeper, more intense than the last, as if they were trying to consume each other, to fuse together through sheer will. Cregan’s hands moved down, grasping Jacaerys’s waist, pulling him closer still, until there was no space between them, until they were one, bound together by the force of their need.

His lips left Cregan’s mouth, trailing down his jaw, his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat. Cregan tipped his head back, a groan rumbling in his chest as Jacaerys found a sensitive spot, sucking gently, teeth grazing over skin.

The prince’s hands moved lower, finding hard planes of muscle, scars that marked his furry skin. He traced them with his fingertips, memorizing the shape of them, the feel of them, each one a testament to the man before him, to the strength and the honor that he embodied.

Cregan’s hands moved to Jacaerys’s waist, fingers digging into the prince’s hips as he pulled him impossibly closer, grinding against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through the layers of fabric. Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure coursed through him, his body arching into Cregan’s touch.

They moved together, lips meeting again in a fierce kiss, hands exploring, claiming, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The wolf and the dragon, fire and ice, together in the dark, bound by a passion that neither could deny. And in that moment, they were lost to the world, to the weight of their titles and the burdens of their duties, lost to everything but each other.Jacaerys gasped, his fingers tangling in Cregan’s thick, dark hair as he pressed ever closer, his body melting against the northerner’s like ice before a flame. Cregan’s lips moved to Jacaerys’s neck, finding the pulse there and biting down just hard enough to make the prince hiss in pleasure.

“More,” Jacaerys demanded, his voice breathless, his eyes half-lidded with desire. “Show me how fierce the wolf can be.”

Cregan needed no further invitation. He lifted Jacaerys effortlessly, the prince’s legs wrapping around his waist as it was Cregan’s turn to press him against the wall. The cold stone was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, but neither of them noticed. Their world had narrowed to this moment, to the taste of each other’s mouths and the feel of their skin.

They were fire and ice, light and shadow, opposites drawn together by a force neither of them could fully understand but neither wanted to fight. Here, in the shadows of the keep, they were free of the burdens of their titles and the weight of their responsibilities. Here, they were just two dandy men, lost in the madness of each other.

Cregan’s hands found the laces of Jacaerys’s lacy smallclothes and pulled, the fabric sliding down the prince’s hips and pooling at his feet. Jacaerys shivered at the sensation, his hands gripping Cregan’s shoulders as the northern lord knelt before him.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Cregan looked up, his eyes meeting Jacaerys’s, asking a question without words. Jacaerys nodded, a silent answer, a trust given and accepted.

“Stay still now, woman,” Stark commanded and Jace whimpered at the order.

Then, Cregan’s lips were on him, hot and wet and hungry, and Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back against the stone. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to the heat of Cregan’s mouth and the rough scrape of his beard against sensitive skin.

Jacaerys’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands fisting in Cregan’s hair as pleasure coursed through him, building and building until he thought he might shatter from it. And then, with a cry that echoed off the walls of Winterfell, he did, his body tensing, his back arching, and then collapsing against the stone, boneless and sated.

Cregan rose, his lips curved in a small, satisfied smile as he pulled Jace into his arms, holding him close as the prince caught his breath. They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the only sound their breathing, the only warmth the heat of their bodies.

Finally, Jacaerys pulled back, his eyes bright, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “Well, Lord Stark,” he murmured, “I must say, your loyalty has its rewards.”

Cregan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through Jacaerys’s already sated body. “And you, Prince Jacaerys, are a demanding wench.”

Jacaerys leaned in, his lips brushing against Cregan’s ear as he whispered, “Only because I know you can handle me, oh Wolf of Winterfell.”

Cregan’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with promise. “Then you’ll have to show me again, you feisty dragonling,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Jacaerys laughed, a bright, clear sound that filled the corridor. “Oh, I intend to, Cregan Stark. Many times over.”

And with that, they slipped away into the shadows, leaving only the faint echo of their laughter and the lingering warmth of their passion behind them.

End.

Hi! Hope you liked it 🥰 Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated! 🫶

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance⁶

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader, Katniss Everdeen x platonic!reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of forced prostitution, exploitation of minors, suicidal thoughts, war, violence, murder, mind games, religious references, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, and grief Words: 12.8K

Masterlist | Series Soundtrack

a/n: ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for! (greatest showman reference, not excluding my enbys y'all). here it is! this is the end! just for clarity, anything in present tense means r is thinking (as always), and there's an additional a/n at the bottom. love u guys!!

When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller. This wasn't your first time dwelling on that fact, but now you wondered if it'd be the last.

There was a saying your mother used to say, before your father died and she went mad. You reap what you sow. It was ironic how backwards it was in your life. First you were reaped, which then subsequently sowed the domino pieces to your fake life, all falling down to lead up to this moment.

Yes, backwards it was.

You'd barely gotten a wink of sleep before faraway booms were waking you up. You didn't flinch this time; you could tell they weren't close, but Finnick's hand on your shoulder still tightened, like he was reminding you that he was there if you so needed it.

"Mortal shells," Gale informed you, looking up at the basement's ceiling. "It's not ours. Peacekeepers must be shellin' the rebels outside of the city."

It surely didn't sound like it. Cressida must've came to the same conclusion because she soon piped up, "That's not outside the city."

Inside, then. They were inside the city. 

That meant it was show time.

You separated yourself from Finnick without a word, going to prepare. In his mind, you must've just been so focused that you couldn't speak to him. In yours, it was that you were so unfocused that you wouldn't.

For the last eight years of your life, you'd been spinning stories with Finnick like there'd be no tomorrow, and now that was about to become a reality. That's why you couldn't speak to him. This was the last chapter, the last dance before the song came to a stop.

So you got ready, screwing arrowheads onto their shafts and strapping yourself with guns, moving slowly as if you were frozen in time with knowledge no one else had. 

This was the end of your story.

This was the end of the song.

Music beat loudly in your ears, but it was quieted by the sound of beeping. Your eyes were drawn to a black box on the table in the corner, similar to the one you once watched Finnick from, now projecting a mandatory viewing. There was no fanfare this time, as if Snow was now realizing that there was no need to sugarcoat what was happening.

The rebels had already invaded the Capitol. If its citizen's didn't know the severity of the situation before, they sure did now.

Finnick lightly snorted behind you as Snow's face came onscreen, making you resist the urge to swat him and laugh. You wouldn't have been laughing at Snow, though—you were much too angry for that—just at the boy who still found the courage to laugh in such terrible times.

You'd miss that.

Snow began speaking right away. "To all Capitol citizens more than a half mile outside the city circle, I am announcing a mandatory evacuation." Your brows knitted together. What? A quick glance at Katniss told you that she was just as confused. "Come to my home," he beckoned. "I am promising you shelter and sanctuary. All refugees... come to my home. There, you will be provided with food, medicine, safety for your children... and you will have my solemn oath to protect you until my dying breath."

Cressida made a sarcastic quip that you didn't hear, like your head was underwater.

This doesn't feel right.

"Our enemy is not like us," he continued. "They do not share our values. They have never known our comfort and our sophistication."

Somewhere in all the muffledness you heard Finnick mutter, "No shit," but it barely registered. Your eyes were trained on the image as if it'd unravel and reveal something to you. You didn't know what there even was to reveal—everything was laid out in the open now.

So then why do I feel like something's hiding in plain sight?

"And they despise us for it. Make no mistake." Snow's voice was filled with certainty and a spite so sharp it could cut through flesh.  "They are not coming to liberate us. They are coming to destroy our way of life. They are coming... to bury us." He put emphasis on his last words before the stream ended, his image cutting out with a flash.

What an interesting choice of words he used. Bury them. The people in 4 had been buried underneath rubble, so much so that you couldn't bury your own mother.

Katniss cut off your thoughts. "Is he still in the mansion?" You turned toward her, seeing her eyes already on you. 

You had to clear your throat before you replied, "Yeah." You'd been in that God-awful room enough times to recognize it, even in your dreams.

She nodded absentmindedly. "Okay, where's that?"

Pointing to a map she pulled out, Cressida answered, "About five blocks away. We're right here, off the avenues." She pointed to another far-off spot. "Mansion's here."

You crossed your arms. That was a long distance. "What about the pods?" you questioned.

Cressida motioned to another part of the map. "Well, they'll probably deactivate the pods around here for the residents' safety." 

"That could work." Katniss looked up at you, that same fire shining in her eyes that reminded you of her nickname. "We could get close enough."

That was the problem. You could get close enough—you could really do it.

But that felt too easy.

You didn't voice your doubts; Gale did. "Every Peacekeeper's gonna be waiting."

"Next to our faces on every billboard," Cressida cut in.

You shrugged. "Well, Snow's offering shelter to all the refugees." You could feel everyone's eyes dart to you, but you kept yours on Katniss. She understood your message right away. This was your shot. 

You had to take it.

The two of you were in agreement and that's all that mattered. Nobody was going to stop you.

Katniss got up, and then after grabbing the last of your weapons, you were heading upstairs.

One shot. You had one shot.

The extravagancy of Tigris' shop was lost upon you as you threw on a large coat, listening to Cressida's directions. There would be thousands of refugees; all you had to do was join them and keep your head low.

She wished you good luck, and then you found yourself hugging this girl you'd barely known for more than a few days. But she gave you trust when you needed it, and you wouldn't ever forget it.

You knew you weren't gonna see any of these people ever again, so you might as well say goodbye.

You were halfway through thanking Tigris when Peeta's voice suddenly sounded. "Katniss, let me come with you, okay?" You saw her face fall out of the corner of your eye.

He wasn't asking; he was begging.

"I can be a good distraction. They- they know my face—"

She firmly cut him off. "No, I'm not losing you again."

"What if Peacekeepers are searching the houses?" Gale spoke up. Whether it was out of spite or concern, you couldn't tell. "And if he's captured—"

He barely got to finish his sentence before Peeta was hurriedly interrupting him. "Then give me a nightlock pill, okay? I'm not going back."

You inhaled a sharp breath. Unconsciously, your hand went to the side pocket you'd tucked your pill in. Peeta's words had reignited a fear in you that you thought you'd expelled, bringing back memories you didn't want to have at that specific moment.

Please- please, I don't want to play anymore.

You didn't know you had closed your eyes until you reopened them to Gale handing Peeta his nightlock pill. Katniss went to unlock his cuffs, and that's when you looked away, getting the feeling you were intruding on something private.

Instead your eyes went to the very person you were avoiding. You met Finnick's blue eyes easily. Pretty blue eyes the colour of the ocean, your favourite colour.

Your favourite person.

A smile crept onto your face without your knowing. This was exactly why you were supposed to be avoiding him, but as you watched your best friend with the boy she loved, disregarding everything just to say goodbye, you couldn't help but want to do the same. You knew you already said goodbye to him, but you were already running out of time; why waste what little of it you had left?

One last time, you told yourself, just one last time to drown in his ocean.

You made your way over to him across the room, and before you could even get a word out, he said, "I want to come with you, too." You opened your mouth to protest— "But I'm not gonna ask you to."

You furrowed your brows. "Wha—"

Finnick lazily draped an arm over your shoulder, yet at the same time there was nothing lazy about the action at all. That, coupled with him brushing strands of hair out of your face, made you go silent. He was quiet, too, just staring at you.

The way he was looking at you reminded you of the way he examined his surroundings in the Quell, trying to remember where everything was.

It was like he was trying to commit your face to memory.

After a moment, he explained, "I know you won't let me." Of course, you wouldn't.

You weren't gonna let him watch you die.

You sighed, "I'm sorry—" 

With his voice as soft as silk, he chided, "Don't be sorry." His lips quirked upward while he caressed your hair. "Just come back to me in one piece so we can have that talk?"

You tried your best to reciprocate his smile. "I will." Liar.

Terrified that he'd see through your façade, you pulled him in, wounding your arms around him tightly. He held you just as tight. Only when your face was no longer in his view did you screw your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

You'd stay like this forever if you could.

But you couldn't.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, which meant your time was up. You had to go now.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from Finnick's body, wanting to hold onto him for as long you could. By the time you fully let go, you felt like something was missing. And there was.

Finnick Odair would always hold your heart in his hands.

You flashed him one last smile before you turned around. You wouldn't say you loved him before you left, and perhaps you'd regret that, but if you heard him say it back, you didn't know if you'd have the willpower to leave.

Déjà vu crashed into you like a tidal wave. You lived this moment before, saying goodbye then turning your back and walking away.

I'll see you at midnight?

Yeah, I'll see you at midnight.

You didn't see him at midnight. But you came back. It wasn't the same you that came back, but you did, eventually.

You came back before.

This time, you wouldn't.

You and Katniss set off, finding the crowd immediately. It was a sea of people, impossible to miss. You joined them easily; if you were tentative, you'd get caught, so you had to march with them like you belonged.

There were dozens of Peacekeepers lining the sides of the path. When you glanced up, you found even more on the balconies of buildings, which quickly made you duck your head back down.

If you so much as removed your hood, they could identify you. And you refused to die before Snow did first.

The two of you were silent as you moved forward. There was that feeling in your chest again, the feeling that you were supposed to be saying something, but if anybody recognized your voice, you'd both be as good as dead. Katniss must've felt that pressure, too, but she didn't speak up about it, either.

On a whim, you glanced up ahead of you. You immediately regretted it when a child's eyes locked on yours.

Shit.

She was clutching onto a woman's shoulder—her mother's, you assumed. You prayed that she was too young to recognize you or too tired to make the connection, but then her head lifted up and you knew it didn't matter. 

She recognized you.

You glanced away from the kid before looking back. Her gaze didn't move but neither did her mouth.

She recognized you, but she wasn't going to say anything.

You were about to breathe a sigh of relief before Katniss tapped your arm, motioning ahead. Your eyes travelled to where she was gesturing, and you could've sworn your heart stopped.

Peacekeepers. 

They were checking people. You wouldn't get past them and you both knew it, so you swiftly turned around without another word. Except they were behind you, too, sweeping through the crowd.

Fuck.

You turned forward again, your heart and your mind racing in tandem to find a way out of this. You don't know what you could've possibly come up with.

You don't even think you were breathing.

Your fingers were inching their way to the gun on your hip just as a hand went to your shoulder. But before either of you could do anything, a loud boom sounded, sending you to the ground.

People were shouting everywhere all at once, mixing in with the music so you couldn't hear a thing. Your ears rang but you could still hear someone bellow, "It's the rebels!"

You glanced backward, and their yell was proven correct. A mob of rebels marched forward in a line, shooting at every guard in white they saw.

Another explosion reverberated through the battlefield, making you cup your ears. You couldn't hold back the pained cry that left you.

You looked forward, your eyes finding the same little girl from earlier, her yellow coat now tainted with dirt. She was kneeling above her mother's body, screaming. Tears sparked in your eyes.

That girl's mother was dead.

But you couldn't end up like her.

Quickly, you gathered your bearing, ushering Katniss up. "Come on!" She was stagnant, but as soon as you pulled her up, she was back from wherever she'd gone to. And then the two of you were running.

You jumped behind a barricade, only stopping momentarily. There was a Peacekeeper lying on the ground in front of you. Good, you thought. You could use his gun.

You untangled the rifle from his hands, kicking him down when he started moving. Then you were running forward again.

You ran like never before, stopping only to check that Katniss was still with you. Explosions went off on your way, shaking the ground. Some were too close, but you kept running.

Whether it was your sheer will or the adrenaline pumping through your body, you couldn't stop, not when you were so close. The gate was in your view now. You pushed through the crowd, not caring if your hood fell off in the process. There was too much chaos for anyone to notice.

The people were restless, a robotic voice trying and failing to pacify them. You were so busy climbing up a tank, trying to get a better a look at the palace, that you barely caught it. The gates will open momentarily, it was saying. The children will be received first. Stay calm. Bring your children forward.

That... that didn't sound right.

No, it did. It did sound right. It was right to bring the children forward first.

And that's exactly why it sounded wrong.

President Snow had never cared about children—why would he start now? It was puzzling; it didn't make any sense. But you couldn't make sense of it. You're forgetting why you're here, Y/N.

You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to your objectives and not watch as the Peacekeepers lifted children from their parents' arms, but then something else caught your attention.

Whirring.

Your eyes shot to the sky where there was a lone hovercraft flying, Panem's emblem painted onto the wings. Not one of yours.

The hovercraft flew by. You don't know what you could've possibly expected, but you certainly didn't expect for it to drop parachutes in its wake.

"Gifts from the Capitol!" someone cheered.

The pit in your stomach returned, no matter how hard you'd just tried to get rid of it. The parachutes fell like they were in slow motion. You couldn't tell if they were truly moving so slowly or if was just you.

The world seemed to stop. The dance seemed to stop. And then everything clicked.

But you were too late.

Your eyes widened. "No—"

BOOM.

You were thrown through the air, landing somewhere hard. The wind was knocked out of you. At first, you were choking on nothing until you finally gained the ability to wheeze. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

This time, you couldn't hear anything. No screams, no more shooting. No more music at all.

The music came to a screeching halt. The record didn't skip. It just stopped.

It occurred to you then that the fucking needle must've just scratched the vinyl, because the music restarted. But it wasn't the same.

You shot upward, coughing your lungs away and waving dust out of your face. You stumbled as you got up—that was a misstep. 

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing— 

Katniss. 

Where's Katniss?

Frantically, your eyes darted everywhere. She wasn't beside you. She wasn't in front of you. You spun around, dancing, and she wasn't behind you either.

You wanted to scream her name, but you didn't. She's fine, you reassured yourself. She had to be fine—she was right next to you when the bombs went off. You just had to find her.

Your eyes scanned the scene in front of you, just now really looking at it. Bodies littered the ground, medics and Peacekeepers alike rushing to the wounded. So many wounded. You'd never seen so many bodies in one place.

You looked for a woman in a blue cloak among them. You didn't find her. But you did find someone else that was oddly familiar.

A blonde. A young blonde in a medic's uniform.

You know, I used to be jealous of you.

Jealous of me?

No, that couldn't be—

You have a family that really loves you, that beautiful sister of yours.

You blinked as if it'd make her disappear, but when you opened your eyes, she was still there, not a figment of your imagination at all. She was there.

And then she wasn't.

You had just opened your mouth, but the words died in your throat. "Prim—"

It all happened faster than you could register it.

You saw the flames first. Light travelled faster than sound. Then you heard it—the explosion. And then you felt it. You felt it more forcefully than any of the other ones, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then you felt nothing.

The last time you awoke in the Capitol, you could feel that something bad was about to happen to you. Dread flowed through your veins like it was blood, infecting every part of you. It was as if a dark cloud hung over your head, a voice in your ear telling you to keep your eyes closed for as long as you could, to enjoy the rest while you still had it.

This time, your eyes fluttered open on their own accord. Your eyelids weren't as heavy. Your body wasn't as sore. But there was a still a weight on your chest.

The dread was still there.

Then the memories flooded back to you.

Bombs. And Primrose Everdeen.

No. You had to have been hallucinating.

With that thought, you blinked, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. The lights were fluorescent, but they weren't blinding like typical hospital lights—and there was an incessant beeping noise, but it wasn't very loud. You gathered that this wasn't a hospital room; it was more like a triage centre.

There was a shuffling to your right that you directed your attention to. It was a blonde woman tending to a sleeping brunette's wounds. You blinked again, and then you realized that brunette was Katniss. 

You let out a sigh of relief. She was okay.

Your eyes then immediately flickered to the other presence in the room. Haymitch stood between yours and Katniss' beds. He was already looking at you.

You didn't greet him; the two of you were past that. "Is it—"

"Yes." He seemed to understand without any explanation. Your eyes fell shut for a moment then, taking it in, and he let you.

The war was over.

You won.

But this didn't feel like winning.

When you opened your eyes, Haymitch seemed to already know what you were thinking. That's what you liked about him: no nonsense, no bullshit, no trying to sugarcoat something that was so clearly sour. Just straight to the point.

"It was over after the Capitol dropped those bombs to defend the Palace. Rebels took it right after." He paused, eyes glossing over with a look you knew all too well. "Everybody felt it—Peacekeepers, Palace guards... kids. It was, uh... it was over after that."

You could remember that. The children reaching up in the air, trying to grab what they thought were gifts from their beloved Capitol. Bombs exploded in their faces. You wondered if they were strong enough to kill on impact.

You hoped they were.

Children crying for their parents. Parents crying for their children. All of the sounds melded together eventually.

But you won. You won, didn't you?

Didn't you?

He changed topics. You think it was too hard for him to talk about, too, and that was almost absurd. You never thought you'd see the day that Haymitch Abernathy shied away from anything, yet here you were.

"Your injuries are minor," he told you. "Damage is superficial. You got off unscathed." Did you? "They wanted to take you right to the Palace, but I figured you'd want to change your own clothes." 

He said it casually, but the implication was there. That made you crack a smile, or at least the best smile you could give. "Thanks, H."

He nodded in acknowledgement but otherwise didn't mention it. The victors didn't talk about those sorts of things, not up until recently. You knew what happened to him, to his family, his girlfriend. And he always knew what was happening to you, but it was never spoken out loud. The things that happened in the dark were never meant to be brought under the spotlight.

So Finnick brought out the sun. And now, every secret, every body, and every monster under the bed was out in the open for everyone to see. 

You just never thought the sun would burn so much.

Your gaze travelled over to the blonde woman, still at work, applying some type of ointment to Katniss' neck. She hadn't said a word.

You suddenly realized that you were staring at Carine Everdeen.

You looked back to Haymitch, then Carine, then back at him, a question lying silently in your eyes. You opened your mouth, but you didn't need to. Haymitch just nodded, a solemn countenance overtaking his face. At his confirmation, you felt yourself physically deflate.

You weren't hallucinating.

Prim was dead.

You sat there with that information for a bit, unknowing of what to do with it. Katniss' innocent little sister was dead, caught in the crossfire of a fight she should've never had to live through. 

Katniss only ever volunteered to spare her sister.

And now she was dead, anyway.

She deserved to be acknowledged. You didn't know what to say, but she deserved the effort. Prim deserved the world.

Your voice was just barely above a whisper, hoarse from either the lack of use or remorse, perhaps both. "Mrs. Everdeen?"

Her hands paused mid-movement. She slowly turned around to look at you. Only, she wasn't looking at you. She wasn't really there.

You could count the number of times you spoke to Carine on one hand. It'd only ever been in passing, a hello here and there. She wasn't close with Katniss, therefore, she wasn't close with you. But right now, it didn't matter how close you were at all.

Somehow, everyone felt so faraway.

You swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

She was silent, but you could see every word she wasn't speaking in her eyes. Sadness, regret, anger, devastation. Grief. For a second, you could see her come back, but she was gone just as quickly as she reappeared.

"Me, too."

The ride from the triage centre to the Palace was all a blur. Somewhere in between everything, you got dressed into your own clothes, not the ones from 13. You briefly wondered how they got ahold of them.

Katniss was still there, sleeping. Maybe she woke up by now. You just needed to get out of there. Haymitch had told you that Finnick was en route, and you asked him to help you get out before he got there, to just tell him that they'd taken you to the Palace right away like they originally planned.

You didn't know why you did that, but you just knew you couldn't talk to him. Not yet.

They gave you a random room then left you there after you asked them to. You were sure they weren't supposed to do that, probably on Coin's orders, but the glare you sent them must've been real bad because they went scurrying out like mice.

You exhaled when they closed the door, finally alone. For a second, you felt like you could breathe again. And then you caught a glimpse of the bed and it was back to feeling like you were suffocating.

Crimson red sheets, gold accents. A ginormous velvet head board. A huge comforter that would likely warm you up— God, you were still so cold.

But you'd lied on a bed just like that before. And you were just as cold then, even with the warm body lying right next to you.

You cupped your mouth, knees buckling, but your other trembling hand grasped onto the chair right in front of you. You held onto that crest for dear life, simultaneously holding back a sob.

Calm down, Y/N. Just stop.

You were trying— you were fucking trying. But then your eyes zeroed in on items on the table in front of you. They blended in with the rest of the extravagant decor of this room, but once you saw them, it was all you could see.

A crown.

And a vase of fucking roses. 

You screamed, letting go of the chair and throwing the vase the ground, not caring if any of the shards hit you. The crown was next. Then you were tumbling down to the ground, too.

The dam in your eyes broke, tears flooding down your cheeks with no sign of stopping. Sobs wracked through your body.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. Not your legs. Not your back. Not your ears. Your heart. You clawed at your chest relentlessly, pleading for the pain to go away.

"Please," you cried. "Please make it stop." You don't know who you were crying to. You hadn't prayed in ages— you didn't even know what you believed in anymore. All you knew was that you were on your knees, begging for any God to listen.

But nobody answered.

You might've sat on the floor of that room for hours—you truly didn't know. You cried until you didn't have tears anymore, until you were numb. You just sat there after that, staring at the ground, at the crown you threw.

So much power that a single object had over you. It was a mask. A contract. A lie. A trick painted in gold. Your legacy.

It was your fucking poison.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they said. 

They didn't know the half of it.

After a while, you got sick of staring at it, forcing yourself up and immediately turning to the door. You were exhausted, sure, and you'd sleep eventually, but not on that bed.

You turned the knob on the door and shut it behind you, knowing it was unlikely that you'd return to it. You made your way through the Palace like it was second nature; you knew this place well. Dozens of parties and faux appearances would do that to you.

The Palace only held poor memories for you. Here, your life as a marionette began, and you hadn't known anything different since. What person would want to stay in a place like that, a place that symbolized the moment their life changed forever?

Getting reaped might've been when your life went downhill, but your life became Snow's the second you stepped into his home.

You found yourself pulling the French doors to the backyard open, wanting to feel a cold that didn't come from your own body. The ground was covered in a blanket of white that crunched beneath your feet. Only a thin jacket protected you from the air sharply licking your skin, but you welcomed the feeling.

You didn't know what you were doing, but when you saw two men guarding the Rose Garden, you couldn't help but be pulled to it, like you still had strings attached to your limbs.

You were just reaching the doors when one of the guards stepped in front of them, his hand out. "Sorry, Princess. Can't let you pass."

His statement caused you to intake a deep breath, whether it was from the actual statement itself or the name that so happened to spill from his lips. You had half a mind to argue with him—you weren't sure if you were in your right mind at all—until a familiar voice ordered, "Let her in." 

You turned your head, seeing Paylor stood on the steps you had just walked down.

If you were in a better state of mind, you might've smiled.

"On my authority. She has a right to anything behind that door."

You didn't smile, but you settled for a nod. You weren't sure if your eyes translated correctly, but when she nodded back, you knew she received your message.

You weren't just thanking her for this.

Without another thought, you turned back to the garden. The guards opened the glass doors for you, letting you in. Immediately, your nostrils were flooded with the rich scent of earth. Green plants and bushes were everywhere, the most vibrant colour of green you'd ever seen in your life. You wondered if light hit differently in the Capitol, allowing people to see colours you didn't have back home.

Then you thought back to how people here had ignored the black tendrils engulfing the city for so long, and you realized that: yes, light must have hit differently here. It was impossible to ignore the darkness otherwise.

White roses were everywhere. It made you sick, but you stopped the bile from rising. There were so many. You used to wonder why Snow seemed so obsessed with flowers, why he wore them on his person at all times, but you supposed it was no secret anymore.

Help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal.

Your eyes were trained on one of the roses when a voice cut through your daze. "That's a nice one."

Instantly, every part of your body stiffened, but you ignored every instinct screaming at you to spin around. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

"The colours are lovely, of course. But nothing says perfection like white." 

Your jaw locked, and you made good effort to relax it before you turned around. Seeing him there with that smile on his face nearly made you crumble, but you stood tall, echoing, "Ironic, isn't it? How a man so tainted tries to fool the world with an illusion of purity."

His grin only widened. "I was hoping you would find your way here. I knew you would." You wanted to slap the grin off his face and strangle him until the smugness in his voice disappeared. Your hands clenched by your sides, and judging by the way his eyes twinkled, he saw. 

He sat down on a ledge, musing, "You always were my greatest achievement."

The words were being spat from your mouth before you could stop them. "I am not your anything."

He tilted his head just ever so slightly, staring at you with pools of condescension as if telling you that wasn't true. It wasn't true, and he knew you knew it.

"I have a feeling your visit will be brief, so let's not waste our time, shall we?" You hated the way the word our rolled off his tongue, but you didn't show it on your face.

Snow cut himself off with a cough, bringing his handkerchief to his mouth. When he lowered it, it was spotted in blood. "Please offer my condolences to Ms. Everdeen about her sister." He tutted to himself. "So wasteful. So unnecessary."

You scoffed a humourless chuckle. "Really?"

"Why, yes, dear," he replied, shaking his head for effect. "Anyone could see the game was over by that point. In fact, I was just about to issue an official surrender when they released those parachutes."

A scowl crawled onto your face. "What the hell are you on about? You released those parachutes."

"You really think I gave the order?" He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes peering into your soul. You didn't once look away. "We both know I'm not above killing children. But I am not wasteful." He stressed the word like it was disgraceful to him. "I take life for... specific reasons. And there was no reason for me to destroy a pen full of Capitol children— none at all—"

He was cut off by another cough. It did little to disturb you; you were already disgusted from the moment he began talking. Every word he spoke was careful and calculated. Listening to him explain his rhyme and reason wasn't something you were interested in. What reason could he possibly have for what he'd done?

He took the lives of everyone he met. Every person you cared about had fallen victim to his schemes. Katniss. Johanna. Peeta. Finnick. He took your mother's life— he took your life.

There was nothing he could say to ever make you understand his perspective.

Once he stopped coughing and looked back up at you, the smile was right back on his face like it never left. "I must concede, it was a masterful move on Coin's part," he admitted. The second he uttered Coin's name, you tensed even more than you thought possible. Humour laced through his voice. "The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children to hold back the rebels... it turned the last of my guards against me. There was no resistance left inside the Capitol or the mansion." He leaned forward again, like he was letting you in on a little secret. "Do you know it aired live? There's a... particular savvy in that, isn't there?"

You were afraid that, if he kept talking, you wouldn't be able to hold back the bile in your throat. He's crazy. This was Coriolanus Snow, a man who rose to the top by knocking down anything or anyone that stood in his way. You couldn't trust a word that came out of his mouth.

Yet you were still compelled to listen to him.

The moment you met Coin flashed behind your eyes as you blinked. You felt the sensation of shaking her hand all over again. Every encounter you ever had with her ran through your mind.

You thought back to when you were in 2 and her and Commander Lyme disagreed.

You've been underground a long time, Madam Coin. This isn't like the rest of Panem. Support for the Capitol runs deep here.

Then there is no sacrifice too great.

Snow pulled you out of your trance. "I'm sure she wasn't gunning for that Everdeen girl, but... these things happen in war." It was as if he could see the gears in your head spinning out of control.

Spinning, spinning, spinning— 

"My failure was in being so slow to grasp Coin's plan," he proclaimed. "She let the Capitol and the districts destroy one another, then she stepped in to take power with 13's arsenal. Oh, make no mistake." He chuckled. "She intends to take my place now."

Your skin was crawling. You felt the urge to rip it off.

Something about his smile became more harrowing, like he was placing down his final piece on the chess board. "But I've been watching you. And you watching me." You dug your nails into your skin. "I'm afraid we've both been played for fools."

No. 

No.

"You're lying." You didn't even sound convincing to yourself.

He tutted once more. "Y/N, my dear, I may have done many things, but have I ever once lied to you?"

You were gonna be sick. You turned around before he could see the tears gathering in your eyes.

This was over.

You went for the door, but just as you were about to knock on it and alert the guards, Snow stopped you in your tracks. "I see so much of myself in you, Y/N."

You felt your lips tremble, but not a single tear raced down your cheek. You didn't allow it.

Slowly, you turned around, your voice quiet but firm. "I am nothing like you," you avowed—to him and to yourself.

You didn't spend another second wasting your time looking at him, going to knock on the door as he broke into a fit of coughing. That coughing transformed into laughter.

Snow laughed maniacally as you left the garden and didn't stop. You could hear him laughing as you powered through his backyard, echoing in the empty space.

And even when you were back inside the Palace, his laugh still followed you.

You found a random hallway in the mansion, the first one that didn't remind you of anything, and you immediately went to the wall closest to you, leaning your forehead against it and inhaling a shaky breath.

Get your shit together, you scolded.

You already broke down once today. You didn't deserve another breakdown— no, you couldn't afford another breakdown. You needed time to think.

Did you believe Snow? Was this just his last way of fucking with you before he died, trying to get the last laugh by absolving himself of the blame? He had to know that he'd reached the end of the line, that he'd be dying at your hands.

He lost, and you won. The war was over—all that was left to do was kill him.

Katniss' voice suddenly rang through your head. This isn't right, she'd said, mourning the possibility of innocent life being lost before it even happened. You remembered your response to that, too.

It's fire catching, Everdeen.

A shiver ran through your body. Was this what fire catching looked like? Children dying. Hundreds of people with their lives forever altered—hundreds of people injured or killed by those bombs going off. Fire caught onto them.

This didn't feel like a win. Mulling over Snow's accusations in your head, it all made sense. There were no victors in an arena. You deluded yourself into thinking this was anything other than a game while Coin was playing her winning card.

You remembered what it was like in the arena, surviving off of ruthlessness, uncaring of what'd happen to anyone else as long as it meant you got to win.

But this wasn't meant to be a game. 

I see so much of myself in you, Y/N.

You didn't want to be like that anymore. You didn't want to play anymore.

"Y/N?"

You turned around, being met with the Girl on Fire standing across from you on the other side of the hallway. That was the name Caesar gave her from her first Tribute Parade, but you no longer found it appropriate.

The Girl on Fire was the girl who volunteered in place of her sister.

The woman that stood in front of you now had her sister killed by the very thing that once defined her.

You made it a point to never call her that again.

Katniss Everdeen was her name. She was The Mockingjay. And somehow, she became your best friend. So then and there, as you stared at one another, you knew that you had to tell her what Snow said, regardless of what you believed.

Softly, you told her, "We have to talk."

Yet no matter how soft your voice was, you don't think anything could have ever softened the blow.

Katniss took you to her room, and there, you told her everything. When you were done explaining, she looked so empty but so full of so many emotions at the same time. 

Do you believe it? she asked you.

I don't know, you responded. I don't know.

You sat there with her and gave her time to absorb it, not saying another word. The two of you sat there in silence until Gale came and fetched you, saying that Coin wanted to speak with you both.

You got up and left the room but closed the door on your way out. She wanted to talk to him—she needed to. 

You were there waiting for her when she was done, and you pretended you didn't watch Gale leave the room with tears in his eyes. 

Side by side, you walked to Snow's cabinet room with you leading the way. No one told you it'd be there, but you had a strong suspicion that that'd be Coin's choice. When you found two armed guards in front of the double doors, you were proven correct—and you didn't know why that unnverved you so much.

About 20 feet away from the doors, you held your arm out in front of Katniss, effectively stopping her. You had sat in silence with her for who knew how long, but now was one of those moments when you felt like you had to say something, and you were gonna take it before you got within earshot of those guards.

You stepped in front of her slightly so you could look at her, and for a moment, you lost your footing. It wasn't like you saw Katniss anything other than indifferent often, but this look struck you to the core. 

Perhaps it was the thin line of her lips. Maybe it was the emptiness in her eyes, no emotion in sight. Or maybe it was how you felt like you were staring into a mirror.

But she deserved so much better than being you.

Katniss Everdeen deserved the justice you never had.

You didn't know how to say all of this, nor did you know if she was in the headspace to listen, so you made sure she was looking at you when you spoke. "Do what you have to do," you whispered.

She stared at you for a few seconds, empty, but in all the darkness of her eyes you could see a faint light shine. Clarity.

She understood.

She gave you a small nod, and then you were moving out of the way, finishing your walk to the conference room. You might've been vague, but you knew your point was received. Whatever she wanted to do from this point forward, you'd stand by it.

The ball was in her court now.

The men in front of the doors gave you short nods of acknowledgement before stoically opening the doors. When they did, you weren't met only with Coin. This was a room full of victors.

And even though you suspected they hadn't been chatty before you entered, they were now radio silent.

Your eyes immediately locked with Finnick's, and you would've exhaled if you weren't under the microscope. He's okay. He's okay, and you knew that already, Y/N. You knew he was okay, but being told that wasn't the same as seeing him in person.

You didn't think you'd get to see those blue eyes again.

But you were.

Finnick flashed you a soft smile. It wasn't his classic Finnick smile, the one he'd throw at cameras and crowds. He was visibly exhausted, but he still found it in himself to smile at you.

It was the least you could do to smile back, even if it wasn't as dazzling as his.

"What's this?" the brunette beside you questioned, knocking you out of your trance. Her voice was cold and detached, but you noticed something now that wasn't there before. Deep underneath that ice was red, hot anger.

From Coin's response, you doubted she caught it. "The remaining victors." She gestured to the table. "Won't you join us?" Behind her, Johanna held out her arms, too, a mocking smile on her face that would've made you laugh if you weren't so tired.

You followed Katniss' lead, taking the last two seats at the table while also taking a cursory glance of the room. Beetee, Enobaria, Haymitch, Johanna, Finnick, Peeta, and Annie. You frowned. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon, not back in the Capitol—probably never back in the Capitol. But she glanced at you and you smiled, anyway.

"I have invited you all here for several reasons, but first, I have an announcement." Both Coin's words and her tone of made you look back at her, but then something else caught your attention.

Even under the glare of all the chandeliers in the room, you could still see the glint in her eye.

"I have taken the burden and the honour of declaring myself interim President of Panem." 

Oh, you could've laughed. Even though there wasn't a single thing funny about it.

You settled for narrowing your eyes; meanwhile, Haymitch scoffed. "Interim? Exactly how long is that interim?"

Coin's hands remained clasped on the table, and she didn't flinch. "We have no way of knowing for certain. But it's clear that the people are far too emotional right now to make a rational decision." Her voice was calm and collected, if not condescending. "We'll plan an election when the time is right."

You hummed, and even though she undoubtedly heard you, she ignored it.

"But I have called you here for a far more important vote." She finally look her hands off the table, leaning back. "A symbolic vote." 

Everyone in this room is a symbol in some way, you thought, but you held your tongue. Symbols didn't mean much to people who had been turned into nothing more than just that, but the thought must've escaped her.

"This afternoon, we will execute Snow. Hundreds of his accomplices also await their deaths. Capitol officials, Peacekeepers, torturers, Gamemakers. But the danger is, once we begin, the rebels will not stop calling for retribution." Dread crept into your stomach. Whatever she was going to propose, you wouldn't like it. "Thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy. So... I offer an alternative plan. Majority of five may approve it— no one may abstain." She gave you a pointed glance. "The proposal is this. In lieu of these barbaric executions, we hold a symbolic Hunger Games."

Somehow, the room got quieter.

You fought to keep your face impassive—though, you were unknowing if you succeeded. You could only hope that the years of pretending paid off.

In lieu? What the hell did that mean? She wanted to spare a horde of evil people in exchange for the lives of innocents? That didn't make any sense.

But then you realized, powerful people. It'd be sparing powerful people. 

Johanna broke the silence with a laugh. It bounced off the decorated walls like rubber. "You wanna have another Hunger Games with— the Capitol's children?"

Peeta monotoned, "You're joking."

"Not in the slightest," Coin responded.

You glanced at Katniss. She was mute, just staring staring straight at Coin. They all might've thought she was in shock, grieving, but you knew the truth.

It was all falling into place for her.

Finnick let out a scoff. "Is this Plutarch's idea?"

If you didn't know any better, you would've thought the look on Coin's face was offense and not pride. "It was mine." There was another scoff in the room, probably from Haymitch that time. "It balances the need for revenge... with the least loss of human life."

The least loss of valuable of human life.

"You may cast your votes—"

"No," Peeta cut her off immediately, voting first. "No, obviously not. This is crazy."

"I think it's more than fair," Jo chimed in. "Snow's got a granddaugter. I say yes." You didn't judge her for that answer, even if you didn't agree with it. All of you had felt pain at the hands of the Capitol, but you couldn't possibly imagine condemning anyone else to the same fate.

Capitol children or not, they were still children. They weren't symbols; they were human. And you refused to join any line of thinking that said otherwise.

"So do I," Enobaria said, her red lips curving into a smile that made you remember when those lips were once coated in blood. "Let them have a taste of it."

"You guys, this way of thinking is what started these uprisings." Peeta's voice was incredulous.

Annie spoke up. "I vote no. With Peeta." Despite the decision in her tone, she cast a worried glance your way right after. Why haven't you said anything? her eyes read.

You looked away from them.

"No," Beetee voted. "We need to stop viewing each other as enemies." 

Finally, the voice you were waiting for sparked. "You have to be kidding me right now." Finnick had a baffled smile on his face, and you had a feeling he was going to start saying a few choice words.

And you didn't know why just yet, but you couldn't let him.

Before he could get his vote in, you blurted, "Yes." His head immediately snapped to yours, and you felt instant regret when his eyes met yours. In the swirls of all the blue, you could see betrayal.

The bile that you worked so hard to suppress earlier was back rising, but you wouldn't let it leave. He had to understand. You had to make him understand. 

You kept your eyes on his, no matter how sick it made you feel, pleading to him silently. His own words echoed through your head.

Please just trust me.

Trust you to do what?

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

You did. You trusted him, even when you didn't understand it at all, and now you were just begging him to return the favour.

You closed your for a brief second. Please just trust me, Finnick.

"Yes." Your eyes flew wide open to see him already looking at you. He maintained your stare before looking back to Coin. "You've got my yes, too."

He said yes. But really, he was saying so much more than that.

I trust you.

Coin nodded, disclosing, "It's down to Katniss and Haymitch." Majority of five. Only one of them had to say yes for her plan to take off, and you already knew which one of them it'd be.

Coin's eyes narrowed while Katniss remained expressionless, and in that moment, it was clear that The Hunger Games wasn't the one Coin was proposing. It was this, and President Coin was the Gamemaker and engineer behind it all. This was a game of cat and mouse.

Only Coin wasn't the cat.

After a beat of silence, Katniss finally spoke. "I get to kill Snow," she dictated.

A few pairs of eyes flitted to you, but you only focused on one of them. Coin glanced at you, and when you didn't object, she obliged, "Of course."

The room was back to silence, but your mind was anything but. What you heard were strings, brass, percussion, and a whole orchestra of instruments. A cacophony of noise and voices singing about a necklace of hope, only getting louder, and louder, and louder, and louder—

And then the beat dropped.

"Then I vote yes." That's five. For the first time since you entered the room, there was a crack in Katniss' voice. "For Prim."

That was nearly a warning, but if Coin caught the edge to her voice, she didn't say anything about it. You think she was so consumed by satisfaction that she wouldn't have been able to notice, anyway.

She turned her attention to Haymitch if not just to stay true to her words. No one may abstain. "Haymitch?"

Katniss and Haymitch shared a gaze for a few seconds, and then he looked to you, and to Finnick, before he was looking back to Coin. He didn't agree with this, but he still lied, "I'm with the, uh, Mockingjay."

Coin nodded, poorly stifling a smile. You wondered how anyone could smile at the news of a slaughter. "That carries the vote. Excellent. We'll announce The Games tonight after the execution."

And that was it. She got what she wanted. She won.

But as you glanced at Katniss to see the emptiness returning to her eyes, you had a feeling that wouldn't last very long.

Stylists brought you to your room and did your hair for you, taking the locks and forming them into the braided updo that the people had grown to love. It was a crown—that's why they liked it so much. You would've preferred to leave your hair as it was, but you compromised that you'd do the hair if they didn't make you wear that ridiculous costume.

Cinna was an impeccable designer, but if you could go forever without wearing that suit, it'd still be too soon.

On your way into your room, the stylists ignored the broken glass on the floor, stepping over it and sending each other looks that they thought were discreet. They weren't.

When they saw the crown lying on the floor, too, they didn't dare ask you to wear it.

They left soon after little small talk, though you didn't think they blamed you. You looked like shit before they got to fixing you up, making you look like you'd actually slept. 

Your lips were no longer pale, coated in lipstick that didn't look like lipstick. You supposed the "natural" element was part of the Princess façade. They did something that made your cheeks look less hollow and more rosy, and they concealed the bags under your eyes pretty nicely.

Now, you looked like the Princess.

But she doesn't exist, a voice reminded you. She's not you.

You tilted your head at the woman in the mirror. She wasn't your reflection; she was a mirage. You didn't see yourself in any of it, but you didn't see yourself before they added all the glamour, either. 

Who are you, Y/N?

You swore to yourself you'd find out.

After slipping on your coat, you left the room, promising never to see it again. You were walking to the front when you saw a woman in five inch heels and silvers tassles exiting a room, a big blonde wig on her head with sharp silver ticks pinned into it that looked like they could stab her if she fell the wrong way.

She glanced to the side and saw you before you could greet her, beating you to it. "Oh, Y/N!" A big grin came to her face as she marched her way over to you, heels clicking against the floor adamantly. You think she would've skipped if she could've. 

Her arms wrapped themselves around your frame before you could even think about protesting. "How lovely it is to see you!" she exclaimed.

Your humour trumped your discomfort, making you laugh and reciprocate the hug. "Hi, Effie." When she pulled away, you were quick to cut to the chase, knowing she'd talk your ear off for ages if you gave her the chance. You nodded to the doors she walked out of. "Is Katniss in there?"

"Oh, yes— yes, dear!" She ushered you to the doors. "Go right ahead!"

"Thank you." Effie uttered something along the lines of 'no problem' before opening the doors and practically closing them within the same breath.

The smile that was on your face promptly dropped when you saw Katniss, looking no better than earlier, but you made quick work to bring it back. "Hey, Everdeen." You tried to make your voice light, but the heaviness in the air didn't dissipate.

She turned to you after just a second too long, almost like she hadn't heard you. A grimace crossed her face, but you could tell it was her attempt at a smile.

You stood there for a bit, keeping your hands at your sides. There wasn't much more to say—this was it. After this, you didn't know what'd happen. What would life even be like without being crushed by the Capitol's thumb? Would you go home? Did you even have one?

You didn't know how any of this would play out, but you did know that whatever ending Katniss wrote, it would likely end in the two of you separating. You'd both go home, and you'd no longer see the girl you got so used to. Realistically, you'd only been in close quarters for a month, but before that, you were isolated. Katniss helped you get acclimated with the revolution and gave you hope for a better world, and now you'd be going into it without her.

She wouldn't be at your side anymore, but you wanted her to know that you'd be standing behind her regardless.

In two strides, you were embracing her in your arms before you could think better of it. She froze, stiffening, and you were just about to let go and apologize when she engulfed you with the exact same fervour.

Your lips curved upward, and that time, it wasn't forced.

Eventually, you pulled back, resting your hands on her forearms. Her eyes didn't look so empty anymore. 

You wanted to thank her for everything she'd done for you without knowing it, for saving your life in more ways than one. You wanted to tell her you loved her.

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off before you could even try. "I know." She nodded, the slighest quirk of her lips visible. "I know." Pause. "Me, too."

She knew. You didn't need to say it, and neither did she. 

Things weren't okay—they probably wouldn't be for a while, but in that moment, you knew they'd get better one day, even if you wouldn't be around each other to see it.

You nodded back at her, and you squeezed her arms one last time, whispering, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Katniss."

And then you were letting her, walking away and leaving her alone while you still could. If you'd stayed any longer, you don't know if you would've left.

There was nothing left unsaid, and those were the best kinds of endings. But it was an ending, and that left you with bittersweet feelings you couldn't name.

Deep down, you knew you probably wouldn't see her again, and perhaps that was why you didn't meet the cars waiting for you at the front. If that was the last you saw her, you wanted that to be your last encounter.

And, so, your last memory of Katniss Everdeen was in that room.

The word revolution, in the least words possible, meant change. That's what'd been happening for months now, if not years, and your reality was on the cusp of being turned on its head.

Yes, things changed.

And yet some things never did.

West of the city, there was a big lake; you found yourself there when you were supposed to be watching Snow's execution. A certain part of you was disappointed that you wouldn't get to watch him die; it was all you wanted ever since you got to 13, your sole motivation for staying alive.

But the other part of you was relieved. He would die, yes, but he wouldn't see you again before he did. He wouldn't get another chance to exercise his power over you ever again. So instead of being there, you were here, watching the water.

It reminded you of home. Back in your days at the Capitol, you didn't get do much sight-seeing of the city. You'd be brought in for a day or two, really only for the nights, and then you'd be sent back by morning. But once you met Finnick, he started walking around with you, and some nights you'd end up here.

You'd stare at the lake together in silence. Back then, the water was as close to freedom as you'd ever get. You supposed that was one of the things that did change.

You were free now.

What does that mean?

You pondered over that question for a while. For so long, you dreamed of even just tasting freedom; the thought was unattainable for so long, but now it was in your hands and you didn't know what you'd do.

The war was over.

But it wasn't.

The fight was over for you, but that didn't mean it was over for anyone else. Homes were destroyed. People were dead, and even more people were left here just to grieve. The nation was broken.

What did that make you if you just went home and left things like this? Maybe you'd done enough. Maybe you should just go home and retire the crown, finally get the rest you'd been longing for. But you didn't want that.

Who are you, Y/N?

Maybe you could be more than Panem's Princess.

"Y/N."

You were startled by the call of your name, spinning around. When you were met with eyes that matched the water behind you, you were calmed down.

"Finnick." A smile graced his face, eliciting one from you like it was contagious. "Hi."

"Hi." So many words to say, and yet that was the only one that either of you said. 

He walked up to you, turning his gaze to the lake, and just like old times, you did the same. Just like old times, the two of you stared out at the water without saying a thing. Just like old times, for a little while, you were just Y/N, and he was just Finnick.

And just like old times, all of that came to an end eventually.

"You weren't at the execution," he said at one point.

"No," you replied. "I wasn't."

"But you already know what happened." It was set up like a question, but it wasn't.

You turned to see him already looking at you. His eyes weren't angry; they were just curious. You quirked one side of your lips upward. "I had a feeling." Judging by his statement, your feeling was correct. Your lips quickly drooped downward. "Is—"

He nodded before you could finish. "Katniss is alright." A breath of relief left you. "Paylor's gonna pardon her eventually. She'll probably be taking over." That confirmed it.

Coin was dead. And Snow was, too.

When you got your bearings, you shrugged. "I'd vote for her." You might've said it just to bring some humour to the conversation, but it wasn't a joke. You had no doubts that Commander Paylor would lead the nation with courage.

Finnick chuckled, agreeing, but as soon as he stopped, the light disappeared, reminding you of the weight of the conversation you were about to have. You didn't think you'd even be alive to have it, but you were, and now there was no avoiding it. 

He must've seen the shift in your demeanour. "Y/N—"

"I love you," you breathed, cutting him off. If you were gonna have this talk, then that was the way you needed to start it. "I love you, and I have loved you for years. I'm so happy that I get to say it out loud now, because I never thought I'd get to, but Finnick, I—" the quivering of your lips made you stop. Realization dawned on his face, and that made tears come to your eyes. "I don't think love is enough."

He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hands. You let him. "Y/N—"

A tear raced down your cheek. "I don't know who I am when I'm not pretending. I lost myself trying to love you," you confessed, more tears falling down your face, but in the blur, you could see tears in his eyes, too. "I need to find myself again. I'm not— I'm not in the right headspace for a relationship right now, and it wouldn't be fair to you to jump right into one like everything's okay." Your voice shook. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

You were just about to pull your hands away when he squeezed them tighter. "No, I can— I can wait."

Your chest tightened as you held back a sob. He was so frantically trying to hold onto you when he shouldn't have been. You shook your head. "No, you don't understand. I need to stay here— I need time—"

"I can give you time!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking, simultaneously cracking your heart. "I can stay here— I can wait. Y/N, I will wait forever for you if you need me to."

This time, the sob did leave you, and there was nothing you could do stop it. "You shouldn't have to! You should just go be happy—"

"I can't be happy without you," he argued, stepping even closer to you like his every action was begging you to see his perspective. 

At his interruption, more sobs fell from your lips, and he promptly pulled you into his chest. Instinctually, your arms wrapped around his torso, and his hands went to your head, caressing your hair as you cried.

You cried, and cried, and cried, and he held you all through it, letting you soak his shirt with your tears. He held onto you tightly, and not just physically, either.

Finnick Odair would never let you go.

Never again.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, you calmed down. You don't remember when you did or what happened after that, but eventually, your eyes were fluttering open to a white ceiling. Your hands grasped at your surroundings, feeling linen scrunch beneath your fingertips.

You glanced to the side where a big window was, light shining in from the moon. You furrowed your brows. How long were you out—and where were you?

Slowly, you stood up, soreness hitting your body immediately. You held back a hiss. Sleep must've given the bruises time to marinate; you decided to ignore it.

You walked through what was clearly a bedroom and opened the door. It opened into a hallway; noise was coming from the left, so that's where you went.

You didn't know what exactly you were expecting when you reached the end of the hall, but it certainly wasn't Finnick in front of a stove, frying something out of view. 

"Finnick?"

He turned around, eyes widening. "Oh, hey— let me just—" your brows raised as he turned back to the stove, picking up the pan and dropping its contents onto two plates on the counter. Eggs. You blinked, and memories flashed underneath your eyelids of scenes just like this one.

You didn't think you'd ever see him cooking again.

When you opened your eyes, he was back to facing you, a sheepish smile on his face that looked just a touch out of place. "Sorry, I was cooking us some food." He gestured behind him then added, "Since you can't."

You scoffed, almost like you hadn't just been bawling your eyes out, almost like you were back at home and everything was still fine. "Okay, first of all, screw you—" he let out a chuckle, "second of all, thank you. And third of all, where the hell are we right now?" Your eyes scanned the area; this wasn't a hotel room. It was an apartment. "Last I remember, we were at the lake."

"This used to be Cressida's old place," he explained. "Said we could crash here as long as we wanted. She doesn't really wanna be here either way."

"Oh." We. We could crash here, he said. You were brought back to reality. "Finnick—"

"Let's eat," he cut you off, an easygoing smile on his face. Easygoing, but not easy. You could see the nerves churning behind his expression, so with a sigh, you nodded, letting him lead you to the dinner table and pull out your chair.

You told yourself you did it for him. But really, you wanted to prolong this for a little while longer, too.

He put your plate and cutlery in front of you. You wondered how he managed to procure eggs that weren't expired, but you didn't ask him aloud. You just picked up your fork and started eating.

Whether it was your hunger or your desire to hold onto this, you stayed silent as you ate. You even caught Finnick eating slower than usual; he wanted to hold onto this, too. He was determined to do so.

You and Finnick did what you did best: you pretended. You pretended that you didn't just lose it and cry yourself to the point of passing out. You pretended that you didn't have to talk after this. You pretended that you were still living in the life you had before the Quell, eating dinner every night just like this. And in remembering those dinners, you pretended that you weren't pretending then, too.

But you couldn't pretend forever.

You finished your food first and waited for Finnick to finish his. He took his time, and you let him. You let him twiddle with his fork when he was done, and then you let him take your plates and wash them afterwards. And once they were on the drying rack and he had no more excuses, you stood up from your chair with reality ready to spill from your lips.

"Finnick—"

He took no more than second to get to you. "Please, just— hold on." 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "We can't avoid this forever."

"I know." Despite the shake in his voice, there was undeniable resolution in it. "And if... if what you said is really what you want, I'll give it to you." Out of sheer surprise, your eyes opened. The face you loved so much looked pained, but he still gave you a smile. This time, you could tell it wasn't real; it was purely for your sake. "There are countless things I need to apologize to you for, and I'd spend the rest of my life making it all up to you if you let me, but I'd do anything for you. So if what you want is for me to walk out that door right now, I'll do it." He swallowed, like he was scared out of his mind. "I just want to ask you one thing first."

The rational side of your mind screamed at you not to entertain it, to say no and get him to leave while you could both still bear it. He was willing to give you an out—that's what you wanted.

Was that what you wanted?

No, what you wanted was to feel better, and sometimes, Finnick did that, but other times, he did the exact opposite. Most times, the rational you corrected. Most times, he made you feel worse. But the happiness he gave you in those few times overrode everything else.

The other version of you, the one that remembered the good just as equally as the bad, nodded and gave him the greenlight.

He enveloped your hands in his, and the warmth made you realize just how cold you were. "Dance with me," he pleaded. "Dance with me and then decide."

No. Don't do it—

Transfixed by the way he was staring at you, you found yourself agreeing and ignoring your inner voice. "One dance," you told him.

The smile on his face became a grin. Real. This time, it was real. "That's all I'll ask," he promised. You took his word for it.

One last dance. 

He led you to the open area between the kitchen and the living room, keeping your hands in his hold and pulling you closer. You rested your head on his, listening to his heart rattle against his ribcage. God, you missed that sound. 

You missed this.

Finnick swayed you slowly to the music, nothing external or tangible, but the music you were dancing to was more real than any song you'd ever heard.

You realized now that the rational you was right. Finnick set his trap, and you lied in it. Because now that you remembered what this felt like, how could you willingly give it up? How could you ever leave?

The song might've been filled with heightening moments, and there might've been times when you just wanted to throw the damn record player into the wall, but it was your song. 

And this was your dance.

Minutes passed before you pulled away. Finnick's hands immediately tightened on yours, and you squeezed them right back. You were pulling away, but the song wasn't over.

It wouldn't be over for a long time.

You warned him, "It's gonna be a lot of work, Finnick."

"I'm okay with that."

"We had a life back home— you had a life. I wouldn't be blaming you if you wanted to go back to it." 

He was shaking his head before you were even done speaking, eyes earnestly poring into yours. "I'll build any life so long as it's with you."

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt or lying but found none. When you were sure that you believed what he was saying, that he believed what he was saying, you released the smile you were holding back.

"Okay."

His eyes widened. "Okay?"

An involuntary giggle left you. "Yeah. Okay—" without warning, he picked you up and was twirling you around, making you squeal. "Finnick!"

Your laughs resounded throughout the apartment, and when he put you down, it was just to engulf you in his arms again. You wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to kiss you, but you'd have to work your way back up to that.

And eventually, you would.

No, your song wasn't over.

It was just restarting.

In district 12, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark stood inside their home. They started to live together after some time had passed, and while they weren't a couple at that moment, they were still together. That was more than enough for the both of them.

Katniss chopped up vegetables for the dinner they'd be having later with Haymitch while Peeta read her a letter, addressed to them both. They didn't get mail often, not in 12, so they didn't know entirely what was happening with everyone else, but this letter informed them of all that they'd missed.

You'll be happy to hear that Katniss' mother has been training new medical units in the Capitol. Thanks to her, we'll be able to heal many more people at a much faster rate.

Gale has been promoted to a captain in district 2 to help keep order and security. He's doing well there.

Johanna has gone back to district 7 where she is taking the healing process one day at a time. She'll take as much time as she needs.

Annie and Julian are back in 4, along with Mags. They spend every day loving their son the way we all should've been loved, and it's a beautiful sight to see.

I am in the Capitol. I run a centre for children all over Panem who have lost their parents. One of the children has been staying with me personally for a while; she reminds me of you, Katniss. I'm thinking of adopting her.

Finnick has been here with me. We're happy together. One day, not any time soon, but some day, I'm gonna marry him, and the two of you better be there for the wedding.

We've all suffered so much. But we owe it to the memories of everyone we've lost to do our best with these lives. 

I hope you're both finding some peace.

As Peeta read the last lines, Katniss smiled for the first time in a long time.

Sincerely,

Y/N

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons @hnslchw @unholyhuntress @aclmagic @gloryekaterina @ayme301 @lem0ns77 @kisskittenn @onlyangel-444 @moonagedaydream505 @spderm4nnnn @satellitespeirs @glitzcute @iammirrorball @corpsebasil @forever-sleepy-sloth @omwtkydttfym @divinelovers @maggiecc @i-am-a-simp1 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @nelliereadsstuff @how2besalty @dreaminglandsworld @eilaharmonia @catvader101 @lexa138 @h0neylemon @dakotali @hermionelove @theseerbetweenus @whosscruffylooking @yourdailymemedelivery @emma-andrea1 @s1lngwns @meenyminymoes-blog @roxi-reid @rattertatter @sunnybunnyy2 @just-levyy @amaranth-writing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @joshhutchersonisdaddy @my-name-is-baby @hehehe13356 @quazsz @chloecharms23 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thehairington86 @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @ment1tavoid @hereliesme @tayrae515 @mottergirl99 @blackdxggr @giverosespls @erindiggory @feyretopia @bibliosaurus @sleila @soursonnets @blackoutdays13 @lovelyteenagebeard @nj01 @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @marimba375 @willow-g-1 @blahablah2 @inatimate-icarus @shoebillcuicui @scoliobean @awritingtree @h-------n @yoonki-bored @miserablebl00d @iloubr @fairytales007 @beannnnnnnn @dominicfikexoxo @aclmagic @helaenaluvr @ravenmedows @bigdolldoeeyesgirl to all taglist members, tell me if you want to be added to my finnick taglist overall! thank you for reading my fic, and thank you for enjoying it enough to even ask to be on the taglist.

additional a/n: see what i did there at the end—our song and DANCE ;) you guys, this is it. the song is over (for us at least). i'm in a mix of like pride and sadness. this has quite literally taken a year to finish. it's one of my fav things i've written to date, and at one point, it was the only thing i was writing. to those of you that have stuck around to the end, thank you. i really hope u enjoyed the series and its ending! i'm thinking of writing little blurbs for this and whatnot if ur interested, all revolving around their journey. eventually, i'll post a list of canons ab y/n and where i think she ends up. once again, thank you all so much for your support. reading your comments has never failed to make me smile. i love you!! have a great day.

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Foot Prints in the Snow

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: pregnancy, fluff, ooc! Ghost, cursing? I mean It’s ghost.

An: second Ghost fic and I’ve already succumbed to having a baby fever-induced fic 😔 also this is short so let me know if you guys want a part 2. This is based off a tik tok i saw of this guy making footprints for his girlfriend in the snow so she doesn’t slip🥹

(I promise for you guys waiting for part two of great timing, I swear it’s coming out soon😭🫶🏼)

“Its just slush Sargent, you’ll be fine.”

“Nuh-uh, I’ve fallen one too many times on my ass Ghost. One more fall and I will break my tailbone.” You grip onto the railing already feeling your feet starting to slide underneath the slushy snow.

Ghost sighs and walks back over to you, he turns back around, his back facing you, before he takes a step and shimmies his foot side to side before lifting it and taking another step and repeating his actions leaving visible footprints on the ground, making the gravel more accessible to get more traction on the ground. You didn’t have to ask your lieutenant what he was doing, he was making a clear track for you to follow without walking in the slush.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart skipped a beat when you realized Ghost was putting in the effort to help you out instead of just leaving you to deal with not having to fall on your ass. As you began to follow him setting your foot in the tracks he left, you could see how your foot couldn’t fill his footprints entirely. You focused your eyes on the tracks below and soon enough the tracks lead right up to the passenger side of the car door and leading off to the other side where Ghost made his way to the driver side without sparing you a glance and acknowledgment for what he just did for you, like it was nothing.

“You really should get some boots or even ice cleats to walk in this weather, sneakers aren’t going to help you.” He says unlocking the car.

You smile and open the car door, “Why would I when I have you to help me out now.” You say sliding into your seat as Ghost starts to turn on the car.

You hear him huff out a laugh with but miss the way his gaze lingers on you for a second too long.

~~~~~

“You’re up late.” A deep voice booms through the darkness of the lounge room, the lights off with only the source of light coming from the fridge and moonlight seaping through the windows.

You’re squatted down as you rummaging through the fridges contents, at the sudden intrusion of silence from Ghost you gasp as you jolt and turn around. As you turn around, your eyes try adjusting in the dark, the lighting from the fridge having messed with your vision so it was hard to see Ghost in pitch black nothingness. His dark attire not helping much either. “Jesus Christ Ghost you’re gonna give everyone a heart attack if you keep going that,” You breathed out going back to rummaging in the fridge. “I got hungry and can’t sleep.” Ghost rolled his eyes, turning on the kitchen light before walking to the cupboards and pulling out a glass cup, “Why are you still up?” You ask eyeing him as he pours water into his cup.

“Bold of you to assume I even sleep.” He mumbles lifting up his mask revealing his blonde scruffy beard and soft pink lips, taking the cup up to his mouth and drinking the cold liquid, watching as the glass made contact with his soft lips. You quickly turn your attention back to the fridge deciding on a little snack that Gaz was probably saving but you couldn’t care, before you closed the fridge door. You stand back up and began to eat the food.

Once you finished chewing, you look over to your lieutenant to see the the mask was pulled back down covering his face once more, “When’s the last time you slept sir?” You asked, the silence was long as he stared into his cup.

You began to question if he even heard you until he shrugs and sets the cup down on the kitchen counter. “Probably three days now.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He looks away upon seeing your concerned expression at his answer, dismissing your concern with the wave of a hand. “Don’t be surprised, I’ve gone longer that this without sleep.” He says.

“You really shouldn’t continue feeding into the habit Ghost.” You say, however it’s nothing but silence on Ghosts end, you can see his body becoming tense and his eyes tell you enough he’s becoming a little agitated so you back down and shift the topic of conversation . “You wanna go for a walk?”

He looks at you with a raised brow. “What for?”

You shrug and look down at the food in your hand, “I dunno, I can’t sleep and you’re obviously not going to sleep at all- so instead of just being in our rooms, I’d think going outside for a bit would seem better.”

Ghost thought on your offer, “eh,” he breaths out leaning off the counter, “why not.”

The smile that made it way to your face almost made him crack the me himself, “Okay, let me get my jacket real quick.” You say not wasting a second and heading to your room.

Ghost waits by entrance door putting on his jacket and boots when you come out of your room sporting a jacket and the new pair of snow boots you bought. Ghost opens the door letting you go out first and following you, closing the door behind him.

You both agreed to walk near the forests, his flashlight lighting the path, the snow crunching beneath your feet leaving a trail of foot prints behind.

You decided to have some fun and slowly trail behind him and tried your best to walk in his footprints, a small smile on your face as you found amusement in it. Ghost didn’t even need to see what you were doing, this was a little habit you began to pick up ever since the day he helped you. He spaces out with thoughts of you and the little moments he savors with you outside of the field. He sees how you make an effort to talk and interact with him more but he’s honestly holding back in fear of being hurt should anything happen, weather you drift apart, leave the force or join another or even worse… you die.

Ghost wishes he wasn’t so closed off as he was because now it’s back fired on him since now he struggles to break free and open up to others, and he feels bad when he sees how you attempt to conversaré with him only for him to struggle to keep up with the conversation and leave due to embarrassment. As Ghost is lost in thought you began to drift off into thoughts as well.

You felt the walk was filled with a nice silence, but you’ve noticed how Ghost hasn’t even spare you a single glance or peeped a single word to you. Your mind began to wander as your pace began to slow not noticing how ghost was watching you. As you walked you began to think about how he hardly really talked to you, he talks to Johnny, Price and Gaz more often than he did with you maybe it was because he knew them for longer, but you wondered if maybe you annoyed him or you’re just to plain and boring to be around. ‘Is he uncomfortable? Is the silence awkward for him? Should I say something? What if I end up annoying him if I do try and talk? Does he hate walking with me? But If he didn’t want to be near me he would’ve declined my offer and gone by himself or stayed back at base. Unless he didn’t want to seem rude? No he definitely would’ve declined if he wanted to..’

Ghost eventually snapped back into thoughts and took notice at how faint your footsteps grew, he sees you’re a few feet away as you stare at the ground with a blank look, like your spaced out. “You alright?” Ghost spoke, breaking your train of thoughts, you look at him with a confused look before you nod. “You seem to be more present n’ your head then here. You space out a lot when your not in the field.” He said, he didn’t turn to look at you’re dumbfounded expression and opted to keep looking up at the sky.

“How could you tell?” You say as you began to pick up your speed and catch up to him making you way back to walking beside Ghost.

“You always stare at things wit’ a blank stare, and your don’t blink for hours on end like you’ve gotta starin’ problem, and when someone talks to you, you look lost.” He says finally turning his head to look at you.

“Is it really that obvious?” You cringe at the thought.

“Very.” You groan and turn away, feeling heat rush up your face in embarrassment. “‘S alright, I used to do it a lot when I was younger…” he says, his voice faltering a bit at his last words.

You look back at Ghost, “How’d you do it?”

He looks back at you with a confused look.

“How’d you stop spacing out I mean.”

He looks at the floor now, ‘My family died and I focused my entire life and thoughts into the army so I don’t have to think about them-’ He thinks. “I joined the army and set my sights on the military, basically burying myself in work.”

“Huh, seems like I should do that then.” You chuckle at your own joke but Simon doesn’t think so.

“No, wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll end up fucked in the head like me. You won’t be human.” He says.

Silence. Ghost begins to worry that maybe he’s gone too deep.

“You’re not.” You say, Ghost cant bring himself to look at you and looks at what little scenery he can see. “You’re not entirely fucked in the head, you still show us that you’re still a human being. I’ve seen how you act Ghost, you show glimpses of the person- the man you are under that mask. Like right now.”

Ghost hears your footsteps stop, so he stops. He turns around and looks you in the eyes. Your smiling at him and his heart skips. He feels a rare feeling bubbling in his stomach, one he hasn’t felt In a while. ‘The man I am under the mask…’ He thinks.

“You noticed how I act out of work and you asked if I’m alright. When I got shot for the first time durning that mission in France, while we waited for evac, I was loosing my shit thinking I was gonna die even though the bullet was in my thigh,” You laugh at the memory. “You talked me through the pain and anxiety I was feeling and told me I was alright, you taught me the breathing techniques and proceeded to make shitty military jokes all to distract me from the chaos ensuing around us as I sat there bleeding.” Ghost remembers that time, you were on the team for almost a year, a rookie on the team but you were one of the best soldiers Price ever saw and that’s why you made it to the task force, you could handle being harmed by the hands of others, wither it be by their hands, being sliced by knives, pepper sprayed, tasered, or hit with inanimate objects you took it like a pro but you never got experienced the power of a bullet before, so when you finally got shot for the first time, the shock made you hysterical and the anxiety wasn’t helping you. It was just you and him teamed together. Despite seeing multiple things in his time in the army, seeing others shot, including himself, it wasn’t new. He was almost desensitized to it minus the pain that came with it, but when it came to you, he was almost scared. Hearing your scream in pain and fall to the ground he never felt his heart drop so hard in his life. He remembered breathing out in relief seeing the bullet was only in your thigh knowing you’d be okay, that you’d live.

“And there was also that time last year when it snowed and rained, the snow turned into slush, I didn’t have my snow shoes at the time and complained about not wanting to fall on my ass. You made a path of your foot prints from the building to the passenger side of the Jeep for me to walk in just so I wouldn’t slip. There’s times where you worry about the well being of Johnny, Gaz and Price and I during missions, especially when we got separated after the whole fiasco with Graves turning on us. Those are the moments where I don’t see a ghost of a man. I see Simon.”

Hearing you say his name made his heart skip a beat, now Simon knows for sure that he’s in love with you. “Thanks (yn).” He says with a small smile hidden behind the fabric of his balaclava.

This was the first time he’s heard you say his name, after the time in Las Almas when they were set to kill Graves, you were there when you saw his face for the first time and when Price used his real name. You got a glimpse of the real Simon for the first time. His eyes met yours and that was the first time he couldn’t tell what you were thinking but that was the day you knew you were in love with Ghost and Simon, the day you both finally gained each others trust, the day you smiled at him for the first time and made him fall even harder for you without even knowing it.

~~~~~

“Simon I can’t find my shoes again.” You call out from your bedroom you share with Simon. Looking inderneath you bed you can’t find your snow shoes to help you track through the ice.

“I think it’s still in the car with all the snow gear from last week.” He calls out from the kitchen already ready to head to the store but waiting for you to find your shoes.

You grunt and slam your head against the side of your mattress, the cushion bouncing your head. You remembered, last week you and Simon had gone snow boarding with the team, Price, Johnny, and Gaz, as a little gathering since you’re all on leave for a month. You and Simon had left all your gear including your snow clothes and shoes in the back of Simons truck. You heard footsteps thumping behind you, you turn your head around to see Simon entering your shared bedroom.

“Can you get them.” You plead. Simon chuckles before walking back out of your bedroom.

“Fine.” He agrees walking out the house.

You sit on your bed and wait for Simon to come back. After a few minutes pass, you grew confused, ‘Can he not find them? He’s been out there for a minute’ You think which makes you groan. Finally you hear the front door close and hear his footsteps approaching the room. You look back up at your boyfriend and don’t see your boots in either of his hands. “Are they not there?” You ask.

Simon shakes his head ‘No’ throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s alright though, let’s just go.” He says as you sigh. You follow him out the door and wait beside him as he closes the door. You take a look at the truck when you notice a trail of his foot prints leading up to the passenger side of the truck. “Go on.” He says placing a hand on your lower back.

You stare at him for a few seconds until it clicks in your brain. You smile at Simon and kiss his cheek, “Thank you Si.” You say before walking into the snow, you place your feet in the tracks he’s already placed in a range wide enough for you to walk in, memories flooding back to you to that one winter, before you got your boots. You smile at the memory as Simon stands by the door watching you step in his tracks with a wide smile on his face. You finally make it to the passenger door and turn around to look at Simon and see the smile etched on his face. “Cmon doofus hurry up and unlock the door I’m freezing my ass off.” You laugh out.

Simon chortles a laugh, he presses the button allowing you to open the door and climb into the truck taking your seat on the already warmed seat, Simon opens his door. You turn around to place your bag in the back seat when a certain item caught your eye. “Heyy, my boots were back here.” You say grabbing the boots and looking at Simon, whom suspiciously acted surprised.

“Oh, I’d didn’t see them there. My bad.” He looked away and focused on buckling his seat belt.

“Uh-huh…” you squint your eyes at him before you paused. Simon was outside long enough to check the entire truck, you also remember hearing the truck doors open and close before it was silent for a minute. “You purposefully left them here just to watch me struggle to get to the car didn’t you?” You deadpanned.

You couldn’t miss the small smile that made its way to Simons face, “It’s entertaining to see you walk in my foot prints and as much as I hate saying the word, it’s kinda cute to watch.”

You roll your eyes at him before buckling yourself in, as Simon pulls out the driveway, you take off your shoes and replace them with your boots.

~~~~~~

“Simon I’m fine, I walked perfectly fine at the house.” You sat in the passenger seat of the truck with the door open as you watch your husband set out tracks for you on the snow again. The first show of winter arrived yesterday with 5 inches of snow fall over the night. You had an appointment the very next morning to get a check up, but due to the unexpected snow the snow plower trucks were delayed until late morning to arrive at the hospital and the staff couldn’t bother to shovel the gigantic parking lot only the side walks and front entrance.

So Simon ‘forced’ you to stay on the porch as he made footprints for you to follow as you bring out your phone to start recording Simon making tracks, you silently slide off the seat and onto the ground the best you could, placing your feet in his footprints you began. You try to capture your feet but your protruding belly gets in the way, it’s been difficult to see your feet for quiet some time ever since you hit 7 months into your pregnancy. You angle your camera back you to Simon and began to waddle your way towards your husband. He could hear snow crunching and snapped his head back towards you to see you a few feet away from the truck and struggling a bit.

Without a second thought, Simon quickly makes his way to you taking hold of your free hand to help steady you, “I thought I told you to stay on the truck until I’m done.”

You scrunch your face at him as you stop walking. “I told you I was fine, I’m still perfectly capable of doing things Simon. I’m not the baby here so there’s no reason to worry so much.”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I’ll give plenty of good reasons; you can’t see your bloody feet which makes your balance arse, you waddle like a penguin, you walk slow,” He lists off things in a ‘matter of factly’ tone. You glare at him as he smirks and snakes an arm around your waist with the other holding your hand. “Do I need to bring up the amount of times you’ve almost tripped and missed steps on the stairs and little cracks in the sidewalks?”

“Okay, okay- I get it.” You glare at him as he began to lead you up to the entrance, “You’re a pain in my ass.” You jokingly laughed out.

Simon let’s out a chuckle, “Yea? It’s a pain in my ass having to make tracks for you just so you don’t fall on your ass.”

“You have the choice to stop but you don’t, you love me too much to stop.” You purr out giving him a kiss on his cheek.

Simon chuckled and kisses your forehead, “That I do love,” his hand on your waist shifts forward the the side of your belly, rubbing your bump covered by your jacket. “That I do.”

[you-til-i-die]

wishin’ I could write my name on it

f.odair x fem!reader

summary: a sneak peak into you and finnick’s lives

warnings/content: I wrote and edited this all in one sitting so if it’s absolute shit that’s why<3 district four victor!r, r is said to have throw up a few times, but none of it is graphic. mentions of blood and sex trafficking, cannon-typical shit really, swearing

song: august - ts

wc: 1.9k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

You and Finnick have one rule.

Don’t talk about it. Don’t ask about it. Don’t acknowledge it.

When the two of you are together, you can just forget about it. You can hang out on the beaches of District Four and pretend like these aren’t your lives.

But they are.

And it always somehow seeps through the cracks.

It’s in the way Finnick’s eyes are dull and empty the first few days after a trip to the capitol.

It’s in the way your laugh has morphed into a short bark.

It’s everywhere and it’s everything.

There’s no escaping it.

It haunts your dreams, it probably haunts Finnick’s too, even though you’d never ask.

Because that’s the rule. No asking. Ever.

————————————————————————

It was August. The sun seemed to slowly be getting the message that fall was getting nearer, the rays a little less intense then they had been a few weeks ago. The water was even the tiniest bit cooler, soothing a stubborn sunburn on your shoulders.

You were laying on the beach, face down on a towel, trying to ignore the stick of salt drying on your skin. You can’t help but let out a yawn, exhausted from the still persistent heat and trying to win against Finnick in a swimming race all day.

You were so relaxed. Focusing on the waves crashing against the shore. And the presence beside you that you knew was Finnick.

You honestly were about to fall asleep before he speaks. He mentions it so casually, he might as well have been asking what you wanted for dinner.

“Snow needs me in the capitol. I’m leaving on Friday.”

His voice is completely flat, devoid from all of its usual humor. It made you nauseous. You consider asking if he feels the same way, but you don’t. That was the rule. And you know the rules.

You push yourself up onto your elbows to get a good look at him, to try and decipher the look on his face. You could almost always read him. You hadn’t spent four years attached to each other to not learn the subtle mannerisms of the other. But this was different. It always was.

You and Finnick could talk about almost anything together. The games, the fear that you could never seem to shake, the nightmares, the way it was sometimes hard to stomach killing even a fish. But you never talk about this.

You never talk about how Snow will whisk one, or sometimes both, of you away whenever he needs a favor. You never tell him how afterwards you have to scrub your entire body raw before you can even begin to feel clean again. You don’t tell him how the first couple of times you would sob until you threw up, but now you just curl up and do your best to avoid the pit in your stomach.

Well, truthfully, you had talked about it once. But never again.

You had just been crowned victor of the 69th Hunger Games, District Four’s second victor in four years. It was no surprise, really. You were seventeen, and one of the oldest in the arena. You were strong, quick, and smart. So, so smart. You had won through pure trickery, and everyone loved you for it.

It’s hard for you to remember what happened the week after you won. There’s little snippets, of course. Looking down at the blood on your hands, blood that wasn’t yours. The booming of a voice in the arena, announcing that you were the victor. You had won. You did it. You had made District Four proud. And then you threw up.

You must have blacked out afterwards, because the next thing you remember is being back in your suite in the training center, sobbing in Finnick’s arms while he held you. Most of what you can remember is centered around him. Gripping onto his hand like a lifeline while your stylists buzzed around you. Glancing over Snow’s shoulder at him while the president crowned you. Watching him standing in the wings of the stage while Ceasar Flickerman went over a highlight reel of your time in the arena. Finding your way back into his arms on the train. You’re pretty sure Finnick didn’t say more than the same couple words the first week. It seemed to be a constant variation of “I know honey, but you’re safe now. I’ve got you sweetheart.”

It wasn’t until your victory tour that he told you. You doubt he ever would have, if he didn’t know for sure it would happen to you.

He had sat you down on the train after a party in District Two and told you everything. How Snow would practically sell him to people. How he didn’t have a say, and how you wouldn’t either, unless you wanted everyone you loved to be dead. He had grabbed your hands, shaking hand in shaking hand, and apologized profusely. He told you how he would do everything possible to keep you safe, he would offer himself instead of you. But you knew that wouldn’t work. Snow gets what Snow wants, and if Snow wants you to fuck his friends for some sick favor, there was nothing you, or Finnick, could do to stop that from happening.

“Oh.”

“Yah.” Was all Finnick said, refusing to meet you gaze as he stared out at the ocean. He’s working one of the muscles in his jaw and you have to look away before you grab his face and do something stupid.

“When will you be back?” You don’t say it, but you’re sure he understands the meaning. Please say it’ll only be one night. Please tell me they won’t put you through it more than once this time. Please tell me you’ll be back to hold me through the nightmares soon. Please don’t make me wait for you more than I already do.

“I’m not sure. Snow said a couple of days.”

No no no no no no no please no.

You didn’t respond. Scared that if you open your mouth the bile collecting in your throat would spill out.

You just look over at him. Take him in. It’s no wonder why the capitol loves him so much. Although not for his humor, his kindness, his strength, the way he’s always looking out for everyone but himself. None of that. Just because he’s a pretty face. But in the bright, golden sun, you find it hard to disagree with them. He’s all broad shoulders and a strong jawline. Bright green eyes that always seem to shine when they look at you. Sharp teeth hiding behind that perfect fucking smile. Salty hair you wanted to run your fingers through. Credit where credit is due, the capitol knows how to pick a sex symbol.

But you don’t see a sex symbol. Not right now. Right now all you see is the person you want to hold on to, and never let go of. The person you’d throw it all away for, if he asked. The person who seemed to always have another layer for you to work your way into, but you’d be damned if you ever stopped trying to get to the root of him.

You’ve been staring for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Finnick notices, of course, because Finnick notices everything.

“Honey?”

You tear your eyes away from where they had been tracing the veins in his hands. “Hm?”

“You ok?” And there it is. That fucking wolf smile. All sharp canines and slightly raised eyebrows because he knows. He knows he’s got you in between his teeth and he knows you’re happy to stay there because it’s him.

You pause, but just for a moment, trying not to give him the satisfaction of winning, of successfully flustering you. But his eyes are boring into yours and it’s so hard to look away from him, but you do. He wins. He normally does.

“‘M just thinking.”

“What about?” He asks. Flopping down on his side, trying to get on eye level with you because it’s never just enough for him to win, he has to make sure you know that he knows it.

You just roll your eyes at him, there’s nothing else you can do.

“About how we’ve been out here since nine in the morning and it’s after noon now, and you haven’t reapplied sunscreen once.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes now.

“I don’t burn, honey, you know that.”

“What about that time you were out all day, didn’t put sunscreen on once, and then I had to rub aloe vera on your back for a week because you burned like hell and all of your skin was peeling off?” You ask, smile working its way onto your face. You know you’ve got him. You’re winning now.

He pauses, he doesn’t back down easily. “It was a fluke. A glitch, even.” He says, trying his best to shrug his shoulders even though he’s lying down. He fails. It looks ridiculous. You have to try not to laugh. “I honestly think the sun just had a vendetta against me that day.”

You’re failing at biting back a smile now. “At least let me get your back because there is literally nothing you could say or do to ever get me to help you with a third degree sunburn again.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just makes a big show of groaning and rolling his eyes at you before rolling onto his back.

You’ve won.

“So dramatic? You know that? It’s like being friends with a child.” You say as you root around in your bag for your sunscreen. Trying to ignore the disgusting feeling you know it will leave on your hands as you squirt it out.

He props himself up on his elbows to look at you, surely about to counter with some story about you being much more dramatic than him, before you shove him back down, face in the sand.

“Ow.”

“You’re fine. A little sand never killed anyone.”

You decide to ignore his grumbling, focusing on spreading the sunscreen on his back. However, you can’t ignore the growing pit in your stomach that you know will be there until Finnick’s back from the capitol.

Still, they can’t take this from you. You’ve earned it. You deserve to be here, definitely not checking out your best friend who you know you can’t have.

You lose yourself for a moment. Letting yourself focus on the way his muscles feel under your hands. Maybe, one day, this could be real. The capitol will find new, attractive victors, and they’ll move on. You and Finnick can fade into the background, and just live.

You pull back, and grab the tube again, squirting it directly on his back. You start to rub it in before pausing for a moment, why not?

Quickly, you write your name in the sunscreen on his back. Snow has cameras everywhere. Maybe he’s watching. Maybe he’s not. But either way, at least for a second, you can say mine. All mine. You can’t take him from me, not really.

He feels it, lifting his head up just as you’re wiping away the evidence.

“Are you drawing on my back?”

You flash him your own smile. A little less wolfish, a little more coy.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

A/n: Hi omg I wrote this in one sitting😭this has just been rattling around in my head for weeks now and I had to get it out lol. Constructive criticism and feedback is always appreciated, I hope you all enjoyed<3

[groversimp]

Hiii i was wondering if you could do a poly!solangelo x son of hypnos!reader where reader is always suuuuper tired but is also like really powerful (puts ppl to sleep instantly or something) thank you !! :]

P.s i really like your work its really cool

It Drives You Crazy Getting Old

Hope you enjoy it anon!

CW: Nothing- just reader being an eepy guy!!

Yawning, you sat up and stretched your arms. Hair in your face and sleep-warm, you looked so adorable to your boyfriends. You brought a hand to rub your eyes as you mumbled something about turning off the alarm clock.

Nico and Will, who were already dressed and ready for your day out, were standing nearby.

“No, Y/n.” Will says, “we let you sleep in 30 minutes, it’s time to get off.” You grumbled, and with a wave of your hand, you shut off the alarm clock- making it die with your powers. “Hey!” Will said, “that’s the fourth clock this month!” He sent an annoyed glare your way as you relaxed back into the warm pillows.

Sighing, your thoughts felt impossibly big as you welcomed sleep. A weight came onto the bed near your feet, peaking your eyes open- you saw Nico. He set an arm on your leg, “Y/n, it’s time to get ready.”

After an hour and a half of convincing, you got up. You all left the Hades cabin, into the bitter-cold of Camp Half-Blood’s winter snow. Muttering about how cold it was, you shuffled closer to Will as he wrapped an arm around your waist, “I know..” he muttered.

Arriving at the big house, you all step inside, savoring the warmth. You all greet Mr.D and Chiron, as they motion for you three to sit down. Funnily enough, you’re all the first counselors to arrive to the meeting. You all make small talk as people shuffle in.

“Alright,” Mr.D’s voice booms and you all look to him. “Let’s begin the meeting.” He says, looking annoyed per usual. Your eyes feel heavy as you all begin to discuss, going one at a time. Bringing a hand up to hold your face, you close your eyes and listen to Nico talk of his latest errands and things he thinks should be added to the camp.

Feeling someone quietly shake you awake, you send a glare their way. Only to see Will meeting your eyes, “stay awake, Y/n.” He whispers to you. You cover your mouth as you yawn, “I’ll try,” you whisper back.

When it’s your turn, Chiron asks you about the Hypnos cabin- and how your job has been going. The Hypnos’ cabin is to offer counseling of sorts- allowing campers to relax and be at peace in cabin 15’s warm atmosphere. But, to also allow them to cry if needed, or talk out their emotions. You also frequently visit demigods in their dreams- either to guide them to Camp Half-Blood or to assist and help them in some way.

“It’s been okay, same as usual.” You say softly, “nothing too serious.” They nod at the good news, understanding. Chiron mutters and “alright,” and then moves on to ask Will as he talks about the infirmary and such.

At the end of the meeting, you all stood about in a circle, discussing. Exhaustion took over you as you fought to keep your eyes open, occasionally muttering in something to the conversation.

Connor set a hand on your shoulder, giving you a cheeky grin. “You alright, Y/n.” Your own weariness makes you have to squint to look at him, you move a hand to rest on his. “Yea..” You mutter.

All of a sudden, Connor drops to the floor. Your eyes widen as everyone makes a noise of surprise. “Oh.. My bad.” You say, realizing you accidentally put him to sleep. You offer an awkward smile to the group as everyone laughs.

Poor Connor, having been moved to the couch, woke up 20 minutes later- unimpressed by your accident.

Later that day, you and your boyfriends sat on the porch of the Hypnos cabin. Despite the unwelcoming weather, you all sat huddled up as you watched the sunset. Your head on Will’s shoulder, and your hand interlocked with Nico’s, you gave a comfortable sigh and melted into the comfort; letting sleep take you.

[popjunkie42]

Painted Blind - Chapter One

Amazing commission done by the brilliant, beautiful and talented @witchlingsandwyverns!!! (thank you I love you!!!)

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Read on AO3

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta reads and encouragement. I have been working on this for a long time...over a year...and the support has been amazing!

It's here! I haven't built it up too much or anything and am now nervous! Don't look at me!

I hope you enjoy...this will be a journey <3 Snippet of chapter one under the cut!

Unhappy the land that is in need of heroes.

-Bertolt Brecht, Galileo

Woodsmoke and stale ale hung heavy in the air as I gently shut the back door to the tavern.

The noise of the place hit me like a jolt. I was used to the twilight quiet of the forest, and the cold and empty winter streets outside. The deep boom of men’s laughter and shouts, the clatter of the kitchen, the drowned out sounds of a fiddle in the corner. Wood groaned under my feet, the floor sticky and worn as I edged around the walls in the shadows, angling towards the roaring fireplace.

This was not a place for young women like me. Certainly not my first choice of accommodations for the night. The brazen, lingering stares running up and down my body reminded me of that every step of the way. But the heat of the fire along with the surrounding warm bodies was worth it when I began to feel the tips of my fingers again.

Ten minutes ago I had been elbows-deep in blood and entrails, the squelching sound drowned out by the laughter and warm light of the tavern behind me as I worked. One dunk of my bloody hands into a frozen bucket of water to wash off made me rethink any fearful self preservation I might have had left.

Survival was like that. Blurring the edges of what should be a simple, safe decision.

But I wasn’t making cautious decisions these days. Outside, chill winds whipped up the fresh frozen snow and threw it against anything in its path. My cheeks smarted and burned with it even now. The cold had taken the easy prey and then the difficult prey, and now I was forced deeper and deeper into the woods every night to find something, anything for my family.

My fingers and toes started to ache as the frozen digits warmed back to life, tingling with pain. I knew the barkeep’s goodwill would only last so long once he saw me and knew I wouldn’t be purchasing anything. Even if the growling of my stomach battled the sounds in this loud room, as the smells of fresh bread and ale and mutton wafted through the room amidst the more unpleasant scents.

But it wouldn’t do to leave the deer unattended for long, not when there were desperate men and other predators just as hungry as me and attracted to the scent of blood. I had more of the deer to skin, and it would be hours until the dawn sun touches this place.

Cracked skin, split nails, a cramp in my stomach. Usually that was all I had to show for my nights buried in snow up to my knees or huddled in bare tree branches. But tonight, at dusk, luck was with me and I had taken a deer as it crept towards the half frozen river.

It had walked directly under my tree and straight ahead of me, presented like a ready gift from some long forgotten god. I was so weak with cold and hunger my hands shook as I readied my bow. But my arrow hit true.

Still, the deer had been larger than I could usually handle. I spent too much time with my feet buried in new snow, making a rough bower, then gutting it and finally taking the head before it was light enough for me to carry back in slippery sprints.

My body was screaming with exhaustion by the time I spotted the low night lights of the village. But there was nowhere in our family’s small cabin to keep a bleeding body. Certainly not if my sisters had anything to say about it.

More eyes shot to me as a glass smashed and I jolted like a spooked rabbit. I rubbed life back into my hands, trying to calm my nerves. Now that I wasn’t shivering and fighting the cold, exhaustion threatened to set deep in my bones. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. Nesta and Elain would be fast asleep, cuddled together for warmth in our shared bed.

The anger in me burned, like the bitter nettle tea Elain brewed to keep our stomachs warm in between meals.

Two men had been watching me, talking low and close to one another for too long. I wove between bodies and chairs to find another spot further away from their gaze.

My life was always like this, for as long as we had been in the cabin. Forced out of our richly appointed manor by my father’s debtors, the old place now just a dreamy blur in the fading memories of my childhood.

The days were never dull, that was for certain. I ricocheted between life and death, forest and hearth, starvation and sustenance. I walked the woodland paths that fed and sheltered me, forests that held monsters or the stark winter seasons of starvation. Poisons and fanged beasts and untrustworthy men. Fruit and herbs, glistening springs, growth and life and death. Three pathways: death, bare survival, or thriving life, all converging to a crossroads, and sometimes I ran so quickly between them I got whiplash.

Sometimes, in the twilight hours between sleep and waking, I remembered when it wasn’t always so. I remembered a childhood filled with dresses and lavish meals and even stolen cookies with petal pink icing that smeared all over my face. I couldn’t recall, now, the last time I tasted sugar. Or had days on end with a full belly, without a care in my heart. That life was over now, and this new one demanded sacrifices. Like drawing the attention of unsavory drunk men in order to stay warm enough to bring breakfast to my family.

My eyes cast over the crowd. I wasn’t entirely alone. Isaac Hale was here, with his father and brothers, doing an excellent job of ignoring me completely. Old Hobb, at least, had given me a tip of his floppy felt cap from his station at the bar, several tankards in tonight. He had already reached the next stage of his drunkenness and would doubtless start a fight or an oddly unslurred lecture soon.

I didn’t mind - I had been subject to many of those lectures, and sometimes found them helpful. The old hunter was one of the few men in the village who had ever shown me kindness, catching me some years back when he caught me slicing through the intestines of my rabbits as I tried to skin them.

The cold, snow-burned skin on my cheeks was now hot and burning on my face as my blood ran warmer, waking from its sluggish sleep.

If I was lucky tonight, Isaac would continue to ignore me and the rest of the bar would be too drunk to notice or remember me. And if they did focus on me too long, I had been practicing since I was fifteen - the stance I had, one that was quiet but not small. Forcing the tiredness from my face the best I could, setting my jaw and keeping my hunting knife in easy reach.

I wouldn’t be prey tonight. I was the hunter. And if anyone chose to test me, my hunger and desperation would only make me more fierce.

At least, that’s what I told myself, to keep from breaking apart.

Just as I was thinking about moving back into the cold to finish my butchering, the front door of the tavern swung open with a blast of cold wind.

And silence fell.

Read the rest on AO3

[alastor-simp]

Antidote💊 - Angel Dust x Powerful Reader Part 2

⚠️Warning- This story contains mentions of violence/sexual themes, so skip the parts if they make you very uncomfortable. Story will get a bit steamy towards the end ⚠️

"ENOUGH!!" A loud voice boomed from behind the two. Valentino jumped and glared past his shoulder, finding you standing there, glaring with immense rage. Angel looked on you in shock, wondering how the heck you got in here. Valentino let go of Angel's neck, causing him to sink to the floor, gasping for breath. "How the flying f✪✪✪ did you get in here?!" Valentino sneered at you, standing up to his full height. Trying to suck in a breath, Angel stared at you, eyes watering from the tears. He extended his hand out to you. "Y-Y/N! Its okay. Get outta here!" Begging you with his voice, he didn't want you to suffer at the hands of his boss. Stepping closer to Valentino, you glared into his eyes, icy blue irises flaming with anger. "Angel is coming with me right now!" Guffawing with laughter, Valentino bent over holding his stomach, amused at your words. "Oh this is priceless. You seem not to know who you are messing with, little b✪✪✪✪?" Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave an evil chuckle: "Let me show you exactly who I am."

A cool breeze began to blow through the whole room, shocking Valentino as he was wondering what the hell was going on. Icicles began to arise from the area where you stood, traveling across the room and towards the ceiling. The air turned cold, deadly, even taking in a breath felt like a stab in the throat. Valentino was in utter disbelief at your show of power. Blue ice began to appear on your hands, morphing into frozen claws. The color of your hair turned snow-white, and your once brown eyes, began to glow an ominous cerulean blue. Angel wrapped his arms around himself, trying to cover himself from the coldness, while staring at you in utter shock. An evil smile emerged from your face, almost as demonic as Alastors during his transformations, as you walked slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, towards Valentino. "Figured out who I am yet?" Cocking your head at Valentino, you stared up at him, amused at his reactions. Dread emerged from his eyes, as Valentino realized you were not to mess with, but his tendencies got the better of him and he moved to strike. In a split second, he was pinned against the wall, shards of ice impaling his wing. Attempting to break free was impossible, your shards were too strong. "HAHA its amazing how many people try that and fail!" Your feet carried you over to the pinned moth, enjoying his struggle. "Who the hell are you?!" he screamed out, trying to remove himself from his position. "I am the overlord, Morana! Still surprised you haven't caught that by now, but you are a dumba✪✪, so it was to be expected" A sharp tooth smile was etched onto your face. "As I said before Angel Dust is coming back to the hotel with me. Understand?" Valentino continued to stare at you in fear, before his signature smirk came back. "Fine, take him back! Won't do you any good! He is bound to me by contract. Sooner or later, he will come crawling back to me!"

Angel listened to all of this, still in shock by what was happening. Valentino's words affected him greatly, as tears rained down his cheeks. Your face lacked any emotion as you inched closer to Valentino. A large icicle claw raised towards his lower regions, where his privates were. "!!!!!" Valentino jerked, wondering what the heck was going on. The sharpness of your claws, were digging into his skin, while a trail of ice began to form around the area. "You must really value this part of yourself. It would be extremely traumatizing for you if it were to SNAP OFF!" Digging your claws deeper, a trail of blood began to pool down below you, then freezing the second it connected with the ground. "Imagine the headlines! Di✪✪ face Valentinos package removed violently and cascaded in a block of ice for all to see!" Your demonic laugh filled the room, as Valentino screamed in agony. "STOP! PLEASE I WILL DO ANYTHING!" Begging was his last resort, proving he valued his di✪✪ more than anything. "I will let go, under one condition." Valentino stared at you in fear, mixed with some hope. You leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "Dissolve the contract, along with the copies."

Widening his eyes in shock, Valentino jerked back, furious at your request, no way was he going to lose his money maker. Shrugging your shoulders at his response, you took a step back. "Suit yourself." The claw began to elongate, cutting into his skin. Valentino screamed bloody murder, as he felt the sensation of the sharp icicles going in. "OKAY OKAY!!!" Valentino screamed out, causing you to stop. A glow appeared in front of the both of you, expanding to reveal a golden contract. There was a signature at the bottom: "Anthony", so that was Angel's real name. A demonic language began to spill from Val's lips and the contract began to rip before dissolving. "And the copies" Grunting, Val caused more glows of light to appear, performing the same ritual, and canceling all of the contracts. "Thats all of them." Valentino rasped out, as he stared down at the floor in defeat and utter humiliation. "Excellent!" Your claw removed itself from his flesh, blood continuing to drip from the area. You kept him pinned to the wall, a fitting punishment for someone like him. Moving closer you whispered into his ear. "If I ever see you near Angel again, hear you call his phone or threaten those he cares about. I will freeze your body and leave you out in the streets as a gift for the angels at the next extermination." Valentino whimpered in fear, nodding his head.

Moving away from him, your eyes gazed over at Angel, who was still crumpled on the floor. The ice around your hands began to disappear, and the frosted air began to clear, except for the ice shards holding Valentino. Getting on your knees in front of Angel, you asked if he was okay. Still shaking, Angel wasn't able to utter a word, but he nodded his head at you. Wrapping your arms around him, you lifted him up, bridal carrying him. Yes you were shorter then him, but you were still extremely strong. Angel remained silent, his head nuzzling into your neck, as he wrapped his arms around you. The both of you left the room, leaving the pathetic insect behind. Charlie spotted you holding Angel, as you left the dressing room. She insisted on knowing what happened, but you told her not to worry, and that it was time to head back to the hotel, as Angel was injured as well. Charlie nodded and the both of you left the establishment.

The shock on everyone's face when they saw you carrying Angel Dust, through the doors of the Hotel. The bombardment of questions came flooding at you, but Charlie was able to quiet them down. Pointing at Husk, you told him to help carry Angel Dust back to his room, and draw him a bath as well, seeing as he was still shaking. Husk complied and took Angel from you, carrying him to his room. Niffty ran to the kitchen, going to make some food and tea for Angel. Charlie went to Vaggie and calmed her down, as she was fuming that someone hurt Angel. Heaving a deep breath, you placed your hands against your face, trying to calm down as your emotions were still running high. Alastor was the only one who was still with you in the lobby, observing you while cocking his head. His smile was still there, but his eyes were expressing concern, especially having seen you and a bruised Angel. "Y/N my dear? Care to fill me in on what happened?" He approached you, gazing down at you, waiting for your response. Heaving a sigh, you looked up at Alastor and explained everything that transpired at Valentino's club. "Despite what I did, I'm aware there is going to be consequences with my actions since I just injured one of the three Vee's. If they plot something, I will show force and defend this hotel and everyone in it." Red irises continued to gaze at you, locking on to your determined eyes. Al placed his hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, you saved Angel, and he must be very grateful that you did! I doubt the other Vee's will even attempt anything unless they want to suffer your icy wrath and m̵̹̌̔͠i̷̪̼͙̅̀͗͆n̷̫̮̻̲͑͒̍̈́̔͜ė̴̠̯̮̩͂̐͘͝!"Demonic symbols appeared in the air before they disappeared.

Smiling at Al, you thanked him for making you feel better. Alastor smiled back at you, placing his hands behind his back. "Now then! I'm pretty sure there is a certain someone that you want to check on! Best be off now, my dear!" Alastor snapped his fingers. Your body then was teleported from the lobby to the door of Angel's room. Entering inside, You spotted Husk sitting on the bed, appearing sad. Husk's ears twitched, seeing that you had entered the room. "Hey kid, Angel is in the bathtub. I would be cautious though, he is a bit on edge." Husk said, while walking towards you. Thanking Husk, you told him it was okay to head back to the lobby. Husk nodded as he patted your head, before leaving Angels room.

Peeking your head into the bathroom, you tried to spot Angel. Steam filled the room, and in the center was Angel, sitting in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. His head was against his legs as he was hugging them with his many arms. Slowly approaching, you sat near the edge of the tub, next to him. "Angel? Are you alright?" Eyeing him, you wanted to make sure he was ok with you getting closer, as you placed a hand on his back. "Why?" was what you heard from Angel, as his face was still muffled between his legs. Tilting your head, you asked him why what? "WHY DID YOU DO THAT FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME?! I DON'T DESERVE TO BE SAVED!" Angel bursted all of this out, his eyes staring back at you angrily. "I wanted to help you Angel. What was I suppose to do, let you get abused by that psychopath?" Angel scoffed at you. "I'm use to dealing with his bull✪✪✪✪. I never asked you to do all that stuff." Getting angry, you grabbed Angel and pinned him to the wall, splashing some water on to the ground, forcing him to look at you. "YOU MAY NOT HAVE TOLD ME TO DO ANYTHING, BUT YOUR EYES CLEARLY DID!! YOU WERE TERRIFIED OF HIM, OF VALENTINO! I SAW YOUR FACE WHEN YOU ANSWERED THE PHONE AND WHEN CHARLIE AND I WERE AT THE STUDIO! YOU LOOKED COMPLETELY TRAUMATIZED! I CHOSE TO SAVE YOU BECAUSE YOU DESERVED BETTER THEN THIS AND I CARE ABOUT YOU! YOU DIDN'T DESERVE ALL THAT TRAUMA, ANTHONY! NONE OF IT!" Angel stared at you, listening to you belt out all of this to him and calling him by his true name. The tears came flooding back, as Angel started to break down in front of you. Letting go, you grabbed him into a hug, comforting him. You apologized for having to pin him like that but he needed to listen to you.

Angel continued to cry, his makeup combining with the tears, dropping down into the soapy water. You moved your hand to his back, rubbing comforting circles into it. "I'm too far gone to be saved toots. Valentino has me so drugged up on his poison and bull✪✪✪✪. He knows I'm gonna come crawling back to him. Ready to chug down on his poison like a fuc✪✪✪ addict." Angel had let you go, going back to his previous position of hugging himself inside the tub. Placing your hand against his cheek, you motioned him to look at you. Angel questioned what you were doing, until lips locked onto his. Gasping, he wasn't expecting a kiss from you. You kissed him softly, almost afraid that if you went to far he would break. Melting into the kiss, Angel closed his eyes, pulling you closer towards him. The kiss lasted a minute before it came to an end, leaving you both gasping for breath. "What was the smooch for?" His white fur, was sporting a a bright pink, as he continued to take in breaths. "Antidote. If your so soaked up on Val's poison, then I will be your antidote." Angel stared at you, shocked at your statement towards him. "HAHAHAHAHAHA OMG TOOTS, YOUR SO FREAKING CORNY!" His smile had returned to his face, as he exploded in laughter in front of you. His laughter was contagious, and soon you followed after him.

The laughing session soon quieted down, and the both of you stared at each other. Angel eyes were gazing at you softly, moving one of his hands to trace your lips. "Could ya do it again?" Looking at him shocked, you continued to stare at him, as he continued to trace your lips. "Y-ou want me to kiss you again?" Angel responded by pulling you, placing you inside the tub and on his lap. "Yes." His eyes were looking at you lovingly, making your heart skip a beat. Moving slowly, you leaned in closer, capturing him in another kiss. The both of you moved in sync, moving slow and tenderly. His lips were like pillows, incredibly soft. This felt heavenly, giving you goosebumps and butterflies in your stomach. The both of you broke apart, string of saliva between your lips. Angel placed a hand on your cheek, moving to kiss your forehead. "Wanna continue this on the bed?" His voice whispered into your ear, sending chills down your back. You became tongue-tied, and responded to Angel by nodding your head.

Your back landed flat on the bed. Angel crawled onto it, hovering over you. His fur was still wet from the bath, as it was dripping on to you. He was beautiful, you thought as you continued to gaze at him. "Um Angel. You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm pretty sure your body is exhausted from work. Plus you prefer guys right, so you-" A finger was placed on to your lips, silencing your words. "Shh baby. It's alright~" Angel was looking down on top of you, admiring you with his heterochromic eyes. His hands traced your face, your arms, and legs, causing your heart to flutter. "Since ya gonna be my antidote, baby. I better indulge in it~."

Tagging : @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack, @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @sarahwasbeforeee , @cookiekyo , @iiotic , @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @lovesomemha

Part 1 Here

Epilogue Here- Smut Warning

[rukkiya]

slipping from my fingers

(albedo x reader)

꒰part 2 to don’t look down ໒꒱

don’t let go

his fingers dig into your forearm, gripping you tightly through his glove.

don’t you dare let them fall

he feels his arm burn, like it’s on fire. the force of holding you and his clone was straining his shoulder, but he couldn’t care less.

you can’t let them go

the voice booming in his head screams and so does he as he feels his shoulder slowly dislocating, popping from its socket. But still, he can’t let this happen.

“let me go.” you whisper. He hears you though his agonizing yell, his eyes becoming blurry in seconds at the mere thought.

“I would never.” He grits through his teeth, using his other arm holding onto the sharp rock to pull himself back a bit, only to slide forward due to the slippery snow.

“albedo please-“

“NO!” He grips your arm harder. “I-I can’t do that.” He feels the warm trail of the fresh tears trailing down his cheek.

You look him in his eyes, his glossy wide eyes and feel warmth spread through your chest.

You’ve never seen him cry, never seen him look so scared.

You feel his tear hit your face and you move your arm.

“Don’t, y/n please.” He hiccups, he feels light headed, he feels scared, he wants to bring you up and keep you safe, apologize for how he acted and never let you go.

I dont want to die. You think as you look up at him

“albedo,” you smile at him and he feels his body go numb.

Why are they looking at me like that?

“I love you.” You whisper, pressing your foot against the cliffs slope, tugging your arm as you did so.

Laughter floods your ears from below you, albedo’s clone looking up at you with excited eyes.

“You are so compliant, you disagreed with this experiment at first but look at you now! You’re wanting to see the results too. I can see why albedo is so drawn to you now!” The clone throws his head back as he starts pulling you down more himself.

“No, no no no y/n no please don’t do this.” Albedo pleads, more fresh tears falling onto your face.

You know he won’t be able to lift you up with his clone clinging to you, you know what has to be done.

I don’t want to leave him. You feel your own eyes brimming with tears as realization hits.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, kicking the ledge harder this time as everything slows down.

Albedo’s face falls immediately, feeling your arm slip from his fingers.

He doesn’t hear the gut wrenching scream that comes out of his mouth but he feels his throat burn, his whole body burn.

You hear his scream and can’t bring yourself to look away from him. This is it.

I’m going to die

It hits you when you feel your body free falling.

I won’t be able to see him again

You can’t see his face anymore, you never wanted to leave him, not like this.

You still feel the weight of albedos clone behind you, dragging you down faster.

I don’t want to go

Everything stops, the sound of wind rushing past you, the sound of laughter coming from behind you, and your racing heart. You feel peace for a fleeting second then everything goes dark.

Albedo doesn’t even think twice, his legs race down the mountain to where you would’ve landed.

No no no no no no

He can’t feel his own body.

He makes it to the bottom of the trail and slips, feeling his throat burn from crying and heaving for air as he ran.

His head whips in all directions and he sees your coat in the far middle of the pile of snow.

He stills.

He holds his breath.

He’s too scared to see what’s happened.

Are you breathing?

You’re human, a fall like this could be fatal he knows but he also knows you, you wouldn’t let this be what takes you right?

Right?

He reluctantly steps forward, eyes not moving from where you lay.

The outline of your figure becoming more apparent.

Your hair was sprawled out on the snow, from where he stands it looks like you’re sleeping. If anything it looks like he came home from a long day out and found you napping on your shared bed.

The only problem was he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest.

You weren’t breathing.

His legs almost give out again when makes it to where you lay.

His clone was no where to be found, no traces of him even here to begin with.

“Y/n?” He whispers, vapor escaping his lips as he brings his gloved had to wipe the tears.

“Y/n love, please open your eyes.” He kneels and grabs your hand.

He feels his bottom lip tremble at the weight of your hand in his, your hand was awfully cold.

His eyes scan over your body, nothing seems broken, there’s no sings of any blood either. Maybe you just passed out because of shock, that’s it, right?

“I didn’t mean it, you never were a bother. You’ve never been.” He pushes the hair from your face back and closes his eyes.

He removes one of his gloves and his fingers touch your wrist, expecting the impossible.

No pulse.

“You always take such good care of me and I-“ he gently lays your arm down, removing his other glove with his teeth then adjusting himself over you.

“Im always so busy and can never find the time to repay you for what you do for me but I want you to know that I appreciate eachthing you’ve done. Since the day we met you’ve bought so many new things into my life.” He positions both hands on your chest, looking down at you as more tears fall free.

“So there’s no way I’m letting you leave me like this, archons no.” He pushes down hard, with all his might he pushes down.

“Come on.” He huffs, feeling the snow stick to your clothing making you feel all the more cold.

Wake up wake up

“I know you can wake up.” He rasps, lump getting caught in his throat as he pushes down harder.

“Don’t leave me alone.” He pushes again and you slip further down in his hold making his fist slam on the snow.

Your face looks so peaceful but he knows the horrible truth of it all.

Besides the red puffiness around your eyes from when you were crying or your parted slightly chapped lips he knows you’re no longer here. The more he stares down at your lifeless body the more his thoughts become more and more reckless.

“Y/n wake up.” He lays you down, laying next to you.

This feels too familiar, he expects you to open your eyes and grumble something under your breath or laugh and turn away like you usually do but you don’t. You don’t even move.

He feels his bottom lip start to tremble at the mere thought.

“Please.” He whisperes. Bringing you close by your head to lay against his chest to warm you up but he feels something warm seep through his fingers.

He stills too scared to look down at his hands.

But he does so anyways, seeing the ugly dark red substance staining his bare hand.

Your blood.

Your blood on his hands.

The color looking unsightly among the pearly white snow surrounding you both.

He feels the bile rise in his throat.

“look what you’ve done!” laughter echos next to him, he whips his head in the direction it’s coming from.

“as alchemists we both get obsessed with seeing our outcomes, you should know better than anyone right albedo?” his clone speaks from right besides him. The clone had come out of no where.

albedo only looks down at you, seeing more blood spilling from your head then looks back up to his clone.

“you understand so surely no hard feelings. anyways what was it that you old them just before this all happened?” he clicks his tongue, placing his index finger and thumb on his chin.

“oh right! That they ruined all your hard work, look think of it this way, now they won’t ruin a thing-“

albedos clone jumps back, fresh deep cut along his chest as he clutches his hand over it tightly.

“almost got me! your more skilled with the sword then i had imagined!” the clone laughs.

“stop.” Albedo grits, now standing. He tried to strike the clone down in one swift motion not wanting to hear another word come from this freaks mouth. He grips the hilt of his sword tightly. He meant to end the clones life but failed, his swing wasn’t precise due to his shoulder being dislocated earlier.

“You didn’t appreciate them, not the way I would’ve.” The clone kneels near you, hand reaching your way but albedo swings again leaning down to you.

“Don’t you dare touch them.” He glares making his clone laugh louder.

“It’s not fair for you to be such a way. I had to show you what it feels like to be me. You have it all, friends, family and place to call home. You had a lover but you didn’t appreciate them. I had to do what was meant to be done.” The clones face falls expressionless as he explains.

“Why not come for me instead? Why them of all?” Albedo questions, pulling you near him again. Your body temperature dropped even more.

“Why not me?” He asks again.

“What is it that you feel?” The clone asks, sitting in front of albedo.

The blood spilling from the clone made albedos face scrunch up. Why was the clone still alive? The clone seems unscathed too, we’ll despite the gash in his chest now.

“It hurts.” Albedo whispers.

If he had just let you stay while he finished up, this never would’ve happened. If he never blew up on you from such a small thing you’d still be alive.

“It hurts.” Albedo repeats feeling fresh tears come down his face seeing them land onto your face.

“Exactly.” The clone grunts, getting up and dusting himself off. “That’s what I’ve been feeling for years living in your shadow.” He grunts, leaning over a bit to stop the blood flow from his chest.

“It’s great to see we both can experience the same emotions.” The clone smiles down at albedo.

“Bring them back.” Albedo, puts his sword down, lifting you in his arms and holding you close.

He knows he asking for the impossible.

“That’s impossible.” The clone takes slow steps to where albedo sits with you in his arms.

Leaning down to pick up the sword that albedo was holding.

“You must live with this pain just like I do.” He whispers near albedo, making albedo reach down next to him only to feel snow come in contact with his skin.

Albedo turns around expecting to see his clone but nothing. He’s left alone again.

The reality of it all hitting him once again. You’re gone.

you’re dead

“Albedo?” He hears a familiar voice call for him and his head shoots up.

“Over here! I need help!” He calls out and it hits him.

Whoever is on their was will see the state you’re in, they’ll see you pale and cold, they’ll see you dead.

“Albedo? Albedo hello?” They call out again and he freezes, he can’t move.

Y/n is dead

How will he explain, how will he tell them he couldn’t save you.

“Albedo?” It’s much softer this time, coming from his arms and he stops breathing.

“What did you do to me?” His eyes travel down to your face, your eyes are still closed but your voice is ringing in his ears.

“You let me go.” He hears you say, his grip on you tightening as he nods his head no.

No no no it wasn’t me

“No, I- it wasn’t I couldn’t.” He heaves, feeling lightheaded again.

Why is he hearing you?

“Albedo!”

His eyes shoot open as he sits up straight, chest rising and falling rapidly.

His eyes take a second to adjust but he sees the familiar view of his room.

A soft gentle hand lays on his forehead and a familiar scent surrounds him.

“I told you not to overwork yourself, you never listen.” Your voice comes from beside him, grumbling as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

“When was the last time you slept? Or even hydrated for archons sake you’re paleE AH-“

He pulls you close with so much force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

“what’s gotten into you-“

“you’re here, you’re here? you’re safe?” He exhales, hands tucking you into his neck as he brings you in impossibly closer.

“how’re you? I thought-“

“Albedo hey, look at me.” You pull away feeling his hands trembling too much for him just waking up.

You heard him grumbling in his sleep so you thought you’d wake him just in case.

He looks at you as if you were a ghost but you feel your heart sink when your eyes meet his.

In all your time you’ve known the head alchemist, in all time time you’ve been with him you’ve never seen him cry.

but he’s looking at you, with fresh tears brimming his eyes and fresh tears trailing down his face.

“love what’s wrong? are you ok?” you ask worry flooding you. Your own heart sinking, why was he so distressed? Is he hurt? Is he scared? What was he dreaming of?

“are you in any pain?” You sit down next to him and he reaches for your face.

feeling his skin make contact with yours, feeling the warmth radiating off your face. he felt himself relax, it’s you, you’re alive.

“I just want you to stay here ok.” He asks, big blue eyes staring into yours. His face that is usually hard to read with little to no emotion at times was looking at you In a way that made you feel shy.

“are you ok?” You ask again and he looks down at his chest, remembering the sick feeling he felt, how much it hurt him.

“Yes, I am now.” He nods his head, thumbs softly swiping the apples of your cheeks.

“I was going to run out to grab you medication since you passed out at work earlier, you need to take-“

“No!” He cuts you off, standing up when you get up feeling dreadful overcome him at the thought of you leaving. At the thought of his clone from his dreams getting his hands on you.

“Don’t leave, I’ll take the rest of today off! Tomorrow if I have to aswell. Let’s just stay in tonight, ok?” He gently sits you back down and you stare up at him confused but don’t rebuttal.

You only nod your head seeing him visibly relax again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll take better care of myself, better care of you. But you have to promise me you’ll be safe when I’m not with you.” He grabs both your hands, moving one down to your wrist and feeling your pulse on his fingers.

“Keep your promise and I’ll keep mines love.” You nod your head and he leans down, placing soft kisses all over your face, making you laugh aloud. Filling his ears with what he thought he’d never hear again.

He pulls you closer to him again. Hugging you not wanting to let you go, fearing for what actually could’ve been.

He looks past your bedroom window, an outline of Dragonspine can be seen from where your house is and he squeezes you closer. He cant help but wonder, is there truly someone that evil who takes the form of him out there? If so, he’ll be wary, for everyone he interacts with. Most importantly, with you.

_________________

authors note: hello my lovelies!! ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ oh geez I’m back with another albedo fic bc I needed NEEDED TO WRITE FOR HIM!! I really enjoy writing for pretty alchemist man!but I had to make a part two for this since it’s almost been a year and I promised one- BUT I made it before it hit a full yearLOL (I’m so sorry I took so long to make part two t^t) BUT HERE IT IS!! I left it off on such a big cliffhanger in part one so I do hope part two gives you all the closure you need LOL. I do hope you’re all taking care of yourselfs and staying safe! remember to eat well and drink water hope you all enjoy!!^~^<3 (this was not proof read, apologies for any errors!)

@kaeyasnowflake this if for you hon!! :D you’ve waited far too long thank you for being so patient, I hope you enjoy! <3

[yuyan]

To my darling

A/n: Merry Christmas and have a happy new year! I hope you enjoy it @pavo-ocell-me! This was a very fun event that I loved taking part in @2023gisecretsanta

Pairing: Lyney x gn!reader

Tags: Pure fluff! Modern au, implied school/college setting, penpals, pre-established relationship, reader is learning French, where reader lives doesn't have snow, one curse word just one ^^

"Take intermediate French they said. You'll be fine they said," you muttered to no one in particular as you read the Google translation over and over again. "My French teacher is going to kill me."

You rubbed your eyes, peeking out of makeshift pillow your arms made. Standing tall at the front of the class with a booming voice was your French teacher. She held a small, clear glass jar with folded bits of paper inside in one hand while placing a stack of letters on her lectern with her other.

"Speaking with natives is an excellent and necessary way to develop your language skills (unlike this soon to be 30 minute speech) so due to the cancellation of the exchange program for this year and the long dragged on meeting, we have decided to give you all pen pals!" she announced. Her arms held a wide stance, awaiting for something you were unaware of.

Some whispers and small squeals echoed through the lecture hall. Others groaned and put their head on the desk, waiting for celestia, perhaps even an archon to take them. You did neither.

"I wish I could turn back time," you sighed. After contemplating for an hour whether your teacher would ever find out that you used Google translate to write half your letter or not, you started handwriting it on a stack of fancy paper you really shouldn't have been able to afford. "Shell never know. It's not like he can tell her anyways."

As you dragged your pen along the piece of paper, you remembered the speech about how necessary this was, the small piece of paper you pulled out of the bag and the letter that came with it. With a small smile playing on your lips, you signed off and stuck the small paper that read "lyney" just below your name with a paper rainbow rose you made yourself. It had its imperfections but it's similarity to the fresh ones he sent you left you content.

"Oh my god why did he reply so fast?" you asked yourself. Not even 3 days later and you received another letter from lyney. You traced the grooves of the red wax seal made you shiver. He wouldn't ever know you used google translate right? With pursed lips, you opened it. Perfume immediately muddled your senses as you opened up the envelope. Your peers hadn't even sent their first letter, let alone receive their second.

As you skimmed over the letter, you took down some notes like where he's from–which was so uncessary–what he likes to do and some of his contact details. You hummed, giving yourself imaginary pats on the back for reading a whole three sentences before typing the other two paragraphs into Google translate. You really needed to switch classes, desperately.

It was only then you spotted that a sentence in french came out the same in the translation. "You really shouldn't be using Google translate for these letters," written at the very bottom. Well fuck.

"You are friends with your penpal? Well that's lovely (name)," your French teacher clapped with bright sparkles in her eyes. It blinded you for a second and you had to look away before you lost the ability to see forever.

Instagram

(potato_name):lyney sent a reel.

(potato_name):lyney sent a picture.

(potato_name):lyney sent you a mes...

I didn't use Google translate for this one. Are you proud of me? You wrote at the bottom before slipping the letter into its envelope and sealing it with the new wax stamp set you bought recently.

You rushed back home. You winced at the clatter of your laptop in your bag hitting the floor, deciding it was a problem for future you. Ripping open the envelope and skimming through the letter, you read at the very bottom 'I am proud of anything you do, mon Cheri."

A smile broke out onto your lips as you neatly kept it away in a small box your mother got you from Fontaine when you were little. The small box was made of white marble with gold outlining its edges and gathering in a few swirls in the middle where the golden clasp rested.

The Sun shone brightly despite it being the middle of December. Rays of Sunlight squeezed through your closed curtains and you wondered if it was snowing in Fontaine right now. Did Lyney like playing in the snow?

Letters became less and less frequent as your peers lost motivation in writing long drawn out of paragraphs with nothing but small talk. A year and a half had passed yet your teacher held a strong morale despite the head of languages not enforcing this penpals program anymore. Even they must have gotten tired of the back and forth.

A few days until Christmas holidays. Opening your phone, you checked to see if lyney had texted you anything. Nothing...

Your eyes kept glossing over your texts from Friday 11am. Its been a week. Pictures of him and his two siblings who added you back on Instagram. Even Lynette had texted you today, showing some new tea she bought from inazuma last week.

Lynette

My brother has been writing non-stop for the past few days. Are you guys still doing the penpals thing?

You

No, maybe he is writing to someone else?

Your stomach dropped as you reread your message. "Writing to someone else...I need fresh air." You took your phone and wallet and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?" your roomate called out but you were already heading to the lift. You ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face with a sigh. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter but this is the fifth time you've checked your phone this morning and its been a week with only a read tag.

"I seriously need to ban myself from my phone."

Lynette

Oh...nevermind. I'll ask him then.

Sent Friday 10 : 39am

"The christmas carnival was so much funner this year," your friend said, laughing. Then one hiccup escaped from her mouth. And then another one. Until you and your other friend bursted out laughing. "Not funny!"

"Yeah yeah. I still can't believe (Name) won that plushie from that shooting stall," your other friend said. He tossed another chip in his mouth, after finally calming down from his laughter.

"I'm surprised too. Those games are typically so rigged, I mean did you see the look on the owner's face though?" you said.

Holding up the little classic brown teddy bear, you admired it at all angles. Its red bow had a little bell hanging from the centre, jingling as you walked.

Its silly smile matched yours and then you noticed it. The small teddy's bowtie resembled the one Lyney wore in one of the pictures he sent. And the small envelope the size of your palm that the teddy held was a real one made of paper.

"(Name)? Whats wrong?"

"Nothing! I just realised my parents wanted me back at 10 and well its 11 so I have to go," you said with a bright smile, "Bye!"

"You live in a dorm though?" your friend countered, "(Name)!" But you were already walking out of the festival gates.

Picking out the small envelope, you brushed your thumb over the grooves of the wax seal. The same wax seal that you used for the last letter you sent. Did he really get the same stamp?

A mini rainbow rose fell out. The vibrant colours provided a stark contrast to the humid summer night. One letter. Five words. I love you, Mon cheri.

Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the letter, fumbling with it for a bit. Taking in the cool nighttime breeze, you looked up only to see the person you hadn't talk to in a week standing only a few metres away from you.

Lyney held a bouquet of vibrant rainbow roses in one hand and the other behind his back.

"How are you..?" You took as step back, your gaze falling to the floor then back up at him again.

"I told you I'm a magician in one of my letters didn't I?" Lyney started, "I would appear anywhere if it was to be with you."

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (part 1)

Contains: Body Horror, Blood, Violence

You had fallen to Teyvat some time ago, pulled down from the sky by a brilliant platinum star, the elements gently beckoning for you, all of them trying to prove their land the most suitable for your descent.

"Welcome back, Sea-shaper," Hydro murmurs, their voice the babbling of streams and the roar of the angry sea all at once. "Fontaine has such sights to show you. As you created, we have created to honor your actions. For your beauty, we have made our people beautiful. You will want for nothing-"

"COME TO US, HOLY TINDER," Pyro roars, its voice the starving crackle of flame and the churning of molten rock as volcanoes erupt. "NATLAN AWAITS YOU WITH AN OFFERING OF ENDLESS PASSION. YOU SHALL NEVER GO UNPROTECTED, UNLOVED, OR HUNGRY."

"Welcome, almighty Whirlwind of Creation," Electro purrs, speaking with the rattle-boom of echoing thunder. "Shall you grace my people with your presence?"

"Welcome home, Blessed Foundation," Geo hums, their voice the whispers of sand and the ancient growl of tectonic plates shifting. "Liyue has grown prosperous since you've last seen it. Perhaps you should come to us instead, where the riches of Teyvat could be put directly to use in pleasing you?"

"Don't listen to them, First Breath! We've waited for you the longest, like, a whole forever! We were first!" Anemo pleads, in the tones of breeze softly rustling leaves and howling tornadoes. "Even if you just stop by, that's totally fine!"

"You've finally come home, Heart of Winter? Good. We have missed you so." Cryo coos, the flurrying of snow and ancient creaking of glaciers their voice. "Snezhnaya may be a harsh land, but faith is enough to warm the bodies of my people."

"Flower of Irminsul, Root of All, please! You cannot come down! Another wears your face, please turn back if only for a few more days!" Dendro howls, desperate, voice a cacophony of falling trees and leaves rustling. "You ar-"

Dendro's voice fades as you pass the point of no return and begin to burn through the sky towards Mondstadt, Anemo ripping at the air to direct your course even as the other elements rage at them for their impudence.

As you fall, the memory of this conversation fades from your mind.

Welcome home, Maker, whispers the Abyss into the back of your mind.

Since that day, your time in Teyvat had become quite difficult. Whatever hopes you'd had for this world were soundly dashed.

Mondstadt 'welcomed' you with scorn and hostility for sharing the same face as their Heiliger Schöpfer, the Divine above Divines.

You were unsure as to why they hated you so, simply for your face- especially since that face is one that's otherwise looked kindly upon in this world.

You do your best to take in the sights, all the same. Though you are confused by the frosty reception, this place is so much more interesting than the game shows.

There are many more homes and people, you see (and pet) some stray animals, pick a particularly low philanemo mushroom after a couple seconds of jumping and stretching in an attempt to reach it, and generally just enjoy the (rather tense) locale.

Your confusion became fear when the Knights of Favonius begin to chase you. You'd done no crime, why would they hunt you like this, especially with such wrathful looks on their faces?!

The closest you get to meeting any of the allogenes on friendly terms comes when you breeze past Sucrose, yelping out a greeting to her. She just watches you go, incredibly confused, before a Knight accidentally bowls her over in his maddened rush after you.

Just as you exit the gate, the Knights just behind you, yelling curses and what you presume are threats-

P a i n.

Eula Lawrence just pushed a greatsword through your lungs and out your back. You have no clue how she got here so fast, where from, or how you didn't notice her.

You gag and choke as your blood quickly rushes into the space (and out of your body, simultaneously).

With a vicious yank, she tears it from you in a diagonal motion, nearly carving you in half.

A darkly satisfied look in her eyes is all you receive when you uselessly try to gasp for air and plead for help.

Your vision begins to fade, but before you can die of blood loss her boot comes down.

(Your nascent godhood activates the moment you die, and it plots a new trajectory: your misery will shape you until such a time comes that you will never feel this suffering again.)

You wake screaming in the woods, hands coming to clutch at your chest.

A massive golden scar lies just between your xiphoid process and sternum, perfectly horizontal in a way that only comes with practice.

Your clothes are covered in the brownish rusty red of old dried blood, and quite badly torn from where you were sliced nearly in two.

Breathing feels... easier, somehow. Like your lungs didn't just heal from immense trauma.

Your stomach aches badly and your mouth feels like it's full of sand. How long have you been laying here beneath the sun?

Your attempts to rise from this resting place are fruitless. You're so exhausted you can barely move your fingers.

Darkness slowly weighs your eyelids down and you fall asleep, even though you know you should not.

---

Elsewhere in the world, a being wearing your face stares up at a statue to themselves, noting with some alarm the golden scar across its chest.

The only recent news they had about an imposter was the Lawrence outcast running one through.

Now they'll have to find some way to replicate your scar and keep up the ruse.

"The original has truly descended, then... fine." They hiss, words venomous, glaring at the face of the statue. "If I can't have this place as my playground, then they won't get to have you."

---

The next time you wake, it is night, and the hunger in your belly is gnawing at you with such fervor that you feel lightheaded.

When you stand, your head twinges with pain as if to protest even this miniscule expenditure of energy.

Your body stumbles at first, briefly overcome by vertigo, but quickly adjusts.

Your mind changes its tune completely upon seeing a plump, ripe Sunsettia growing on its branch.

You desperately scramble over to pull the Sunsettia from the tree- only for it to drop into your waiting hands as soon as you reach up.

The 'how' of this doesn't quite matter to you in the moment. You bite into the ripe fruit and moan in bliss at the tart taste of the flesh and the sweetness of the juices. Within twenty seconds, you've reduced this fruit to a nubby pit, almost like a peach has.

That's kinda neat, actually. You distantly wonder what you have to crossbreed with a peach to make Sunsettias.

You pat the tree as if to thank it, not noticing that it suddenly stands a bit straighter or how its leaves are just a tiny bit greener, and go to find a nice place to put down this future Sunsettia tree.

You eventually get bored of looking for a good place and just poke a hole into the ground with a fallen branch, then stuff the remains of your first Sunsettia into the hole.

You wander off into the woods in hopes of finding a road, unaware of the golden-leaved sapling slowly growing behind you.

With a new source of energy in your system, you feel the urge to get moving- might as well make the most of this while you have it.

Your stamina is better than before, it feels like. Distances that previously felt difficult feel easier on your legs- and definitely on your lungs.

Perhaps this has something to do with your demise?

...what's that weird whistling soun-

You fall, dead, an Anemo-enriched arrow punching through the back of your head.

For a brief moment, you dream of a place deep beneath the surface of Teyvat, and a ruined statue oozing corruption into infinite darkness.

You wake with a small headache, very hungry, and more than a little pissed. Won't people just leave you the fuck alone?

Somehow, you feel sturdier. Less breakable. As nice as that is, you don't particularly feel up to testing it.

You stand.

Perhaps you should avoid civilization from now on.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Contains canon-typical violence

[When another Peacekeeper takes you for a lady of easy virtue, Coriolanus goes to defend your honour. Exemplary gentleman! Or something to that effect...]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Saturday night, mid-July. Despite the late hour, the air is warm but refreshing compared to the scalding daytime. A soft breeze carries an aroma of weeds and freshly mined coal. The streets of the town are filled with people - lovers and workers alike. Their whispered conversations and light-hearted laughter is drowned out by the booming music coming from the local bar. Truthfully, who in this weather could take a rain check on a cold beer?

The bar is bustling with life. The floor is shaking, boards creaking, as a mob of tipsy people is dancing their troubles away. Tomorrow and its anxieties a mere ripple on the water - unimportant, insignificant. The Covey is playing an encore, one of many that evening but the repetition doesn’t seem to bother the bar’s patrons. Their merriment continues undisturbed.

The same can be said about you and Coriolanus, at least for the most part:

You’re sitting with your backs turned towards the stage. A silent reassurance from Coriolanus that he is, in fact, over the songbird. Although you’ve never doubted his honesty or loyalty, he felt it only proper to let everyone know there’s a certain pair of eyes focused on only you at all times. Whatever that may entail.

Perhaps if you weren’t so emotionally invested in the obnoxious market quarrel you’re re-telling Coriolanus, you’d notice that he doesn’t look at you in the way one would expect a man in love to gaze at the lady of his heart. No, there’s something much more intense and downright sinister in the blue of his irises. The cognac in his glass is left untouched. Snow appears strangely animalistic as though he is nothing more than a predator waiting for a perfect opportunity to pounce on his prey. Perhaps if you weren’t blinded by love, you’d realize you’re an exotic, colourful butterfly hovering above a famished sundew. A matter of time, one could say.

In any event, all of your attention is on Coriolanus and the same could be said about him in some way - the part of his brain that is not lost to his primal fantasies with you as the main character is consumed by your entire persona. That is, until something, someone, gets between the butterfly and the sundew.

"Then a silence,” you continue your story. Considering the tension in your voice and the spark in your eyes, you’re about to retell the highlight of the drama. „She’s red in the face, absolutely seething. Her entire dress in drenched, she’s reeking of smoked fish. The guy, God bless his soul because he’s definitely going to need a miracle after this, he reaches for a-"

One of the Peacekeepers interrupts the climax of the story as he almost falls over. Stumbling and swaying, his much-unneeded drink spilling out of the glass, he grabs Snow’s shoulder to find balance. Despite leaning against Coriolanus, the soldier is still moving from side to side. If the air inside the bar wasn’t stale already, you’d probably be able to smell all of the liquor he has consumed.

"Private Snow,” the stranger drones his words, clearly struggling to form a coherent sentence, "has found us a barracks bunny! Good on you, Capitol boy.”

Time seems to slow down as you watch in horror what happens next. Coriolanus jumps to his feet. Not a word or even a growl of warning leaves his mouth. Taking a generous swing, Snow hits the man straight in his jaw. Something cracks horribly. The power of the blow makes Coriolanus lose his footing for a short moment. When he’s standing on his own, he’s quick to reach down for the soldier.

Snow lifts the other Peacekeeper by the man's collar. Coriolanus is angry enough for his body to shake.

"Don't you fucking dare talk to her like that," he growls. Before the drunk soldier has a chance to beg, plead or apologize, his face is hit again. And again. And once more - for good measure.

Finally, you grab Snow's shoulder and pull him off the battered man. Reluctantly, he stands up. Fury is burning inside his eyes. He’s about to say something when the bartender yells at the two of you and throws a dishrag:

"Hey! Out of my fucking bar!”

You tug at his hand and he doesn’t put up a fight. Snow’s eyes linger on the beaten-down soldier for a while longer. Pondering. Some less civilized part of him is considering breaking free from your hold to finish the offender once and for all. That aspect of his nature, however, loses to reason and Coriolanus gives up his taste for revenge. For now, at least.

The night air is refreshing. It feels as though the smell of wildflowers and coal is shaking you awake, instantly sobering you up. Despite the town being far from silent, it feels unbearably quiet without the dancing people and the singing troupe. You let out a deep sigh.

"I’m sorry.” Coriolanus is the first to speak up.

You turn around to look at him. His eyebrows are slightly raised and you almost believe his faux remorse. The look of satisfaction in his eyes gives him away completely. "You’re not.”

Suddenly, his doctored display of regret disappears. Even better - a grin curves his lips. "Yeah, I’m not.”

Coriolanus lifts his hand to reach for your jaw. Then, you notice something strange about his knuckles. Blood. The flesh between his fingers is torn. Red, irritated skin begins to swell and grow hot to the touch.

A high-pitched gasp escapes your lips. "Coryo, your hand! Let me-"

"It's nothing,” he answers in a stern voice. Coriolanus pulls his arm away when you try to grab it.

"Nothing?!" you repeat in disbelief. "You're bleeding!"

"Hey, look at me,” he says as he holds your face between the palms of his hands. Snow’s blue eyes pierce yours, making you feel like he’s suddenly privy to the deepest secrets of your soul. Considering how much time he’s spent studying you as a whole, he probably does. "It's nothing. Really. Just a scratch, nothing more. I'm going to be okay.” His expression changes from serious to more mischievous. Coriolanus lets out an airy chuckle. You feel his thumb gently brush against your lower lip. "You should have seen the other guy."

You can’t help but laugh too. As cliche and ridiculous as it sounds, someone did just got into a bar brawl to defend your honor. "I don't want to look at that man ever again in my life."

"Good,” Coriolanus whispers. His hot breath brushes against your flushed cheeks. "Then keep your eyes on me."

"With pleasure.” You giggle against his lips. He seems to have little regard for the fact that the two of you are still in public. Coriolanus kisses you deeply, almost desperately if he was humble enough to describe himself with such a word. "My knight in shining armour,” you say in an overly dramatic tone.

Coriolanus tilts his head. He stares at you with a mix of superiority and amusement. Silly, little butterfly that thinks the sundew is just another pretty flower. "A knight in shining armour is useless."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What?” you ask in confusion. "Why?”

"His armour is shiny only because it has no scratches,” he answers. There’s a sense of thrill in his voice. The sundew impresses the butterfly. "He’s never seen battle. He’s a coward,” he spits the word out with disgust.

Snow’s words make you nod in agreement. He has a point. A knight in a shining armour is a greenhorn at best and a wimp at worst. But if the knight’s armour is scratched and indented, he knows what he’s doing. The hero has seen war and came out alive. Not many can boast with that achievement.

"Then I sincerely apologize for your armour is, indeed, scratched, sir Coriolanus.” Gently, you hold his hand and kiss it right below the bloodied knuckles in case they’re too tender to touch without causing pain.

And what a beautiful sight it is - the butterfly joyously sits on the sundew.

___

Hey guys! I want to take a moment to sincerely thank everyone who has reached out to me in the past week. Although you’re Internet strangers, it really means a lot to know that people care. I’m doing alright but it will probably take a while to adjust to the new reality. Now whenever the cat is meowing at seemingly nothing, my mom says „She’s walking around”. As nice as it sounds, I truly hope She’s not looking over my shoulder, watching me write a romance fantasy about a walking red flag of a man.

[esther-dot]

[I posted a list of SEASON 6 AUS before but these are book verse]

the cold inside our bones 2k @xylodemon (just have to point out that this was posted in 2012)

The Wall is no place for a woman, but Jon looks at Sansa's gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes and knows he will not send her away.

we're a different kind of same 3k by @jonsaslove

"I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will” Or; Sansa flees the Vale. Jon retakes Winterfell. When they meet again, they are changed.

Varg-hamr/Wolf-skin 1k by @cappymightwrite

hamr: the ‘shell’ or ‘shape’ of a person — the physical body, a state that can alter. hugr: what a person really is — the absolute essence, that which can leave the hamr behind. (Or, Jon in the body of Ghost, coming across a girl in grey fleeing north, along the east side of Long Lake...)

Pearls of Water ficlet by fedonciadale

Someone wakes up in Castle Black.

Saw You In The Snow 1k by @theemberalchemist

Sansa used the last of her strength to crawl to the foot of the tree, placing her head on its roots like she would lay on her mother's lap lifetimes ago. She could die here, perhaps, in the halo and ghost of her mother's warmth. Her mind drifting to gentle hands pressing against her head, tucking her hair back, humming a sweet song Sansa knew all the words to.

tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme 1k by @hoaryoldbitch

Satin averts his eyes and all around her bodies shift and uncomfortable looks are exchanged. Something akin to fear grips her and automatically she reaches out. Ghost is right there beside her. She wraps her arms around him and buries her fingers in his fur, kissing the top of his head. A buzzing of whispers and hisses arises around her, but one man bursts into a loud and booming laugh. He's tall and burly with reddish hair and a rusty beard. "Is this the beast you've all been afraid of? The pretty little lady tamed the ferocious wolf with a touch of her hand," he snorts, before walking toward Sansa in long strides. Brienne tenses up beside her. "I'll take ye to Lord Snow, lass."

In the darkest night, a song so sweet 2k

The Lord Commander stood atop the Wall and watched as the girl in grey came riding north, her army at her back.

old timber to new fires 27k by @setnet

When Alayne Stone hears word of the marriage of Arya Stark to the Bastard of the Dreadfort, it prompts her to leave the dubious safety of the Vale and set out on a dangerous journey north to Sansa Stark's homeland and her last remaining relative. But home is not safe. Winterfell is burned and broken, the Baratheon King and the Northern Lords are fighting to influence the future of the realm, the dead are stirring... and the old gods of the North are not half gods, worshipped in wine and flowers; they require blood.

And From the Ruins 15k by @thewolvescalledmehome

After awaking, Jon Snow's sole focus is trying to get his sister back. Alayne Stone is trying to survive the Vale. After an accident, she's forced to flee.

Stay With Me 5k

As her eyes shut, probably forever, Sansa Stark thought of one last thing: Jon. Then everything went pitch black.

now we're dead roses 22k

From Ghost’s eyes, he saw a lone, grey horse racing south. On the back of the courser mounted a girl. He could hear her breaths come out in little hitches and gasps as she grasped with all her might to the reins. Ghost chased after her, sprinting fast and nimble on his feet. She was a delicate little thing. Like a breeze could throw her off the horse. Her back shook as she stifled her sobs. Ghost followed on the horse’s rear, eyes sharp on the hooded figure. She must have sensed him behind her because she turned around and suddenly-- Jon woke up with an impossible name on his tongue.

a wind with a wolf's head 13k, WIP by @branwendaughterofllyr

The cold numbed everything. From her nose, to her fingers, to the breath in her lungs, the cold froze and stiffened. Sansa shoved her cloak up around her face and tucked her free hand under her arm. The grey cloth billowed and faded into the darkening twilight as the wind tore at her. Somewhere, a wolf howled, but Sansa was not sure if it was in her mind or not. A ghost wolf, she told herself and pressed on.

Art: The Girl in Grey and Jon's Resurrection by @palominojacoby, The Girl in Grey by @jonsawilldanceanon, The Girl in Grey by @thetullystark , The Girl in Grey by @ozzy698 , The Girl in Grey by @cute-poison20102014, Jonsa Reunion by knightmarescape, Forehead Kiss by colleendoodle, Jonsa Hug by CristianaLeone, Forehead Kiss by rosenroot

PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - FAIRYTALE - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

[lancermylove]

Chapter 1

➣ Pairing: Demon brothers, Royals, Solomon with fem!Reader. ➣ Warning: None ➣ A/N: Hi hi, or should I say ho ho? Bad joke lol. 🙈 This is my first attempt at an OM chaptered fic, so hopefully, all of you like it. In this fic, you will romance the man of your choice, so similar to the actual game. There will be a romantic and platonic route, or you can romance everyone. 😉 I may or may not include N.SFW content in some chapters. If I do, I will post an SFW and N.SFW chapter for that character so audiences of all ages can read the story. Any support for this fic will be appreciated! 💖 ➣ Word Count:  1,430

➣ Chapters [SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] ➣ Chapters [N.SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] Completed!

———————————————

"I know I am asking a lot, but would you please help?"

"If the brothers find out...they will be very upset..."

"I understand, (y/n). But this is the only way to help them. I have arranged everything, so all you have to do is say yes."

Would everything go according to plan? The thought of mishaps ate away at your mind as you stood in the Student Council room with the demon brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos. Clearing his throat, the prince warmly smiled at everyone and sat on his throne at the top of the student council pyramid.

"Good afternoon, everyone. My apologies for calling all of you at such short notice." Diavolo's voice boomed with excitement as he addressed you and the brothers. "But I have exciting news to share. (Y/n) has extended an invitation to the seven of you to celebrate Christmas in her world!"

"Woooah! A Christmas with (y/n) alone!" Levi grinned widely.

"Y'know we're comin' too, so it ain't alone," Mammon shrugged and shook his head.

"Oh, it feels like a dream come true," Asmo exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

"A holiday with (y/n)...this I look forward to." Satan calmly stated, but his smile gave away his hidden excitement.

"This will be fun." Belphie chuckled, and Beel nodded in agreement as he ruffled your hair.

Though you gave a small smile, your body remained tense, and your eyes darted nervously between the brothers. Despite knowing that you had done nothing wrong, your guilty conscience weighed heavily on your heart. Then, you noticed Lucifer's expression. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with a fierce intensity; his eyes were narrowed, and his brows were furrowed. His jaw was tense, and his arms folded tightly across his chest. It was evident that he was not pleased with the situation, and you wondered if he suspected something.

The first brother's crimson orbs stared straight into Diavolo's soul, making the prince uncomfortably shift in his seat. Meanwhile, Barbatos silently observed the situation but kept his eyes on you. You couldn't help but question yourself if you did the right thing. Would it have been better if you had spoken to Lucifer first?

The vast area was draped in a deep and calming silence, broken only by the occasional sounds of the wind howling through the trees and snow crunching under your feet. As the sun slowly sank below the horizon, it cast long, ribbon-like shadows on the pristine, snow-covered ground, painting the surroundings in a warm orange hue. The cold and crisp air allowed you to see puffs of your breath as you exhaled at the breathtaking sight. The view was so mesmerizing that even the brothers were left speechless as they stood there, transfixed by the beauty of the winter wonderland that the human realm had to offer.

"Our cabin is a short distance from here," Satan said as he studied a map that Barbatos had given him. After a short while of walking through the wooded area, a structure came into view.

A winding cobblestone pathway led to a grand winter cabin covered in a thin layer of snow. The exterior was made of mocha-colored pine wood and was adorned with indicate carvings that added to its charm. The ebony-colored shingles on the roof contrasted beautifully with the light-colored wood, highlighting the structure's unique character. A large chimney protruded from the roof, spewing out thin plumes of white smoke. The second floor had an extensive all-around balcony connecting all the bedrooms from outside. Warm light poured out from the ceiling-height windows on every side of the cabin.

"This is..." Asmo started to say but his voice trailed off.

"Pretty? Amazin'? Incredible?" Mammon finished his younger brother's sentence as he removed his sunglasses and looked around.

"Can we go inside? It's cold." Belphie mumbled through chattering teeth. He liked the view, but the low temperatures were too much for him. Without wasting time, the brothers rushed inside, competing to see who could get to the door first, but Lucifer remained motionless. His eyes were fixed on the ground, and he appeared to be deep in contemplation. Even as you approached him, the Avatar of Pride didn't move or respond to you calling his name.

Why was there a stack of letters on Diavolo's desk? Every letter that came to Diavolo for official matters passed through Lucifer, so why wasn't he aware of these letters? He didn't have permission to go through the letter and viewing them without the prince's permission went against Lucifer's principles. But a nagging feeling in his mind forced him to reach for an open envelope.

"Lucifer?" You called his name out, concerned, and gently shook his arm to bring him back to the present. Snapping out of his thoughts, the tall demon looked at you but remained silent. His crimson eyes bore into your own as if trying to draw a conclusion to his theory. Were you also involved in this?

"What? Do I have something on my face?" You innocently asked, trying to break the tension in the air, but didn't wait for his answer and began pulling his arm toward the cabin. "It's freezing! We need to get inside."

He didn't withdraw his arm from your grasp, but you felt his muscles tighten under your touch. The warmth of the cabin enveloped both of you as you stepped inside. A sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla tickled your nose, and the sound of fire crackling filled your ears. The interior of the cabin was a modern, luxurious space with high-tech appliances and contemporary furnishings. The fully stocked kitchen was a chef's dream, equipped with everything you could possibly need to whip up a feast, while the living space had plush sofas and soft blankets to snuggle up in. Your lips curled up as the cozy atmosphere momentarily melted away any stress or worries.

Asmo strolled around the living room, admiring the tasteful décor of the cabin, while Satan investigated the second floor. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon made Beel hungrier than he was, so he eagerly searched the refrigerator for something to munch on. Belphie curled up on the sofa, hugging a faux fur pillow to his chest, gazing at the dancing flames in the large stone fireplace. Levi and Mammon stood by the windows, mesmerized by the view of the mountains in the distance, slowly fading into the darkness as the sun was setting beyond the horizon.

"So, there are only six rooms in the cabin...two downstairs and four upstairs," Satan announced while walking down the spiral wood staircase. Instantly, the volume inside the cozy cabin increased tenfold as the brothers argued about who would get to stay alone or with you. Your gaze immediately moved to Lucifer to find him lost in thoughts again. What was he thinking about? Did something happen?

"Lucifer, you want to say something before they start destroying the cabin?" You whispered, shaking his arm. The demon sighed heavily and glanced at his brothers but remained silent for a while as one thought repeated on a loop in his mind. His brothers acted like normal demons, so what was the problem?

"Beel and Belphie, I assume you wish to stay together," Lucifer broke his silence and spoke sternly. "(Y/n) and I shall stay individually, which leaves three rooms. Mammon, you shall stay alone due to your habit of borrowing items. Satan, I assume you wish to stay alone, leaving Levi and Asmo to share a room."

Without waiting for his brother's reaction, Lucifer briskly made his way up the stairs, his shoes thudding against the wooden steps. A knot formed in your stomach at the thought of Lucifer knowing what you did and being upset with you. Should you talk to him or wait? You sighed quietly and began to ascend the stairs, taking in the grandeur of the staircase and the ornate details along the walls. Your mind was still preoccupied with Lucifer's behavior, but you tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on choosing a bedroom that suited your taste.

"What's with Lucifer and (y/n)? Did somethin' happen between 'em?" Mammon asked in a low voice, not wanting his older brother to hear they were talking about him.

"Maybe they got into an argument," Asmo said, sitting next to Belphie and gently stroking his younger brother's head. Satan turned his back to his brothers and stared out the window overlooking the forest. This vacation was too conveniently placed, and the Avatar of Wrath knew there was more to this than meets the eye.

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