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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 4 months

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Time Doesn't Love You Anymore - Prologue

Pairing | Billy Dunne/Daisy Jones

Story Summary | Billy’s never considered himself much of a believer, not in timers, not in God but what was Daisy Jones made for if not to be worshiped? Timer Soulmate AU (countdown to your soulmate’s death)

Chapter Warnings | drug use, overdose, explicit language, death

W/C | 600+ (it's just the prologue lol)

A/N | Okay so believe it or not this work was supposed to be a oneshot but that's just not what happened and in the process this has become my baby that I've worked on for actual months (started *last* year, daisybilly brain rot is real). I've probably been 'almost done' with this since October. I'll be the first to say that the whole soulmate death timer thing is a little far-fetched but for me its a little bit more of an exploration about our relationship with time and how it effects our choices. This entire story is from Billy's POV and while I love his character, we have to remember that he is not saint and no one in this story is! Obviously irl I do not condone cheating but when it comes to these two...don't @ me. - saph

Title & Lyrics from Time by Mikky Ekko.

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

Time doesn’t love you anymore but I’m still knocking at your door.

Climbing the top of the charts until you’re number one, selling out stadiums fit for tens of thousands of people, having your face be recognized by millions, leading the band whose name you can’t walk down the street without hearing–these are the things that make you feel infinite, immortal. As those around you fall away to obscurity, are consumed by their own vices, you stand on top of the world as a symbol of what one can only dream to be.

How could death ever touch you when it had to reach so far to get there?

・・・・・・

“You can’t just fire Daisy!”

“Watch me.” The sting of bruised knuckles, numbers trickling down towards zero, the memory of her warm blood on his fingers; these images whirled around in his head creating a wall between himself and anything he may have felt for Daisy. He was on a path of destruction and it didn’t matter who was taken down with him.

“Well at least talk to the rest of the band!”

Turning from the momentum of his knock on the door, Billy whirled around, biting back, “Fuck you, Rod. This is my band!” He pounded harder on the door, making sure he was heard not only above the music blaring inside but by the entire hall.

A fuel to his fire, Nicky, opened the door, cracking it just enough for his face to be seen.

“I need to talk to her.”

“Everything’s fine,” Nicky forced out between breaths, “Okay? She’s fine. Just go.” Even from this small window of space, Billy could follow the heave of the other man’s chest, the way his eyes never quite met his own. A knot began to tie itself taut in Billy’s stomach, his anger sidelined. He eyed Rod briefly, validating his own unease. “Go. Please.”

“Open the door, Nicky.” Almost immediately, the man refuted. He stood with his arm still holding the door mostly shut while he shook his head. Billy felt the heat around him rise, the image of Daisy mindlessly twirling around on stage unable to leave his mind even as it made him dizzy. “Open the fucking door.”

Billy pushed past him, the man nothing more than a roadblock as his eyes darted around the room, “Daisy?” The words that he had so desperately wanted to say to her when he saw her again melted away with dread.

Whatever he thought he’d see when he rounded the corner wasn’t this: Daisy splayed out on white tile of the shower floor, unmoving. The sound of the crowd once again pervaded his hearing–their voices the eerie reflection of Daisy’s–as the room around him fell away.

“Daisy.”

He felt as if he was watching himself run to her from afar, sitting outside of his body even as the cold touch of her skin shocked him. Her name fell from his lips like prayer, over and over. He saw himself check for her breath, her pulse, as memories of her danced in his mind. Her light had been so bright, from the moment they met she had lit up his life like a flame; he’d never imagined it extinguished.

The sound of his own voice made him jump, “Rod! She’s not breathing, man!”

Billy’s reassurances met deaf ears as he took her into his arms, pressing her as close as possible as though, if he only wished hard enough, he could transfer some of his life to her own. Hot tears stung his eyes as went to lay her head in the crook of his arm. It was only then that he saw the numbers written across his skin, their message clear as day.

00:00:00:00:00

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 4 months

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Time Doesn't Love You Anymore - Masterlist

Pairing | Billy Dunne/Daisy Jones

Summary | Billy’s never considered himself much of a believer, not in timers, not in God but what was Daisy Jones made for if not to be worshiped? Timer Soulmate AU (countdown to your soulmate’s death)

Warnings | Emotional infidelity, discussions of drug/alcohol addiction use, overdose, death, discussions of religion/religious imagery, explicit language

Donations | Link

| Archive Of Our Own Link |

Prologue

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 4 months

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Time Doesn't Love You Anymore - Chapter I

Pairing | Billy Dunne/Daisy Jones

Chapter Warnings | drug use, explicit language, behaviors associated with and discussions of addiction, pregnancy, discussion of religion/religious imagery

W/C | 4k

A/N | This story is prewritten so I'll have regular updates. I decided to post the Prologue and Chapter 1 together due to the prologues length. Chapter 2 will be out on Tuesday, 1/8. Let me know what you think. <3

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

“So you don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

Meeting the girl in the laundromat was like the waves lapping at your ankles as you stand on the beach, a cool glass of water on a hot summer day; it was refreshing. Since starting the band–or rather spearheading Graham’s band–life had been nonstop; they were reaching for the stars and landing, well, quite a bit short from the moon. Camila was a piece of the puzzle he hadn’t even known was missing. She pushed him and the band to work more, to dream more.

The night after they met, Billy sat alone in the garage, the bass still ringing in his ears from rehearsal. He considered his timer as he had a smoke. It had been years since he really concerned himself with it, the novelty and the fairytale wearing off as his childhood became a memory. There were only a little over a handful of years left on his clock and there certainly hadn’t been a life’s worth of them when it started. A part of him, the lovesick teenager, worried what it meant for him and Camila. If by some wild chance she was his…

The slurred words of his father came to mind, shouting ‘zero! zero!’ towards his mother who stood very much alive and watched as he packed his things.

He resolved to tell her that it didn’t matter to him. It wasn’t like anybody really got anything out of those few random numbers; if you led your life by them, you’d miss out on potential happiness around every corner or you’d realize that the person you chose to grow old with wasn’t ‘the one,’ for you after all. It was next to impossible to come to any definitive conclusion from your timer, so why worry about it at all? Billy, he decided, would be relieved when his finally ran out.

He was choosing Camila and no set of numbers was going to stop him.

The first time they slept together, there was no way left to hold back the truth. Billy had delicately encircled her wrist in his hand as he read the numbers printed across her forearm; the definitive proof they weren’t meant to be, the telltale zeroes flashing across her arm. Camila wouldn’t look in his eyes, her lips turned down in the frown.

“It’s always been this way. The doctors thought they died before I was born.”

He kissed his way along the line of zeroes, reassuring her all the while that it didn’t matter to him, that only she mattered to him.Soon they’d have a matching set, fate’s control over them ceasing to exist.

・・・・・・

“Billy, I’m pregnant.”

It’s amazing just how much three words can change your life. Billy, naively, hadn’t thought much about the future, at least not beyond the success of the band. He loved Camila, there was no question about it but, even despite the irony of it all, he’d felt like he had all the time in the world to figure out their next steps. Now the way forward was clear for there was only one thing for him to do.

“I know what we’re going to do.”

He didn’t regret marrying Camila; how could he? But as the tour put physical distance between them, it opened up the door for his fear to get closer than ever. He had no real context for fatherhood; he’d certainly never had it modeled for him in any way that counted. Sure, he’d taken care of Graham while his mom worked long hours with two, sometimes three, jobs but he didn’t make or break his brother’s life, he hadn’t been responsible for bringing his brother into the world. The only solace he had was that he knew he wasn’t like his father; he wouldn’t leave when the clock hit zero. He wouldn’t leave at all.

He wasn’t like his father. Wasn’t he?

The drink after burning drink down his throat begged to differ. The pills, the lines of coke, well, at least that was unique to him–the benefits of being a ‘rockstar.’ Whenever he was sober enough to feel it, the guilt was endless and ever-growing. Billy knew what he was doing was wrong; that’s why he made sure he knew what he was doing as little as possible.

At first it was only a sip here and there, a quick fix to any complicated feeling he wasn’t ready to unpack, to feel. He just needed to get it out of his system, that’s all. Then, when the thoughts came back from the heat-filled calm with a vengeance, a sip just wouldn’t do what a glass could and another and another. And while he was at it, why not add the pills a couple groupies handed him as he walked past the barricade just for good measure? Naturally, when those downed him too much, a line of coke evened it all out. And what did the women do for him? At that point, he didn’t have enough control of his mind or his body to know.

One of the first nights of the tour, it had occurred to him that he, unlike some, had no hint as to when his life would come to an end. Somewhere across the world, someone’s timer was ticking down second by second in time to the beat of his heart and one day both would stop. Suddenly, the thought terrified him and not only for his own sake but for his child’s who might live to grow up fatherless; not to mention how low his own timer was. So why then was he testing the limits, barreling towards his end like an untold prophecy?

But Billy didn’t have to think about that, not when he was so adept at forcing it out of himself. There was no fear, no guilt, no shame; he had squandered them. There was no right or wrong; he had given his choices away to a different being. There was no time slipping away; it went as fast or as slow as his vice of the day.

On those rare nights when he didn’t pass out from his drug induced stupor, when he actually slept, Billy dreamt more and more of numbers.

・・・・・・

Billy Dunne was never a religious man. His father couldn’t make a commitment to anything as regimented as Sunday Mass and his mom didn’t have the time or the energy to get them there. As he walked by her room at night, Billy often stopped to study his mother while she prayed, rosary in hand, wondering what he was missing out on. He laid in bed afterwards, staring up at the ceiling as he listened for whatever answers his mom was receiving that he wasn’t. The only hints he had came from a motel copy of a Bible that he had flipped through on their first and last family ‘vacation.’ Beyond those few glimpses, Billy didn’t have any connection with a so-called higher power and he was fine with the fact that he likely never would.

One sweltering summer day, Billy was sweating his ass off on his battered old bike as he rode across town to pick up something in the way of food. That morning he had opened the fridge, the pantry and every other cabinet in the kitchen just to come to the conclusion that he and Graham would be having soup; again. Graham, not a fusser, had simply sat with his big puppy-dog eyes and watched as Billy began to prepare his breakfast. They would not, Billy resolved, have soup for lunch.

With stomach growling and a measly seven dollars and fifty cents in his pocket, Billy stopped for a break to catch his breath. He leaned his bike up against the side of the nearest building while he stood in its shadow to cool off; it wasn’t until he glanced down the alleyway that he noticed that shadow was topped off by a cross.

The church’s bulletin loomed over his bike as he went to pick it back up, feeling like he had broken some unspoken rule by even allowing it to touch a sacred space. The tacked up fliers varied, some for church events, others advertising for charity and of course the timer related posters with their slogans like ‘You’re on God’s Time,’ or ‘Only He Knows When.’ One particular piece stood out, the words ‘lunch provided,’ immediately drawing Billy’s eye. He looked from the flier to his watch before getting on his bike and bolting toward home.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Graham had asked as Billy tugged him through the cathedral doors. Back at home, Graham had lit up when Billy told him they were going out for lunch but he nearly turned tail and ran when they reached the bottom of the church’s stone steps. “Can’t we go to hell for this or something?”

“You will if you don’t shut your mouth.”

Ducking into one of the pews, Billy pulled the flier from his shorts pocket to reassure not only Graham but himself. Sure enough, the words ‘all are welcome’ were clear as day. Still, not many of the rows were filled as the man up front, who Billy assumed was in charge, arranged his things at the podium. Billy could hear the sound of Graham’s stomach grumbling in the silence.

It wasn’t long before the priest, as Billy learned, began to speak.

“I welcome you all here today and commend you on your willingness to take this step in your journey of declaring your faith. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.”

Billy's heart began to race as the man continued on, talks of sin and damnation swirling around in his mind. He had half the mind to cover Graham’s ears and if it weren’t for the clench of his own stomach he would’ve pulled them both out of there and never looked back. There were so many rules–Billy was learning–expectations, responsibility. How could he have gone so long, so wrong, without ever hearing this? Is this what his mother felt each night? Was he already too far gone?

Lost in his thoughts, Billy hadn’t noticed Graham leave his side and, in an instant, his bubbling panic snowballed. It only took him a moment however, to realize that everyone but him had gotten up and Graham was simply following the small crowd as the priest led them up the aisle. Billy scooted from the bench awkwardly, the wood creaking as he did. He stood behind Graham as they walked, keeping a hand on his shoulder as not to lose him.

The line of people led to a pool of crystal clear water, a small set of stairs breaking up the stone edging around it. The priest stepped into it and the first person in line followed afterward. Billy watched as one by one they were gently laid into the water and tried to memorize the process in his mind. His heart was pounding in his ears as Graham stepped up. Vaguely, Billy could hear the man ask Graham something about their parents and he thought for sure they were done for. Maybe they really would go to hell.

Graham was in and out before Billy had time to process it and, at the urging of the woman behind him, Billy stepped ankle deep into the water. Whatever words the priest was saying were lost on him as Billy looked anywhere but in his eyes. This meant that he had no proper cue for when he went under, the slow lowering of his body startling him enough that he forgot to take a breath.

Even though Billy had watched each person before him, had clocked the amount of time it took to be put under and brought back up, he felt like he was under the water for hours. There was nothing to be heard, the distorted shape of the man above him cast across the water. His lungs burned as he panicked, letting loose the air he should have conserved. Billy thought inexplicably that this would be the end of him but as he accepted his fate, he was pulled from the water to the reprieve of the air above.

The priest eyed him strangely as Billy stumbled from the man’s grasp, putting as much distance between himself and the water as he could. He could feel the eyes of the others pass over him as the room spun around him. When he finally found his balance, Billy peered around wildly, the pit in his stomach convincing him he had lost his brother. The smell of fresh food grabbed his attention and apparently it had done the same for Graham, for he was already halfway through a powdered donut when Billy caught up to him.

When their stomachs and their pockets were full, Billy told Graham to wait for him outside as the others filed out of the ornate double doors of the church.

The mid-afternoon light filtered in through the towering stained glass windows as Billy made his way down to the altar. Behind the podium from which the priest spoke loomed a sculpture of the Crucifixion, leaving Billy standing just below the bowed head of the man above. Why he was inclined to do this, he couldn’t quite pin down–though coming close to the reality of his own mortality had left him more than a little shaken. Standing before his supposed savior and knowing not what else to do, he, for the first time in his life, prayed.

Billy walked out the church to his awaiting brother, insistent that he would never return again.

“Hey, world-famous rock star Billy Dunne.”

As he locked eyes with Graham waiting for him outside the rehab center, Billy felt a sense of deja vu, mind flashing back to their tumultuous baptism; he thought about the way his lungs burned and the way he believed so surely that he would not survive it. He felt that way now, only a relatively short drive away from facing his wife for the first time since she found him in that van with women whose names he couldn’t remember or likely never knew. He knew he would feel that same burn, that same chill, that same panic as he met his daughter for the first time–the daughter he had somehow already managed to fail. But he also knew that he would come out the other end with a new appreciation for warmth, for a breath of fresh air, for calm. Standing outside the recovery center Billy, for the second time in his life, prayed.

・・・・・・

“You want to come say hi?”

Billy set down his bag, the contents heavier than when he left as the papers and packets and books of information weighed it down. Each of his steps were leaden, too loud, too forced as he made his way over to the bed where his wife lay with their daughter. Their daughter.

Seeing the band again was one thing. Sure, he had let them down too but, as much as they were family, they didn’t need him; not the way a wife needed a husband, not the way a daughter needed her father. He had set them back by appointing himself as their leader and crumbling under the pressure but they could put themselves back together, becoming better than they were before, especially without him in the way.

But seeing Camila again? He felt like one big open book, the pages filled by lies and disappointments and worst of all, he was the author. Through his actions, he had shown Camila the parts of him where the pieces didn’t fit quite right. Billy had made strangers of his emotions but this one’s name he would never forget: shame.

Billy stood over both of them where they’d positioned themselves on the bed. All those nights spent in a bottom bunk, in a room where the windows were permanently locked, he had sat awake at night and thought about what meeting his daughter might be like. The fear that had threaded itself through every scenario was that he would see her and feel no connection at all, that by not being there when she entered the world he had missed some crucial catalyst for that kind of love. None of those nights had prepared him for this; for the overwhelming rush of feeling, something akin to a drug, at the sight of this thing so precious, so innocent that he had no idea how he could’ve been in any way responsible for its creation.

“Hey, kiddo,” Billy murmured, “Sorry I’m late.”

Julia was fussing when Camila offered, “Do you want to pick her up?”

In truth, he wanted to hold her so badly his hands ached for it. He wanted to cradle his little girl and promise that he would never let her down, never let a bad thing happen to her, not after what he’d done. Still, there was a part of him that couldn’t help but believe that somehow, if he held her, she’d sense on some unspoken level that he was a failure.

“Uh, I don’t want to make her mad,” Billy declined lamely.

“She’s not mad. She just needs a nap.”

Billy often wished that he was better with words, that they came to him as sweetly as lyrics in a song but that wasn’t the case. He watched Camila carry Julia over to the bassinet as thousands of different explanations crossed his mind, none of them the right fit. He wanted to tell her that he was different, that he had changed and, if he hadn’t, then he was trying to and he would. He wanted to tell her that he never stopped loving her, that he loved and would love their daughter just the same. He wanted to say anything at all to prove himself but if words wouldn’t serve him, the least he could do was act.

“Can I, uh, can I help with that or…Do you need anything picked up from the store?”

“We’re fine.” Camila smiled tightly as she laid the baby down. She turned back to him and he felt the absence of that shield weigh onto him. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her but he also knew he didn’t hold any intrinsic right to that anymore and he wouldn’t dare cross any boundaries.

“I missed you,” Billy confessed. He took a breath, trying to formulate something more meaningful. “Cam, I–”

“Don’t.”

“But, I’m–”

“I said don’t, Billy.” The sound of Camila’s raised voice must have startled Julia for she started to whine again. “I’ve thought long and hard about what to say to you.” Billy nodded and hung his head; he deserved this. Whatever it was she had to say, he would listen and he wouldn’t contest. Her next words however, made his heart pick up its pace. “But there’s something I have to show you.”

Billy watched as she pulled up the sleeve of her sundress, her timer coming into view. He glanced back and forth between her eyes and those numbers until it hit him: it was counting down.

“What does…what does that mean?” Billy had never heard of anyone’s timer starting later in life, just as he hadn’t known anyone before Camila whose timer had never actually started. His mind raced at the possibilities. Had she met someone? And what did it mean if she did? Surely he would have to support her in pursuing them, especially considering he’d proven he wasn’t worth settling for. Just because she found someone else didn’t mean he couldn’t be a father to Julia.

Billy searched Camila’s eyes for some sort of answer as tears started to trail down her face. He inched forward to wipe them away but stopped himself before reaching her face. She looked down at the ground and shook her head and Billy found himself surprised to see her meet his eyes smiling.

“The first time I held her…it’s hers, Billy.” He followed her eyes to their daughter, resting peacefully now and his heart clenched in his chest. There was a long, full life on Camila’s timer.

“I don’t understand. How could that be? I mean, are you sure?”

Billy jumped at her touch when she took both of his hands in her own.

“You’ve caused a lot of pain, Billy and not just for me…” He looked down at their feet, feeling hot tears sting his own eyes. “But you gave this to me. You gave me her.” She squeezed his hands gently. “It was meant to be.”

・・・・・・

Life could hardly return to the way it was before and in fact it never did but Billy was willing and ready to put in whatever work it took to get it as close as possible. First and foremost, he had to put to the test his goals from rehab, the most important being to find alternative outlets for his anxieties. Killing two birds with one stone, Billy also created a routine for himself based on starting his morning with a run; he’d never really been an athlete but he supposed it was good enough to blow off some steam and of course the irony of the ‘runner’s high’ wasn’t lost on him. The next steps Billy took involved considering everything his father never did, especially chores and general upkeep of the house, and doing them. Sure, he was overcompensating and sure, everyone could see it but what he wanted above all was just for his family to know that he cared and he was trying.

As far as him and Camila went, it took time for them to feel close again and, if it weren’t for that ever present pressure Billy felt to never ruin such a good thing again, it almost felt like a fresh start and he knew he never would’ve been granted that chance if it weren’t for Camila’s timer. She was a natural at the whole motherhood thing and she had truly bloomed within Julia’s presence. Billy was equally as grateful that he had helped her find this as he was terrified by the obvious fact that she simply didn’t need him; she was complete and he was broken. It didn’t help that his progress with Julia was slow but, after a time, that fell into place alongside and as an effect of his repaired relationship with Camila.

The only thing that had yet to be repaired was his relationship with the band. While they struggled to find a new lead singer, he lingered behind, focusing his attention on what he had to do to provide for his family. They had a good thing going with the first tour and Billy believed that they would have truly taken off if it wasn’t for him but music was not a reliable industry and what Billy needed to be and be a part of was reliable.

“Let’s go home,” Billy had one day suggested to Camila. What he wanted was safety, something he could pour himself into that he knew would be good for him and his family; his passion didn’t matter anymore, not when their happiness came before all else.

Camila had put him in his place. She would not be leaving and so neither would he. She had dreams and aspirations just like he had once and she would continue to pursue them even if he didn’t have the same strength. Billy was taken aback, not by her response but by the realization that even in his effort to make amends, he could be selfish. At the same time though, he felt invigorated by her own courage.

So slowly but steadily, Billy found his place again and even some of that passion. He started to write again and eventually, after some deliberation, he found himself once again the frontman of the Six.

And then, of course, came Daisy.

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 6 months

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 6 months

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THE HUNGER GAMES: CATCHING FIRE 2013

↳ insp.

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 7 months

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AURORA (1976)

Even now, when you listen to that album, every song is like a coded message from Billy to Daisy, Daisy to Billy. I'm sorry, did he say coded?

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 8 months

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THEIR FINEST (2016) Dir. Lone Scherfig

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sapphiremoonlighttoo · 10 months

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do we get to know what happened to the first baby? the one they lost? like from the vibes alone, it seems like either a miscarriage or stillbirth. what happened?

Our Condolences

The Drought of an Ocean Universe

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Original Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Oneshot Summary | Three months after they realize they’re expecting, things take a turn for the worse for Finnick and his girl.

Chapter Warnings | loss of pregnancy, explicit language

W/C | 1.5k

Taglist | @lem0ns77 @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley @bela-nov @lilylovelyxo @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten @dd122004dd @jyessaminereads @aquawhore420 @qallaghereid @bazzaza @zulpix-blog @mrsjna @americanstarlette @lou-the-confused-bisexual @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cecepop15 @pavard-leto-girl

A/N | We're currently making our way through the asks so as they come in we will complete this type of oneshot for them. Please enjoy!!-Smoe

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

Again and again, she watched the shadow of a figure cast across the living room from the front window as they had for weeks now. She buried herself deeper in the blanket and tried to fall back into the mindless dirge of whatever was on the TV. From the other part of the house, she could hear Finnick and Mags puttering about and even with the faint movements she knew exactly what room they were in; the room that she hadn’t stepped foot in in weeks, the room whose door Finnick would shut if she even took a step towards. The figure passed by again, blocking the sunlight from bleeding through the window and despite her best interests, she thought she might just go outside. It’d been days since she’d felt fresh air and she’d be in and out before Finnick could say anything.

Her bare feet hit the polished wood floor, sending a shiver up her spine and she kept the blanket wrapped around her, the end of it trailing behind as she made her way towards the door. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the sunlight but as they did, she could see the front porch was once again covered with vases of flowers and various ornate gift bags and boxes alike. She filled her arms with as much as she could take in one go, though caution didn’t matter much when every gift was an empty gesture…

“Hey, hey, no. You shouldn’t be lifting that.”

“It’s just a couple of vases. I think I can handle it.” Her protests went unheard as Finnick gathered the gifts in his arms leaving her with a ‘don’t you touch those’ about the rest. They’d hardly accepted the news themselves before it was Capitol official and it didn’t take long for the gifts to come flooding in; they already had a full nursery with enough for a family of ten. Any significant spares they received, like the surplus of bassinets, were donated first to their own District, then to the others.

Finnick had barely let his eyes off her since she told him she was pregnant and despite being terrified, as the gifts multiplied and the entire country buzzed her excitement began to grow. She never thought herself a mother, having decidedly condemned her future to one as a failed career before she met Finnick and then a captive in her own life after. Though now she supposed things had changed, her life, though not entirely hers, was made tolerable by Finnick and now, their child.

A small smile graced her face as she plucked a card from the bouquet of flowers. ‘Congratulations! We are so…’

‘...sorry to hear about your loss, our condolences–’ She was unable to finish reading the note before it was torn from between her fingers, the vase of calla lilies obstructed from her view.

“Finnick, please–”

“You don’t need to keep reading all of these,” His voice soothed, leaving the numerous gifts out on the porch as he closed the door, softly nudging her inside. “I’ll throw those out later.”

“I’m fine,” She tried to reassure him but her stomach clenched at his pained face. “You don’t need to be the one to do everything. I’m okay.” Despite her words, she didn’t expect the grief she felt when they lost the baby. She turned away from him, heading towards the kitchen where...

Their lunch was forgotten in her haze. The memories of intense pain and blood running down her thighs as she yelled for help had left her drained, and nearly unresponsive in bed. The only one around to help had been Mags, Finnick’s elderly mentor. The older woman had rubbed her back and helped her clean herself up before making her lie down in bed.

She must’ve done something; she couldn’t wrap her mind around how it could’ve happened. Maybe Finnick had been right and she should’ve been doing less than she was, maybe she ate something she shouldn't have, maybe she wasn’t meant to be a mother.

Her eyes pricked with tears, salt running down her cheeks at the revelation of what this would mean for her and Finnick. President Snow told them before they left for their honeymoon his expectations from them and not even three months since the official announcement of her pregnancy had she messed it up. She didn’t know how they would be punished but once again she’d dragged Finnick down with her. She was deep in her thoughts when a hand gently laid on her waist, startling her.

“Mags told me that…” She couldn’t bear to look at him when his voice choked up. “That you lost the baby?”

“I’m sorry.”

Finnick circled around the bed and crouched in front of her, his eyes red-rimmed and hair disheveled. “It’s not your fault,” He clutched her hand in both of his. “Not even a little bit.”

“But President Snow–”

“Fuck Snow. He doesn’t matter, you matter.” Finnick’s face was earnest…

…his eyes swirling with worry as he looked across the room at Mags who was already pulling out utensils to start making lunch. Although she found it tough to be taken care of, she knew the woman was happy to have someone to tend to again, especially when it came to Finnick who had l been bending over backward lately to be there for her every waking need.

He’d done everything he could to help her. Never-ending assurances and thoughtful words were thrown at her constantly, but she worried for him. All he had left was Mags and now her; a baby would’ve expanded his family and she knew he was crushed over it. Selfishly, she’d felt almost a bit relieved to have been released from the responsibility of taking care of a baby. She was eighteen and Finnick only a year older, they hadn’t grown up with much of any sort of role model and she felt ill-equipped to raise a child.

After what happened, they contacted The President before he could decide they were hiding something from him and she was quickly ushered to The Capitol and met by the best doctors in the country. Though, it was too late and they'd confirmed what she already knew: that she’d lost the baby.

“Hey, Mags, could you keep an eye on her while I take care of the rest of this stuff?” Finnick called out from behind her. Mags shook her head, gesturing first to herself and then towards the door, indicating that she’d take care of it and in turn leaving him no choice but to face her.

As soon as Mags was far enough away, she bit out, “I don’t need someone to babysit me.”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t–”

She was already walking with only one destination in mind and though she knew it wasn’t something that would be good for either of them, it was something she needed to do. Finnick’s footfalls were quick behind her on the stairs and she felt a pit in her stomach growing at the knowledge that he had already realized what she wanted.

When she reached the door, his hand was already on the handle holding it shut, his strength overwhelming her own. She smacked open palms and then fists against the door to no avail. Snapping her head to look at him, she stilled, letting the look on her face speak for itself as it met his own strained expression. His head fell, the unspoken exchange leaving him with no choice but to let go.

Turning the handle she opened the door…

…to see Finnick in deep concentration, trying to assemble the bassinet that they had been gifted from Sagan when they heard the news. Despite Sagan’s flare for the dramatics, the bassinet was sweet and simple, a classic cream color with a sea-themed mobile to accompany it.

She didn’t want to say anything as she leaned in the doorway, watching her husband hard at work. While it was hard to get used to the idea of being a mother, it didn’t take much to imagine Finnick as a doting father. She must’ve made some noise as she thought for Finnick jumped, the paper detailing the instructions falling out of his mouth and onto the floor.

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise you,” Finnick blushed as he stood. She couldn’t help but grin and she turned back for the door.

“Well, I’ll just pretend I didn’t see anything,” She called as she closed the door…

…and was met with Finnick’s grim face, her own likely mirroring his. Her heart was pounding at the sudden memory of a happier time and she felt sick. Their lives had been so strained recently that she worried for them.

She sighed walking past him towards their room. “I wish none of this had ever happened.”

A beat passed before Finnick spoke. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

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