#HER HAIR CASCADING ELEGANTLY AROUND HER SHOULDER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elyssialumengard · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 2 )

______________________________________________

Link to the first part for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741783404758073344/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-1?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Charlie presents his redemption hotel project to (y/n), an powerful overlord. Alastor, with his own motives, tries to persuade (y/n) to become involved in their confrontation against Adam.

______________________________________________

Taku knocked a second time, but the silence remained implacable.

Tangible anxiety flashed across his face as he prepared to strike a third time, softly saying :

- My Lady, may I come in ?

Getting no response, he made a face that the two people behind him did not see. Charlie frowned at Alastor, wondering what was going on. The radio demon tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, wondering why (y/n) was slow to respond, when usually, she was so responsive. He could sense her presence, so it wasn't due to a mistake in location.

The demon, under the overlord's orders, did not hesitate to not ask permission, instead deciding to carefully push open the door. He entered, Charlie and Alastor on his heels, where the blonde was amazed by the clean layout of the place.

The room was bathed in soft, calming light that filtered through the thin curtains, letting in the golden rays of the artificial sun. The walls were painted in light tones, accentuating the brightness of the room and creating a warm atmosphere. Delicately framed paintings adorned the walls, bringing an artistic touch to the whole.

At the back of the room, a solid wooden desk was placed, on which were placed a kettle, a selection of fine teas in pretty metal boxes, delicately decorated porcelain cups, as well as small biscuits arranged on a plate.

Two plush sofas were placed opposite each other in the center, separated by a glass coffee table on which were a few magazines and a vase filled with fresh flowers. The elegantly patterned cushions added a touch of color and comfort to the seating.

Shelves full of books stretched along one of the walls, offering a varied selection of reading material for all tastes. Potted plants were scattered here and there, bringing greenery and freshness to the room.

In this welcoming and peaceful environment, (y/n) stood near a window, her back, silently contemplating the landscape through the glass, absorbed in her thoughts.

Approaching with growing concern, Taku called out to him again. Hearing this time, (y/n) gracefully pivoted towards them, revealing her strangely angelic appearance, which always disconcerted those who saw her for the first time.

Her hair, as white as fresh snow, flowed in silky cascades around her face, framing delicate, celestial features. His gaze, both gentle and penetrating, could have probed the deepest souls. Slight wrinkles framed her eyes, testifying to the countless trials she had endured. Fine deer antlers stood on the top of his head, rather large, extending back, adorned with light beads that had been made for her decades ago.

She was wrapped in a long taupe gray t-shirt, loose and flowing, the long sleeves of which fell almost delicately over her slender hands. The hem of the garment caressed the bottom of her buttocks while she had taken care to slip the front into her straight black fabric pants, thus defining her silhouette. A navy blue belt, carefully adjusted, captured the whole in subtle harmony. On her feet, sandals matching the color of the belt, with black wedge heels, seemed to extend the slender line of her legs.

Despite the apparent casualness of her outfit, she emanated an aura of dignity and serenity, giving her presence a natural nobility and captivating maturity.

Yet, despite the brilliance of her beauty and the imposing aura that surrounded her, an enigmatic fragility seemed to emanate from her, as if the burden of the entire world rested on her proud shoulders. Silent tears beading from her white eyelashes, sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving in their wake sparkling traces on the porcelain of her skin.

Faced with this heartbreaking vision, Charlie's heart ached with empathy. She could almost feel the pain and suffering emanating from (y/n), even though she didn't know her.

Ignoring Charlie and Alastor, (y/n) walked towards Taku who was walking towards her. Their gestures betrayed a deep and ancient familiarity. She held out a trembling hand, which Taku took tenderly, placing his other hand on her hip for support.

Tears continued to fall down (y/n)’s cheeks as she begged for comfort.

- Taku... I am gripped by doubt and torment... Did I make the right decision ? Was I right to act this way ? She whispered in a broken voice. My heart breaks thinking that another member of my family will suffer loneliness and fear because of the consequences of my actions.

Taku looked at her affectionately, his hand gently stroking hers to comfort her.

- You acted according to your duty. He replied in a soothing voice. Lynn broke established laws. It has threatened the balance that you have so ardently preserved. You had no choice but to punish him.

An encouraging smile appeared on Taku's lips, trying to ease his mistress' pain.

- Your wisdom and prudence have protected our family and our territory. Don't let the burden of your decisions torment you. We are all at your side, aware of the rules, ready to support your choices, however difficult they may be.

(y/n) closed her eyes, feeling the tears continue to fall down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back.

- I know, Taku... I realize that none of you hated me for that, that I did what had to be done, but... But that doesn't lessen the pain. She whispered, letting out a sigh of sorrow.

Taku, still close to her, dried her tears delicately, his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. He moved even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could in this moment of torment and vulnerability, no longer caring at all about the guests.

Observing this touching scene, Charlie was overcome by an emotion mixed with surprise and fascination. She didn't expect such intimacy between Taku and (y/n), but she couldn't help but find it magnificent, given the evidence of the deep attachment between them.

While as far as Alastor was concerned, he felt a surge of rage wash over him, his fingers tightening around the top of his cane with increasing intensity. His sinister smile widened, tinged with a dark glow as he observed this lesser demon, acting as if he was entitled to such closeness.

A shadow passed through his eyes, mixing jealousy and desire for possession.

- Remember this, my Lady. Your wisdom has always brought us serenity and protection. Your decisions were dictated by necessity and prudence. He continued in a soothing voice, trying to ease her pain.

(y/n) listened carefully to her advisor's comforting words, her expression relaxing slightly under his influence. However, when she heard the crackles of the radio growing louder in the room, her eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the sound with a disturbing certainty.

- Alastor, I advise you to control your emotions. Taku intervened, diverting his attention to the demon. I did not grant you an audience here, with my Lady, for you to cause trouble.

Alastor bit back a growl, his stag horns growing slightly in response to his growing frustration.

- I'm not the one who starts the trouble, my dear Taku. He replied, his gaze burning with a dark glow. But no matter, I wouldn't want to spoil your little intimate moment with your precious overlord. He added acerbically, his pupils narrowing, leaving more room for the black of his eyes.

Before Taku could respond, a bitter cold suddenly filled the room, dropping the temperature several degrees and obscuring the surrounding light. (y/n)'s silver eyes glowed menacingly as she stared at Alastor with an icy intensity, filled with hatred and menace.

Detaching itself slightly from Taku, (y/n)'s aura transformed into a terrifying presence, imbuing the room with a heavy and sinister atmosphere. His antlers grew larger as did his shadow which expanded, morphing into a tight grip around Alastor's body, immobilizing him. All this happened in barely the blink of an eye. Alastor's mischievous smile froze, becoming more awkward as he tried to keep his composure.

Charlie, panicked, let out a little cry of fear when she saw Alastor in danger. (y/n) walked towards him with determined steps, her piercing gaze staring at him intensely. Once in front of him, the same size, she addressed him in a cold voice :

-What are you here for, radio demon ?

Aware of the palpable threat in the air, Alastor responded with feigned confidence :

- Just to chat, my dear overlord. I come as a friend, as always.

- As friends ? She replied, an icy glint in her eyes. You have no friends here. You only have enemies waiting for the right moment to destroy you.

A shiver ran down Alastor's spine, but he kept his composure, his sinister smile stretching slightly across his face.

- Oh, but my dear, it's a shame. I'm sure we could get along if you gave me a chance.

(y/n) stared at him with contempt.

- You don't belong here, Alastor. And if you even think for a moment about sowing chaos in my territory, know that I will make you regret every second of your existence.

When Alastor should have fought back or tried to defend himself, a subtle observation revealed to him an unsuspected truth, escaped everyone's attention. The shadow's hold on him, although similar to that of his memories, was not as stifling or threatening as he had thought. He felt within himself the possibility of freeing himself from it, if he really wanted to. Staring intently at the face of the woman he had come to meet, he noticed that the tears had stopped flowing, giving way to an expression valiantly fighting against fatigue.

Smiling even more, he decided to lighten the atmosphere with his usual sarcastic humor.

- Let's see, my dear, you take me for a more belligerent demon than I really am. He said, giving a mocking smile. I'm here on a much more interesting matter than causing chaos. Actually, I'm here to introduce you to someone !

(y/n) arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening even further.

-And who is this person you are talking about ? She asked in a biting voice.

Alastor let out a small laugh, turning to Charlie with a theatrical nod.

- Allow me to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell and the founder of the Hazbin Hotel !

Charlie, feeling a little uncomfortable under (y/n)'s unforgiving gaze, gave her a shy smile and bowed slightly.

- Hey… Nice to meet you, Lady (y/n). She said in a calm but respectful voice.

( y/n ) looked away from Alastor to stare at Charlie, his expression softening slightly. She observed the young princess with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation, taking the time to look her over from head to toe, making her slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if the one who was taller than her she probed the depths of his soul.

- Charlie Morningstar… She whispered, repeating the name as if to engrave it in her memory.

As (y/n) scrutinized Charlie with growing interest, a resolve seemed to arise within her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she dispelled the shadow that still enveloped Alastor, thus freeing the demon from his yoke. The temperature of the room and its brightness returned to their natural balance, while (y/n)'s deer antlers returned to their initial size.

(y/n), now more relaxed, conformed to the rules of etiquette, respecting them. A gracious smile graced her lips as she gave Charlie a salutation of gracious solemnity, bowing her head slightly in respect.

- The pleasure is shared, Princess Charlie. She replied in a soft but confident voice, getting up. It is an honor to welcome you to my modest home. Please forgive me for the vulnerable and aggressive version of myself that you may have encountered. Under no circumstances should she be present in the presence of royalty such as yours.

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in (y/n)'s attitude, feeling more comfortable in her presence. She bowed respectfully in gratitude, acknowledging the courtesy of the Overlord of Hell, not being used to being shown so much respect.

(y/n) then turned towards the couches, inviting Charlie to sit down.

- Please sit down, Princess Charlie, you must be tired from all this walking. She declared in a friendly voice, gesturing elegantly to the sofa.

Charlie nodded politely and sat down, his gaze following Alastor who stood behind the back of the sofa, his teasing smile still hanging on his lips. Meanwhile, (y/n) sent a command to Taku.

- Taku, please prepare some tea for our guest. She ordered in a calm but authoritative voice, as she sat down her turn, opposite Charlie who was standing straight, playing with his fingers.

Taku nodded silently, bowing slightly before walking over to where the teapot and cups were set out. He prepared the tea with silent skill, discreetly observing his enemy out of the corner of his eye.

As for Alastor, he remained unfazed by the presence of the one he would like to see dead, his expression still teasing, his gaze sparkling with undisguised malice as he observed the scene with palpable amusement.

Once the tea was ready, Taku approached Charlie and handed him a cup with a respectful gesture.

- Your tea, Princess Charlie. He announced in a neutral voice, placing it in front of her on the table, before serving (y/n), who thanked him with a warm but moderate smile.

Charlie thanked him with a grateful smile and took the cup carefully, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid against his fingers. She took a small sip, savoring the soothing taste of the tea. (y/n) observed him with a slight smile, then suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had fallen :

- If I may say so, you look exactly like your father, Lucifer.

Charlie, astonished, looked at her in surprise.

- Do you know my father ? She asked with a hint of disbelief, unsure of what to think.

(y/n) nodded slightly.

- We met on a few rare occasions. She replied in a calm voice, full of reflection. But I must admit that I don't particularly hold it in my heart. Although I understand that he is overwhelmed by the illness of depression, especially since the departure of Lilith, your mother, I firmly believe that a king, even if he did not choose this destiny, must above all think to his subjects and be ready to sacrifice himself for them. Unfortunately, your father doesn't always seem to understand this, letting innocent people perish every year and condemning all sinners indiscriminately.

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips at this unexpected revelation, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to hide his growing confusion. Another heavy silence settled in the room, (y/n) doing everything to ignore the presence of Alastor, who reveled in his reaction.

After taking a sip, the hostess asked in a friendly but curious voice :

-And if not, can you inform me of your coming here, princess ? I must admit that I never imagined such a thing happening.

Charlie felt a surge of intense excitement course through her body as she jumped to her feet, the surge in her voice ready to burst into song to introduce her hotel of redemption. Her eyes glowed with palpable determination as she prepared to share her vision with those in the room.

- Oh uh yes ! Let me introduce you to my hotel that rehabilitates fishermen ! She began in a vibrant, almost musical voice. A place where the most lost souls can find redemption and inner peace.

His momentum was abruptly interrupted by the authoritarian voice of (y/n), which ended his tirade :

- There is no room for songs here, princess. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but I believe that there is a time for everything, including songs. If this is serious, you can present things differently.

Charlie, disappointed by the abrupt interruption of her creative momentum, sat up slowly, stammering an excuse. Alastor raised an eyebrow and said in a voice tinged with sarcasm :

- Are you sure about that, (y/n) ?

Ignoring Alastor's remarks and the hostile glances exchanged between him and Taku, (y/n) focused on Charlie, noticing his growing state of stress. Telling herself that his condition was because of her, with natural grace, she offered him a soothing smile and said softly :

- There's no reason to stress, princess, I didn't want to upset you. However, I can't stand the music anymore.

Hearing this, Alastor's smile became colder and more sarcastic. Charlie, looking at the woman in front of her, sighed, her shoulders slumping. She still had a hard time realizing that she was here, sharing tea with the person she considered an example to follow. As a result, she could not hold back from sharing her adoration for the overlord.

- You know, I've always heard about you. Rumors say that you are almost as powerful as my father, but that you have chosen a different path. A path of compassion and helping others.You have made pacts with sinners, protecting them and guiding them through the troubled waters of life. It's incredible. Everyone talks about you, but we never see you. You might almost think you're a legend. And yet here I am, facing you, realizing that you are very real. I admire you so much. It's like meeting my idol. Your strength, your generosity... It's inspiring. I mean, who else could boast of having (y/n) as an ally ? That's... That would just be amazing.

As Charlie's excitement began to skyrocket again, (y/n) gave him a kind look and said gently, touched by his words :

- Calm down, princess. Thank you for your admiration. Breathe, I am fully listening to you.

Charlie, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, outlined his plan with frankness tinged with nervousness. She honestly admitted that it was her fault that the purge had been brought forward six months, explaining that in a month Adam and the exterminators would come to see them first. Unable to hide her anxiety, she admitted that she did not know what to do in the face of this critical situation.

-And so… Alastor brought me here to get your help, apparently. She added, casting an uncertain look at Alastor.

( y/n ), staring skeptically at Alastor for the first since this exchange, raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt about the demon's intentions. In a calm but direct voice, she asked him :

- Do you really think you'll help Charlie with his hotel ? Do you believe in this idea of redemption ?

Alastor replied with a hint of amusement in his voice :

- Ah, my dear (y/n), believe in redemption ? It’s like believing in Santa Claus ! However, I see Charlie's little project as an entertainment opportunity. And maybe, who knows, a few souls to collect for eternity. But don't get me wrong, I'm here to save his project, it shouldn't be broken too quickly. I was even the one who chose the name of the brand, the “Hazbin Hotel”!

Faced with Alastor's response, Charlie felt disappointed and blasé, her face betraying her displeasure. She had hoped to find a sincere ally in him, but his words had reminded her of the dark and detached nature of the one who accompanied her today.

(y/n), turning to Taku with a serious look, asked him if the information provided by Alastor was true. Taku nodded soberly, confirming that according to his informants, the stated facts were accurate. (y/n) bowed his head slightly in recognition towards Taku before turning back to Charlie.

- I see… And what do you want from me, princess ?

Alastor spoke up to propose a solution to the situation.

- You know, (y/n), with your power and your army of fishermen, you could put an end to all this. You could even come to the aid of other potential members of what you insist on calling your “family”. He said in a convinced tone, looking at his nails, keeping a straight posture, not wanting to slump against the backrest even if he wanted to, wanting to keep a good face in front of her.

In a gesture of controlled serenity, (y/n) gently raised her hand to interrupt him, before falling gracefully on his knee. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts before responding in a calm but resolute voice :

- I understand your point of view, but I refuse to put the members of my family in danger for a matter that does not directly concern them. Here we are safe.

(y/n)'s reply, although delivered with apparent confidence, does not quite succeed in convincing Alastor, accustomed to detecting chinks in the armor of his interlocutors. He had subtly noticed the change in expression on the overlord's face. A smirk tugged at his thin lips, his eyes sparkling with biting amusement as he prepared to further explore the cracks in (y/n)'s confidence.

- You sure about that ? He asked, his voice softly tinged with a veiled threat. Think about it my dear. Things change, alliances break, and even your fishermen could find themselves caught in the tumult of this impending war.

He remained silent for a moment, letting his words permeate the atmosphere, then he continued in a calm but incisive tone :

- Imagine for a moment that Adam's forces are getting closer. Do you really think they will stop indefinitely at the gates of your pocket dimension ? That your precious fishermen will be spared from their fury ? No, my dear (y/n), your security is only an illusion in this constantly moving world. And if you refuse to act now, you may bitterly regret it when the flames of war lick the walls of your refuge.

He paused, letting his words resonate in (y/n)'s mind, before concluding with a sardonic smile :

- Of course, I do not underestimate your ability to protect your domain. But it's always good to consider all possibilities, even the darkest ones. After all, prudence is the mother of safety, right ?

Alastor knew how to tug on the heartstrings of high-ranking demons like (y/n). He used his charisma and sharp rhetoric to sow doubt in the overlord's mind, giving her a different perspective on the situation and pushing her to consider more aggressive actions to protect her rule and honor.

Before Charlie could intervene with his own arguments, Taku, faithful servant, spoke in a respectful but determined tone.

- My Lady. He began in a voice full of devotion. I understand the arguments made by this nuisance, but I implore you, do not let fear and uncertainty dictate your actions. You are the force that unites us, the light that guides our steps in the darkness. Your prudence is our shield against the chaos that always threatens to engulf us. Yes, times are uncertain and threats are many, but it is precisely in these times that your leadership is most crucial. Acting in haste, under the influence of fear, would only hasten our downfall. Let us remain faithful to our strategy, to our vision of the future. With your wisdom and wise judgment, we will overcome whatever challenges come our way. Because if you choose to engage in this confrontation, you risk losing more than you could gain. Your place is here, alongside yours, to protect our home and guide our destiny. Don't let the words of a manipulative demon sow doubt in your mind. We trust you, my Lady. And as long as you stay strong, so will we.

His hand, resting confidently on (y/n)'s shoulder, testified to his unwavering support, while he awaited his suzerain's decision with respectful patience, trusting in her wisdom and in her ability to make the best decisions for them.

(y/n) turned her gaze towards Taku, letting her face rest on her hand which was placed next to her on the backrest, fighting against the wave of sadness which invaded her at the thought of Lynn, that she had punished for a recent transgression. Alastor, carefully scanning the scene, felt a pang of annoyance as he noticed the proximity between them, a proximity that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

However, her attention was diverted by something that seemed to escape the others, when she raised her arm slightly, to take Taku's hand which was on her shoulder. Another curious and interesting detail, which added to the confirmation of his suspicions. (y/n) raised his face towards Charlie, letting go of his advisor's hand, placing his arm back at his side. In a gentle voice, she expressed her regrets.

- I'm sorry, princess, but I can't help you in this matter. She declared with compassion. I can't afford to put any member of my family in danger, let alone drag them into this.

However, she offered Charlie a glimmer of hope by adding :

- However, if your hotel survives, I will be happy to support you by visiting your establishment. I could then assess whether it truly constitutes a safe haven for those who seek redemption under your protection.

This compromise seemed to assuage Charlie's disappointment, giving him an encouraging outlook for the future of his project. She couldn't hold back her joy and literally jumped with contentment, her eyes shining with excitement.

- You are serious ? Really ? She exclaimed, both surprised and delighted by the powerful overlord's proposal.

(y/n) nodded gently, a kind smile stretching her lips.

- Yes I am. If your hotel manages to offer a path to redemption, then some members of my family may feel drawn to that possibility. And as a worthy leader, it is my duty to help them as best I can. She declared with dignity, thus expressing her noble vision of responsibilities.

Charlie's eyes lit up even more, splashed with a mixture of admiration and gratitude.

- It's incredible ! Thank you so much, (y/n) ! You won't regret it, I promise ! She exclaimed, letting her gratitude and determination to make her project a success shine through.

Sensing Charlie's imminent departure, (y/n) smiled slightly, appreciating his enthusiasm and determination.

- I wish you good luck, princess. Do your best to save your hotel. She told him sincerely, recognizing the passion that animated the young woman.

Charlie, moved by these words, bowed respectfully to (y/n) like a fan to an idol.

- Thank you, thank you very much ! I will not disappoint you ! I will do everything to find a solution to save him, you will see ! She promised passionately before heading towards the exit, carrying with her a mixture of excitement and newfound enthusiasm, not caring if Alastor followed her or not.

Alastor remained still, staring at (y/n) with a mixture of interest and challenge in his glowing gaze. Taku, seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, turned to Alastor with a cold and bitter expression, suggesting in a scathing tone :

- It's time for you to go, demon. Your presence is no longer required.

But Alastor didn't seem to react to Taku's words, keeping his attention entirely focused on (y/n). He let out a little sarcastic laugh, before announcing in a quiet voice but full of innuendo :

- In fact, I intend to talk a little more with (y/n).

She turned her attention to him, with a neutral air, while he announced :

-And one-on-one this time.

______________________________________________

Author's note : Well, I guess there will be a part 3, right ? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, and that (y/n)'s character captivated you. Stay tuned for the next part !

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #vivziepop

112 notes · View notes

luxtout · 7 months

Text

Flames Unveiled (Chapter 1- Leather and Letters- Aegon II Targaryen X (Bastard Velaryon) Reader X Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After six years living away from Kings Landing, you and your family are summoned back, for reasons unknown. Your mother, Rhaenyra, has different plans for you. You swore to always protect your family, but at what cost?

Warning: Cursing, angst, injuries

The air was sweet as you stepped out of your chambers, a gentle breeze brushing against your legs and sending a shiver down your spine. The place you've called home for the past six years was eerily quiet, not even your younger brothers were awake in these early morning hours. Normally, the songs of dragons would awaken you, but on this particular morning, the silence was unnerving.

The corridor echoed with each step you took, the faint sound of your dress grazing the floor causing your fingers to clench the fabric. You finally heard the soft murmur of your mother, Rhaenyra, speaking in Valyrian.

As if she sensed your approach, her voice hushed, waiting for you to open the large wooden door to the viewing room. A sense of curiosity overcame you as you wondered if someone else was in there with her. Your hand brushed the ridged doorknob, twisting it gently, as if you intended to surprise her. You could hear her mumbling in Valyrian.

You pushed open the heavy door, a rush of cold air meeting your face. Rhaenyra stood beside a massive wooden desk, engrossed in reading a parchment.

"Skoros iksos sīr secret ao līs whisper se ȳzaldrīzes isse nonnative ēngos?" What is so secret that you must whisper and speak in a nonnative tongue? Your lips curled upwards as you noticed her jump at the sound of your voice. She was dressed in a deep red gown with black accents around the skirts and collar, her hair elegantly braided on her head, creating a crown-like effect.

"Gōntan nyke wake ao, tala?" Did I wake you, daughter? Her voice was soft and genuinely concerned.

You quickly shook your head, your smile softening as your hair cascaded over your shoulders. "Daor. Nyke istan worried everyone ēdan geptot issa." No, I was worried that everyone had left me. It was a genuine fear that occasionally plagued you, which caused you wake in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, fearing your family had disappeared. You kept your head down, lacing your fingers together, trying to ignore Rhaenyra's gaze.

"Your Valyrian has improved significantly. It is good for the future heir to the Iron Throne to know the ancient language." You were lost in your thoughts, not realizing that Rhaenyra had approached you, gently taking your hands in hers. Her smile was warm and comforting, knowing the challenges you faced as the eldest daughter, with high expectations from everyone in the court and beyond.

"Mother, you have not named an heir yet," your smile faltered. "The last I heard; Grandsire has been in good health. Why discuss such politics?"

Your mother's eyes softened, and her smile waned ever so slightly, a change so subtle that only you would notice. Her hands left yours suddenly, and she held your face in a surprising manner. "You're right, my love. Let's have breakfast."

She guided you out of the room, but you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the parchment left on the desk, a raven perched beside it. You were about to voice your concerns, but by then, you were already walking down the hall, entranced by the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.

Entering the dining room, a long wooden table stretched from wall to wall, a fireplace at the far end of the room warming your cold hands. The curtains were drawn, allowing natural light to filter through the windows, while candles on the table illuminated the carefully set place settings by the handmaidens.

The cook's assistants hurried around, bearing plates of various meats, such as bacon, pork, and sausage, alongside bowls of porridge and poached eggs. The meal was complemented with cheese and bread. The table's centerpiece featured a colorful array of fruits, and you couldn't resist plucking a grape from its vine.

Your stomach rumbled in anticipation as they finished and bowed to your mother, then to you. You wanted to sit down and devour everything in sight, leaving nothing behind, but you waited for your brothers to join you, wherever they might be.

"It's best that you allow your handmaidens to assist you with dressing," Rhaenyra began, "and perhaps let them brush your hair."

She did not glance in your direction, already seated and waiting for her sons. You looked down at your dress, a simple blue gown adorned with gold embroidery, resembling tree leaves, you thought. Your hand instinctively went to your hair next, where knots had formed at the nape, although your mother couldn't see it beneath the cascade of waves falling to your waist. Your hair was brown, but a streak of white at the front of your hairline framed your face like an artist's touch.

"I can manage on my own. I am not a child; I am seventeen years of age, soon to be eight-"

Your words were abruptly cut off as you saw disappointment in your mother's eyes. "Exactly. You are a woman grown, yet you dress and act like a child."

Biting your lip, you tried to hold back hurtful words. "If you didn't make me leave, I would be a properly educated woman like you want!" Rhaenyra remained silent, her expression reflecting her sadness.

Footsteps echoed as your brothers entered the room. Jacaerys and Lucerys walked in silently, their hair in disarray, and their clothes looking unkempt. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at your mother, but she smiled slightly, conceding defeat. You were well aware of how you were treated differently; your brothers could do whatever they pleased, say anything they want, fuck whoever they want, while you, a lady, were constantly reminded of what not to do, what not to wear, and how not to speak. It was fucking annoying.

"Good morning, Y/N!" Luke greeted you with a smile as he took a seat next to Rhaenyra. He reached for the mead, but she swiftly pushed it out of his reach.

"Good morning, Luke, Jace. Finally, you've awakened." You tried to suppress your anger, but, in an instant, your previously hungry stomach felt completely satisfied. Nonetheless, you loaded your plate with bacon and eggs, deftly taking most of the fruit before Jace could protest.

"Where is Daemon?" Luke asked, looking around with a fork halfway to his mouth.

All eyes turned to your mother, who cleared her throat awkwardly. "He is... not here. He will be back before nightfall."

Luke nodded and continued with his meal, hummed appreciatively as he took another bite. Jace, on the other hand, nearly ignored his utensils entirely, and your mother had to intervene with a stern, "Jace."

The cries of your younger brothers could be heard as Joffrey ran into the room, with a wet nurse following close behind. "Ma, Aegon and Viserys won't drink their milk, they just cry."

A chuckle escaped your lips as Joffrey described the morning ordeal with the infants. Rhaenyra tried to explain that they didn't yet understand the timing of their meals, still being quite young.

"Come, Joffrey," You pulled out a chair with your foot, earning a disapproving look from your mother. "I'll make you a plate."

Joffrey eagerly hopped around the table and climbed into the chair. You filled his plate with fruits, porridge, and bacon, although he protested about the eggs, which he didn't like.

Seeing the heartwarming sight, your mother offered a gentle comment, "You would be a beautiful mother."

It was barely a whisper, but it caught your attention. "May I be excused? I would like to fly Lyrax; he has been quite stubborn of late."

Silence filled the room as Rhaenyra nodded, and you quickly left, heading towards the door.

Dressed in your riding leathers, you hadn't taken more than a few steps before someone called your name.

"Y/N!" Turning around, your brother raced after you. "Wait!"

You slowed your pace as you continued weaving your hair into a braid, "What is it, Jace?"

His steps quickened, and he finally caught up to you. "Mother wants me to recite the Targaryen lineage... in Valyrian."

"What does that have to do with me?" You laughed as you finished your braid, noticing his softening expression. "When I get back, I will help."

Jace spun you around, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you for this, sister!"

You nodded and made your way to the "Dragon Pit." It wasn't as grand as the one in King's Landing, but it served its purpose in keeping your dragon safe. "Lyrax! Māzigon naejot issa, Lyrax," you called. His cooing and heavy steps greeted you as he approached. His scales were white and light gray, resembling the moon, with eyes a shade darker than black.

"Sȳz, Lyrax. Ivestragī īlva sōvegon." Good, let's fly. He lowered himself so you could mount, and you grabbed the reins. "Sōvegon."

Lyrax took a running start, leaping into the air and spreading his wings. The wind whipped through your hair as you gripped the reins with leathered gloves. He soared beyond the clouds, gliding with outstretched wings.

There was one word in Valyrian that you had always wanted to command Lyrax with, something your mother would kill you for and feed your remains to Syrax.

"Dracarys!"

Your voice echoed as you felt the vibrations from your dragon's throat, spitting a ball of fire. Unknowingly in awe, you found yourself heading too close to the flames, the heat burning your leather, but you didn't mind. You held your hand in the fire until Lyrax descended.

Taking a breath, you looked back at the puff of smoke. "Good boy, Lyrax." You were surprised to find that your leather had melted off, and your skin was singed but not blistered. It felt similar to sitting too close to a fire in the winter, leaving your skin hot but not scalded.

When you landed, you gave Lyrax one last hug before he went to feed, and you tended to your hand. To your amazement, it was as if nothing had happened, despite your expectations of blistered skin.

As you walked up the dirt and stone pathway, you noticed Daemon waiting. "Mother said you would be back by nightfall."

He smirked. "Nyke istan, yn nyke kesīr sir." I was, but I'm here now.

You bowed your head and said, "Indeed, lead the way."

Daemon's smirk made your skin crawl, and your hatred for him boiled within you. You missed your father, Laenor, who used to take you on walks around King's Landing, singing songs and teaching you dances. He was full of life, whereas Daemon was devoid of joy.

Entering the drawing room, you heard Valyrian as you noticed Jace and your mother. He looked up from the table, his hands propped up against the edge, giving you a dirty look.

"Tell me, who was Aegon Targaryen?" She inquired, a smirk forming in the corners of her mouth as she watched her son struggle.

"Aegon nyke..." He began, but the pronunciation proved challenging. "Aegon nyke istan..."

"Aegon nyke istan se ēlī targārien naejot conquer se unite se sīkuda dārȳti hen vesteros. Ziry rode se zaldrīzes balerion se zōbrie dread. Zȳhon reign marked se beginning hen targārien dynasty isse vesteros," you offered, unable to witness your brother's struggle any longer. Aegon I was the first Targaryen to conquer and unite the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. He rode the dragon Balerion the Black Dread, and his reign marked the beginning of the Targaryen dynasty in Westeros.

Your words caused Daemon to chuckle, and you earned a sympathetic sigh from Rhaenyra. "How else is Jace going to learn if you do it for him?"

You removed the other leather glove with a sigh. "My apologies, dear brother. Please continue." Jace cracked a smile at you as you took a seat nearby. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but your mother interrupted.

"Actually, I have to inform you both of something important..."

You sat up attentively. "Would you like me to fetch Luke?"

She raised her hand to stop you. "No, it will be quick. I have received a letter. It's from... the Queen."

You sprang from your seat, and Jace moved closer to you. "Is Grandsire all right?"

Rhaenyra put an end to your questions, saying, "He is fine." You scanned the room, trying to grasp the issue. "Then what, mother?"

She gritted her teeth. "She wants you to be in court. She wants us all home." You noticed her voice quiver with emotion. Daemon had an amused smirk as he observed your perplexed expressions.

"Back to King's Landing? After all these years?" Jace's voice held bewilderment, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"The Queen is a woman that no one can understand, her reasoning for many things is questionable. Mother, when do we leave?" You couldn't hide your excitement, finally escaping this dreaded isle and returning to what you considered home - your true home.

"Tomorrow at daybreak." Your mother's decision to leave made sense, which explained Daemon's presence now, and why he remained silent, akin to a snake.

You were ready to rush out the door to start packing, but Jace's voice shook. "Are they going to be civil?" It didn't take long for you to connect the dots; the question was about your uncles. The last time you were all in King's Landing, there was an incident, and someone lost an eye...

"Jace... I..." Your mother was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence, but Jace had no intention of listening to whatever she might have said as he rushed past everyone and into the hall. You wanted to say something, but first, you needed to console your brother.

"Jace! Brother!" You raced after him, the sound of your boots clicking with each step. He paused for a moment, turned around, his fists clenched, and his lips pressed tightly together.

"Dear brother, do not let the past weigh you down. Perhaps they have matured? Maybe they are now men grown..." Your statement turned from a question to a plea. The last time you saw your uncles, they were calling you all... bastards.

"You have too much faith in them, sister. You always try to see the better in people," Jace said with a smile, lifting his hand to your face.

Yes, your optimism might well be your downfall.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #game of throne #daemon targaryen #slow burn #aegon x you #helaena targaryen #aemond x you #enemies to lovers #house targaryen #house velaryon

189 notes · View notes

makosworld · 9 months

Text

Double Team!

diluc x f!reader x kaeya

A/N: dedicated to my love for them. not shipping kaeya x diluc in this btw. hope you enjoy ;)

Notes/warnings: non descriptive smut, separate smut with each

You are but a measly worker at Dawn Winery.

“Hey, you bitch, get over here and take this barrel upstairs,” some random higher up worker calls to you. Obliging you carry the barrel upstairs, however, it’s slightly blocking your vision and you take a wrong turn.

…

Placing down the barrel, you find yourself in an unfamiliar hallway. Looking around you decide to go back the direction you came from. Bending down to pick up the barrel you hear footsteps coming up behind you. You turn to see a man with beautiful blue hair cascading down his shoulder, as he speaks. “I wasn’t aware there was going to be a guest up here, Diluc?” Turning you spot another man. This one, Diluc, has fiery red hair falling elegantly down his back. He stares at you a moment too long before looking back to Kaeya who has a sly glint in his eye.

“Funnily enough, Kaeya, I wasn’t aware either. Who are you, miss?” He asks, looking you up and down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I think I took a wrong turn, because I couldn’t see around this huge barrel and then-” Coming closer, Kaeya puts a thumb over your lips. Your rambling comes to a stop in a second and you’re left looking at him incredulously. He's staring at you. “W-what..”

“Can we keep her? She’s far cuter than you Diluc.”

“WHAT!”

“Kaeya, please sto-“

“Relax, both of you. I was merely joking.”

“I’m sorry, for my.. brother. Please, come have a drink, with me.” He offers placing a hand on your lower back, in attempts to guide you along with him. The offer to be alone with your boss, in his office...

“Sir… really it was no big deal, and plus I can’t just leave the wine barrel in the hallw-” You get cut off again.

“That’s why Kaeya will be doing that for us, right dear brother?” Diluc looks at him with a cocky grin, tempting him to refuse.

…

You. Diluc. Alone. In his office. Placing his grape juice glass down he asks, “So, clearly you work for my winery; are you new to the company? Apologies for not knowing. I used to hire people myself, but the company has really grown and I can’t seem to find time for it.” He says looking at you remorse in his expression.

You place down your glass, as well, and lean over denying his worries, “Oh, of course it’s nothing to apologize over, I’m sure your very busy. I doubt you would remember me, anyways, I’m but a measly low ranking worker.” Surprised at your insistence and the position you’ve placed yourself in, your upper body leaning against his wooden desk he stops for a second and stares at you. Eyes roaming your frame.

“I think you’re worth far more than you give yourself credit for.. oh, it seems I didn’t catch your name..?” Giving him your name he hums, and repeats it; the sounds rolling of his tongue smoothly. It sounded so beautiful from his mouth, his lips and tongue… You move to pick up your glass, but your hands are moist with sweat (is it getting hotter in here?) and the glass slips from your grip. You startle and the glass falls onto your lap and the liquid onto your shirt, making it sheer. Diluc raises, and pushes your chair back to sit in between your legs on the ground. His hands grabbing onto your thighs.

“Are you alright?” Face filled with worry he finds the glass hasn’t broken and you’re not hurt. Relaxing he picks it off your lap and places it onto the table.

“I’m fine Diluc, don’t wor-“ And you, never being able to catch a break, are cut off once again.

“No, no, come with me,” taking your hand he leads you to his private bedroom. It’s clean, doesn’t seem like he uses it much other than for sleeping. He leads you to his bed, prompting you to sit. “Remove your shirt, please.”

“W..what..”

“Ahm- you’ll need a change, because your shirt is ruined, I mean.” He rummages through a drawer before pulling out a shirt. “This should do, right?” Thanking him, you unbutton your shirt while he looks away. Then, the door slams open and in walks Kaeya.

“Finally, found you, guys. What have you two been…” His face lights up with surprise seeing your shirt halfway down your arms. Surprised you try and put it back on.

“Wow, did Diluc actually seduce someone?” Kaeya teases moving his way closer to you. “I really didn’t appreciate having to leave you and my brother alone-“

“You say that as though you are someone to be trusted alone with,” Diluc cuts Kaeya’s accusations off with his own.

“Well, if I was alone with her I would’ve made a move much faster than you, after all I’m not such a coward. In fact, watch this…”

…

You’re on Kaeya lap. Your shirt is laying somewhere on the floor. Kaeya’s fingers tease along your sides leaving a burning feeling where they touched your skin. After fighting off his outer accessories and clothes he’s left with only his pants. His hands travel along your skin and with a suspicious amount of precision he clicks and slides off your bra in one fluid motion. He continues roaming his hands across your torso, when he lifts your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and as you begin to melt into the kiss he rubs a finger over your chest. When you let out a gasp, he slides his tongue into your mouth. His tongue explores your mouth and you can feel him smirking against your lips. Parting for air his mouth moves down to your neck leaving wet kisses and bruises in it’s wake, and his mouth lowers to your chest. His movements force a whimper out of your mouth. You begin to fumble with his belt before removing it completely.

…

He's got you laid against the bed. Hovering over you, “You sure this is okay, love?” At your conformation, he moves his fingers to your mouth, signaling for you to open it. His fingers are warm, and as you run your tongue along them and suck, he lets out a groan. His fingers, wet with your spit, move down…

…

Kaeya moves his hips at a fast pace, his head in your neck, muffling his moans of your name. You grip the sheets as his name tumbles out of your lips. The burning feeling comes closer with every one of his thrusts until.. “..k-kaeya.. I’m..”

…

Diluc shifts in his seat after watching the scene in front of him unfold. He’s already striped himself to his underwear and is noticeably erect. Kaeya kisses your hand and bides you a good time, leaving you with Diluc.

Climbing off the bed still wobbly you almost trip, but he shoots up to steady you. You push him back into his rooms desk chair, and climb onto his lap. You lean into him and begin kissing him a little sloppily. Grinding down onto him he lets out a whimper. Giving you access to his mouth, you slip in your tongue and feel around his mouth. He suddenly sucks on your tongue making you groan into the kiss. Detaching from his mouth you help him remove his underwear and get in between his legs, on the ground. Grabbing him in your hand your mouth lowers.

…

He's close. Diluc grips onto your hair like his life depends on it. Whimpers of your name fall from his lips like a prayer, as you move your mouth up and down his length. He comes undone into your mouth, and you swallow as best you can. Some dribbles out from the corner of your lips, and his finger moves to wipe it away.

…

You’ve gotten yourselves properly cleaned up with a bath and a fresh pair of Diluc’s sleeping clothes, and now you lay between both him and Kaeya on his bed. They hold you from each side as you alternate between who’s chest to squeeze your face into. You quickly drift off to sleep, comfortable and happy.

#genshin impact #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya #diluc #genshin x reader #genshin smut #smut #fanfic #kaeya x y/n #diluc x y/n #kaeya x fem!reader #diluc x fem!reader #kaeya x reader x diluc #kaeya x reader smut #diluc x reader smut #genshin impact x reader

112 notes · View notes

magalidragon · 6 months

Text

we will always have the weirwood tree | a Things We Left Behind AU | teaser

Broken men break women. Jon Snow was broken. And Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful.

Happy Birthday @youwerenevermine !

This is the long awaited Lucian x Sloane AU. It had everything you love and more. Enemies-to-Lovers, Grumpy x Sunshine, second chance romance, feral Jon, badass Dany….WE LOVE IT ALL!

As I have already said I didn’t finish the first chapter and decided to go all in and just give you the full 10k smut chapter 😂 But until then, here’s a big teaser.

LOVE YOU BESTIE AND HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BIRTHDAY!!! 🥳 🎂 🎉 🎈 🎁 💕

Super sneak peek after the cut!

Jon took a deep breath and opened the door, unfolding himself from the Range Rover. A blast of frigid air pushed his coat back and he reached up to anxiously push back some of his unruly black curls. He didn't mind the cold; it suited him. He ignored buttoning up his coat and strode down the drive, crossed the yard, entered the godswood on one side, and went around the massive weirwood tree-- ignoring the worn branches that stepladdered up to the bay window that looked directly at his childhood bedroom-- out the back gate and around the edge of the house to the front porch.

He didn't even have his knuckles lifted to knock on the door when it exploded open and a silver-haired, elegantly coiffed man flew out, smacking into him. "Jon!"

"Vis," Jon sighed, patting the man's back. Vis was older than him by at least seven years, but there were times where he behaved far younger. He figured that he'd be a mess. Vis was never one to handle anything rationally or professionally. He carefully extricated himself while at the same time turning Vis around and marching him into the house. "You made it in alright?"

Vis wiped at his eyes, nodding. "Yes, the plane was a bloody nightmare, they wouldn't even bump me from business to first class, can you believe it? I didn't even get a lie-flat seat on the flight!"

"Sorry to hear, call me next time I would have had my plane get you."

A set of pale lilac eyes widened greedily, even through the grief etched on his thin, pointed face. "Oh? Well I will do that." He beckoned him into the house. "Come on in. We ordered pizza, but mine is without carbs."

Jon didn't even know what that was supposed to look or taste like. Ash, he expected, and he politely declined, holding his hand up even as Vis was trying to offer him a slice. "No thanks, I already ate."

A cool, icy voice floated down from the staircase behind him. "Don't you know Viserys, vampires don't eat actual food. He only drinks the blood of innocents."

And there she was.

He didn't even need to turn around. In fact, he thought if he did, his knees would either give out because of the intense want she invoked within him. Or he'd snap and say something he would regret because of the intense fury she also invoked in him. There had been no one in his life who could make him swing from emotion to emotion on either side of the pendulum except for her.

Daenerys Targaryen

Dany, to her friends. Satan's Majesty to him.

He held his breath, turning his head a fraction to glance at her, a bemused expression settling on his face. Tonight she wore fuzzy pink dragon slippers on her tiny feet, a pair of dragon scale-like leggings in vibrant purple, and an oversized Winterfell High Track and Field sweatshirt that had seen better days, the dark gray wolf mascot on the front almost white from so many washes. Her silver hair, the same shade as her brother's, was bound up in a variety of braided knots, some of it left loose to cascade over her shoulders. There were a few faded pink drinks within it, probably a remnant from an All Hallow's Eve costume a couple weeks ago.

Unlike her brother, her eyes were more vivid, lavender with a flame held over them. It matched the fire that was always bubbling under her surface, unleashed whenever she felt passionate about something. Which happened more often than not.

Daenerys was nothing, if not passionate.

Especially for the ones she loved.

And he hated her for it.

It was that same passion that betrayed him.

And he couldn't forgive that. Jon Snow never forgave and he never forgot.

Plus, she was the epitome of Before. And the reason for After.

The funny thing was, Dany frgave and forgot either. It made for some awkward encounters over the years. Encounters which always left him aching, wanting, sometimes begging for more. Things he had suppressed in himself over the years. Weaknesses. Failures. It was why he never came back here if he could help it and when he did, he tried to always avoid the house beside the weirwood tree.

Yet it seemed he'd been here more often than he ever had before, checking on things...on people. On Aemon.

Now Aemon was gone. But he as here, wasn't he? That's all Aemon could have hoped for at this rate. Even if he never had understood why his beloved great-niece and his beloved...whatever the fuck Jon was suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room as each other without tearing each other's throats out.

He nodded to her. "Your majesty." He affected a fake bow, exaggerated and theatrical. He straightened, smirking at her, pushing down the surge of attraction. It seemed his body— notably his cock— had never received the memo that Daenerys Targaryen was off limits. She was the bane of his existence. She was the most obnoxious, annoying, infuriating, and downright ridiculous person he had ever met.

As she walked by, the top of her head barely at his eyesight, she scowled at him, giving him the finger. Her nails were purple with smiley faces on them. He hated them. "Fuck off, why are you even here? Vis, you know when you invite vampires into the house they can come in whenever they want."

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIKA!!!!!#🥳 🎂 🎉 🎈 🎁 😘#Lucian x Sloane AU #feral Jon is on his way!#fic teaser #things we left behind au

37 notes · View notes

underscar · 11 months

Note

Oh, my apologies! I should have been more specific! Could I request Power with a female reader who is obsessed with cute things (plushies, bows, cats, kawaii fashion, etc.)? I hope this is specific enough, please let me know if you need more details!

PRIMA DONNA

Pairing: Power/Female Reader

Summary: During a chance encounter at a farmers market, Power accuses you of being a witch due to your fashion style. Aki apologizes for Power's behavior and invites you to join them, and you happily accept. As you spend the day together, Aki and Denji go shopping while you accompany Power. You both decide to leave together and stumble upon an arcade. You guide Power through various games, teasing each other along the way. Aki and Denji eventually find you both working together, attempting to win a stuffed plush.

CHAINSAW MAN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST FORM

A/N: no worries. thank you for requesting.

i primarily based the reader’s personality on fischl from genshin impact, however her style is based sorta on celestial from daganrompa. first time writing power so…

WORD COUNT // 2203 words

CSM TAGLIST: n/a

"WITCH!" Power exclaimed, her finger accusingly aimed in your direction. Gasps of astonishment escaped her lips as she openly gazed at you, causing passersby to turn their heads and fix their curious gazes upon you, drawing even more attention to your presence on the street.

Aki, Power, and Denji were enjoying their rare day off, strolling through the bustling city streets. However, to their astonishment, they unexpectedly stumbled upon you—a fellow devil hunter from Special Division 4—at the nearby farmers market. The market was a delightful treasure trove, brimming with homemade delicacies and charming discoveries. Power, in particular, had never before seen you outside the confines of your standard work uniform.

Thus the dramatic reaction.

You were dressed in an elegant ensemble that exuded a unique charm. A pristine white blouse adorned your upper body, featuring a long-point collar that added a touch of sophistication. Over the blouse, you wore a sleek black jacket, accentuated by delicate white ribbon lacing that gracefully cascaded down the sleeves.

A simple white ribbon was fastened across your chest, revealing a delightful pink tie, adding a pop of color to the canvas that was your outfit.

Your skirt, a masterpiece of design, boasted multiple tiers and intricate white lace embellishments. It swirled around you as you walked, creating an ethereal effect. Completing the look, you wore pink knee-high stockings, adorned with delicate ladder lace, and on each stocking, a contrasting black ribbon accentuated its charm.

Your feet were adorned with black Mary Janes, featuring a sturdy heel and secured by three dainty pink buckles.

A white lace headband adorned your hair, adding a touch of whimsy to your overall appearance. Hanging gracefully on your shoulder was a plush Kuromi purse, adding a playful element. Lastly, in your hand, you held a striking black fan, ready to create a gentle breeze whenever needed.

"With utmost confidence, my fashion transcends all others," you declared, elegantly unfurling your fan to delicately conceal the bottom half of your face.

“Clearly, it is a sight to behold.”

"You speak falsely, mortal! You merely appear to me as a witch." Power accused, her tone sharp and accusing.

In response, you swiftly closed your fan, a subtle gesture accompanying your retort. "Your commentary is as abhorrent as your attire," you calmly replied, the disdain evident in your voice.

Aki sighed. "My apologies, ______-san," he offered, his tone carrying a tinge of sincerity. Despite your eccentricities, he felt compelled to apologize on behalf of Power's words.

Denji's words however drowned this apology, his astonishment evident as he witnessed your unusual choice of attire, having also only seen you in your devil-hunting suit. "You mean you actually go shopping like that? In public?" he blurted out, pointing at the shopping bag nestled in your free hand, just behind your skirt.

A playful smile formed on your lips as you scrunched your face. "Indeed I do," you confirmed, unapologetically embracing your distinctive fashion sense. You then struck a pose, exuding confidence. "Behold and appreciate my eleganza!" you proclaimed, basking in your own style.

“…”

The group fell into an eerie silence as the three devil hunters stared at you, their expressions a mix of disbelief and skepticism. However, their lack of response did little to dampen your unwavering haughtiness.

Breaking the tension, Aki sighed and massaged his temples, clearly conflicted. "Would you... consider joining us?" he finally asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

With grace, you held your bag and fan before you, exuding an air of elegance. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you responded, "I would be absolutely delighted."

"Damn witch," Power muttered under her breath.

With a nod of agreement, you joined the trio on their shopping excursion, immersing yourself in their company. As the day progressed, you found yourself engaged in lively banter with Power, exchanging playful remarks and sharing laughter. Denji, on the other hand, seemed still engross by your attire, continuously pointing out and admiring the intricate details of your skirts and frills. Although it amused you, you gracefully dodged his attempts to touch them, preserving their delicate elegance.

Power, true to her nature, persisted in calling you a witch. However, you quickly grew accustomed to her bratty remarks, letting them slide off you like water off a duck's back. It became clear that her words held little effect on your spirits, as you remained undeterred and confident in your fashion.

After one of many, you all arrived at a clothing store, and Aki took on the responsibility of helping Denji find suitable attire. As they disappeared inside, Aki turned to you and made a request. "Denji and I will be inside. _____-san, can I please ask you to watch over Power?"

You placed a hand over your heart, a gesture of assurance. "With utmost confidence, you can count on me."

With a nod, trusting your sincerity, Aki and Denji ventured into the store, leaving you and Power outside. As minutes ticked by, it became evident that Power's patience was wearing thin. After only ten minutes of waiting, she began to fidget restlessly, unable to stay still.

“This is a bore!” Power's outburst drew attention from the surrounding people, their curious gazes fixed upon you two. However, you remained unfazed by the scrutiny, gracefully embracing the attention that came your way.

"Blood fiend, your sentiments resonate with me," you responded calmly, acknowledging Power's boredom. "However, I made a promise to Hayakawa to watch you."

Power tilted her chin, contemplating your words. "Or... we could leave this domain together. In doing so, you would still fulfill your promise of keeping an eye on me. Yes! I am a genius!"

You pondered for a moment, considering Power's proposition. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you replied, "Hm, you make a compelling argument. Let us embark on a leisurely stroll through the various shops, shall we? I'm sure we'll find something to pique our interests."

With each step along the bustling streets, you and Power indulged in the simple pleasure of exploration, not particularly focused on buying anything. However, Power's impulsive nature led her to touch nearly every item she came across, prompting you to swiftly reprimand her by slapping her wrist with your fan and displaying your devil hunter ID to ease each shop owners worries of the fiend.

As you continued your leisurely stroll, your eyes alighted upon a storefront that sparked a genuine smile upon your lips."Oh my, an arcade!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with delight. "Truly a haven for joy and amusement. Let us enter and immerse ourselves in its enchantment."

Power's eyes widened with excitement as she eagerly agreed, and together you made your way towards the arcade, ready to embrace the allure of games and fun.

As you gazed into the arcade, memories of your own past flooded your mind. “I spent a majority of my upcoming in arcades like this one,” you shared, a touch of nostalgia coloring your voice. With a gentle chuckle, you elegantly held your cheek, reflecting on those days. "My entire allowance was blissfully squandered on these captivating machines," you admitted, your tone filled with fondness.

Power, always quick to assert her skills, pointed at herself with a smug smirk, showcasing her razor-sharp teeth. "Well, I, Power, am a master of these children games," she proclaimed proudly. "So skilled, in fact, that I can make children wet their pants in awe! Ha!”

You raised an impressed eyebrow, acknowledging her claim. "Impressive, indeed," you remarked.

After presenting your devil hunter ID to the arcade owner, granting you both access, you took on the role of Power's guide, showing her the ropes in various games. Despite her earlier claims of mastery, Power proved to be less skilled than she had initially boasted, resulting in a fair share of playful teasing and laughter between the two of you. As you moved from one game to another, honing your own skills and sharing in the joy of friendly competition, you momentarily lost sight of Power. However, it didn't take long for you to spot her standing near a machine that seemed strangely deserted, devoid of any other players.

"That object bears a striking resemblance to Meowy!" Power exclaimed excitedly, her face pressed against the glass of some claw machine in the corner.

With a graceful stride, you approached to get a better view, the click of your heels echoing through the room. You placed your shopping bag to the ground as you stared inside. The machine held an assortment of stuffed cats, each in various sizes and colors. However, it was the white one with a small splotch of brown between it’s triangle ears that had Power completely captivated.

"A claw machine, my eternal nemesis," you remarked, a touch of elegance in your voice.

Power scowled in agreement. "Indeed, mine as well. The machine has eaten all my loot."

“It is quite…kawaii.” A flick of your fan caused a sharp rustling sound, drawing the attention of those around you. "Together, we shall vanquish this common adversary!" you declared, quickly pulling out your coin purse.

Two hours then passed, along with an abundance of money, and Aki and Denji finally found you both after tirelessly searching since the sun had now set. Aki had intended to deliver a stern lecture, primarily directed at you, considering your competence. However, upon witnessing both of you engrossed in a claw machine game, shoulder to shoulder, his frustration seemed to melt away.

Denji, on the other hand, found the whole situation rather foolish. With a real cat waiting at home, he couldn't comprehend why you both were expending so much energy to acquire a mere stuffed feline. Nevertheless, your determination remained unwavering.

“The treasure must be acquired!” you both argued.

As another ten minutes ticked by, Denji's impatience mirrored Power's, and he couldn't resist giving the claw machine a try himself. However, luck was not on his side, and he ended up losing all his money in his failed attempts. Consumed by anger, he unleashed a forceful punch that shattered the glass barrier. Nonchalantly, he shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unaffected by the act of violence.

"See? Easy!" Denji declared, flicking off the droplets of blood oozing from his fist. With an astonishing display of resilience, he effortlessly removed the shards of glass from his hand, exhibiting no signs of pain or distress.

“VICTORY IS OURS!” Power exclaimed triumphantly, seizing the Meowy plush through the shattered glass.

"What an elegant performance!" you chimed in, gracefully retrieving another plush resembling Meowy.

The deafening crash of shattered glass drew the attention of the claw machine owner, who hurriedly made their way toward the commotion. Their face contorted with a mix of disbelief and fury as they confronted the scene unfolding before them. "What the hell are you doing?!" the owner's voice boomed with anger, resonating through the air.

Their eyes darted from the broken glass to Denji, still standing amidst the aftermath of his impulsive act. The owner's tone carried a blend of disbelief, frustration, and concern for their damaged property.

Aki, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation, struggled to form a coherent response. His mind raced, desperately searching for the right words to defuse the situation. However, the weight of the situation and the owner's stern gaze seemed to render him speechless. His mouth opened and closed, but no words emerged, leaving him in a state of bewildered silence.

As the sun set, casting its golden glow over the horizon, the group of devil hunters began their departure, steadily walking into the distance. Power's exuberant voice rang out triumphantly, her arm thrusting the Meowy Junior plush high above her head. "Bow down to the mighty Meowy Junior!" she declared with a mix of jubilation and playful bravado, reveling in the victory of their claw machine conquest.

Meanwhile, you held your Meowy cat plush close to your heart. You glanced at the blood fiend and a surge of affection washed over you, embracing you in a wave of warmth. Denji and Aki gallantly shouldered the burden of the shopping bags, with Aki taking the extra load of yours. A gentle smile bloomed on your face, captivated by the exquisite craftsmanship that adorned the plush companion.

"Hayakawa, isn't this little cutie just absolutely adorable?" you whispered, your voice filled with fondness and delight. "What a delightful outing we've had!" You reveled in the joyous atmosphere, relishing the camaraderie and the simple pleasures of the day's adventure.

Aki's face contorted into a displeased frown, radiating an unmistakable sense of anger. Dealing with Power and Denji alone was already challenging enough, and your absence of support only compounded his frustration. It was difficult for him to grasp the fact that he had been banned from the arcade and was now obligated to pay the damages.

Admittedly, you had offered to split the cost, but regardless, Aki had resolved in his mind that the next time he crossed paths with you in public, he would not approach.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

#© UNDERSCAR #not proofread #power x reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man x y/n #csm x y/n #csm x fem reader #csm x you #csm x reader #power x you #power x y/n #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader

31 notes · View notes

seabysiren · 1 year

Text

serenade of the seas

summary: the young jay serenade k'uk'ulkan with an unforgettable memory. in return, he promises you his future.

there are weeks where you don't see your lover. where you miss the sun kissed bronze skin that envelopes you in warmth as he smiles eagerly. he has his world beneath the surface of the sea to tend to, and without him you feel a bit lonely.

almost lost.

but when he isn't there, chiichi keeps you company. despite her harsh scolding, she always seems to welcome you into the garden she tends to. her long, white hair always elegantly pulled up with flowers and leaves. sometimes you just watch her sway to the invisible melody she hears.

you think she feels lost too. when she looks at you with an unreadable expression. when she tends to your feathers and bathes you in nice scents.

no one visits her. she lives in the village, yet no one comes to her. no one recognizes her with a warm smile nor gifts. chiichi doesn't seem to mind. she always has her garden to tend to, and on occassion, you.

'chiichi.' you utter, watching her slow as she turns to look at you, her dark brown eyes gleaming in the fleeting light of the sun.

'aren't you lonely?' you ask curiously, head tilted as you watch her continue to gently pluck dead leaves from her flowers.

'i have company. right here, tin pixan.' she gestures close to her heart.

'in your soul?' she's patient like the lazy waves lapping at the bed of the beach as she speaks.

'your chiich is always here.' chiichi rarely talks about her lover. the one who had taken care of her when she was full of energy and youth. the one who built her this hutt and painted it the same color as your feathers. the one who left her to watch the sun set alone after all these years.

abandoned.

alone.

lost.

'but i've never met him.'

'you don't need to.' she says he's always accompanying her, even if you cannot see it.

'le paalo. come here.' she motions at you with an impatient tone, ceasing any further questions about her missing companion.

you lean over to her height, her wrinkled and calloused hands tucking dewy flowers into your hair. her nails scrape against your scalp as she twists and turns locks of your hair. the flowers float in the complicated strands of hair as she hums contently.

'and this is?'

'Juntúul tradición. the children when they come of age have festivals. ones where we dress them up with loolo'ob yéetel seda.'

'flowers and silk?' your wings ruffle curiously as you stretch them, the beautiful blue blending within the colorful garden.

she nods, brushing off the imaginary dirt on your tunic. she looks you in the eyes, her soul full of warmth.

'yes. the celebration of new life. we ku k'aay ka baila.'

they sing and dance in celebration of new life.

she silently shows you.

her legs, thin and nimble, wordlessly began to swirl the dirt beneath. her shoulders and head sways to an imaginary tune as she slowly turns, her dress fluttering around her in a halo.

her voice, raspy and cracked, sings out a tune as she raises her arms into the air. they slowly twist and turn as she taps into the dirt beneath her.

the wind gently caresses her hair, lonely wisps swirling around her. she dances slowly. like someone is behind her. like chiich is behind her, guiding her frail body to the tune of nothingness.

you stand up and slowly step away before copying her movements. your bare feet dance in the smooth dirt and grass as you tap uncertainly. her eyes look to you for a moment before giving you a rare smile.

'just like that le paalo. with more feeling.' you slowly turn your hands in the air, stretching your wings to reach the skyline as you do so. there's a peacefulness that washes over you, filling the lonely part in your chest.

flowers and feathers swirl in the wind as the two of you dance in the night.

its early in the morning once you see him again. it's always mesmerizing to see the water cascade off his sculpted body, moving with intent as he approaches you from the depths of the sea.

'In pixamech.' he whispers. he envelopes you in his warmth, the water dewing against your skin and bathing you in the salty scent of him.

he bathes you in his warmth. pressing small kisses all over your sun kissed face. his hands settle around your waist, brushing his forehead against yours as he takes a moment to truly embrace you.

'i've missed you.' he inhales deeply as you feel his chest expand, his voice low against the white noise of the waves lapping against the sand.

'i've missed you too, in chan arrendajo.'

the water rushes over your feet as you smile. he took a step back to admire your figure. how the tips of your wings touch the sand, and how your hair, once unkempt, was up in a new fashion. accenting the lovely blue of your wings was soft purple pastel flowers in your hair.

'beautiful.' you smile, feeling a little bashful at the way his eyes rove over your figure, a lovesick smile on his face.

you perk up in excitement, feathers ruffling as you stretch them out.

'look at what chiichi taught me.'

the wind curls around your elegant figure as you slowly trace patterns in the sand beneath you. a lovley trill melody escapes parted lips as you close your eyes and feel the movement.

your body sways as your wings flutter in tangent. sand kicks up into the wind as you gently kick out your leg and continue humming. your wrists twist in the air as loose feathers swirl around you in a halo.

you smile softly as you hear k'uk'ulkan hum with you. he watches you with a fond look on his face as he showers you in praises.

'beautiful. absolutely breath taking in pixamech.'

you sway to a stop as you open your eyes. his arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you flush to his chest. he guides you to gently sway to the melody of the sea as he presses his forehead against yours.

his gaze is soft as he traces light touches into your skin.

'my love, one day. i will show you my world. so you don't have to wait endlessly for my return.'

his voice is wistful as he leans into you.

'jump'éel k'iine' in yaakunaj.'

one day.

when you don't have to wait for him.

where your heart doesn't ache. chained to the surface, unable to join him in the vast sea. where his people lay deep beneath the light.

where he waits for you.

#namor x reader #namor x you #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan x you #namor fanfiction #namor imagine #tenoch huerta #wakanda forever #gn reader #birds of a feather

75 notes · View notes

triplesilverstar · 6 months

Text

Day 19

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Succubus/incubus Elendira X F!Reader

CW: Drunk, drinking, dirty dancing, grinding, thigh grinding, dirty closets

Word count: 1206

A/N: Day 19, you just went out with your friend to get drunk.

You hadn’t expected it, but when your friend had shown up and gone through your closet for the “sluttiest” thing you owned as she put it and made you change into it to go party with her you went along with it. It had been a while since you had let loose and your friend always seemed to have a way of having a good time.

Now you were somewhere downtown, having been bar hoping most of the night and you’d long forgotten the number of drinks you had as you moved along the dance floor. Your friend wasn’t far away lips locked with a stranger. Nothing new there.

You were dancing away yourself, pushing away any partner that seemed to be getting too handsy for your liking. Or at least too handsy for tonight anyway, you were just looking for a good time not a hook-up.

At least not until you saw them.

They appeared suddenly in the strobing lights, the neon globe making their platinum blond hair a multitude of shining colors as their head turned creating the illusion of a rainbow cascade around their face.

Then when their eyes met yours it was like being struck by lightning, heart stuttering in your chest and blood rushing in your veins as those disinterested orbs seemed to take you in. The barest flick of assessment, appraising you and you felt your heart thunder as they raised a hand turning it palm up and curling two long manicured fingers in your direction in a come hither motion.

As is pulled on a string you glided across the club, swaying to the music as if performing some kind of ritual hoping to impress them. Hips in time to the base, steps light, and upper body sashaying as you went.

Stopping with a foot between your bodies and they smirked at you, the corner of their crimson lips raising just a hint. A shade of red that perfectly matched their corset, chest lifted just enough to leave their sex unknown. Not that you gave a shit, far too enraptured by their eyes.

As the song changed, a far faster heavier beat that made your heart thunder along with the bass they closed the final space. A delicate hand on your shoulder before sliding down your side to land on your hip, the trail of goosebumps breaking out in the wake of their fingers.

A shiver up your spine as you leaned in closer, your leg landing beside theirs brushing the outside of their boot-clad calf. The heel on them allowing this beautiful stranger to tower over you, a position you’re glad to be in looking up at perfection.

As the beat changes in tempo you’re both moving, hands ghosting along sides touching lightly as you both sway in tandem to the music pumping through your ears and bodies. Shifting together as their lean leg slides between yours so certain movements have you grinding on their thigh. You aren’t complaining.

Licking your lip and seeing them smirk at the action you move a hand along their shoulder, to the base of their pale neck thumb brushing the column of it before resting your palm on the back of it and turning your hand so that same thumb is behind their ear.

Half-lidded golden eyes watch you with amusement and they push their palm against the center of your back closing the space best your chests even more. Every move of either of your hips has you grinding together now, a throbbing between your legs starting to build that has nothing to do with dancing. Both of you are damp with sweat, but it just seems to make you more aroused as your chests rub together.

It doesn’t feel as if either of you are dancing anymore, while your bodies move to the beat, it’s more like your elegantly fucking with your clothes on. The push and pull of your bodies, the gliding of your hands on one another gripping and groping each other, they grab your thigh and hook your leg over their hip grinding harder against your core.

Both of you are panting and huffing as you keep moving, the coil in your belly tightening the longer your hips undulate to the beat surrounding you. Faces pressed together now too, but your lips remain apart. Cheek to cheek, noses trailing along ridges of bone and smelling something sweet radiating from their skin, unaware if it was their perfume or the smell of the liquor they were drinking.

As the song hits a final crescendo you feel their hips jerk against yours, making you moan as their hand grips your ass and your fingers tug at the strands of their hair making them groan. Hearts racing as the song changes you watch their lips move, unable to hear the words but you know what they want. Nodding in agreement as you both leave the dancefloor, they're pressing their crotch to your ass as you both walk through the packed building. Hands ghosting along your sides and all you know is you don’t want to just have fun tonight anymore, you want this vision to make you cum so hard you pass out, certain they’re the only being capable of doing so.

Trying a door you smirk as it opens, uncaring that it’s a grimy little mop room you want them too much to care.

As the door slams shut you find your back against it, and their mouth on yours, saccharine lips making you moan as they roll their hips against yours. You find both of your hands in their hair, dragging down their scalp as your tongues dance in the wet cavern of your mouths sinfully.

The pressure building between both of your bodies as the jerking of their narrow hips is making the inner seam of your pants rub deliciously against your clit. Parting your lips, and bruising the swollen skin together as you both heave trying to catch your breaths as your hips are still writhing against one another chasing that high. “Elendira” they whisper in an androgynous voice that makes you moan, a pulsing in your slick core that signals your close.

Giving your own name in return before slotting your lips together again, and swirling your tongues against one another in time to your hips shifting, still following the beat of the bass drum outside the dank room. Just the right jerk and you feel your walls spasm as you cum, moaning into the kiss which Elendira lengths by sucking on the tip of your tongue in their mouth.

Eyes roll into the back of your head as your hips keep thrusting drawing out your high and you miss the wisps of white that leave your parted lips. They lean closer and nip the corner of your mouth, drawing you into a longer tender kiss. Pulling away from one another eventually and adjusting your clothes as they look at you. “Thanks for the ride.” Before slipping away.

The next morning after you shower and look in the mirror you frown, moving closer. You could have sworn you didn’t have any gray hair, a small patch having formed almost overnight on one of your temples.

Back to List

#elendira the crimsonnail #elendira the crimsonnail x Reader Smut #elendira the crimsonnail X Reader #Trigun smut #trigun #trigun maximum #Trimax #Twink writes #31 days of monsters

11 notes · View notes

promptsinpanem · 2 years

Text

Every Part of You

Summary: Peeta, as his life falls apart and gets pieced back together

Prompt: Round 1, Day 4 - The Victory Tour

__________________________

The spread of food before us is sumptuous, the tables piled high with glistening meats, frothy soups and delectable looking cakes. Purple banners drape elegantly from the ceiling, trimmed in gold and shining with the twinkling lights that have been threaded around them. The room is filled with lively music, and the constant chatter of conversation. All anyone wants to do is talk to us, while I want to do anything but. I’m not in the mood for conversation right now, and Katniss never is.

But of course, we’re here to put on a show. And right now, it’s more important than ever.

We smile, and talk, and weave our way through the crowded room with our arms tightly linked. I see Effie, her mouth stretched in a clownish smile as she speaks to the Mayor, likely conveying her displeasure in her earlier treatment. I spy Haymitch snatching a small, clear bottle from the beverage table, pocketing it for later. Both mine and Katniss’ prep teams are chatting away gaily, clearly loving being the centre of attention, even if it is just from little old District Eleven.

“How are you?” I mutter under my breath when we finally get a moment alone, and I see Katniss shrug out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders are bare, her dress pale pink and strapless, her hair a tumble of ringlets cascading down her back. The expanse of exposed skin makes me want to trace my fingers along her delicate collarbone, even though I’m still angry at her, at Haymitch. Keeping me in the dark for so long, treating me like a child. Excluding me, from everything.

“As good as I can be, I suppose,” she eventually replies, turning to face me. “You?”

“I can’t really say I’m in the best of moods,” I reply honestly. “Hasn’t been a great day.”

She has the decency to grimace, then quickly replaces it with a false smile for those around us. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I realise now we should have-”

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “No more apologies, Katniss. Just remember to keep me in the loop next time, please. Then I won’t inadvertently risk someone else’s life.”

Katniss bites her lip. “You did the right thing out there today, Peeta. I…it was perfect, what you said. You have to know that.”

“Was it perfect, though? Really?” My tone is filled with disbelief. I remember when the thought first came to me, in the middle of writing my speech. Wondering how I could show the Capitol that I wasn’t just a piece in their Games, how I could use their Games to my own advantage, even in the smallest way possible. How I could repay the two people who had helped to keep Katniss alive in the Arena when I couldn’t. How I’d thought it was the perfect solution. “The outcome might not be great for Thresh’s sister, Rue’s parents. Wasn’t great for that old man.”

“Oh Peeta,” she murmurs. “Don’t blame yourself for him. That was - that was me. All me. That’s my fault.”

I go to correct her, to remind her that I was the one who started to go off script. But I can see the grief on her face and acknowledge that we’re both carrying our own worries from this afternoon. I might be hurting, but so is she. “Let’s not talk about this now,” I reply instead, reaching out and tucking an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. I feel her briefly lean into my hand as I do so, watch as her eyes flutter closed for a moment before I drop my hand away. “There’s nothing we can change about any of that. All we can do is make sure we get through tonight, and the next, and the next, and prove to President Snow that we’re madly in love. Right?” The words stick in my throat, because, really, what do I need to prove? There’s nothing I need to pretend about there.

“Right,” Katniss agrees softly. “But-” She pauses, glances towards Effie across the room, the poor Mayor still bailed up with her. “But we need to make sure your promise is kept.”

“We will. I’ll speak to Effie, she’ll know what to do.”

“Is it even legal, do you think?”

I look at her wryly. “You’re worried about doing things by the right side of the law now?” Katniss flushes, knowing as well as I do she’s been on the wrong side of following the Capitol’s rules for a long time. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. If I know Effie, she’ll tell me something like You’re a Victor, and if a Victor can’t get what they want, who can?” I mimic Effie’s Capitol accent in the hope that I can tease a smile onto Katniss’s face, and it works. “Of course I’ll have to make sure she’s well over the Peacekeeper incident from earlier before I bring it up. Wouldn’t want to stress her out even more.”

Katniss purses her lips then, and we fall into silence. We watch the room revolve around us, the reality once again sinking in that everything we do, everything we say, impacts every single person in our lives. I grimly wonder what chain of events we've kicked off with what's happened today.

“Let’s dance,” I say suddenly, wanting to be rid of the conversation - and my thoughts - for the night, and draw her onto the small dance floor. Others immediately follow, as though they’ve simply been waiting for our lead, and soon the room is filled with couples twirling and spinning. We don’t twirl or spin though, instead dutifully following the steps Effie has so painstakingly drilled into us, Katniss’ hand on my shoulder, mine resting upon her waist. But the more we dance, the closer we draw into each other, until my entire arm is around her slim waist, and her head is upon my chest. Breathing in together, breathing out together. Comfort, in the only place we can find it in this room. Maybe in the only place we can find anywhere.

I close my eyes, and surrender to the fact that no matter what Katniss Everdeen does or doesn’t do, whatever she says or doesn’t say, I’ll never be able to let her go.

__________________________

We sit on the roof, lazily sipping on tart orange juice and munching on long, sugary twists of dough that Katniss keeps dipping in liquid chocolate. We stare up at the sky, and she points out a cloud that she insists looks just like the plant that is her namesake. I show her one that I say reminds me of Buttercup, but she vehemently disagrees. The cloud is far too pretty to look like that bag of bones, she tells me, and I laugh.

We’ve spent our day doing nothing of importance, possibly for the first time in our lives. No food to hunt, no bread to bake, no Arena to fight in. Zero responsibilities. Instead we’ve spent the hours playing silly games, weaving nets that we pretend to wear like Finnick, stuffing our faces with sweet Capitol treats that both of us know we’ll never get the chance to have again. It’s like our last stand, the last moments we’ll ever have before the end begins.

I regret all the time that I’ve wasted, moments like these that I could have had with Katniss but will never get. The time I wasted by not speaking to her before we were reaped. The time I wasted by being so bitter after the Games, just because she did whatever she needed to do to live. The nights I wasted not wrapping her in my arms on the train because I was too angry, then upset, then miserable, about everything that happened in Eleven. The sessions where I pushed her to the edge while we were training for these Games, instead of trying to enjoy what little time we had left.

But there’s nothing I can do about any of that. I can only appreciate the time I have right now.

I twist my fingers in her hair, the strands silky and shiny and free from their usual braid. I attempt a lover’s knot with one of the long locks, then give up knowing I would have never lasted a day on a fishing boat in Four. Katniss weaves together flowers she plucked from the beds around us that are in full bloom, petals in shades of lilac and peach and vermillion. The sun is warm and the breeze is surprisingly gentle considering how high up we are. The windchimes dance, and block out the cacophony of the Capitol below us. Birds flying overhead call out musically, and I bet if they landed on the roof and Katniss sang to them, they’d stop to listen too. I pop a strawberry into my mouth, bite into its sweetness, and smile.

With a start, I realise that tomorrow we head into the deadliest place in the country, and yet I’ve never felt more sated, more at peace, more alive. Because no matter what tomorrow brings, today has been, quite literally, the most perfect day of my life.

My fingers still as that knowledge sinks in.

“What?”

I know Katniss isn’t going to like what I want to say, but I have to say it anyway. This type of opportunity will never come to me again - there will never be another moment where Katniss is lying in my arms, bathed in the afternoon sun, her face relaxed and unworried. It’s how she should always be; she should never have to worry, should be able to live her life without the fear of the Games. But for her to be able to have that, it means I cannot. Which reiterates the absolute necessity of what I need to say next, and I hope against hope that she’s okay with it.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” I murmur, my heart thundering in my chest, and I wait for her to push away, to put up the wall I’m so used to her putting up whenever I say anything that makes her feel uncomfortable. But she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even stiffen. She doesn’t look at me, just continues to twist the flowers together, creating herself a crown. And then she simply says

"Okay."

__________________________

My hand shakes slightly as I carefully lower the silver backed card onto its final resting place, covering a hole the size of my thumb. A jittery finger, the slightest shudder of breath; anything could tumble the house of cards in front of me, laying waste to what is possibly hours of work.

Hours? Maybe even days. Who knows?

After a few nervous heartbeats, it’s clear that the structure is going to hold, and I slide back in my seat with relief, settling into its plush cushioning. The tension in my body - held there while I'd painstakingly modelled my prison with pack upon pack of silver and gold playing cards - slowly releases, and I feel my shoulders slump, feel the ache flood into my arms from the constant building, placing, constructing that I've been focusing on. With the strain finally gone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me and I close my eyes for relief, but I immediately wish I hadn't. Because against the dark I see the sky explode, see Katniss thrown to the ground, see the world around me crumble.

I've lost count how many days it's been since everything happened, can't even tell if it's morning or night with the windowless quarters I'm being kept in. I sleep when I'm tired, I build another house when I'm not. The meals I'm delivered - the Avox who silently delivers it the only soul I've seen since my interview with Caesar - provides no discernable mealtime association. No warmed grains for breakfast, no sandwich for lunch. Just Katniss's favourite lamb stew over and over and over again. If Snow's intention is to slowly drive me insane by making my days a never ending cycle of sameness, he's well on his way to succeeding.

I’d expected torture, I’d expected a bullet to the head. Instead, I got a full body polish and a life of monotony. I have nothing but time on my hands, nothing but hours to build and try not to constantly worry, to not let my brain go where it always wants to go.

Katniss.

It's the longest I've ever gone without seeing her, and it feels strange, like something is missing, like part of me is gone. Even when we didn't talk between Games I still saw her every day - in the square, in her garden with Prim, reluctantly tending to Haymitch's liquor needs, sneaking away to the Meadow. It feels like my days and years have been measured by Katniss, and without her, I'm at a loss.

I worry about how she is, where she is, who she’s with. They tell me she's in Thirteen, but I still can't comprehend that it even exists anymore, let alone that she's there. They tell me they extracted her, and Finnick, and a handful of others. Rebels inside the Capitol, they say, rebels in the Districts - Haymitch being one of them.

I still can't correlate my drunken mentor with a rebel planning to overthrow the country, but everything they're telling me and showing to me points to it as being the truth. Except for Katniss. I can't believe for a second that she'd be a part of any rebel plot, not if it meant endangering Prim in any way. Being thousands of miles away from her sister while plans to overthrow the country were rolled out into play?

No, not in a million years. I stand by every single rebuttal I shouted at Caesar.

The knock on the door pulls me out of my reverie; I open my eyes and don't even have the chance to give a cursory 'come in' before the two Peacekeepers are already barging through the heavy doors. One roughly gestures to me to stand, his mouth curling with a snarl.

"On your feet, Mr Mellark," he demands. "It's time to go."

I look down at my nails, bitten to the quick over my nervous house building. "To see the Prep Team? I'll probably need it if I'm meeting with Caesar again." I hold up my hand to show the damage, hoping for a bit of levity, but neither crack a smile.

"It's not another interview, Mr Mellark," the second Peacekeeper replies. "You're not seeing Mr Flickerman today."

His tone makes my stomach drop, and I swallow heavily, lowering my hand back to my lap. "President Snow, then?" I still haven't seen him, and realise I've been anticipating this from the moment I was brought from the Arena.

"No more questions," the first says curtly, then steps forward and bats my knee with his gun. Not gently either; if it was still flesh and bone, I’d probably end up with a bruise tomorrow. "We're going to your new quarters."

New quarters? I look around the sparsely furnished room, likely the least opulent room in the mansion. No windows. A simple bed that my mother would clip me over the ear for not being made. A single table and chair. Something tells me it's not going to be an upgrade.

It's now that the fear starts to spread through me, but I try not to let it show as I rise and fall in line between them. I've felt plenty of fear over the last few years - telling the entire country on national television that I was in love with Katniss, being dumped into two Arenas knowing there was little chance I was coming out, the realisation that I might have caused more harm than good with my promise to Rue and Thresh's families. It's nothing new. But this is different.

The blindfold slips over my eyes, and I dutifully go wherever they're leading me. The walk feels endless. Hallway upon hallway, a twisting maze of corners until we stop, and I hear the faint swish of electronic doors sliding open and closed. The ground beneath me begins to drop, and I wonder how far down this elevator goes. It's deep; all I know is that my ears have long popped by the time we stop.

The doors open again and the Peacekeepers push me through them, ripping off the blindfold as I stumble forward. I blink to adjust to the bright lights, and I wish I had the blindfold back on.

White walls. White floors. White bars. All white, everywhere white.

Except for the people.

They stand out in stark contrast to their surroundings, some I know, some I don’t. My eyes are drawn to them involuntarily as the Peacekeepers march me down the aisle between the row of cells, my heart dropping the further we go along. A man in a long jacket that would be the height of fashion in the Capitol were it not for the smears of harsh red and sickly yellow that can only be blood and bile. A Victor from long ago whose name escapes me, but their broken limb doesn’t. The red-headed Avoxes who were assigned to us during our stay in the training centre, the girl whose name I still don’t know and Darius, whose bruised face reminds me of the risk he took to save Gale. Annie, the mad girl from Four who Finnick loves huddled in a corner, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes vacant. Johanna, her head shaven to an uneven stubble, her shoulder oozing blood from a nasty wound. Her eyes meet mine, and while they're full of disgust, they're also tinged with fear. Fear, from a woman who had the guts to shout out against Snow in front of the entire country.

“In here,” Peacekeeper One suddenly tells me, gesturing to the open cell door beside Johanna’s. I step inside the empty room, hear the clank of metal as the door slides closed behind me. I don’t turn around to watch them go.

It’s quiet, quiet enough for me to hear the stomp of their boots as they walk away, the sound of the elevator doors opening and sliding shut again. It’s only once they’ve left that I hear the occasional shuffle, a slight moan, the cry of someone obviously in pain. My throat constricts as my new reality sinks in, and I know that my days of building card houses are over. The only thing that I’m grateful for right now is that Katniss isn’t in one of these cells. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if I'd seen her broken body in one of them as I’d passed.

“Figured you were dead.”

The words filter through to my cell, and even though I can’t see their owner, I’d recognise Johanna’s blunt tone anywhere. I go over to the wall that separates us, slide down so I’m sitting with my back against it and draw my knees up to my chest.

“Not yet.”

Johanna snorts. “Might be better if you were.” She coughs, and it’s chesty and full of phlegm. "Where's Katniss?"

"You don't know?"

"They're not very forthcoming on details down here," she replies wryly. "A fair bit of taking, not a lot of giving."

I reach out a finger, draw patterns on the floor like I drew on the morphling before she died. "Apparently she's in Thirteen."

"Huh." She's quiet for another moment. "Is Finnick with her?"

Her response makes me realise that while she may not have known where Katniss was, she still knows more than me. The mention of Thirteen hadn't shocked her one bit. "Yes. And Beetee, apparently."

She snorts. "Good old Volts gets picked up, but I get left behind. Figures."

"You knew about it," I say, and try not to let my feelings cloud my tone, especially after seeing what they've done to her. But I can't help it. There's a bit of anger in there, a dash of betrayal, a side of accusation. How long is the list of those who knew?

"Some," she admits, and I wait for her to finish, but she clearly doesn’t want to tell me any more. That, or she knows someone else is listening. Probably the latter.

Our silence is loaded with questions that will never be asked, never be answered, and it's another few minutes before Johanna speaks again. “Well I hope you enjoyed whatever stay of execution you had prior to joining us, Peeta, because welcome to your new Arena.” She cackles maniacally, until it gradually peters out into a sob. “You’re gonna hate it.”

_____________________________

The lights beating down on me are hot, and sweat pops out on my lower lip, along my hairline. I feel sticky and sweaty in my suit, and the bruises underneath ache from the stiffness of the material pressing against them. My foot taps an erratic and unsteady beat along the footrest of my stool. A Capitol attendant carefully blots at my face again, their face blank but their eyes saying more than I need to know.

I’m definitely not camera ready.

The days have not been kind to me. My cell mates have grown fewer, my ‘sessions’, as they so kindly call them, have increased. Some I remember, some I don’t. Some I come out of feeling like I’ve been sent to hell and back, others I feel nothing but emptiness. Sometimes, when they’re over, a darkness slowly creeps over me, and I beat my clenched fists against a wall that will never beat me back. Johanna tries to talk to me, but most times all I ever do is hear her scream.

I don’t even know if Annie is alive anymore.

The attendant gives my cheek a final sweep of blush and steps away, leaving me alone under the studio lights. There are people out behind the lights where it’s dark, but I can’t see them, can only hear the hurried instructions called out in their affected accents. The only person I can see is President Snow as he crosses the room towards me, confident and steady, his signature white rose adorning his lapel.

“Mr Mellark, how lovely to see you,” he greets, as though we’re old friends. I suppose we are; we’ve seen a lot of each other recently. Much more than we ever had when Katniss was around.

“President Snow,” I reply stiffly. There’s really no other way for me to speak. Every breath is an effort, every word feels like it could be my undoing. The pain in my body, in my mind, makes everything feel like it’s too much to handle.

Snow tuts disapprovingly, his hands held in front of him as if in supplication. “Oh Mr Mellark, I do hope you’ll be able to perform better than that for our little broadcast. I would hate to have to…expand on our sessions.”

I swallow heavily and think of everything I’ve witnessed, everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve felt. What more can they do to me? I’m not sure I want to find out. “Of course,” I reply, forcing myself to sit up straighter. I’d put a smile on my face, but I don’t think it’s going to help.

“Good. And you understand the assignment?”

I nod. “I just have to read from the teleprompter. No ad-libbing. Just the script.”

“Correct. I wouldn’t want you to say anything that hasn’t already been prepared for you. It didn’t end so well on a previous occasion,” he says, and walks away without another word. I swallow heavily, remembering the last time when I added my own inclusion to a speech. What happened afterwards.

I grip my hands together to steady them as I watch a technician deftly mic up President Snow. It’s a smooth operation, something they’ve all clearly done a thousand times before. A countdown starts, the Capitol anthem plays, and then President Snow greets the country, a condescending smile on his puffy lips. I’m not really listening to what he says, but eventually I hear him mention my name, suggesting to the audience that I have something to share.

So I do.

I read the words streaming across the prompter, my tone agitated and frustrated as I narrate the acts of war playing out across the country. I don’t know if this is the performance that Snow is looking for, but it’s all he’s going to get from me right now. I gesture to the images that flash across the map of Panem projected beside me, the words seeming to grow with importance and clarity the more I read them aloud. The rebels…the rebels…the rebels…

And then suddenly I can no longer see myself on the monitor.

It’s Katniss. In front of the bakery.

My bakery.

A shell, nothing but the misshapen remains of our oven left behind.

Where is the bakery? Where is my family?!

Katniss?

The monitor flickers, and I'm back again; I can see the confusion on my own face. Did I imagine that? Was it real? I look around blindly, but I can’t even see President Snow anymore, just white dots dancing in front of my eyes.

And Katniss. Katniss.

I don’t know what else to do, so I keep speaking, picking up the speech where I left off. I’m tumbling over my words, not eloquent in the slightest, but I stop mid-sentence when the District Thirteen symbol flashes up on the screen, and then suddenly there’s Finnick, talking about Rue. He looks broken, nothing like the confident man who strutted around the Capitol in an outfit made of nothing but rope and -

BAM!

I’m back again. And then I’m not, and then I am, and I simply give up on speaking, watching dumbfounded as the Capitol technicians fight to control whatever is happening to their broadcast. Katniss, Finnick, Rue. The bakery. Thirteen is doing something. I don’t know what, I don’t know how. But I do know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Katniss is with them.

And I am not.

Whatever the technicians do finally manages to stop the broadcast fighting, and the Capitol seal is displayed on the monitor while demands continue to be yelled from the control booth. The screen flickers, and suddenly our set appears again. I can see my wild eyes staring back at me, Snow attempting to speak over the chaos as he informs the Capitol that we will resume when we have security under control. And then he asks me, after the demonstration that I just witnessed from the unrepentant rebels, if I have anything to say to Katniss Everdeen.

I feel my chest constrict, feel my mouth twist in frustration. Without the teleprompter, I don’t know what Snow wants me to say. I don’t even know what I want to say. Is she with me? Is she against me? Is she my friend? Is she my enemy?

I don’t know.

Eventually, the words burst forth, spewing out in a rush. “Katniss…how do you think this will end?” I barely understand what I'm saying, only that I have to get the words out before my head explodes. It’s pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, and I struggle to breathe. My thoughts whirl and battle with each other, snapping and snarling like the mutts from the first Arena. I only have one that's coherent, a conversation I’d heard when the Peacekeepers were done after a session, and they’d assumed I was unconscious. I push through, knowing that this is my last chance, my only chance, to say it. "And you…in Thirteen…” Do it, Peeta, do it! “Dead by morning!"

It's chaos. Snow rises to his feet, his face the very picture of fury. People are running, barking orders. Cameras tumble to the ground while I rise to my feet and continue to yell. Scream. Can anybody hear me?!

I feel the crack against my head and I cry out, tumbling forwards onto the ground. My prosthetic leg twists up awkwardly beneath me, and the pain it causes in my thigh fights with the burning in my skull. My fingers slip wetly on the red streaked tiles and I realise with horror that it’s my own blood.

The whistling sound of a Peacekeepers baton swings through the air, closer and closer until -

_____________________________

“Good luck, Soldier Mellark. Make me proud.”

The words echo in my ears long after I’ve left Thirteen, over and over again. Make me proud. Make me proud. Make me proud. I know only one thing that will make her proud.

Kill Katniss Everdeen.

Oh, President Coin will never admit it, but I know that’s what she wants. I know, because like recognizes like. I know, because I know how much I want to. How much I need to. To feel the warmth leech from her skin as my fingers tighten, tighten, tighten around her throat. The delicate, olive skin of her throat…of her shoulders…of her hands…encased in mine. Gripped together. Holding on for dear life. Her lips on mine, her tongue tangled with mine. My heart beating wildly with the love that it’s filled with, for her.

Love?

I close my eyes and clench my fists tightly, press against the metal encircling my wrists until it breaks the skin. Focus on the sound of the train as it runs along the tracks, the steady bom-bom-bom-bom of the turning wheels. Trying to pull myself to where I need to be, not to this stupid place the head doctors in Thirteen insist on attempting to get me back to. The place where Katniss is my friend. The person I love.

Hate.

They keep trying to tell me she isn’t evil, she isn’t my enemy, but nothing they ever tell me makes sense. Delly tells me things that don’t match the images in my head. Footage is replayed over and over again, and jars with my memories. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. The words jumble in my head until nothing seems straight and I have to fight my way back to where I want to be, to where I feel triumphant, free.

Standing over her dead mutt body.

I stare out the small window and feel the rage flood through me again; I welcome it like one would an old lover. I watch as the crops of Eleven come into view, the orchards in the far distance. Remember the last time I travelled through here, a lifetime ago, when we all got people killed just because we lived. Because of what we said, what we did, who we trusted.

We won’t all live any more. No, not when I finally get to Two, and join Plutarch’s precious Star Squad.

I’m not going to kill her because it will make President Coin proud; I couldn’t care less about her. I’m going to do it because I want to. Because I have to. Because I need to.

I need you.

_____________________________

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

I lift my head and look into her grey eyes in the dim light. My fingers rub along my wrists, unused to feeling them unshackled.

“No,” I tell her when it’s clear she needs an answer. “It’s last resort stuff. Completely.”

Katniss pauses, then leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know what to do at first, the feeling of her wrapped around me tied up in a million different complicated emotions. But then I reciprocate and bring my own around her waist, the familiarity to our embrace almost welcoming. I close my eyes and breathe her in, finding that the brutal urges I’ve become accustomed to have made way for something else. Something I used to know. Something sweeter, hungrier.

“All right, then,” she finally says, and pulls away. I feel cold and hot all at the same time at the loss of her, and there’s something on the tip of my tongue that I want to say, but I don’t know what it is. Instead, I remain mute and simply watch as she steals out the door, Gale at her heels.

A few minutes later Tigris sends me on my way with a gentle pat on the cheek, as though she feels sorry for me.

At first I’m cautious not to get too close to Katniss and Gale as we make our way down the alley and onto the avenue with the Capitol refugees, but it’s almost impossible to keep track of them around the fighting breaking out, the pods activating, the people dying. Hysteria is rife, eyes are looking around wildly in fear, and I secure my scarf back over my nose and mouth as tight as I can. Every so often I see a flash of Katniss’ red cloak and it helps me to reset, to remind myself of what I’m doing, where I’m going. What I’ve promised to do if it looks like they’re going to get caught.

But it’s chaotic, and it’s obvious that any plan we may have had is pointless now. Shopfronts around me shatter and people fall to the ground, I have to crawl my way across pavements slick with blood. Screams drown out every other sound as a new pod detonates. I look into eyes that are staring, lifeless, and feel the pressure inside me building and building and building, and I bite my lip until my mouth fills with copper and salt. The pain brings me back.

When the road ahead of me cracks open, swallowing people into its depths, I stare in horror and wonder if Katniss has gone down with them. I press myself against the wall of a perfumery, its sweet scents warring with the putrid stench wafting from the street, and scan ahead, frantically trying to see her. Instead I see Gale, barely clinging to some decorative ironwork, his feet kicking out into space. And then - and then I see her. Katniss, dragging herself up over the far edge of the abyss. Alive. But far away and completely inaccessible to me.

I have no choice but to double back to an alleyway I’d noticed earlier; it connects to a cross street where I’m able to blend into yet another crowd. Whether it’s luck or simple Capitol snobbery, no one pays any attention to the limping stranger swaddled in a purple fedora and pale gray coat.

The screams go on and gunfire pops as the rebels continue to break through. Every shot I hear takes me back to that day in Eleven, and the bullet in the old man’s head. Would we still have ended up here if I hadn't made that pledge in honour of Rue and Thresh, when I helped to fan flames I didn’t even know were being tended?

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me. There’s no point in wondering.

Eventually, I stumble into the City Circle behind a family huddled together, their lime green coats the same stricken shade as their terrified faces. It’s a mass of bodies, bracketed by President Snow's mansion on the right and the avenue's grand dame edifices to my left. Giant barricades before the mansion are a dam holding a lake of children.

The ultimate in defence, I think in disgust.

I suddenly catch sight of Katniss hoisting herself up a flagpole ahead of me, the hood of her cloak falling back across her shoulders. She surveys everything around her, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she looks up in surprise, and I follow her line of sight.

It’s a hovercraft.

Everything about it looks as it should; the gleaming paint, the Capitol seal, the shiny silver parachutes that start to fall from its belly. But it doesn’t feel right, nothing about it feels right. My gut is warning me, telling me that something is wrong. President Snow is evil. He is sadistic. He uses his own Capitol children as a shield. But this…this does not feel right. If he had a hovercraft at his disposal, he’d have already been on it, away to whatever secret bunker he would have built for himself long ago. He wouldn’t be offering gifts to his citizens with no strings attached.

I sprint forward, leap over a raised flower bed, ram a fist into the face of a Peacekeeper who shows a hint of recognition when he sees me. I have one focus, and one focus only, and that’s to get Katniss away from whatever this is. I keep running, and I’m almost there when everything explodes.

I stumble back, and in my head I see the Arena raining down upon me. In reality, it’s blood and gore and bone, and I have to stop myself from throwing up. I need to get to Katniss.

People have pushed towards the barricaded area, making my path to Katniss all the easier. I’m so intent on her that it takes me a moment to realise who else I see, the other braid that streaks past me right into the horrors.

Prim.

Her hand clutches a medical kit, her medic jacket still slightly too big for her petite frame. I open my mouth to call out to her, but I’m too winded from running, and she’s too far away now for her to hear me. She’s just gone past Katniss anyway, is kneeling down to help someone, and Katniss will call out to her and-

She doesn’t.

Even from here, I can see small, shivering hands still clutching onto the precious parachutes that didn't explode before. Can practically see the moment they light up, shattering into a million fiery pieces.

Taking Prim with them.

My heart stops, my brain shuts down. Flames steal across my forehead, but I barely feel them. Prim is dead.

Prim is dead.

Finnick is dead. Mitchell is dead. Boggs is dead. Mags is dead. Rue is dead. My family is dead. Everybody is dead.

No. Katniss isn’t.

I run towards the flagpole, shoving others out of my path in my haste to get to her. She’s waving her arms around wildly in an attempt to put out the flames that billow around her, but it does nothing but enrage them. I don’t even think when I finally reach her side - I push her to the ground, roll her over the snow until the flames engulfing her back finally dissipate. The coat she wears feels like a furnace, and I try to pull it off her, tearing the black lining. The delicate fabric burns my fingers and palms even more, but I keep going, tugging and tugging until she’s free of it, and I toss it aside. I draw in a deep breath, but immediately start to cough; the smoke and flames around us are too strong, too out of control, and we can’t stay here.

Prim is gone. I don’t know where Gale is, or Cressida, or Pollux. It’s only me and Katniss. And the only thing I’ve ever wanted is for her to live.

It’s the surest thing I’ve ever known.

I position my arms underneath her back to lift her up, my prosthetic buckling as I straighten. I look around, no idea where to go other than as far away from the mansion and the City Circle as possible. So I move, and keep moving, further and further away, around the sobs, cries, moans, screams. I chance a look down at Katniss’ face - it’s contorted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth twisted in a grimace. The only word that crosses her lips is Prim, and each time she says it, it’s accompanied by a guttural moan.

The exposed skin I can see on her is a mess, and she emanates a heat that is painful where she rests against my own injured arms. I don’t even want to imagine what her back looks like, what damage has been done to her. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on literal fire.

I finally reach a point where I can’t take it anymore, and slump to the ground beside a building with a brightly coloured sign that proudly proclaims that it’s Winter Sale Time! I cradle Katniss against me, staring dumbly at the damage I can still see in the City Circle, even from here. Broken bodies, scarlet covered snow, wailing parents. Rebels wandering around in shock, Peacekeepers not knowing what the hell to do.

All the fighting to overthrow the Capitol. All the battles in the Arena. All the appearances to appease a President who was never going to be appeased. After all of that, this is what it’s come down to. Even more innocent children lost because of a Game that should never have been played.

I look down at Katniss again, feel the warring in my head begin. I don’t have the pain of cuffs around my wrist to tether me to, so I say the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I whisper to her that she needs to stay with me.

_____________________________

The air wafting through the open bedroom window is sweet and carries the promise of a warm day ahead. I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent; spring is here, and there’s something about this season that’s always made it a favourite of mine. I know it’s Katniss’ as well - she told me once with a melancholy smile on her face, though she never explained why.

I rise from the bed, twitch the curtain slightly to look across at her house. The windows are closed, but the chimney is smoking, meaning Sae has already beaten me there. My stomach grumbles at the thought of bacon, and I hope I haven’t missed breakfast. It’s become part of our routine since I finally returned from the Capitol - sharing breakfast in the morning, spending time tending the overgrown gardens of all the Village houses, working on the memory book that Katniss has started. There are days where Katniss goes into the woods alone, or I take long walks around the edge of town furthest from the bakery when I know I need to be on my own, but for the most part we spend our days together.

If anyone had told me this when I first arrived in Thirteen, I would have laughed. Then tried to kill them.

I’ve come a long way.

I grab the pants I flung across the foot of the bed the night before and slip them on, snag a soft blue t-shirt from the bureau drawer. I jog downstairs, grab the freshest loaf of bread from the bread bin and jam my feet into shoes that I know were hand-picked by Portia, acknowledging the pang the thought of her brings. There really isn’t much in my life that doesn’t remind me of someone or something I’ve lost; it’s something I’m still learning to live with. But Dr Aurelius tells me I can’t ignore it, or things will never get better. And I really, really want things to get better.

I head outside and cross the expanse between our homes, letting myself in without knocking. I follow the scent of food through to the kitchen, pleased to see the high pile of bacon beside a platter of eggs on the table.

“Morning,” I greet, sending a small smile to Sae and her granddaughter Sadie, before glancing across to Katniss in the rocking chair. It’s still her preferred spot, and she’s sitting in it silently, biting into a piece of bacon. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s nothing out of the norm.

“You’re late,” Sae admonishes, but it’s said with no heat, more playful than serious.

“I slept well,” I say simply, and she just nods, knowing as well as I do that those nights are rare. I drop the loaf on an empty plate, picking up the knife I know was left there for me for this very purpose. Another piece of evidence for my progress - a knife, in the same room as Katniss, with not a single inclination to kill.

No, the feeling of wanting to kill Katniss is long gone.

The bread is sliced thickly, shared out between the four of us as we pile our plates high with food. Sae offers a little conversation, Sadie sings a tune that I vaguely remember from my childhood. Buttercup hisses and whines until someone slips him some bacon. Katniss remains silent, and I wonder if today is going to be one of the days she leaves me for the woods.

Eventually, the front door shuts behind Sae and Sadie, and I turn to Katniss questioningly.

“You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods.

“Yeah,” she finally says. “I had a dream last night.”

“Oh.” This, I understand.

“No, it was a good dream,” she tells me. She shifts uncomfortably in the chair, and I suddenly realise her feet are bare but for a thin pair of socks. No boots. No boots means no woods. This is good. “I…I dreamt of Prim, and Rue. And it was…it was nice.”

Nice dreams are a rarity for me, almost unknown for Katniss. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Katniss licks her lips, glances down at the hands folded in her lap. “I don’t think so. But I think…I think I’d like to draw Rue today. Is that okay?”

I stand and cross to her, then crouch in front of her chair and wait until she catches my eye before I speak. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you want.”

We set up in the front parlour, where the light is best in the mornings. The low slung coffee table is our work space, side by side with our legs crossed. I sketch on loose pieces of paper, Katniss ruminates on what she wants to write. It’s not our first entry about Rue, and it likely won’t be our last.

We settle on Katniss’ memory of Rue sharing her love of singing. I begin to draw her sitting in the Arena woods, light dappling across her face and a slight smile on her lips, and I think of the siblings she left behind, the ones who stared at us so solemnly on the Victory Tour. The ones who’ll never get to hear Rue sing again. I test out a dozen different shades of green before I land on the right ones for the leaves, and take far too long trying to get a curl of her hair the way I want it to fall. It’s when I’m halfway through that another memory jags at me, and I drop my pencil like it's on fire. I can feel the panic rising in my chest and fight to steady my breathing, fight to tamp down the multitude of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. My head pounds, behind my eyes, behind my ears, at the base of my neck. I push away from the table, my fingers digging frantically into the loomed wool of the rug beneath me.

“Peeta? Are you alright?” I can vaguely hear Katniss over the roaring in my ears, and I stare at her blankly, willing it all to go away, go away, go away, GO AWAY. Then her hand rests tentatively on mine, and slowly everything recedes, until I’m hollow, spent, and all I can feel is her touch.

“Sorry,” I mutter when I finally feel settled. I pull myself to my feet and drag my hands over my eyes. "I'm alright. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" I nod and place my hands on my hips, drawing in a deep breath. "What was it?"

It takes me a few minutes to muster up the courage to speak. "They just…in the Capitol. When they used the venom…” I trail off, trying to align my thoughts. “They used it while showing me footage of you and Rue. When she died. The memories are shiny. And they’re, um…they’re not very favourable to you.”

“Oh.” Katniss' eyebrows draw together in concern, and I can see the worry at what they might have shown me. What conversations we might have to have later. “We don’t have to draw her, Peeta, not if it’s going to affect you like this.”

I wonder why this has never surfaced before now, even though we've talked about Rue plenty of times. Why this twisted ‘memory’ has decided to claw its way free today, when the morning has been such a good one. Why my brain works the way it does these days, flipping between normal and madness at the flick of an invisible switch.

"It's okay. I just…I just don't like being around you when I'm like this. You shouldn't have to see me like this. I should go."

Katniss shakes her head and rises to her feet, reaches out to touch my hand again. I allow it, and our fingers tangle together tightly. It took us a long time to feel comfortable with each other’s touch again, before a hand would reach out and be welcomed, an embrace easily returned. Now Katniss is the only person who can make me feel anchored when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. The only one who can reach me, who can help me to hang on, who can help to bring me back.

"Peeta, you know you don't need to hide from me."

I look down at her sadly. "What if I hurt you? You don’t know what these other…parts of me are capable of."

"You won't hurt me," she says firmly. "And I know you, all of you. Every part of you is Peeta. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Her words undo me, and I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers. Our eyes bore into each other, unblinking. Every day I wish… I hope…I wonder. If she feels the way I do, the way I always have, the way Snow could never take away from me. And after what she’s just said…right now I have to do more than just wish and hope and wonder. I need to know.

I reach up, gently brush the back of my fingers across her cheek. I can hear her breath hitch, feel my own heart thud. But it doesn’t thud like it did only moments ago; it thuds in a good way, and the feeling spreads out into my stomach, out to my limbs, to the tips of my toes. I turn my hand over and cup her cheek with my palm, then dip my head slightly as I feel her hand gently rest on my chest.

The thud turns into a frantic drumbeat, and I don’t waste another second. My lips find hers, and hers find mine, and it feels so good, so damn good, that I never want it to end. It’s gentle and searching, and it’s a promise of things to come.

Eventually, we pull away, and we smile at each other shyly, as though we’ve never kissed before. We both look down at the unfinished entry on the coffee table, and with unspoken agreement, lower back to our positions, cross-legged, side by side. I finish my sketch, Katniss closes out the accompanying text. And when we’re finally done, she closes the book and turns to me.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks hesitantly. I watch as her gaze flits, ever so briefly, to my lips, and my heart soars. “It won’t be much, probably just some leftover venison, some greens-”

“I’d love to,” I tell her. “I can bake us some cheese buns to go with it.”

The delight is clear in her eyes. “Deal.”

And with that, we have a new addition to our daily routine.

__________________________

Today our kisses are lazy and sweet, our movements slow and languid. Sometimes we’re frantic in our need for each other, limbs tangled, hands gripping forcefully, with no time for finesse. Other times we’re as gentle as a whisper, as though we’re worried that if we go too hard we’ll break before we reach our peak. But this is our middle ground, where we’re almost playful, where a laugh could just as easily be followed by a moan as it could a whimper. Where we’re not afraid to try something new, exploring each other in all the ways I never dreamed we’d get to.

After, Katniss lies in my arms, her naked skin bathed in the afternoon sun. A strand of her hair tickles my cheek, but I don’t move to brush it aside. In all honesty, I could lie here forever - the woods are my favourite place to make love to Katniss, any inhibitions that she might still have disappearing beneath the broad limbs, the rustling leaves and the gentle lap of the lake nearby the only sounds other than the ones we make ourselves. But the sun will set soon, and making my way through the woods back home in the dark with my leg is not ideal.

We dress slowly and leave the lake, our feet crunching over the golden leaves of fall. We walk back through the centre of town, our hands linked, and say hello to Thom and Delly outside their store, wave to Dalton as he passes us on his way home to his farm on the outskirts of town. We reach the edge of Victor’s Village, and laugh as we settle in on the steps of our front porch, watch as Haymitch runs after a goose that’s gotten loose from his garden.

“Laugh all you want,” he grunts loudly once he has the goose back in his arms, before none too gently dumping it on the other side of his front fence. “I’ll laugh at the two of you when you’re chasing your own two legged thing around a yard.” He comes over to us, jerks his head towards Katniss’ gently swelling belly. Katniss blushes, the faintest flush creeping across her cheeks.

“I’m sure you will, Grandpa,” I reply with a smirk, and he grimaces. I know it’s all for show; for all his crotchety and rude ways, I know he’s just as amazed and excited and terrified as Katniss and I are for the change that’s coming our way.

“You heard the news?” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the disgusting beef jerky he’s taken to munching on as an alternative to drinking 24/7. Katniss and I look at each other, shake our heads. “Eleven has a new District representative to the President.”

“Oh?” Katniss’ response is wary, and her fingers tighten around mine.

Haymitch’s voice is soft when he responds, as gentle as his gravelly tone will ever allow. “Rue’s sister,” he tells us, and pauses a moment to gauge our reaction before continuing. “Heard her interview on the radio. Said she’d been inspired to represent their District because of the courage of her big sister. That she’d been given a gift, long ago, and had been able to get a better education because of it. Wanted to use it so she could keep making their District a better place to live. She’s young, but young blood can be a positive thing.” He reaches over and touches Katniss briefly on the shoulder, gives me an approving nod. “You kids always remember you did good, okay?” He clears his throat of all the sentimentality, then walks back to his house. He turns at his front door, tossing a final comment out over his shoulder before going inside. “Oh, and I’ll be back for dinner. Make sure it’s none of that meatloaf shit.”

We’re quiet for a few moments before Katniss tips her head to rest on my shoulder. “Things are good, aren’t they?” she finally says, and I smile gently, even though I know she can’t see my face. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her even closer. We both know that it’s not always going to be like this, that not every day is going to be easy. But she’s right - right now, things are good. We are free to live as we want. We’re growing our own family. And a young woman from a poor fruit farming family is representing a District to a beloved President, something that would have been laughable 15 years ago.

I realise with perfect clarity that the impacts of our actions - mine, Katniss’, Haymitch’s, Rue’s, countless others - will be endless. But so, too, will the opportunities.

And that indeed makes everything good.

#promptsinpanem #specialchallenges #fivetenfifteen #submission #sponsormusings

122 notes · View notes