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mrs-kmikaelson · 4 months

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Our Song and Dance⁴

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: LONGGGG, descriptions of torture, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, violence, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, grief, and some unhealthy coping mechanisms Words: 18.2K

Masterlist

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

You had never felt so cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, don’t-”

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

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

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

When did it ever?

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

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

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

Even though you didn’t want to see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d never feel safe again.

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

But this boy wasn’t Peeta.

He wasn’t Peeta at all.

“Y/N?”

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

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

“She’s too close,” he remarked.

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

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

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

Primrose Everdeen.

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

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

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

Family.

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

She hadn’t come to see you, either.

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The way a victor looked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could you ever be a voice?

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

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

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

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

And, in a way, she did.

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

A better world.

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

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

You didn’t have any hope left.

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

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

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

You knew better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if you weren’t really looking at him.

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

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

He looked solemn. And maybe even a little scared.

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

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

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

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

Dancing, dancing, dancing.

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

But Finnick hadn’t stopped at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would not get to live in this better world.

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

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

This was about something much bigger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katniss didn’t waver. “So do I.”

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

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

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

And you wished that was true.

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

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

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

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

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

“It would be an honour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t do that.

It wasn’t fair to him.

It wasn’t fair to Annie.

It wasn’t fair to you.

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

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

He nodded to you. “Princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aren’t you?

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

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

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

Weren’t you?

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

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

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

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

“Show them that they can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t a child anymore.

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

This was war.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How did we get here? you wondered.

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

He was right there. He was still right there.

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

He was right there.

But you were still alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No sacrifice too great… but wasn’t there?

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

No sacrifice too great.

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe you weren’t.

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

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

No sacrifice too great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t.

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

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

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

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

There was no sacrifice too great.

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

“We should have every available medic standing by.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This world could’ve been beautiful.

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

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

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

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

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

If she saw, would she still be standing?

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

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

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

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

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

No.

Yes.

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

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

You had to go light a match.

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

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

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

On the outside, at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’d quickly be feeling a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it quick, you’re exposed.”

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

You’re lucky, you know.

How so?

You just are.

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

Luck didn’t exist in this new world.

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

“Survivors! Inbound!”

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

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

That was your name.

That was your name coming from Finnick Odair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

You’re gonna have to kill me first.

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

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

“Drop the gun!”

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

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

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

Because they took everything from you first.

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

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

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

They were all just people.

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

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

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

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

And then your vision went black.

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

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

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

“And yet all of your comrades did?”

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

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know where they were.

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

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

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

You even thought that he enjoyed this.

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

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

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

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

Only Finnick could do that to you.

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

But why?

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

What’s your favourite colour?

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

Now that colour just made you want to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

Cinna.

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

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

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

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

You were just talking to Finnick.

And that scared you.

Your breath hitched.

Why would you do that?

Finn-

Why would you volunteer?

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

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

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

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

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

“But I didn’t.” But I did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No- no, they’re not-”

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

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

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

Even if Finnick had convinced himself that it would.

“It’s impossible.”

“I l-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if reminiscing was all you could do.

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

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

Poison.

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

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

You even thought you’d died.

You even wished you did.

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

Luck.

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

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

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

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

Scissors.

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

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

And that’s all you could focus on.

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

That’s not what you were doing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that didn’t make sense.

That didn’t make sense at all.

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

Show them that they can.

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

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

Even if you died for it in the process.

“Looking good, Princess.”

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

“Easy. I hear you’re injured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except Finnick wasn’t here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed, “Jo-”

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

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

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

But your wishes rarely ever came true.

“It’s not that simple,” you said.

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

But that was not this world.

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

I wish it was.

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

But that wasn’t really your home, either.

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

That year, you barely ate a thing.

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

But you did.

And then you did it every time after that.

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

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

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

Was she watching? you wondered. Is she happy?

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

Like she didn’t want you to.

Mom, I- I won. Did you watch?

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

And they might as well have been.

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

But you weren’t you anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same difference.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seemed.

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

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

You were close.

Until you weren’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. They don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

Until the time came for the 75th Hunger Games.

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

She was scared.

And she was angry.

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

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

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

“I’m just- I’m just tired-”

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

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

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

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

“No-”

“Hit me like I’m Snow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the room went black.

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

You’re alive.

Somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

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

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

It didn’t feel that way at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please! Stop! No-

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

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

This song would never skip.

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

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

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

He looked like a ghost.

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t him at all.

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

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

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

Finnick.

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

You think he only just realized that, too.

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

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

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

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

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

Right here.

And not at all at the same time.

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

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

Could you ever?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you couldn’t pretend anymore.

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

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

“I-” your voice cracked, “I can’t-”

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

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

“Please.”

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

Trust you to do what?

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

I trust you.

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

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

You couldn’t do this. Not now.

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

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

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

No, no, nothing is okay!

We will never be free, Y/N.

Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Hunger Games.

Mom?

President Snow used to sell me.

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

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day the music died, so would you.

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

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ivestas · 1 year

Note

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant.

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group.

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you.

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.”

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!”

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally.

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease.

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?”

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that.

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission.

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc.

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm.

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds.

So you just did that: focus on them.

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough.

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms.

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”

You did just that—retreat.

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more.

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding.

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn.

You lifted the arm, examining the wound.

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise.

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications.

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together.

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view.

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?”

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face.

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak!

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly.

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.”

You expected—wanted—him to berate you.

But he didn’t. He was kind.

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.”

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost.

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?”

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly.

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.”

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!”

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.”

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.”

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed.

“Gimme your arm, kid.”

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.”

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly.

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar.

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand.

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly.

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded.

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy.

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...”

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?”

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.”

You laughed.

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you.

They really care.

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.”

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon!#john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 3,146

Warnings | +18, yandere, smut, Stockholm syndrome, body worship. pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, vaginal sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, manipulation, obsession, this is not for minors

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Here is the eighth and final chapter of Happy Ending ❤ The idea of publishing the last chapter of this story excites me, I was really pleased to hear that you enjoyed it and there will be surprises coming for you! I have already prepared drabbles for Happy Ending and a spin-off about Jimin, I really hope this will make you happy ❤ Please write to me if you would like to be added to the taglist of the spin-off ❤

And I apologize for the errors that there will be in the chapter, it has been a difficult week 😭❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts, @aiiselle90210, @fewercascade , @mageprincess7, @m00njinnie, @get-that-brain-working, @whipwhoops

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

When Y/N reopened her eyes, it was now past twelve o'clock. She stood up, recognizing Jungkook's bedroom, becoming aware of what had happened a few hours ago, her cheeks blushing at the memory of how she had held him in her mouth until he had fully climaxed, had she been good? Well, she had never given a blowjob in her life, but copying those same videos and drawing from her previous hard readings, she must not have been that bad. She got out of bed, determined to take a shower as well as brush her teeth. Not that she minded the taste of cum, she had already noticed that it didn't bother her from that time on the couch, but it still wasn't a pleasant sensation after hours of good sleep. She washed herself thoroughly, feeling a strange discomfort between her legs, it was like a sense of dissatisfaction pulsing right in the center of her heat, she tried to pleasure herself under the hot water, but the image of Jungkook giving her pleasure on the couch could not drive it away, she swallowed, fully understanding what her body was communicating to her. She wanted Jungkook, only he knew exactly what points to hit and where to reach. She bit her lips undecided whether or not to ask the boy for a little help, got dressed with that doubt in her mind and went to the kitchen, but she did not find him, the boy was not present in the living room either, and she with wide eyes ran to his office.

He was there most of the time and, to her relief, she found him there that time as well, from the open chink she saw the boy hunched over drawings, the tall, powerful figure rekindled that intimate desire, which she found inexplicable. Why on earth did he have that powerful effect on her? She decided to enter at a leisurely pace, stopping just behind him. Obviously with a job like his, over the years Jungkook had learned to sense a person's presence well in advance, which was precisely why he was not surprised to see her there; he turned with a smile. "Are you hungry?" Y/N squeezed into her shoulders, approaching the desk. She looked carefully at the drawings that Jungkook was evaluating, read at the corners of each sheet the name of each of her classmates, tightened her lips and with a nimble, quick gesture tossed that useless block to the side, they were not works of art, there was no love in those lines, Y/N knew this, she always heard her classmates complaining that they could not play during drawing hours, just as she heard them praising Jungkook's beauty, yet discrediting his lessons. "Wasted," they would say, "With that body he would look great as a team coach," they continued.

They did not appreciate Jungkook's work and talent, but she was different, that's why she was his. The boy studied the girl's attitude confusedly, "Is everything okay?" Y/N felt great, she was no longer thinking about her studies or those two who called themselves parents, she was fine. She was fine with Jungkook and only that mattered, every flap of her mind was about the boy in front of her. She longed for him, she wanted him, she loved him. With those thoughts in her mind, she jumped over the desk, positioning herself right in front of Jungkook, who watched with surprise at the girl's actions. She was wearing a low-cut sweater and white shorts that day, leaving the rest of her legs uncovered, legs she swung briskly before smiling. "Yes, I'm hungry," she said, Jungkook nodded, already ready to get up to prepare something for her - he still didn't trust her to put a knife in her hands, Jimin's experience had been shocking enough not to follow suit - but Y/N leaned over to pull the chair, and consequently the boy, closer to the desk. Jungkook tilted his head, then a light bulb went off and he threw himself against the back of the chair, licking his lower lip. "What would you like to eat?" he asked her, playfully.

Y/N shook her head, "In truth I would have another kind of hunger, something that sees you eating me," she clarified bluntly, by now she understood that with Jungkook she would no longer have to mind explicitly requesting far more intimate attention. The latter's fingers closed over the cleavage of her sweater, pulling downward to expose her full, soft breasts, still enclosed in her pearl-colored bra. "And how should I eat you today, sweetheart?" he murmured, leaving a moist kiss on the portion of her breasts that protruded briskly without restraint. Y/N trembled, her intimacy already on fire from mere words. Jungkook went up the column of her neck with soft, sweet kisses, reached the earlobe, which he took between his teeth and nibbled, before pulling and whispering, "Should I be sweet and slow?" with one hand he untangled the bra hooks, immediately crept underneath, cupping one soft breast, the girl trembled, squirming when one of her peaks was teased, "Or does my little girl want something more brutal and fast?" he pressed firmly against the nipple, rubbing his mouth against the tip as it plumped.

Y/N threw back her head, holding onto her elbows, "S-Sweet... and slow, please" she sighed, Jungkook hummed, sucking the tender little button, he broke away slightly to blow hot air on it that made the girl shiver, Jungkook realized how sensitive she was and sadistically pulled the nipple lightly between his teeth, watching ravenously as the girl's fingers tightened between them. "My little girl wants to be treated like a princess," he crooned, "You're right, it's not yet time for you to find out what a whore you can become under my command," he growled and Y/N's intimacy tightened at his words. He undressed her by throwing her sweater to the floor along with her bra, leaving to his own will that divine feast, which he found himself adoring by holding her still by the hips, while with his lips he took to tormenting her other nipple, pushed it against his palate crushing it over and over again, heedless of the fingers that pulled at his silky locks, he breathed in the scent of her skin as he swallowed his own spit, trying not to drool around her sensitive flesh. With his mouth busy pleasantly torturing the young woman's breasts, covering them with kisses and signs of love, he reached down with his hands to unbutton her shorts, Y/N timidly helped him in the task, and soon that garment was slipped off her legs.

Jungkook began to knead through the fabric of her panties the tender folds of her burning pussy, pushed two fingers against her clit, aroused felt the little pearl pulsing under his fingertips, and pulled completely off her chest, biting eagerly at her hips and then lower and lower, getting to where he was really expected, Y/N lay fully on the desk, watching Jungkook's head between her legs with glazed eyes, throwing them back at the boy's first lick, she trembled so much that Jungkook had to spread her legs wider. With her panties now on the floor, Jungkook took care to lick her swollen clitoris again slowly, feeling on his taste buds the flavor of each velvety inch. He found her pussy incredibly soaked, which did not, however, prevent him from spitting between her folds, making the stretch even smoother and wetter for his tongue, which gathered its essence before sucking that throbbing pearl into his mouth, caressing it occasionally with his tongue.

Y/N felt herself lost in a whirlwind of forbidden sensations and overwhelming emotions, she spread her lips wide in search of air, thrusting her pelvis more and more against the boy's voracious mouth, who pushed his tongue deep into her tight, wet slit, touched a particularly sensitive area with the tip that made Y/N stiffen, who moaned louder, speechless. "J-Jungkook, faster, please!" she exclaimed, watching him from her obscenely spread legs, but the boy smiled, before licking her folds once more, focusing occasionally on her increasingly charged and aching clitoris.

"Oh, no... you said sweet..." he left a kiss on the folds, "... and slow..." he finished, lightly penetrating her entrance with a finger, slowly pumping between the moist walls that fluttered and tightened as he passed. Y/N felt like crying; she did not think Jungkook was so sadistic in bed. "Jungkook, don't do this to me," she cried painfully, the boy seemed to think of an answer, continuing to stuff her entrance by adding another finger, which made the stretch more difficult because of the tightness of the young woman. "Will you let me go on?" he observed the distraught figure of the girl, lying on his desk with her head turned upward, nervously biting her lips. Y/N did not understand what he meant at first, then slowly came to it and did not know what to answer. "But...I've never done that," she murmured, hissing at the hot tongue that returned to make her legs tremble, striking the swollen pearl in quick tongue strokes, she squeezed the young man's head between her legs, trying to prolong that pleasurable torture, but Jungkook pulled away.

He longed to be her first and only man, knowing he had a virgin in his hands teased his animal side, which roared with pleasure. "I could introduce you to a pleasure you don't even imagine you can achieve, Y/N," he said seriously, the girl thought about it, "So you want to come like this?" in asking, he sucked violently on her swollen clitoris, encircling it with his tongue lasciviously causing her to scream, "For me it would be no problem, love... but would you allow me to introduce you to something that will unite us inextricably?" the rough, dark voice hit the girl's belly, she felt herself ignite more. The idea of joining him in a more intimate and close way appealed to her, although she harbored much fear about it; she knew it would also be painful. "Will you make me feel good?" she chirped shyly, and Jungkook melted into a smile, nodding. "I will always make you feel good, my beautiful girl." At that point she made her decision, agreed to take that extra step forward, defeating her fear. Jungkook stood up, taking her in his arms with unprecedented ease, Y/N looked at him confused. "The bed I think is more comfortable as the first time," he justified himself, kissing her forehead. He carried her to what would effectively become the bedroom of both of them, laying her in the middle of the mattress, between the sheets that already smelled of them. Together.

Jungkook began to undress, that was the first time the girl saw him completely naked, she wordlessly admired the tattoos that crept around his arm, and then noticed the toned and smooth muscles, his swollen lips thanks to her juices stretched into a sly smile when he also shed his jeans and underwear, showing her once again the perfect shape of his legs and his already taut and swollen cock, although the boy paid no attention to it, watching attractively the girl's soft and more downsized body, which looked like a tender little thing in comparison to him. He climbed on all fours on the bed and crawled toward her before stealing a kiss from her, entwining their tongues and tasting their flavors, Y/N distinguished a spicy note on the man's tongue, which she guessed was just his essence, Jungkook tenderly encircled her by one hip, while with his other hand he went back to teasing her folds, trying to make her relax again. "Look into my eyes, Y/N," he murmured on her lips, the girl did as he told her, losing herself in the night sky of his incredibly sweet irises, "I'll try to go slow, okay? It will only hurt a bit at first," he told her and she nodded, resting her head between his neck and shoulder, focusing on the erotic sensations of the man's fingers in her pleasure center.

Jungkook encircled her clit with his thumb, squeezing it gently before caressing the delicate pearl, retrieved some liquid pleasure from her tight slit in order to spread it over the bundle of nerves, lubricating and softening the delicious rubbing, Y/N moved her hips against the hand, moaning at the pressing pleasure that expanded to the tip of her hair, moments later Jungkook penetrated her entrance, parting her walls in a slow and pleasurable stretch, adding a third finger shortly afterward that made the girl frown. It didn't hurt, but it stung slightly, Jungkook left soft kisses on her neck, trying to distract her. He succeeded, felt her relax, and his fingers gained speed as the girl's moisture increased along with her arousal. Small sounds rhythmically came out of her throat, her eyes closed to focus on the sensation as best she could, not missing the way Jungkook's thumb still rolled slowly over her stiff clitoris. Jungkook reached to touch a slightly more elastic spot, he realized there he had to stop, she was ready enough to take him without too much pain.

He brought his fingers out of her intimacy and Y/N suddenly felt empty. She saw him move away to stand between her legs already wide open for him, the boy observed the girl's slick folds licking his lips, his cock moved involuntarily at the sight and accompanied him between them, sliding easily he touched her clitoris with the moist tip, insisting over and over again on that spot to make the girl tremble once more, she felt the center of her pleasure contract obscenely.

Jungkook finished his little game by pressing himself one last time, when he pulled away a long trail of cum connected the girl's sex to his sensitive cock, hissed pressing against the soggy slit, gently and slowly penetrating it, tenderly enveloped him, and his hips contracted feverishly. Y/N immediately felt the substantial difference between the young man's fingers and his cock, and to say that the boy's fingers were also much longer and thicker than the girl's! When he pushed further, the woman's walls continued to envelop him like a glove, Jungkook had to block himself by gritting his teeth, he could have come there and then without much ado, Y/N for her part felt a strange mix of sensations. She felt pleasantly full, small waves of pleasure also joined the slightly burning stretch that Jungkook left when he resumed moving in small thrusts, he went deeper and she arched reflexively, shocked by the intimacy of the union, she tightened around him moaning, the knowledge that she had him inside her in a way that another woman could only have dreamed of excited her more than anything else and now accustomed to his presence she pushed against his hips, communicating to him that he could go further.

Jungkook took a breath before pulling out to the scarlet tip, then back in again with a vigorous thrust, the girl felt something inside her flake and split, she let out a small scream immediately stifled by the boy's lips, which resumed thrusting without giving her any more time to be able to register the pain, he furrowed the soft and warm walls in the grip of unheard of pleasure, they were so close that Y/N felt the boy's pubes touch hers, a burst of pleasure stronger than the others left her gasping, she broke away from Jungkook's lips to embrace him in despair, pain and pleasure combined to create a strange, bewitching spiral, and the more his cock sinuously penetrated the elastic entrance, cradling the walls with gentle, frenzied thrusts, the more pleasure she felt increased, releasing charged jets that shocked her body. The thrusts increased in speed, Jungkook felt drops of his own sweat slip from his body to join the girl's, he scrutinized her distraught face and found her enchanting in her fucked and desperate state, she was crying and he knew it was not from pain, she was experiencing sensations so unfamiliar that her brain was not yet able to comprehend the extent of them, she was crying because that was her only outlet and Jungkook felt himself tensing painfully at the sight, he changed angles slightly and Y/N widened her eyes.

"Oooooh ... fuck, fuck, fuck!" she exclaimed shamelessly, Jungkook realized with amusement that he had found her most sensitive spot and rotated his pelvis in order to strike that area one more time.

"Yes? Is this where you want me?" he asked not recognizing his own voice, simply repeated the action and the girl nodded vigorously. "Yes! Oh, please... yes, yes..." Y/N went so far as to claw his back to clarify the concept, "Don't stop! Oh God!" He felt her stiffen, squeezing him in a tremendously pleasurable grip that made Jungkook's hips stutter, Y/N felt him all the way to her belly, her walls throbbed violently, and Jungkook took the opportunity to pinch her clit one last time, leaving her to explode in a hard, intense orgasm that left her trembling like a pudding on the bed. The boy continued with his increasingly voracious and direct thrusts, his heavy balls pulsed hitting the girl's buttocks uninterruptedly, this triggered a devastating orgasm in him that made him moan breathlessly, he came inside her flooding her walls, the girl's pussy violently contracted once again, willingly welcoming his cum and his last sloppy thrusts, finally he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily over Y/N, she was still too out of it. "Y/N?" he asked, the girl tried to open her eyes. "Mh?" "I love you," he said with his heart in his throat, in love and kidnapped. Yes, kidnapped. She had kidnapped him and not the other way around. Y/N let go of a lazy smile, "I love you too, Jungkook," she replied, finally fulfilling Jungkook's dream, she touched the boy's face affectionately, "You kept your promise, with you I feel protected and happy," she found herself moved, continuing to caress him. Jungkook kissed her hand gently. "I will destroy anyone who tries to hurt you," he whispered with a serious look that left the girl interjected, "I will stop at no one, my love." Y/N felt a strange chill pervade her, but she mentally shook her head, telling herself there was nothing wrong, smiled at Jungkook and kissed him, dragging him with her between the soft sheets with a giggle. He thought back to the elderly neighbor, to the words of that now distant day, gosh, she was so right. Yes, that was the something new she had been waiting for, the happy ending she had been waiting for her whole miserable life. "I love you."

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts yandere #bts yandere smut #bts smut yandere #bts yandere fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook yandere #jungkook yandere x reader #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jeongguk x reader #yandere jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #yandere bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere

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moethewriter · 5 months

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I had this idea for finnick I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing, it’s not very good but I was thinking Finnick comforting the reader (who’s a district 4 victor) after her younger sister who was repeaped for the games doesn’t make it in the games? And it finally causes the reader to break or something?

Don’t worry about it if not, thank you!

It's a great idea! Thank you for requesting anon! Hope you enjoy! - TITLE: Broken Melodies WORD COUNT: 1k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x (Fem Coded) Reader WARNINGS: Angst, brief descriptions of blood and violence TAGS: (LET ME KNOW IF ANYTHING NEEDS TO GO UNDER THERE!) A/N: Had a great time writing this one and loving all the requests everyone has had so far! I'm quite sick, so I do apologise if fics are little bit slower! -

You hadn’t been ready to hear those words from the escort of District Four. You hadn’t been ready to send your younger sister off into the Hunger Games to possibly never come back. The idea that she would be reaped nearly a year after you had never crossed your mind. The fact that you couldn’t volunteer to protect her killed you on the inside. Her face, the way it had dropped, the way she had cried … it was burnt into your memory forever.

You couldn’t have given up on her, that you knew. You had to fight every step of the way to ensure a win and bring her home. You campaigned to sponsors, did everything Snow asked of you, and you tried to train her as best you could. But she could only do so much, she was fourteen years old. You, as her mentor, tried to comfort her and give her every reassurance possible but nothing was able to prepare her for the true horrors in that arena.

She was a child, she didn’t deserve to be thrown in there and face what you knew she couldn’t win. You had been sixteen, not much older than her at all but … she was your sister … your baby sister and you had failed her. You couldn’t protect her despite everything you sent her way.

Your mother had cried for days once you both left on the train, and you didn’t even have the decency to console her. There had been no time really, they had swept you away in what seemed like minutes. Though in some ways you were grateful, you didn’t want to lie to your mother. You couldn’t lie to her … you knew what your sister was going to face and you didn’t want to break two more hearts that day.

She was the youngest of the bunch, but she had lasted for a while. She had fought so fucking hard, she had tried to make it back home … but she couldn’t hack it. A boy from District 2 had taken in her in the end, and then later he had died. You had never been a vengeful person but you were grateful he wouldn’t end up being a Victor.

When you saw her go down, all you could do was scream. Finnick dragged you from the room, kicking and screaming and sobbing. He had held you for hours, despite his own tribute still being in the arena. He had wrapped his arms around you, brought you close to him and whispered nothing but love into your ears as you cried.

You were inconsolable, but you were thankful that he was there for you.

It had been over a week now, since she died and the games ended. A girl from District 1 had taken the win, and you were still frozen in time. You couldn’t get the image of the axe out of your head, the blood that splattered everywhere. Nothing felt right anymore.

“Hey.” Finnick whispered, crawling into bed beside you.

You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, a safe comforting gesture from him. Something you had craved so much these days. You needed him, and you needed him to tell you things were going to be okay.

“Hey.” You said, voice hoarse and low.

“Mags dropped off dinner.” He said, moving to play with your hair. “I know you're probably not hungry, but let’s try to eat something later, okay?”

His voice was a low rumble, like a small earthquake shattering every thought you’d ever had. The only time you ever smiled now was when you were with Finnick. He was your rock.

“Okay.” You sniffled, feeling like a chastised child. You hadn’t been eating well, far too sick to even try.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Finnick said, kissing the crown of your head. “It’s not.”

“I didn’t protect her, FInnick.” You mumbled. “I didn’t protect her, I didn’t try hard enough and now she’s gone. She’s gone because I didn’t help the way I was supposed too.” You felt hot tears starting to leak from the corner of your eyes.

“No.” Finnick said, sternly. “You did everything you could. You mentored her the best way you knew how and you loved her every step of the way. She knows how much you tried and how much you did for her. She wouldn’t want you sitting here and blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control. You have always done right by your family, by her and she would hate to see you this way.”

“But she’s gone.” You said, flatly. “She’s gone and she hadn’t even begun to live her life. God this whole fucking system makes me sick.” You wiped your eyes aggressively, trying to control your emotions in some sort of way.

“She is.” Finnick agreed, trailing his fingertips along the side of your face, making you shiver ever so slightly. “But she’s still all around us, and with us every step of the way. She’s never going to be truly gone. You have your memories of her, and you have everything she’s owned. She’s going to be present for the rest of your life, even if she can’t be here physically.” He told you, humming a soft tune in your ear.

“Thank you.” You whispered, a small smile gracing your lips.

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for, Y/N. I love you, and I can’t stand seeing you this way. I’m going to be here no matter how long it takes for you to feel like yourself again.” He was stroking your shoulder now. “Even if you look a little different after everything, I’m still going to love you. I’m not leaving your side, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“Can we look through photos?” You questioned. “While we eat? You didn’t know her well, not as well as me. I’d like to tell you about her.”

“I would love that.” Finnick smiled, leaning in to kiss your head one more time.

You weren’t sure what life was supposed to look like without her in it, but you knew come what may, you had Finnick. Finnick who would never leave your side for anything. Finnick, who would hold you on those dark days.

Finnick Odair, who loved you wholly and truly.

Maybe in some way, life would be okay.

#moeswriting #writing #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #angst

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imtotallyokandnormal · 7 months

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I would kill for some hurt/comfort headcannons about what John Doe does when he realizes that stabbing humans does in fact kill them. I assume he probably panicked real bad when he figures that out, and frantically resets the timeline. Probably would be really careful with You after that.

UGH NO YOU'RE SO RIGHT THOUGH OK OK I'M ON IT ANON I'M RIDING THE HURT COMFORT TRAIN LET'S GO

This ended up being way more sad than comforting but I hope you like it anyway I did my best

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: stabbing, death, angst, description of a corpse and blood, it gets pretty fucked up and sad actually

Image link: howdy!

》☆John Doe After Killing You☆《

- It was the moments after that made him realize. An accumulating number of seconds where you laid limp, staring up at him with those eyes. Those horribly glassy eyes, once full of emotion and now hollow of anything at all.

- After his frantic breathing slowed enough, he would grab your shoulders again, starting on a second wind of manic praise before he noticed something.

- You weren't moving.

- At first they thought you were playing some kind of human joke they didn't understand, chuckling and sitting you up as your lifeless body flopped over. "Oh you are funny, dearest! I may not understand the joke- but you're very good at staying still!"

- When you didn't respond, they tilted their head like a confused puppy. "Dearest? Could you explain the joke to me? I don't really understand."

- The silence was deafening. All you did was lay there, head flopped over with your neck bent at a weird angle. In the silence John took notice to something else; you haven't taken a breath this entire time.

- That's when the panic set in. At first they were in denial, trying to shake you awake as your limbs only swayed under their own gravity. More blood spills from your gaping maw and John's heartbeat quickens again, not from excitement but from fear, a primal fear erupting in him as he continues to shake and grab and plead for you to please wake up.

- But you don't. All you do is lay there. Cold, bloody and dead.

- The guilt ravaged him, all he could do was hold your bloody corpse close and howl in pain as he squeezed you. Or what you used to be, rather.

- He had promised himself to love you, to cherish you. He didn't think his actions were that of harm, he thought they were of love. To be able to see the inside of you, to be close enough that their hands can feel your blood pumping out from your heart, to feel your life force in their hands, becoming one in a way. But they found out too late that humans can only take so much.

- They could only sob violently as they cradled you, tugging at their hair and vowing over and over and over again that they can't let this happen again, not ever again.

- The reset was different.

- Seeing you, moving, breathing...it was different now. A hesitancy came when he stalked you at work, scared that he might hurt you again. Showing his love unbridled and uncontrolled led to the scene that flashes in front of him whenever he sees your face now. The smile he loves only to be interrupted by a vision of blood. So, so much blood.

- It took many resets for them to even let themselves touch you again. Eventually the loneliness became too much. Once you got home one day, there was suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing as if you might slip away as easily as the wind.

- John didn't say anything to you then. They didn't need to. The vow they had made was apparent.

- John would never, never see you that way again.

#normal headcanons!#john doe x you #john doe x reader #john doe #john doe visual novel #house hunted visual novel #house hunted game #x reader #f/o community #f/o imagines #imagine your f/o #f/o #tw death #angst #tw angst #gn reader

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saintarmand · 2 months

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gonna post some screenshots from a particular user in the vampterview community and the users liking their garbage posts, just in case some of you haven't heard. should become obvious why i'm highly suspicious of anyone who interacts with any of these users.

please just read the posts. sorry i'm not providing image descriptions, please dm me if you need them and i'll add them when i can!

the first post is just one example one of many on this blog, the second one might seem innocuous if you see it on your own but in combination with the others, not so much. please pay attention to the people liking these.

then we have an anon complimenting the wisdom and maturity of this person, who then replied with several paragraphs:

and got likes from two of the same users and two others.

then they self reblogged one of the posts from earlier and continued:

obviously this last post is the most egregious, and not everyone is bold enough to press like knowing that likes are public and could affect their reputation in the fandom. but i am going to assume that the people liking the other posts, which weren't all in public tags, are this person's followers and have seen all the other posts and believe this kinda shit is acceptable. and that speaks volumes about them as people.

i'm personally not going to assume that everyone who's ever liked or reblogged from any of these users did it knowing what kind of people they are (i didn't always know that either, and have probably reblogged from at least one of them before i did) but i am highly suspicious of anyone reblogging from them or interacting with them in a friendly way, and if i see people i follow doing that, i am going to unfollow unless i have very good reason to believe they genuinely had no idea, in which case i will message first.

i hope none of my followers need me to actually explain why what they're saying is absolute garbage but if you genuinely don't get the problem, dm me and i can find you some links about racism 101 i guess

EDIT/UPDATE:

someone asks nalyra what's going on

she later adds this, linking to a post that links back to this very post you're reading right now

track you UNliking something? GIRL WHY DID YOU LIKE IT IN THE FIRST PLACE?

i do love how if you read this and don't bother clicking the link she sounds kind of reasonable, and even like she's taking accountability (she's not denying anything! she's linking to a source so people can judge for themselves!) just not SO much accountability that she'll actually say what she did. gotta click those links to find out, and let's face it, the majority of the people who see her post are simply going to assume she's being unfairly targeted again. i mean, she posts about it all the time! why bother even checking, it's not like she would ever link to, say, screenshots of her liking a post that says affirmative action is the only system of oppression based on race and anti-white racism is real

EDIT #2:

since it seems like i can't add more images here, i'm going to link to where i reblogged pretty-weird-ideas' post about this with another screenshot i took the same day, of nalyra liking yet another untagged post from cosmic

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randomyuu · 1 year

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A JJK GoYuu fancomic... of a fanfic (read right to left)

You know… despite me getting into JJK fandom this year, I’ve never drawn any JJK characters. (cue me drawing 9 whole-ass comic pages-)

This wonderful fic is titled (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become by @voxofthevoid. This comic covers chapter 1 scenes.

Beware of the tags, as the fanfic is NSFW. Oh, and also, manga spoilers! Major character and arc spoilers! I’ve read until chapter 4 and no NSFW so far, but still, beware!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43446157/chapters/109219954

I hope you enjoy reading this comic and the fanfic if you decide to!

Update: Chapter 6 scene fanart

More of my random thoughts and an early drawing of GoYuu below:

Have I told you I’m not used to drawing manga as well? Manga panels are pain. PAIN, I tell you. I shouldn’t have done this, but I did. I did, because every time I read the synopsis of this fic I keep picturing manga-like scenes. You should blame me for reading those AllYuu doujinshis.

It was… interesting experience. I was struggling a bit with the balloon consistency, like, do I use white boxes or just italic words for thoughts? Or maybe a balloon with a cloud-like border?

And there’s GoYuu (YuuGo? Idk honestly, don’t care lol) themselves. As I said, I literally have never drawn JJK-related content before. So when I started thinking about the panelling, I realised that I don’t really know how to draw Gojo, even more a thousand-year-old Yuuji. A whole day is spent researching Gojo, Yuuji and Sukuna’s appearances lol. Sukuna’s markings are a problem since I can’t find a full view of his markings. I know I can just finally watch the anime (yes I haven’t watched the anime, only some short clips; yes I know the animation is good, and I really want to watch it but my brain doesn’t want to) or re-read the manga, but I don’t want to ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

After going through Google images, Twitter and Reddit, I whipped up a front drawing of GoYuu as my reference:

Gojo’s is easier because he hasn’t changed from the official (I blatantly eyeballing the character sheet I found haha), but Yuuji is different. Yuuji’s hair is longer; if I recall, there’s no exact description of his clothes. I assume he’s topless due to this description: Messy pink hair, long enough to cover the creature’s nape but not to hide the segmented dark markings running down his back, shifts in the wind.

And halfway through storyboarding, I realised that I have no experience using screen tones. Whatsoever. So off I go searching for a screentone bundle I can freely download and slowly figure my way out after fully lining the page.

And we haven’t even touched perspective, background, achromatic colouring, non-human characters—man, I really bite more than I can chew lmaooo

Ah, the things you would do to satiate that drawing mood ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, I hope I’ll have time to draw more fanarts of JJK GoYuu fanfics because they live rent-free in my brain and I need them to get out. Maybe other pairings as well? I like quite a lot of pairings that involve Yuuji. He’s precious, and I love having it shown to me over and over through fanfics.

#Yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-ship #goyuu #fan comic #omg idk what to put here #attempting at manga-ing #is that even a word #jjk ship #fanart #unrelated to this but I was so tired that I didn't notice two mistakes in the title lol #fixed them though #jjk fic #五悠 #5u #gojo x yuji #gojou x yuuji #gojo x itadori #goyu

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afictionaladventure16 · 1 year

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Heyyy!!! I absolutely loved your latest work “Taking it All In” I haven’t stopped crying since I read it. I was wondering if you could write something about the depression that the reader has in the story. Something along the lines where reader has been skipping school for some time due to depression and she hasn’t told Pedro about it. He finds out cuz eventually the school calls him and tells him whats going on with your absences and your bad grades. You two get into a fight about it because you refuse to tell him what’s going on as to not worry your dad. After days of not talking, cold shoulders and staying in your room/bed as much as possible Pedro finally cracks and tries to talk to you again. You’re in laying on your bed not wanting to move while Pedro is talking to you and he notices small cuts on your arm that your trying to hide, way to linear to be from your cat, and he finally puts the pieces together.

Taking It All In Pt. II (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

Pt. 1

Word Count: 4.3 k

Warnings: Descriptions of Self-harm, mentions of depression, suicide, and some slight hinting of eating disorders.

A/N: Thank you! You're so sweet! I hope you like this part two of Taking it All in!! Also, thank you for the details in your requests! It helps to plan what to write!

It’s been months after that hike with your father. You had gotten help, but it only helped so much. You had this fear that if you told your therapist your actual thoughts, you’d end up somewhere where grippy socks were mandatory.

It didn’t help that you found your mother, you hadn’t told your father, but you searched and searched the internet until you found her. The woman who was so afraid of loving you, afraid of having a life with your dad, she was alive and well.

She was happy too. You would think it would make you feel happy to hear that she was happy, to see the photos of her and her family, her two kids and husband. But all it did was take you to a dark place. The images of her at her sons' soccer game, or her at her daughters' recital. It should be you in those photos with her.

This whole time you thought your mother was most likely dead or if she were alive, she was alone in some other country probably traveling. You didn’t ever imagine that she could have started another life. You hadn’t brought it up to your therapist, mostly because they’ve been trying to help you cope with other issues in your life. It was mostly how you felt about constantly having to travel from place to place or not having your father around as much, it meant a lot of journaling. Plus, if you told your therapist, it meant telling your father and you didn’t know how he’d react or if he already knew.

What if he already knew. You hadn’t thought of that, it was another scenario that could happen, another scenario you don’t know if you can handle.

You heard the front door open and then close, “I’m home!” You heard your dad call out.

You sighed to yourself, you had ditched another day of school, but luckily for you your dad left for meetings before you even got up. Meaning that it was easy to ditch. In fact, you hadn’t gone to school at all the past week.

Pedro was met with silence, he shrugged, “probably studying,” he muttered to himself. He made his way over to the kitchen to get dinner started. He wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he knew a thing or two.

You made your way down the hall, “There she is!” Pedro said as he heard your footsteps get closer, “Hey, I was thinking, how does spaghetti sound tonight?” You walked over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle of apple juice.

“Sure,” you said with a shrug. You poured yourself a cup of apple juice, putting away the bottle right after.

“Long day at school?” You gave him a nod. “Alright, well, go ahead and rest. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” You felt horrible for lying to him. He had thought everything was getting better and that you were beginning to feel happier, but it was all just a lie. It was a mask.

** mentions of self-harm begin here **

You walked back to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. The lying, the feeling of abandonment, everything, it just felt like it was all tumbling down. You pulled up your sleeves, revealing the linear cuts that you had done to yourself. It started off with something small, hitting your hands against something when you were mad, but the pain felt kind of nice.

Not kind of, it did feel nice. It took away the pain of everything in your mind for a moment and you liked it. You liked your mind being peaceful for just a moment. But those moments only lasted a few seconds and you needed something that would last longer. You had saw some girls with some cuts on their wrists at school, it wasn’t till one day you aksed one of the girls what they were while you both were in the bathroom. The girl seemed a bit embarrassed but you were genuinely curious. She explained what they were, but she didn’t explain it further.

For weeks you couldn’t help but think about it, but the thought of hurting yourself in that way seemed scary. What if you went too deep or if you got caught? But a week ago, when your dad had to work late, you felt yourself drowning in your thoughts. Hitting yourself against your bedframe wasn’t working. That was the night you first self-harmed, you felt lucky that the weather was getting cold again so hiding your scars was easy.

Your dad played some music while he began to boil the pasta. Your cat watched from the other side of the counter, he knew his boundaries and Pedro seemed to like the company. Pedro began to slowly dance to the rhythm of the song playing until it was cut off by the sound of ringtone, “That’s not part of the song,” he grumbled as he grabbed his phone.

The number looked familiar, he hesitated on answering, “Could be important or a scam,” he muttered. He shrugged to himself before answering the phone, “hello?”

“Hi! This is Linda from the JFK High School, may I speak to Y/N Pascal’s father?”

“This is he speaking,” Pedro responded. He had no clue why your school would be calling.

“Hi, Mr. Pascal! We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past few days, it wasn’t until we looked through our files that we realized we had an old phone number.”

“Ah, yes, I changed my number. Probably should’ve updated you guys on that,” is that it? He thought.

“It’s quite alright, but the real reason why we’ve been trying to get ahold you is because we’ve noticed that Y/N hasn’t been attending her classes for the past week.”

Pedro stopped what he was doing, placing the wooden spoon he had in his hand down on the counter, “I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.”

“I’m afraid not. Her teachers are beginning to worry now that her grades have been slipping and she hasn’t been showing up. We were wondering if maybe the family went on vacation and someone forgot to notify the school?”

“N-No, we’re not on vacation,” Pedro looked towards the hall.

“Well, is there any reason why she hasn’t been in school?”

“I-I don’t know, I thought she had been going to clases this whole time.”

“Will she be there on Monday?”

“She’ll be there Monday,” he stated.

“It is my obligation to let you know that if the student doesn’t show up for school for another full week that the school will revoke certain privileges for Y/N.” Pedro knew the consequences of you missing school, it could also mean jail time on his case.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this. Thank you, Linda.”

“Of course,” Linda said before hanging up.

Pedro placed his phone back on the counter, he then shut off the burners on the stove. “What do I do, gatito?” he asked as he leaned against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew what he had to do, he just didn’t know what to say or ask even. He let out a deep sigh before making his way down the hall.

He knocked on your door, “Mija, puedo entrar?” (Can I enter?)

You opened the door, “dinner is ready already?” you asked with a confused expression on your face.

Pedro felt his heart break, there you stood, his little girl, in front of him. He never expect you to miss school and not tell him, it only meant one thing. You were lying to him about everything. “No,” he said softly. He was trying so hard to remain calm, but there was a part of him that wanted to yell and ask why the hell you werent going to schoo. Then there was that nurturing side of him that just wanted to ask you why you weren’t going to school. Both had the same question, just a different way of approaching it. “Can I come in?”

You shrugged, stepping aside to let him in. You watched as he sat on the edge of your bed, “I’m gonna ask you something and I want you to be one hundred percent truthful with me, okay?” He asked

You chuckled slightly, expecting some dumb question, “okay.”

“Mija, no estoy bromeando horita, necesito que me escuches.” (I’m not joking right now, I need you to listen).

Oh fuck, he knows, you thought. You gave him a nod, “did you miss school this past week?” You nod again. Pedro took in a deep breath, “Why?”

You shrugged, “papi, it’s no big deal.”

“No big deal!?” He yelled as he stood up. “Mija, do you know I can go to jail because you haven’t gone to school!? Do you have any idea how stupid that is? Que te estabas pensando, huh!?” (What were you thinking?)

You felt tears well up in your eyes, “I’m sorry! I just didn’t feel like going!”

“If you don’t feel like going then you tell me! How come you didn’t tell me?” You remained silent, Pedro let out a deep sigh, trying to calm down again. “What’s going on, Y/N??”

“Nothing,” you whispered.

“No me dices que nada esta pasando, por que tu no te comportas como asi. Tu eres mi hija, y yo queiro saber que esta pasando.” (Don’t tell me that nothing is happening because you don’t behave like this, You’re my daughter and I want to know what is going on.)

“Nada esta pasando!” You yelled, “Deja me en paz!” You walked out of your room. (Nothing is happening, leave me alone)

“Dejarte en paz?!” He followed you out. “What is going on with you?!”

“Would you just leave it alone? I didn’t go to school this week and I’m sorry, okay? I’ll go to school on monday, just leave it alone!”

“I’m not just gonna brush this off, this is serious, Y/N! Missing school for a week? You can’t just do that! So, what is going on?”

“Ugh! I don’t have to tell you every fucking thing okay?!” You yelled. You believe that this was probably the first time you ever yelled at your dad. The first time you had ever gotten in such a big argument. Didn’t mean that you two didn’t argue, you argued but it never led to a screaming match. Not like this.

Pedro stood there in disbelief, “Y/N M/N Pascal, I am your father and I demand to know what the hell is going on with you.”

You couldn’t tell him, you couldn’t just blurt out that you found your mother; but not only did you find her, you also found her new family. You couldn’t tell him that you felt replaceable, that even he was replaceable, at least to your mother. You just couldn’t. “Nothing is going on,” you said.

“You’re grounded,” he said in defeat.

“Fine,” you said as you began to make your way back to your room.

“For two months,” he added. “I’ll need your phone and your game consoles.”

You stopped in the middle of the hall. You were doing this for him, you wanted to keep his happiness even at the cost of your own, “Fine.” You walked into your room, slamming the door behind you.

“Slam the door and I’m taking your T.V.”

You groaned in annoyance, “Fuck you,” you spat. You had instantly regretted saying it. Pedro stood there for a second, in shock mostly. He felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes, he wasn’t going to take your T.V. as a matter of fact, he didn’t want to take any of it away. He partially said it in hopes that you’d crack and tell him what was going on.

He heard the cat meow at his feet, he looked down, “I think I’m loosing her, gatito,” he whispered before turning around and making his way down the hall and back to the kitchen.

Days went by, you didn’t speak to your dad all weekend. Spending most of your time in your bedroom, your mind was all over the place and you had self harmed some more. It felt like the more you did, the more you craved it or the more your mind raced, the more you felt the need to have that feeling.

You didn’t eat much either, for some reason you just couldn’t think about eating. Your stomach didn’t feel hungry either so you snacked on small things. When you came home from school on Monday, your dad was in the kitchen prepping for dinner. You walked past him, not saying a word. The tension was thick, someone could cut a knife through it.

Pedro didn’t say anything to you when you walked past him to grab something to drink, even though he wanted to say a million things. He had so much to talk to you about, so many exciting things, but he was stubborn and you were too.

When you didn’t come out for dinner, he left a plate at the foot of your door, knocking to let you know, just like he did for past two days and just like you did, you’d wait a few minutes before grabbing your plate. You would leave it on your desk, hoping that maybe you’d feel some sensation of hunger. Yet, just like the other full plates of food beside it, you’d never touch it.

“Just give her some time,” Javiera said into the phone. Pedro had called her Monday afternoon while he was out for a drive.

“How much time?” he asked, his voice strained from crying. He had called her up crying about twenty minutes ago, and like the big sister she was, she tried her best to console him through the phone.

“A few more days, she’ll crack soon enough,” she said hopeful. “You’re a good dad, Pedro.”

“I sure as hell don’t feel like it right now.”

“I know,” she began, “all parents feel that way one day or another.”

“I just… I wish I knew what happened you know? Why did she all of a sudden just become this totally different person?”

“Teenagers,” she expressed. “Don’t you remember how you were?”

“Don’t get me started,” he chuckled.

“You were the worst!” Pedro knew she was right. He had given his parents a hard time when he was a teenager. “It’ll get better, I promise.”

Tuesday comes and goes and so does Wednesday. By Wednesday night you ate some of your dinner, but you still couldn’t stomach to eat all of it. You only ate because of how dizzy you felt all day. Thursday comes and goes, you caved into your cravings more as each day passed, your arm was full of scars, it felt raw to the touch.

You cried yourself to sleep most nights. Friday night Pedro went to knock on your door, only to hear you crying. He knocked softly, but was only met with “Go away.” He felt so defeated, he wanted this silent treatment to be over with. He wanted his baby girl back and he wanted to help you with whatever you were going through. He knocked again, “Go away!” He shook his head, opening the door, you were laying in bed, your arms covering your face.

“Mija,” he said softly.

“Please, just go away!” you yelled.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do it anymore,” he began to say, he noticed the uneaten food on your desk. His heart sunk, looking back over at you, taking in how you looked. He walked over to the desk, some of the food began to develop mold. He let out a shaky breath, walking over to the bed, “Baby girl,” he said. Pedro noticed that you weren’t wearing your usual long sleeve, for a while he was beginning to worry that you had begun to harm yourself because you were always wearing long sleeves.

It relieved him to see you in a short sleeve for once, he inched closer, you still hard your arms covering your face. You were too focused on what was on your mind to realize that your father was near you and that you weren’t wearing a long sleeve. Even if you had realized it, it would be too late.

Pedro spotted something red near your wrists, but your arms were in a position where he couldn’t see your whole wrists. Yet, the small amount he did see was enough to send him in a panic. Pedro was soft with his touch, he grabbed your hand gently, pulling it towards him so he could see your wrists.

You quickly pulled away your arm, holding it close to your chest as you sat up in the bed, “get out,” you said through clenched teeth.

“How long have you been doing that?” Your dad asks, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Get out!” you yelled.

“How long!?” tears fell from his eyes, he stood up from the bed. “How long, Y/N?” he asked again.

“Dad, I don’t want you to cry,” You said as you looked at the ground, “Just please get out.”

“No! I’m not gonna-” he inhaled, “you’re not shutting me out.”

“Please,” you begged as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You got up from the bed, walking over to the door and opening it. “Get out,” you begged.

He shook his head, “Why?” he cried, “Why would you do that to yourself?” You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off, “And don’t say it’s the cat, because that’s too many for the cat. It’s too clean. I thought you were getting better.”

You looked at your dad, you could see the pain you were trying avoid. The heartache you hated to see, “I’m not better,” you confessed. “I’ve never gotten better.”

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t get better, okay?” You said loudly, holding back the sob that was scratching at the walls of your throat, begging to be let out. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“You think I want to hear that my baby girl never got better?” You remained silent. He walked over to you, taking your had to look at the marks again. He sniffled, “My beautiful baby girl,” he sobbed, “why would you do this?”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You let out a deep shaky breath, letting the sob take over you. “I couldn’t handle it anymore, it’s all too much, okay? It’s so loud in here,” you gestured towards your head.

Pedro couldn’t handle seeing you cry, he pulled you in, feeling you tightly wrap your arms around his body. “Why?” he kept asking.

“I was trying to protect you,” your dad let go of the embrace.

He placed his hands on your face, “Mija, I should be the one protecting you, Okay? Whatever it is that you’ve been holding in, I can handle it. You never have to worry about me.”

You wanted to spill everything, it was like the dam inside was breaking and this was just the little drop of water to break it. “I found her,” you confessed.

He looked at you with a confused expression, “who?”

“My mom,” you inhaled, “I found her,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. Pedro was in disbelief, she was alive, for the longest he just kind of accepted that she passed away.

“That’s what you were trying to protect me from?” He questioned.

You shook her head, “That’s not the best part,” you began. “You know what the best part is?” You began to walk back over to your bed. You let out a small sob, “The best part is that I also found out that we’re replaceable.” Pedro watched as you sat on your bed, it pained him to see you in such dismay. It also pained him to hear the news that your mother was alive, she was alive and had another family. “The woman we both thought was trying to protect us from herself, is out there with a family of her own-”

“Cariño,” your dad tried to interrupt.

“I have a brother and sister that I don’t even know! And she’s in these pictures laughing with them, she’s at birthday parties and soccer games,” you took in a shaky breathe.

“Y/N,” He took a couple steps towards you.

“That should be me, dad,” There was the drop of water to break the dam. “It should be us,” you sobbed. Pedro quickly pulled you into an embrace, letting you cry into his shoulder, “It should be us,” you sobbed.

“I know, Mija,” he whispered as tears fell from his eyes, “I know.” He let you cry it out for a few minutes, mostly because at that moment he didn’t know what to say exactly. How he should console you after finding out something no one should ever experience. His mind wandered, how could someone create another family when they left one behind? He thought if it were him, he wouldn’t be able to do it. He knew it would always be in the back of his mind that he had abandoned another family.

Did it wander in the back of her head? Or did she just not care?

Pedro felt so angry just thinking about it. He wanted to track her down and just yell into the void. She was the love of his life or so he thought. He had considered her the love of his life, hopeful that one day she’d realize what she left behind and come back. She wasn’t coming back, though and now he knew that. Now he had to console you and find a way to show her what she missed out on.

Pedro let go of the embrace, taking your face in his hands once again. His thumb gently wiped away the tears that were streaming down your face, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before looking at you again. “We don’t need her,” he started to say.

“But-”

“I know, Mijita. It hurts,” you nod, “She has no idea what she’s missing out on, Mijita. Her kids have no idea what a horrible person she truly is as fucked up as that sounds, it’s true.” He gave you a smile through the tears, “The only thing that matters is that she gave me you, my beautiful baby girl. That’s all I know of her, she gave me you and she was nothing else.”

“You don’t regret being with her?”

Pedro could never regret it, “No, because then I wouldn’t have you. I can’t imagine my life without my little girl. I’m sorry you don’t have a mom in your life, but not every girl has multiple mom figures in their lives.” It was true, you had your tia and some of your dads close friends. Your dad let go of your face, he took a hold of your wrist. “But this,” he started to say, tears welled up in his eyes again, “Oh, baby girl,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” you cried.

“No, no, no,” he pulled you in for a quick embrace, before letting go, “we’re going to work on this together okay?” You nod, “I can help, we’ll make more appointments with your therapists, we’ll find healthy alternatives, and we’ll overcome this.” He choked back a sob, “but I never want to see you harming yourself again, please promise me that?” You remained silent.

You weren’t sure if you could promise it, mostly because you were addicted to the way it made you feel. “Prometeme, Y/N.” (Promise me)

“I-I’ll try,” you finally said. Pedro didn’t want to push it, if trying was what he could get, then it was enough for him. He could work with trying. Trying meant putting the effort and it meant to him that you still wanted to live.

“Trying is all I need,” he said. “I can’t lose you. Know that you have people that love you.”

You looked up at your dad in realization, you never realized how much it could impact your dad. How self harm was always correlated with darker actions. Darker actions that your father had a past with. This time, you pulled him into an embrace, “you won’t lose me,” you said. “I can promise you that.”

He let out a relieved sigh, “we’ll have to talk about the food on your desk too.”

“I’m sorry,” you began. “I just-”

“No, I know.” You didn’t have to say more, he knew what it was like. To be too much in your mind to even eat. He understood, “let’s get you something to eat, hmm?”

You nod, watching as he got up from the bed, “I love you, papi.”

“I love you too, Mija,” he gave you a small smile. You got up from the bed, following him into the kitchen. He ordered you your favorite take out, once the food had arrived you both took the food to the living room.

Pedro glanced over at your wrist from time to time, his heart sank every time, but he was going to get you better help. Over time, the cuts will heal and they’ll just be white little memories of the battles you’ve dealt with, but Pedro knew he never wanted you to feel like you’ve hit rock bottom. From here on out, he was going to try his hardest to make sure you were your healthiest, physically and mentally.

He placed a small kiss on your temple, “love you,” he said softly.

You gave him a smile, “Love you too, dad,” you said, focusing your attention back on the television. You both knew the journey from here on out wasn’t going to be easy, it wasn’t said aloud, but it was like a silent acknowledgment. But eventually, it’ll be okay because pain was just temporary.

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01 @tracysnookok @cilliansangel @change-the-world-someday @graciegoeskrazy @twkobii

CLICK HERE to be added to the taglist

#pedro pascal x daughter!reader #pedro pascal x daughter #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal daddy #pedro pascal x teen #pedro pascal x teen!reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x daughter teen #pedro pascal request #pedro pascal teen!reader #pedro pascal x teen reader #pedro pascal x daughter reader

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yan-lorkai · 16 days

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Hello lorkai, I hope you are well! I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you make a Drabble, head canon or whatever you feel comfortable working with, where Yandere Alucard has a human girlfriend who doesn't talk too much, is shy, the rest They think it is because the bride is very afraid of the great vampire, but it is quite the opposite.

If you don't receive any more requests, you can ignore it, I hope you are feeling well and hydrated properly! ^_^

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hiii darling (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ~, they are open indeed. I never close rqs btw. Did some headcanons but honestly I might write a drabble with this concept later. You too drink some water dear, it's been really hot these past few days!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, fem!reader, mmm fluffy (?), Alucard being Alucard btw

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The vampire king and his bride, so different in the eyes of anyone who can observe them for a few seconds. No one is able to understand the interaction you have, they are so used to Alucard's bloodthirsty and dangerous image, his provocations and sadistic laughter, that seeing him be soft with you, a human nonetheless, is something incredibly new. And incredibly terrifying too.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You are so quiet and skittish that Hellsing soldiers can be found whispering about you and your relationship whenever they see you two together. Did Alucard forced you to marry him? Did he threaten you? Does he scare you and that's why you don't talk to anyone? Honestly they came up with so many theories about you. But they'll never gonna downright ask you about those theories though, as they are afraid of what Alucard could do to them if he knew they were pestering you with their silly questions.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ They could never even imagine the way you laughed and screamed in delight whenever Alucard surprised you with a tight hug. His hot breath tickling your neck as he held you close, telling you all about his boring missions and the vampires he killed, in vivid description by the way, unless you don't want to hear the details, if that's the case he won't go into much detail about him ripping off their arms and leaving bullet holes in their bodies. He also tells you about the beautiful sights he had seen and that he wished you was there with him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You are opposites like yin and yang, light and shadow, husband and wife. When you are with him everything seems right and safe, as if nothing could ever go wrong. You find so much easier communicating with Alucard than with most people, which is funny since Alucard is, well, him. You are quite timid when you have to interact with others and your husband likes to tease you a little bit about it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Plus he like how you depend on him to relies to others what you wanted to say. It feeds his ego a little when you cling to his arms while you two wait to order takeout or when you two are in public and it's crowded that you asks him to take you to somewhere more calm. Usually somewhere dark too since he doesn't like to go out in the morning but will do if you want. Honestly he might just take you to cuddle inside his coffin while he take a nap, this way you don't have to talk to anyone and you also can spend time with him. It's a win-win in his opinion.

#yandere hellsing #yandere hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #yandere alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x reader #yandere alucard x y/n #tw yandere

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genshin-side-piece · 4 months

Text

The Hawk and The Sparrow

*Blows the dust bunnies off of this one* This one has been sitting for a minute and by a minute, I mean like the beginning of the Sumeru chapter. It's amazing what a week off of work does for the creative mind.

Characters: Alhaitham, Kaveh, GN reader (no pronouns or descriptions used for reader)

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Power Imbalance, Master/apprentice dynamic, Abuse of power, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Dark themes, not smut (sorry), angst My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

“There you are, sparrow.” It took you a few seconds to react, but when you did, your entire body froze. While the intrusion of Alhaitham’s voice wasn’t a terrible surprise, you hadn’t expected it this soon. He had been away on business, with no word on when he might return. It had been your hope that when he returned he would be so exhausted from his weeks away that he would simply go home. As you had left the city this morning, your mind had conjured images of him standing at the city gates, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for you to return or even him patrolling the border as you leered at it from a distance. You should have considered that he wouldn’t be satisfied with simply waiting. It was a foregone conclusion that upon his return to the city, one of the first people he would want to see would be you. If you weren’t where he expected you to be, then he was more than capable of finding you. “Thank you for making me spend most of my final day off searching half of Sumeru for you.” On instinct, you focused on the drawing in your lap. You knew better than to give him your full attention right away. Alhaitham’s acuity when it came to mind games was second to none. It was a talent few knew he possessed. For those that did, they were, well you were wary to enter into such a battle with him. It was easier to act coy or feign stupidity. At least then you would only have to endure a lecture versus accepting what Alhaitham felt were the full consequences of your actions. “A tad dramatic, don’t you think? Don’t tell me Kaveh is starting to rub off on you.” His low growl echoed across the small clearing, causing you to smirk. “Tell me, was your intention to press your luck today or are you merely interested in testing my lack of patience the instant I return?” Your smirk widened at the hint of irritation in his normally smooth voice. “Would you believe me if I said neither?” You briefly looked up from your sketch, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Since your return was open ended, I had no clue when I would see you again. I am merely enjoying the day.” Behind you, the soles of his ornate shoes brushed across the grass as he stepped further into the clearing. “Really?” There was a chuckle. “Does your enjoyment necessitate the need for no escort, no Akasha terminal, and no word to Kaveh as to your whereabouts?” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Do you have an explanation for me or shall I just add it to the list of infractions that occurred in my absence?” You swallowed, your smirk softly falling. In your world, Alhaitham’s absence had been a blessing. Kaveh was far less observant when it came to what you did and who you spoke to. You had more than taken advantage of the lack of supervision when it came to getting a few things done. It was improbable that Alhaitham had found them all in such a short amount of time, but it wasn’t entirely impossible either. You had long suspected Alhaitham had put a second set of eyes on you before he left, just to ensure you were behaving as you should.

Since Alhaitham’s departure, there had been one too many instances of the same group of eremites being near you for it not to be the case. You briefly wondered exactly how many so-called infractions of his ridiculous rules had gotten back to him. Had there been daily reports or would that be too much? The trip to Port Ormos wasn’t too bad, but you doubted he was willing to pay someone or a set of someones to go back and forth everyday. Maybe every few days? It was hard for you to say. Still, a small worry began to creep its way up your spine. What did he know? What had he been told? As he said, there was a list. Your mind slowly began to spin at how long it could actually be. “The akasha shouldn’t be a terrible surprise. You know that silly thing hurts my ear if I wear it for too long. It does me no good outside of the city, so I left it behind.” The slight quiver in your voice nearly gave you away. You could see it in how his body shifted, his hips turning so he could block your only exit from view. “It’s a requirement of the Akademiya that you wear one.” You scoffed, trying to hide the unease that was washing over you. “Since when are you concerned about upholding the Akademiya’s mandates? I wonder how they would feel about your latest excursion.” You lazily drug the graphite across the page, acting like you still cared about your landscape. “My latest excursion was at their request.” Unlike yours, which was not. “I thought we discussed your little sketching trips the last time you tried this.” The discussion being that after you had successfully vanished from his sight for an entire day, Alhaitham informed you that you were not allowed to leave the city alone again. “I’m not a child, Haitham. I resent being treated like one.” You added a little bite to your tone in the vain hope that he might pick up on your displeasure. “I needed reference material for a project. Since I was refused a kamera, I decided the only way to get it was to make a few sketches.” You made the conscious choice to not elaborate beyond what you had already said. It was easier to let him admonish you for what he did know, versus adding to your troubles by telling him something he hadn’t discovered yet, which you doubted was very little. His thoroughness when it came to you knew no bounds. That’s why your efforts to keep your secrets hidden was an exhausting affair. “The distance is trivial, it shouldn’t require an escort. Even if it did, all your favorites have gotten outrageous with their fees. I can use a stick and get equal protection.” You heard him scoff at the suggestion. “As for Kaveh, he was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t interested in searching the entire city just to tell him I was going a stone’s throw away. Though if he really is that worried, he could have asked the forest rangers. I passed their lookout on my way here and told them where I was.” “I’m aware.” There was a long pause. You could feel his eyes on you; searching, scanning, and assessing your figure for anything he might find out of the ordinary. Much too what you imagined was his disappointment, there wasn’t anything egregious. Outside of your missing akasha terminal, you were as he preferred you. The only thing he could fuss about was the amount of sun your exposed neck, shoulders, and back had seen. Then again, he might also take it as a blessing. There was little doubt that Alhaitham would probably jump at the chance to rub aloe into your irritated flesh. “Your location is inconsequential. You’ve been found.” He grated that out in what you guessed was an effort to hide his apparent relief.

Alhaitham had been anxious about you using his extended trip as an excuse to vanish from Sumeru. There had been the less than ideal suggestion of you going with him, but he had rejected it at the last minute. Having you with him was a liability he couldn’t afford. Hence his need for curfews, boundaries, and you being left under Kaveh’s less than observant eye. The last thing Alhaitham wanted was to lose his precious control over your life and more importantly, you without having a say in the matter. You had already tried to leave his mastery and pursue other opportunities outside of Sumeru on more than one occasion. Each attempt had been met with a strict punishment and an ever tightening grip on your finances.

Because you were apprenticed to him, he had the right to take everything you made for himself. Much to your chagrin, it was a right he exercised often. There was always a long winded speech about your lack of responsibility or your foolish ways before he took your hard earned money from you. Anything he returned to you was the result of his so-called generosity. As your master, he was expected to provide for you. But your definition of being provided for was far different than his. He viewed your needs as requiring the basic essentials and nothing more. Anything extra had to be requested and in some cases begged for. If he granted your wish, then the item would be purchased for you rather than him giving you the money. He was well aware of the danger that came with handing you a bag of Mora and letting you galavant around with it. The one and only time he had done that, he had barely caught you at the docks before the ship had sailed.

“Though since you refuse to wear your Akasha Terminal as you’ve been asked to.” You flinched at how he drew out the word asked. “I may employ Kaveh’s suggestion of sewing little bells into your clothes or maybe I’ll just hang a large one around your neck.” Like he would a pet. The ridiculousness of that made you want to throw your sketch pad at him. You reviled that he kept tabs on you. His incessant need to hover over you was suffocating. Not wearing your accursed Akasha Terminal was one of the few ways you could insure some level of privacy from him, even if it was short lived.

“I think some would find that terribly disruptive. Most professors demand silence during the lectures. I doubt they would be welcoming of such a distraction, even if it came from the grand oiseau himself.” You heard an annoyed huff come from behind you. “Since I’m outside the city and the Akademiya, I doubt Kaveh’s precious bells would have proved useful.” Alhaitham grunted in response. “If anything, wouldn’t they draw danger to me?” “He also made mention of locking you in my study should I decide to go away again. He was quite vocal about how difficult you’ve been in my absence.” It was laughable to think you had been the difficult one. Despite your best effort to keep up appearances while going behind Alhaitham’s back, Kaveh made it especially challenging to do so. Visual contact had, at least in terms of him laying eyes on you, been impossible. If you could find him, he had been face down on Lambad’s bar or passed out on Alhaitham’s couch in a fit of exhaustion. In your desperation to not alert Alhaitham that something was amiss, you had been reduced to leaving notes in Kaveh’s hand as proof of your daily check-ins. The last thing you needed or wanted was for your keeper to come back early because he believed you had fled his ever present eye before you had actually done it. “Not that I feel it’s a reasonable solution, but why save that particular joy for your infrequent trips outside the city? You already watch me morning, noon, and night when I’m at the Akademiya. I’m surprised you haven’t insisted I enjoy that delight so you can observe me as I sleep.” Your sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. Nor did it do much to improve his mood. You could feel his eyes burning a hole in your back.

“If I thought it plausible, I might.” His voice had a tone you didn’t like. His normally condescending manner had degraded into a quiet outrage that sent a small shiver all over your body. The last time you had heard that tone, he had shown you exactly how much power he had over your life. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to repeat. “Regrettably, I lack a cage large enough to keep you confined for any real length of time.” He had moved closer, his cape swirling the air between you. “Kaveh is as tired of your shenanigans as I am. It seems whatever sympathy he had for you has run out. He mentioned that he was all too eager to design you something before I came searching for you. Maybe I’ll take him up on it.” A heavy silence fell between you. Your mind silently debated whether he was serious or not. Alhaitham wasn’t one to jest about punishment. His one insistence was the expectation of his rules being followed. But the notion that he would bring himself to completely confine you as a means of controlling you was a step too far, even for him. Allowing you your liberty, more importantly allowing you the chance to shine was a positive reflection on him and the Akademiya as a whole. Even if his reputation wasn’t entirely important to him, you doubted he wanted that to change, unless he had discovered your largest transgression before you had the chance to do anything about it.

A glance over your shoulder told you all you needed to know. His clenched jaw and stormy eyes were an indication of exactly how livid he was. His fury went beyond his previously listed reasons for being here. While not wearing your Akasha terminal, having no escort and the most egregious of all, failing to inform Kaveh of your whereabouts were simple infractions. They weren’t anything you hadn’t done before. They were behaviors that Alhaitham found at worst, annoying. He had tried to curb them, but generally speaking they brought little more than being restricted to spending your free time in his office for a few days. This was different. This was a level you hadn’t pushed him too before. This meant only one thing.

Silently, Alhaitham reached into a pocket that was concealed by his cloak, pulling out a wax sealed piece of parchment. Your eyes fixated on it, your entire body going cold when he held it in front of you. “Interestingly, this was waiting for me when I returned.” You felt your mouth go dry as you continued to stare at it, your heart sinking like a stone as he ran his fingers over the broken seal. “Kaveh told me it was delivered to the house this morning.” Of course it was. You closed your eyes, grinding your jaw for a moment. Word had reached you that it was being sent. You had thought that the Akademiya might be kind enough to send it to Alhaitham’s office. Then you would have had a chance to retrieve it before he ever got word of it, but fate had not been kind to you. Instead, it had been sent directly to Alhaitham’s home, likely because that would be the first place he would go once he returned. The confirmation that Kaveh had received it meant that Alhaitham had been alerted to it almost instantly. It was probably what triggered Alhaitham’s unexpected return and his confrontation with you now. “Here I thought we had buried the concept for good. Yet-” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?” You slowly opened your eyes at the sound of him shifting his weight. The light clinking of ornate embellishments of his outfit broke the silence between you filling the void. “Do you have any kind of defense?” Not that it would save you. He already had more than enough cause to punish you. The letter in his hand was just the icing on the proverbial cake.

You impassively shook your head while you continued to focus on the piece of paper in his hand. He had you. There wasn't a lie in the world that could save you from him. You knew what you had done. More so, you knew the lengths you had gone to get it. The document in question was the proverbial carrot that Alhaitham had dangled in front of you ever since he had taken you under his wing. Your freedom relied on it, your sanity depended on it. Your eyes focused on the stamped seal of approval from the Akademiya. They traced every bump, every dip of the wax. Even the break where it had been opened burned its way into your memory. How could it not? It wasn’t everyday one received a graduation letter from the Akademiya. It was even less likely for you, since your master and benefactor had denied you of it ever since you had come under his tutelage.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that your main roadblock to your future was Alhaitham himself. He had found you on one of your trips through Sumeru. You had set up a small stall in the streets of Port Ormos, peddling sketches and caricatures to tourists while you made a study of the port. You remembered it and him at first because he had spent nearly an hour looking over the pieces you had on offer. He had been especially engrossed with a study of the ruins near Ay-Khanoum. After three additional visits that same day, he deemed you worthy enough to speak to. His curiosity was mainly about how you had reached the ruins, but he also asked other questions; where had you learned, who you were apprenticed under, and the most damning of all, were you traveling with anyone? His reaction when you had answered no to his final question was something you should have been wary of. From that time until you were ready to leave Port Ormos, he had lingered close to your stall. Even after you had moved it to a more crowded area, he still found you. Patrons taking an interest in you wasn’t anything new. You’d had many offers to stay in the different villages and towns that you had visited. Alhaitham was not the first person to offer to keep you in comfort so you wouldn’t have to endure the life of a wandering artist. Even if that life was entirely your choice. To him, someone of your talent deserved to have their skill honed to the highest level. It was a privilege to study at the Akademiya. You should consider yourself fortunate that such a distinguished and respected figure within the Akademiya was willing to personally sponsor the next step in your education. Nevermind that it was a privilege that you had never wanted or asked for. It was enough that Alhaitham wanted it for you and whatever he wanted, he got. The mind games he so expertly played made sure of that.

Under the guidance of your darshan, your skill had grown exponentially. Some had even gone so far as to say your skill exceeded Alhaitham’s at his current age, nevermind his younger self. The man himself was pleased with your progression. At least, you thought he was pleased. Your overall academic progress never seemed to matter to him. He instead insisted on you following his ever increasing, ever suffocating list of rules. You had thought to leave when it all started. When he first began to tighten his hold on you. In the beginning, Alhaitham had been largely content to simply observe you. It hadn’t mattered if you were in the public spaces of the Akademiya or in the privacy of one of the many art studios, those of eyes of his seemed to follow you wherever you went. You had diverged on many occasions, trying your best to shake the oppressive presence of your sponsor. The result had been Alhaitham leaving his proverbial perch to track you down. Once back in his field of vision, he tightened his hold on you, slowly and steadily trapping you in his firm grip. By the time you realized what was going on, it was far too late to do anything about it. Instead your escape attempts were thwarted, your departure from the Akademiya refused.

It was hard to remember when his attention had changed from observational to physical. He wasn’t terribly affectionate, yet he always managed to let his fingers linger on yours whenever he would take the graphite from you to show you something. That escalated into those same fingers toying with the sensitive skin of your neck while he hovered over you in the evening. You had tried to minimize the unwanted contact by moving your studio time to earlier in the day. Your hope was to be back in your apartment before he finished work, but luck was not on your side. Like everything else in your life, Alhaitham held a specific level of control over both you and your schedule. Your class times had been optimized to fit with his schedule. The moment you had tried to adjust anything to suit yourself, it was mysteriously shifted back. When questioned why, the registrar merely shrugged. The only excuse that was offered was that the studios were a distracting place during the day. A student of your advanced capability deserved peace and quiet to work. That was why everyone was seemingly insistent that you take an evening slot. Nevermind that it gave Alhaitham all the privacy he could ever want when it came to you. In those moments, the main focus of his attention was your neck and shoulders. Delicate fingers would run along your nape and collar bones while he watched you sketch. A heavy hand often laid upon your shoulder while you practiced your writing. In the very late hours, when it was assured you were alone, his lips would find themselves behind your ear, softly pressing into your sensitive skin. You had tried to stop it, first by asking him, then by telling him, but he had refused. Instead, he got bolder. He exercised his authority over you, by commanding that you keep his favorite spots exposed for his pleasure. When you defied him by hiding them with scarves and other items, he retaliated. Your wardrobe was changed overnight. It was the first of many humiliations to come.

“I want to leave Haitham.” Your eyes didn’t falter from their fixation on the letter. Your voice didn’t even so much as tremble. Not when your freedom was in the palm of his hand. His continued control of your life had only cemented your resolve to be rid of him once and for all. The letter meant that upon your official graduation, you would be released from your apprenticeship to Alhaitham. According to the laws of the Akademiya it meant that in some aspects, namely the financial ones, he would have to yield his control of you. Once that happened, you would be able to trigger the final part of your plan. “I’m tired of this place.” You were tired of his demands. You were tired of being a possession. You were tired of him. “I want to travel again.” You wanted to put as much distance between you and him as was humanly possible. Even if it meant living on a boat in the middle of the ocean for the rest of your life, you were prepared to do so. Just to be rid of him. “And you believe I’ll allow any of that.” His tone was like acid, burning you word after word as he disregarded your reasons for wanting to get away. It wasn’t like he was blind to them. Alhaitham was all too aware of them. This wasn’t a new conversation for either of you. There had been numerous occasions where you had demanded he let you leave, only to be thwarted by the very piece of paper that was now in his hand. As long as you didn’t have it, he could keep you. “It doesn’t matter if you do or you don’t.” You finally tore your eyes away from the letter, craning your neck upward so you could stare into his malicious gaze. “That piece of paper severs your hold over me.” According to the Akademiya, you were free.

The news of that went over as well as you expected it too. Losing was not something Alhaitham was accustomed to, especially when the source of his defeat was someone he viewed as inferior. He had gone to great lengths to insure that you would never graduate. The fury that raged in his eyes when he realized you had gotten around all of them was akin to a hurricane. Menacing and swirling and desperate. He was dangerous when he was like this. You knew that, yet you stood firm in both your reasons and your actions. Any punishments incurred from here on out would fall under the purview of the law. You could bring his actions up to the Matra and they would be obligated to investigate. It was one of the many benefits your graduation had brought you. More so, he wouldn’t be able to prevent it. The letter meant everything had become official. Your graduation and your subsequent release from his care had been registered in the official records. If Alhaitham tried to deny you had graduated, all the matra needed to do to confirm it was check the lists. “No.” His hand tightened around the letter, crushing the piece of paper with almost no effort. “Have I not told you countless times that you are not ready to move forward, yet you are insistent on disobeying me.”

“If not now, when?” You stood up releasing some of the anger that had been pent up inside of you. “I know you think me stupid. I know you view me as blind.” You matched his harsh tone, spitting every word at him in the hope that they would hurt him as much as you wanted them too. “But I won’t be ensnared in your trap any longer.” You took a shallow breath, mentally steadying yourself. “I want my life back. I was fine before you tricked me into joining the Akademiya. I’ve been miserable since. I’ve had my fill of it. I don’t want anything more to do with it or you!” His lips curled into a sneer.

“Is that so?” He took a step forward, his grip tightening even further around the letter. “Did you ask for my blessing before you did this? Did I grant you my permission to do such a thing?” He reached for you and on instinct you leaned back, tossing the only weapon you had at him in the hope it would stop him.

“I have an offer.” It worked.

Alhaitham stopped where he stood, his eyes growing wide at that statement. His face shifted from anger to disbelief to something you didn’t recognize in a matter of seconds. He almost looked as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. But he had. You knew he had. The anger that practically radiated off his frame told you he had.

“I beg your pardon.” The tone of the statement cut right through your confidence. Admitting you had a way out had been a mistake. It had been your intention to never reveal it, at least not until you were well and truly away from him. The letter explaining your escape route, along with your packed bags were back at your apartment. Your intention was to leave the second you had your graduation letter, but that plan had been obviously foiled. Now you had realized Alhaitham’s worst fear for him, in the hope that it would deter him from pressing you any further. It was a foolish move on your part. One you would later come to regret. “I- have an- offer.” You tried to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, but it was as persistent as his scowl. “The- the court of Fontaine. They wrote again-” The Palais Mermonia was in desperate need of a courtroom sketch artist. They had written months ago after one of your old sketches had ended up in the Palais. Alhaitham had insisted you turn it down, because he needed you here. Now they had written again, this time more urgently. They had even offered you an advance, just to tempt you with the concept of acceptance. “They increased their offer from before.” You couldn’t refuse. Not when the position and the money were your ticket out of Sumeru. “I want out, Haitham.” You said that with every ounce of force in your body, hoping to get your point across.

An extended silence passed between you two, one that was filled by the sound of the wind as it whipped around you.

“Fine.” That answer confounded you. Fine? After years of refusals and torments he finally agrees? It didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel right. Alhaitham wasn’t one to give up, nor did he readily accept defeat. Especially when he had been caught off guard. That meant one thing; there was a catch, somewhere. You knew Alhaitham well enough to know that if there was one plan, then there were at least seven back ups. The man didn’t breathe without a contingency in place. That’s why his sudden acquiescence, especially when he was still seething from your previous conversation, seemed out of sorts. Because it was. There was a trick up his nonexistent sleeve. “I’m sorry, what?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, hesitant to show him the confusion that was radiating through your body. “You want out of the Akademiya? Fine.” His words were clipped and sharp, lacking any real sincerity. “I’ll grant that to you. You’re out. It saves me the trouble of purging the records once we return to the city.” You gently shook your head. “I want out of Sumeru, Haitham. I want my own life.” An odd, almost all knowing smirk crossed his lips. “I’ll give you that as well.” You blinked at him, your eyes as wide as saucers. For a brief moment you actually thought your brain had broken and your ears deceived you. He agreed? “If you do one thing for me.” There it was. You wanted to laugh at how predictable he could be sometimes. “From now, until you leave Sumeru, you will wear your Akasha terminal.” He reached around behind him, pulling the accursed thing from his pocket. He offered it to you, expectantly waiting for you to take it. You would not deny that it felt too good to be true. After everything had put you through, you could not shake the feeling that you were being deceived once again.

“That’s it?” Your eyes kept moving between his face and the terminal in his hand. “All I have to do is wear this until I leave and I’m free?” The smirk grew larger and with it, so did your hesitation. You didn’t want to trust it or him really. All you had to do was wear your akasha terminal until you left Sumeru and he would let you go free? The offer was too easy. Too simple. Two things Alhaitham never was. There was also the complete lack of a second option to consider. If you refused, what would happen? Would he drag you back to the city kicking and screaming? Would he purge your graduation as a means of keeping you? It was hard to say, hard to know. But that was the point. You were gambling on two unknowns; could you really trust him to do as he said or could you stand whatever punishment he deemed most appropriate? It didn’t matter. You were damned either way. “You’ll truly let me go?”

“Do as I ask and I will happily grant you the new life you seek.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You should’ve listened to your instincts. You should’ve run as fast as you could. You should’ve removed the akasha terminal before going to bed that night. If you had, you wouldn’t have had to face the horrific reality that greeted you when next woke.

A new life. That’s what he had said. Do as he asked and he would grant you a new life. You had been foolish enough to believe that Alhaitham would do the right thing and allow you the new life you had made for yourself. You weren’t to know that when he had sent you home that night, that the Akademiya would be running an experiment. That everyone wearing an Akasha terminal within a specific radius would be pulled into a deep slumber for an undetermined amount of time. Alhaitham though, through his privileged position at the Akademiya, had. It was why the deal he had offered had been so ungodly simple. All he needed was for you to be wearing the terminal while you slept. Once in the experiment’s hold, he could do as he liked to you, for as long as the experiment lasted. Which was what led you here.

It had been an odd sensation to wake up in the room or rather the cell you would be forced to call home. At the start, you couldn’t quite place it. The ornate woodwork that ran along the ceiling and the cushions beneath you were both entirely unfamiliar. Your apartment and your bed, both of which you firmly remembered falling asleep in, were much simpler. Alhaitham had refused the idea of allowing you anything remotely grand. If you wanted splendor, you could find it in his home. So you had long settled for the simplicity of your surroundings. That’s why the silks and the satins, the ornate carvings, and the gilded bars felt entirely out of place; because they weren’t yours. This was not your apartment. You thought them to be part of another dream. A bizarre image created by your mind due the stress of the last few days. Alhaitham had said he would let you go. He had promised it. Yet as the terror of reality slowly began creeping its way into your bones, you tried to lie and tell yourself this wasn’t real. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. No, you were leaving for Fontaine in the morning. Alhaitham was going to let you go. You kept telling yourself that, right up until you turned your head, finding the man himself staring back at you through the bars of your new gilded cage.

He didn’t speak to you. Not initially. He just stared, as he liked to do in the quieter moments. He allowed you the privilege of assessing your present circumstances on your own. Of letting you reach your own conclusion when it came to what they meant. He granted you the rare right to the blinding rage that filled you to the brim after the reality of your situation finally sunk in. He had lied to you. He had tricked you. He had trapped you. There would be no escape. He had finally acted on the overarching threat that had hung over your head like a blade waiting to strike. Alhaitham had made you his. “Haitham?” Your voice quivered as your barely maintained control of it. Gods above how you just wanted to scream at him. Even if it would be deemed unnecessary at this stage, you still wanted to. If nothing else than to release the emotions that were threatening to suffocate you. “You must have still been tired from all your exertions while I was away.” The flat calm of his voice incensed you further. The sheer audacity of the man to be unaffected by the looming consequences of his actions sent you to another level where your fury was concerned. Even if there was nothing you could physically do to him, Alhaitham could have had the good manners to sound somewhat remorseful for the fact that he had tricked you. “I took your akasha terminal off hours ago.” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself, knowing full well it would do nothing to help. The deep, stuttering quality of the release of it matched the wrath that was vibrating through your body. “Did you sleep well?” An absurd question all things considered. “What’s going on?” You sat up fully, using the cold metal bars as a means of support when you could finally manage to stand. “What have you done?”

He rose from his place on the sofa opposite the cage, taking one last moment to look you over before he closed the distance between you. It wasn’t a large gap, in fact, he closed in what felt like a second. To you though, it felt like an eternity. He was savoring his victory. The look of utter satisfaction he gave you when he stopped in front of you nearly made you take his face off. The only thing that stopped you was that it was well out of your reach. “I cannot admire you to my own satisfaction if you are in Fontaine, sparrow.” He confidently reached out, the pads of his fingers running down the column of your neck, daring to pause long enough at the base so he could brush his thumb over your exposed collarbone. “I shudder to think what could have happened to you had you slipped away.” You would be free. That’s what would have happened. You would be in Fontaine and completely free of him. “This is a much better arrangement, don’t you think?”

“How is this better?!” Hot tears began to stream down your face, burning your skin more with each drop that rolled across your cheeks. “I’m behind bars because of you!” The idea that he acted on his threat to confine you to this degree was not the worst part of this, but it was the most horrifying. Alhaitham always held himself to such a high standard of logic and reason. It was impossible to believe that he would go to such a barbaric level just to maintain his control over you. “I did warn you about the cage. What a pity that you didn’t listen.” Your fingers tightened around the bars. “All you had to do was behave and I would have left you at liberty.” He chuckled. “Such a shame you couldn’t even manage that.” Behave. He meant stay. The price of your liberty was staying in Sumeru until one of you died. Had you just done that, you would have woken up in your bed or at worst his. Instead, you had pressed the offer from Fontaine. You had demanded he let you go. You actually tried to leave. Now in his mind, you had to pay the price for your folly.

“HAITHAM” Your fingers released the bars long enough for you to slap them in pure frustration. “This isn’t fair- this isn’t legal!” He didn’t fight you on either point, he didn’t need to. You were correct on both counts, you knew you were. Confining you was not an ideal solution for him, but your disobedience had forced his hand. You had turned his worst fear into a reality and that was something Alhaitham wasn’t about to allow. “Let me out!” You hit the cage again, more for effect than anything else. “Or?” He retracted his hand from you, folding his arms in amusement, almost challenging you to threaten him. “You’ll scream?” He shrugged. “Go ahead, no one will hear you.” You swallowed, not liking the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“We’re in the middle of the city.” Your complete lack of confidence in that statement was all too apparent. The truth was, you didn’t know that for sure. It was an assumption that he had taken the route of least resistance and brought you to his home. But you had been unconscious when he had done so. The sobering reality was, you could be anywhere. Sumeru was rife with caves and ruins alike. There were any number of places where one could hide a person or themselves if they needed to. Places that the matra didn’t know of or places they didn’t care to go. Places that Alhaitham was prepared to take advantage of, should he need to. “Are we?” There was a small smirk. “Are you sure about that?” Your only response was to look away from him. Having to stare at his smug expression was making you sick. “Would you like a hint?”

“How is this even possible?” You turned back, fixing him with a glare, blatantly ignoring his question. “The last time we spoke, you told me you didn’t have this. The threat to lock me away was an idle one at best.”

“Didn’t I? Interesting that you know what may or may not be in my possession at any given time.” You shook your head in complete denial. He had only just forced you back from the woods yesterday. There was no way he could have gotten this in the span of a night. Either you had been asleep for a lot longer than you thought or something else was going on. “If you’re good, I’ll consider letting you out later to stretch your legs for a bit.” If not, he would keep you locked away for days, even weeks before he would consider letting you out again. Even with your exceptional capability to refuse him at nearly every turn, you could not deny that Alhaitham held all the cards. If you would not offer your compliance freely, then he could demand it in other ways. He could force it if it was absolutely necessary, but he would wear you down long before he ever got to that point. The burden of being held captive wasn’t resting on him. Alhaitham was free. He could do as he pleased and you knew it pleased him just to have you. Your presence was enough to satiate any desire he might have. He could easily lose himself in a book and be fine with forcing you to wait to the point that you were willing to beg him for a scrap of attention. Meanwhile, all you could do was stare at the door of your cell and pray that you didn’t descend into madness from the sheer boredom of it all. “I know it’s a foreign concept for you to behave yourself where I’m concerned, but perhaps you could practice it while I’m otherwise engaged today. It’s not like you have anything else to do.” The incredulous nature of his statement caused you to only be able to gape at him in horror.

Alhaitham’s expectation of you being good, was for you to be utterly compliant to his whims. He expected your gratitude and your adoration in equal measure. Your inability to express either frustrated him to no end. You supposed he felt your current situation would fix that. To achieve an ounce of freedom, you had to do what he wanted. You had to obey. There were no more second chances or mild infractions. Alhaitham’s intentions were all too clear. You become what he wanted you to be. Period. “Kaveh will be in to check on you once he gets back from his errands. Considering he’s as irritated as I am with you, I’m sure a little obedience would go a long way mending the proverbial fence with him.”

“Fuck off.” You spat that at him the hope that it would have some effect on him. It did, but only from the standpoint that it made Alhaitham angrier. You could see it in his eyes when they grew harder, glossing over with the cold apathy that he had mastered. “Language.” You went to say it again, this time louder, hopefully loud enough that someone would hear, but he cut you off. “Don’t doubt me when I tell you I have all that I need to correct your mistakes. Your language is one of them.” There was a brief pause. “I’ll give you a pass on that little outburst because you’re upset. Perhaps rightfully so. But don’t make the same mistake with your language again. If you choose to continue to scream obscenities at me, then you’ll do so from behind a gag until you know better. Am I clear?” You let out a slow breath, flaring your nostrils at him as you did. God you wanted to try him. You wanted to dare him to act on his threat, just to see if he would follow through on it. You half considered it, until you looked over the bars again. He had gone so far as to build you a cage. A gag or anything else he had squirreled away would be nothing in comparison. “Sparrow. Answer me, courteously.” “I hate you.” You weren’t about to give him the acquiescence he desired. Not today at any rate. “This isn’t even remotely close to fair.” Your hands came around the bars, gripping them with all you had. “It isn’t fair that you were going to sneak away either. Yet you still tried. Consider this your punishment.” He indicated the cage. “When you learn to stay as you should, then I might be persuaded to let you out for an extended period of time, with supervision.” Stay as you should, like a dog. Gods help you. Your previous fury, which hadn’t been subdued by his motives finally succeeded in escaping, launching itself at him with every ounce of strength you had in your body. The bars of the cage rattled in unison with your screams as you pounded against the door to your cell. Much like Alhaitham, it didn’t move. It held firm, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as he took in your tantrum. He watched you fail and cry and scream until you were reduced to a crumpled puddle at his feet, quietly sobbing out what was left of your rage. There was nothing more to do, there was nothing more to say. To your own horror you had to accept the truth, that despite all your careful planning, Alhaitham had still managed to find a way to win.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time later, that was how Kaveh found you; crumpled against the cage in a broken heap. Enrant tears still fell as you couldn’t quite bring your emotions into check, but your sobbing had long ceased. The only reason it had, was because you had no more energy to do so. Whatever means Alhaitham and Kaveh had been using to keep you alive while you slept weren’t being employed now that you were awake. That meant you were reliant on them to supply you with what you needed to survive. Something you were sure would depend on your behavior and how obedient you choose to be. Knowing Alhaitham, the more you humiliated yourself for his benefit, the better. If you refused, he could starve the defiance right out of you.

“Paradisah?” You flinched at the sound of Kaveh’s voice. He had slipped in a while ago. Like Alhaitham, Kaveh was keen to observe as well. It was an annoying trait they both shared. You wished though, that like Alhaitham, Kaveh had remained silent. You weren’t ready for him. Your anger at Alhaitham, at least the first incarnation of it, had only just subsided. Kaveh didn’t necessarily deserve the tail end of it, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had you the energy for it, you would have given him the fresh anger he had earned all on his own. Instead you limply sat there, ignoring him. It was the only defense you could muster. “Darling-” He quickly moved closer, the metal details of his outfit clinking and clanking with every swift step. “Darling, are you alright?” Out of all the statements and questions you had heard today, that took the cake on being the stupidest. Were you alright? You had been abducted and told you would stay locked in some form of a cage for the rest of your life. Of course you weren’t alright. Why would he ask that? “I only just got here. Alhaitham left a note saying to check on you. He mentioned that you might be upset.” Might be. Might be.

You turned, your head tilting up in utter disbelief as your tired, red rimmed eyes found Kaveh’s. Might be upset. Things that might upset you were things like the coffee shop being out of your favorite blend or being denied art supplies that you needed for a project. Suggesting that you might be upset at your present circumstances was perhaps the understatement of the millenia. There was no might be about it. You had gone well past the point of upset and gone nuclear. The only thing that seemed to contain it was your own mental exhaustion. “Paradi, please don’t be like that. It’s-” He let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that bad. Truly it’s not.” For the first time, you were thankful for the bars that separated you from Kaveh. Had they not been there, then there was a very real chance you might have killed him where he stood. “Are you mad?” You didn’t bother to soften your tone for his benefit, not when he was acting like this was the most normal thing in the world. “I’m locked in a cage, Kaveh. A cage.” The anger you thought you didn’t have for him sparked, rapidly reigniting the ashes of the inferno that had been burning inside of you. “Why?” The question had been a rhetorical one, but the blonde scoffed, deciding it needed to be answered. “Because you gave him no other choice!” You watched as Kaveh planted his hands on his narrow hips. “Not to take his side in this, but you did it first! You-” He weakly gestured to you, letting his one hand fall back to his side. “You went behind his back! You went behind my back! By the way, Fontaine? Really?” Kaveh fixed you with a look of utter contempt. “And for so little too.” He shook his head in disgust. “You should at least get what you’re worth if you’re going to try something this stupid.” Like he was one to talk. Kaveh was Sumeru’s reigning king of foolish endeavors and stupid mistakes. The reason for his personal troubles were because he lacked the common sense he was born with. “I wanted my life back. I already live on a pittance, what’s the difference if I do it here or in Fontaine?” The difference was that Alhaitham and Kaveh wouldn’t be with you. While he tried to disguise it as pity or even empathy, Kaveh was every bit as bad as Alhaitham when it came to controlling your life. He didn’t use money or even his position to keep you where he wanted you. Instead, Kaveh’s violent mood swings often played a large role in getting you to do what he wanted. It was easier to comply with his poor pitiful me act than to deal with the outbursts that would follow should you refuse. “I didn’t think you would be one to lecture me about wanting to get away.” You fixed him with a hard look. “Aren’t you always going on about paying off your debts and getting away from him once and for all? Why am I any different? Why do I have to be the one that’s locked in the cage?” “Because you won’t listen!” The force in Kaveh’s voice temporarily silenced you. He stomped so hard his entire outfit rang in your ears. “All we want is to take care of you!” He took a deep breath, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Are you that ungrateful? You were sleeping in ruins and shady inns before you came here.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve offered you a life, a home. Sure Alhaitham is wretched and the whole mora thing is annoying, but does that alone constitute betrayal?” The word be slammed into you like a sack of bricks.

“Betrayal?” You could hardly voice the word. Did Kaveh really believe that? “Yes!” He pointed at you. “Betrayal. You have done nothing but lie to me for the last few weeks. Outside of one or two incidents, I thought we were getting along splendidly. I was ready to give him a glowing report so that he might cut you a little slack. Instead you betrayed me. You went behind my back multiple times to make arrangements for your new life in Fontaine. Then you scared the living daylights out of me when you took your little sketching trip into the woods. They delivered your graduation letter that morning and when I went to find you so we could talk about it, you were gone! I thought you had tried to run. I spent my day combing Sumeru City trying to find you!” You wanted to feel guilty about that, but you couldn’t quite manage it. Kaveh’s willing participation in this whole fiasco seemed to kill any remorse you tried to have. “Do you think so little of me that you would do that to me? After everything we’ve been through, you would just leave me behind to deal with his fury?” That you did feel slightly sorry about. You had from the beginning.

Kaveh was as much of a victim of Alhaitham as you were. While you had to deal with Alhaitham’s wandering hands and his incessant control, Kaveh had to endure endless rounds of verbal abuse that were hurled at him on a minute by minute basis when he and Alhaitham were together. Even if it was mostly brought on by Kaveh’s general attitude, Alhaitham almost always went for the jugular where Kaveh was concerned. There had been plenty of instances where Kaveh had limped away from a fight with Alhaitham, only to lick his wounds in the tavern. The difference between you and Kaveh though was Kaveh’s continued participation in Alhaitham’s scheme to keep you in Sumeru. That’s why you only felt slightly bad about your failed escape. Kaveh deserved many things, but the one thing he didn’t deserve was to face the brunt of Alhaitham’s anger when the truth of your escape finally came to light. That didn’t mean you hadn’t been prepared to force him to suffer for the sake of your freedom. If the consequences of you leaving forced Kaveh to realize his own hypocrisy at the hands of Alhaitham, then it was a price you were willing to pay. That at least would be some justice for what had happened to you. Now, there would be none.

“Right, because you’re the victim in this.” Kaveh managed to look a little wounded by that. “Do you think so little of your own ideals that you would cast them aside to imprison me?” The look he gave you was akin to being sucker punched. You could see the wheels spinning in his head. You watched the guilt work its way across his face as he finally took in your situation. “I- I didn’t want you to wake up in there.” Was that supposed to make you feel better? Were you supposed to thank him for his thoughtfulness despite the fact he willingly participated in your abduction? “Even with your betrayal, I advocated that you would be more comfortable out here.” Kaveh briefly gestured at the couch that sat along the wall closest to him. “We could always lock you in later, but I felt it would be better for you not to wake up behind bars. Alhaitham- he disagreed with me. He insisted that things had to remain as normal for us as possible. Nothing could look or feel amiss. I told him I would stay with you, but-” Kaveh shook his head. Obviously that suggestion hadn’t gone much further than that. “In the end, he’s right. We had to consider all that you had done, all you could do. You could hurt yourself, or something else could happen.” Like alert the matra and try to get away. “We both felt that this was better. Safer for everyone.” Safer. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream. Safer for who exactly? Them? You? “I know you’re upset.” He tried to sound gentle about it. Despite screaming at you only a few minutes prior, Kaveh was trying his best to be the good cop to Alhaitham’s bad cop. He was trying so desperately to add a silver lining to an abysmal situation. You wouldn’t accept it though. No amount of honeyed words would ever fool you again. “If you listen to him then it won’t be for long. He told me he might even let you out for a while later.” Fresh tears stung your eyes as you gripped the bars with all you had. “You’d like that right? To be out, to walk around? You were under for so long. I’m sure it would feel great just to stretch your legs. Oh! Just think, we could all have meals together, just like we used too.” Like some bastardized version of a family. Despite being famished, you nearly wretched at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be grand?” Kaveh offered you a genuine smile in an effort to disguise the fact that what he had just said was completely revolting. We could all have meals together, just like we used too. As if you hadn’t been forced to eat with them the first time. As if anything would ever be like it used too ever again. How could this meal or any others make up for the fact that your life had been stolen from you? Years of work, years of training, years of studying all made useless by the cold bars that held you in place. You had been reduced to no better than their pet. Something they were preparing to mold and train into a mindless thing. “Why don’t I make you some Pani Puri? You like that don’t you? I think we-” God you couldn’t stand him anymore. You couldn’t stand his incessant need to ignore the obvious. You hated him. You hated Alhaitham. You would rather be left to rot in the prison they had built for you before you would tolerate being in their presence for one more second. “Leave.” It took him a second to process what you said. Initially you thought he hadn’t heard you or that you had only said it in your mind based on the confusion that was written across his face. His expression changed a moment later, resembling that of a kicked puppy. “Darling, I -” He took a step towards you.

“I said-” You turned away from him, not wanting to see his face again. “Leave.” You tried to add some force to that, but it didn’t really work. The word came out as some weak, warbling thing that was barely discernible. Still though, he understood. You heard him take a breath, as if to say one last thing to you, but he refrained. Needless platitudes of encouragement or pleas for you to reconsider wouldn’t do him any good. You had already refused to hear them. Instead, the only sound you wanted to hear was the gentle clanking of Kaveh’s outfit as he slowly moved away. After what you guessed were a few minutes, he granted you that. Leaving you to the fate that Alhaitham had decided for you.

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