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#I imagine that they have a home by the sea

ginnysgraffiti · 3 days

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i've received this ff request but since tumblr deleted it i wasn't able to answer directly to the person who sent it :,)

anyway, here's the ff!

needy y/n, overstimulation, hand-relief, self-stimulation, paul's dirty vision, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn.

technically speaking you and paul were engaged.

it was he who declared himself, on the highest dune that could be glimpsed from your fremen camp.

that day the air was pleasant and the sand hardly rose.

you were immersed in a light conversation, which ended with paul meticulously explaining to you how his life was on caladan, his home planet.

life there sounded perfect the way the words slipped out of his perfect lips lightly coated with a few grains of melange spice.

you asked aloud what the sea was like, or rather, what it was.

on arrakis water was way more precious than spice, to stilgar and your people, and you couldn't imagine having an expanse of water (even salty) before your eyes.

paul noticed your incredulous expression and the way you raised your eyebrows and soft giggle left his lips.

looking at you again, he promised that he would take you to bathe in the sea, when political and war affairs would be over and he would finally bring the 'green paradise' written in the prophecy.

however, it wasn't the most romantic and exciting proposal that tickled his mind that day, even if it moved you anyway, because paul...well, he proposed more intimate things than a swim in the sea that evening.

that night you lost your virginity, and even though you were sure it was the same for him too, you didn't ask.

from the memory of that evening, bathed in your liquids and covered in sweet spice, paul's body never left your mind.

never.

in fact it was real torture when stilgar kept him for training or jessica took him out of your sight to talk about family or personal things.

one way or another, you and paul never had another chance to get back as close as the first evening, and it burned your gastric juices.

his mind was like war-set, and you didn't know if he could have time to satisfy your needs.

that evening you could still hear paul handling with his cryss, outside, probably with his skin shiny with sweat and his curls stuck to his forehead.

you coul hear his fighting movements, his labored breathing, and your mind could even see his hands shaking with adrenaline and his veins pumping.

that dirty thought got you soaked without even noticing.

now it was your breathing that stopped, and the only thing you wanted was for paul to enter the tent and touch you as only he did, and as only he had stopped (due to commitments) from doing...

the knot in the intestine wouldn't go away and the temperature seemed like a thermometer about to explode...

maybe you had a fever, maybe it was the effect it had on you.

he had on you.

you tried to make time fly by as much as possible, waiting for paul to get back to the tent, even though he would be too tired for any unhealthy plan you might have running through your gut.

your hands started to shake and a wave of tingles sucked you in

you felt the heat of your skin, even more accentuated by the fact that paul could return at any moment; a fire so hot that it only excited you terribly.

an unhealthy idea, in fact, took place in your mind and your hands began to move and travel across your body.

your breathing started to get heavy at the idea that paul could touch you like that. because you knew he could.

yes.

you dragged your own hands over your skin, starting with your neck and then in circular motions over your breasts before lingering on your belly.

the rhythm of your fingers becomes irregular and with the other hand you started making circular movements on the clitoris, now nothing but moans and incoherent words come out of your mouth.

you wanted paul.

your body felt the keen need to be touched by him, only by him.

you tried to push your fingers a little further in but you felt too close that you couldn't hide the desire to come thinking about how he would touch you.

you tried to regain some sanity when two strong hands pinned you even tighter against the carpet of the tent.

"were you practicing without me?"

his voice was incredibly hoarse and forced, perhaps due to training.

you couldn't tell if there was a smile or a threatening expression on his lips, by now your mouth was open, your head tilted back slightly and your fingers still down there.

you gave him a quick glance.

you were shocked, terrified and mesmerized.

those warm words wrapped in the smell of sweat, spice and vanilla from him made you tremble from head to toe...

a small laugh hit your ears, making you jump, and paul's hands grazed your arms, your hips, your chest, your breasts.

"really? touching yourself in the tent? without me? man, you must be so soaked..."

now his gaze was locked on your fingers still there.

fuck.

he moved the blanket and gently took them, putting them in his mouth and tasting your juices.

you moaned at his gesture, trying to look away but you were already too sensitive that you threw your head back again.

paul's lips passed over the tense skin of your neck, traveling along the jugular that was pumping like a madman, before stopping on your ear and blowing on it.

"why don't we get this done, hm? it would be a waste...and i need you, y/n" he hinted at an amused grin.

you could hear he was deadly needy.

you loved it.

"god y/n...i beg you, touch yourself again"

this was really unexpected from Paul.

your eyes widened, but his intentions were real.

you then adjusted your position and you could feel the grin return to his face as your movements resumed slow, in and out, but now they were picking up the pace faster as at the sight of your boyfriend the excitement only accelerated in you.

you moaned his name, helpless to do anything else.

you pushed two fingers inside again, you couldn't take it anymore...

you needed him.

now.

“hell the sounds you make…are you close, y/n?”

you nodded slightly and he grinned proudly.

he got even closer and your heartbeat accelerated dramatically.

you had a machine gun instead of a heart.

hopelessly you instinctively clung to his shoulders, to his muscular neck, as his hands ran up your thighs.

his deep eyes stared at you and instead of being intimidated you felt hypnotized.

two fingers slipped inside your mouth, inviting it to open.

and you, victim of his beauty, did it.

he brushed his lips against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, marking it with possession.

your knees shook and a burning heat exploded between your thighs that you had to grip onto his shoulders again.

paul had already taken off your clothes.

you suddenly found yourself completely naked.

he slipped a thigh between your legs and pressed his knee against your most sensitive spot.

damn...

you closed your eyes and pressed your lips together to suppress a moan, maybe an orgasm.

you felt giddy, excited and hungry.

so much so that, against all shame, you began to follow those movements.

you wiggled your hips, grinding against her muscular leg.

he increased the intensity to let you feel him even more.

"you like it like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire for him.

his kisses became more merciless and wild and his tongue melts against mine.

he then let one hand slide down.

he smiled at you, then kissed you softly.

paul continued to act skillfully but very slowly and, moving to the clit, he rubbed it with his index finger, then squeezed it tightly with his thumb.

that damn expert touch made you delirious.

he immediately withdrew his finger, however, giving you a jolt of indescribable pleasure and you let out a cry.

he stuck his finger in again, briefly.

he caressed your entire calf and then moved up your leg and ended up on your inner thigh.

"i want to kiss you here."

you froze at his words, but nodded.

something about the roughness he was practicing and the sweet permission that escaped his lips made you love him even more.

he leaned in and gently placed his lips on it.

with his wet tongue he licked on your clit, while his thin and veiny hands held your waist tightly.

"i feel you so tight..." he murmured.

he licked some more and his blue but not totally fremen eyes darkened feeling your sensitive spot twitch.

"were you like this even when you touched yourself for me?"

you tensed.

"relax baby...enjoy the moment, hm?"

he pushed his finger deeper but his words made you trust him and you tilted your head back, making your pupils roll as your hands ran through his hair to release the accumulated tension.

you pulled them even tighter, trying to tell him something you couldn't with words.

"say it" as if he almost read your mind, he ordered in the fremen language, and you almost actually came...

he turned you on like hell when he spoke in the same language as you...

you looked at him biting your lips and your gaze fell on his mouth swollen and purple from his kisses.

his breaths are panting and fast, like yours.

then when he placed a small and delicate kiss on your belly you finally melted.

"do it, paul"

as soon as you felt his hot tongue inside you, his whole tent began to turn, move, distort above my eyes.

you pushed your hips against his mouth.

he didn't stop, in fact, he continued to lick me.

you were shaking and panting against the fabric of the carpet.

when you finally felt you were close again the mix of sensations was too powerful...

you were distraught, sweaty and hot.

"do you really think we're done? i still have to make up for all the last nights, baby."

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée chamalet #timothée x reader #dune part 2 #dune movie #paul atreides x you #paul atreides smut #paul atreides #paul x reader #paul atreides x reader #&. PAUL ATREIDES #&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

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shanieveh · 3 days

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REVERSE 01 ↺: hi, i love you

wriothesley x fem!reader smau

now playing: niki — take a chance with me

That's life basically.... although Wriothesley is quite literally the biggest fish in the sea, known as the the biggest catch, the lengths you go through to get him still brings shock to people's faces. It only gives one the hypothesis that your obsession love you have for this man runs deep.

But if only they knew... oh okay tmi!!!

"Interesting..." you see Charlotte peeking through your phone—this gossip! you snatched her notes:

'Wriothesley Craze! Life from an Obsessed Fan's perspective'

You then began tearing it to pieces much to her whining and crying. With that, classes began, you open your notebooks with pictures full of him and his defined biceps.

His big game will be next week and you will make sure, oh you will ABSOLUTELY make sure, you will scream and cheer the loudest. After all, seeing his dangerous smirk and his relaxed glare, you're already giddy and focus gone while imagining as the teacher calls you much to your uninterested sigh. This killjoy.

Just as you were about to sleep, the most important notification posted. Ding!

And just like that another picture to be printed. Your innocent teenage crush on this man was taking quite the toll on your mental health, but he's just... he's so perfect.

You can't seem to describe it, but there was no part in you that don't approve of your actions. And even if every valentines he rejects you, or every christmas he puts aside your gifts. Just being on his side, just knowing his thoughts it was enough for you.

This life was enough for you. He was enough.

Hours passed and you finish all your homeworks quietly in the school library. Many have this stereotype that the duke has your whole heart, but that was not true at all.

At least, now when you're doing homework or with your friends.

After all everyone has their limit to desires, everything breaks once its pivotal point is shattered.

But as you schedule the big game in your calendar, you knew it won't be having anytime soon as you read 'Pride and Prejudice' and imagine him as Darcy who'll beg for forgiveness for his constant ignoring and rejecting!

Maybe one day he'll have to do this constant chase, and you'll be:

"Your selfish disdain for the feeling of others made me realize that you were the last man i could ever be prevailed upon to marry!"

You clench your fist to the sky as you deliver it like an oscar-winning actress with a posh and a british accent. In an embarassing moment you looked around to see if anyone saw you in the act, but only the winds and crickets answered back. Thank God.

With that thought, giggles emitted as you exit the library to your home, day over. But little did you know the oldest saying in the book, the walls... have ears.

———————————[ 01 —↺— 02 ]———————————

the whole campus knows about your 3 year crush on the student body president and basketball captain wriothesley. you were fine with his constant ignoring and rejections until something happened, until you stopped, and a reverse took place... now he won't leave you alone.

taglist: @vash-yuu @nayukiyukihira @aethion @whodissbitj @astolary @ayayaaayyiire @randomidk-123 @superdark-soul @sleepy-waffle @kittywagun @ceaether @ichorstainedskin @numwoon44 @eutopiastar @reni502 @fictionalfantasy17 @lucienbarkbark @kyon-cherri @huanator @jqnehr @yourlittlemissworld @zworllyx @unknownlololol @sara-midnight @jaguarthecat @we-wo-we-wo @duhsies @interstellar-equilibrium @ariparri @lolmeowing @aruatsu @k-cris @quacking-simp @vlamouren @semi-orangeapple @tamikahoshiko @imnotgoodwithnamessoidk @portgas459ace @r4yyyyy @vxnuslogy @kazuhasmaid @explosive-wuisa @falors @rirk-ke @shotovhs @aixaingela @ruhaxol @yelleloww

#wriothesley smau #wriothesley x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smau #genshin x y/n #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x female reader #genshin x female reader

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youareunbearable · 9 months

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I always see these posts about Maedhros and Elwing, like yes both leap to their deaths clutching a Silmaril and I adore the foil allegories, but what of Maglor??

My tiktok feed has been playing that one fan Odysseus song, the "get in the water, or ill raise the tides so high all of Ithaca will die" song, and I cant help but just picture Maglor, at the ends of his rope, covered in Ambarussa's blood, the youngest son of Feanor again after spending an untold amount of time being the second oldest, just going still and deadly at Elwing

Hes no Luthien, no half Maia that can pluck at the threads of reality like one can a harp, but he is the best Singer of the Noldor, and depending on who you ask, of all of the First Born. One of the only Sons of Feanor with an affinity for water while the rest burn, but that doesn't mean he can't become a rolling boil.

Once the final breath of Ambarussa escapes their lungs, oh the Scream Maglor will have let go. Just as a drowning person will grasp at anything to keep them afloat, even to the point where they may drown their rescuer just to keep their head above the waves, Maglor’s scream PULLS

All the water surrounding this costal city would Lurch, would rush and flood and crash upon the city walls. The streets, already run red with blood, would become knee deep blood pools. These red rivers would part before him and his echoing dirge, his siren wailing, the bloody waves would lap at his feet with every step he would take up Elwing's tower.

He would corner her, eyes blazing with the same light that she clutches desperately to her chest, to her heart, and Maglor wouldn't care about the Jewel, he's already lost so much to it that if he held it himself he would just toss it into the waves anyways, let it sink to the black depths where it belongs.

No, Maglor would pin her on the balcony, block her exits so all she can see is the blood stained water seeping around his feet, inching towards her, and the furious roar and crash of the raging ocean behind. He would hum, a disarming little song, and the waves seem to surge upwards, reaching towards the tower balcony on beat. The spray of the waves would splatter across her back, would mist Maglor’s face, the salt of the ocean mixing with the salt of his tear stained face. He would look at her, dripping in water and blood, both of his brothers and his enemies, and he would sing one little line, a command more like.

"Get in the water"

#maglor #Silmarillion #elwing #silm fic #lotr #ANYWAYS u know me I love mae but ive been thinking about how it's not fair that Maglor #doesnt also get his grief despair wump #elwing throws herself into the waves and gets saved #while maglor is doomed to stalk its edge #i dont have my copy of silm rn csuse I packed it but its Ulmo that turns her into a sea bird right?#what if he did that because he knew that he wouldnt be able to save her if she touched the watet #maglor has such a GRIP on the water around sirion rn that even Ulmo would be unsure #if he could completely keep her safe #so he turns her into a bird right as maglors waves reach up and miss her by a breath #by a wing tip and maglor SCREAMS #look im fond of maglor becoming a crazed beach bum but i also like to imagine him just MURKING #all thr seagulls he can get his hands on Just In Case #elrond or his sons find him and theyre like Maglor Come Home and hes just RIPPING into a seagull #with his little circle of crabs around him and theyre like Oh Hum #amber rambles

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isaacathom · 1 year

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for. some reason? i started rewatching syttd lancashire (the yt ver, anyway) and now im like... just trying to imagine naielle's wedding. aaaa

its tough because on the one hand is the wedding naielle would have been imagining when she proposed - more classical, beautiful dresses, a lovely countryside locale, perhaps by a lake or river, that sort of thing. on the other hand is who she and her fiancee have been/become in the 20 years since that proposal - a navigator/shipmaster warlock and a notorious corsair, respectively. and, of course, all the shit currently going on, what with naielle being on another plane fighting mindflayers, and xistina being involved in a war back home (privateers, baby)

so in practice, any wedding would need to be very practical and quick, and i can picture that clear as day. i even know basically how it could occur, because naielle has the means of GETTING to her fiancee's ship (we love planar travel), and possibly even the inclination. she would teleport in, inevitably run afoul of the sailors aboard, Endure Hijinks, finally get time alone with Xistina, propose, and then bam. Xistina's the captain, Naielle's a shipmaster (assuming she hasn't lost her ship at that stage - that's still up in the air atm), its fine. We can wed each other. worst comes to it she gets the first officer to do it. i dont care if thats not actually how it works, thats how it WOULD work here. and bam. married in work clothes, as nice as you can make em.

and yet! i cannot help but think about the outfits. naielle is not strictly part of the navy and so isn't entitled to like, a fancy naval uniform, but man. that'd be so fun. dress uniform stuff. theres no way, she doesn't own a dress uniform, but GOD. having drawn her in a naval uniform before, she rocks it.

and dresses! even though she's been drawn primarily in shirt and trousers, she's worn dresses in the past, and i think she could really wear a stunner. i think she'd like smth with a lot of lacy detailing, and fitting her theme there'd be a lot of stars and glitter. maybe some pearls, not sure. would it be "modest"? probably, i think, not because she couldn't wear something more revealing but bc i dont think it suits the vague time period. but thats also the thing, right - the fuck did wedding dresses look like for this vague time period. this is ostensibly fantasy napoleonic. what are you bitches doing. colours? i mean. the thing about naielle is that, in the pre-Incident wedding, she absolutely had the money to afford a white dress. 100%. no doubt. Now??? uhhhhh. she'd probably go for something slightly more... reusable lmao.

but like. we're imagining ideals. gorgeous white number. lovely time. now XISTINA. the issue here is it depends on what sort of Xistina we're marrying. is she marrying Xistina, the well-off merchant? or is she marrying Xistina, the Dread Crow of the Sylvan Seas? pre-incident you get the former, and i think she'd have a lovely dress for that. i think less lacy though, more into lovely silks and then accessorising with stuff like belts and brooches, right. that fits to me. Pirate Xistina, well thats a whole other matter. no fucking clue there. if she's leaning into that vibe i think she could turn out in a nautical number, presumably pants? i dont know. id have to really fuck around.

this is very unproductive for me at the moment but, you must understand - women.

#naielle odelia #there's nothing productive happening here im just thinking about pretty dresses #i think id be most interested in drawing the idealistic dress version of their wedding #given ive recently drawn them kissing in their. for lack of word. work wear? which is basically how the practical wedding goes #but imagining what they might do if they had no restrictions on their time or passage? man #cause ofc the issue for naielle as well is she CANT GO HOME. the only place she and xistina can practically marry #is on a ship in neutral waters. hypothetically xistina can come to Welvarend but that's sorta fraught rn #so like. you'd really have to pull some shit to get the two of them into neutral seas for a proper wedding #but we can dream :)

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 5 months

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Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

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