75th Hunger Games Finnick Odair x reader {angst/fluff/smut} 147k words
Long fics : (8k words minimum)
Merman Finnick Odair x human reader {angst/fluff}
ᯓ★ ———————————
Jjk fanfics (mostly Gojo and sometimes Geto)
Series :
Fake dating trope Gojo x fem reader {fluff/angst/smut} part 1, 2, 3, 4
Long fics : (8k words minimum)
GhostFace Gojo x reader [smut] University professors Gojo & Geto x fem reader [smut] Feral Gojo X non sorcerer reader X Geto Suguru {fluff/angst/slight smut} University student flirty Gojo X insecure fem reader {fluff/smut} Merman Gojo x human reader {fluff/angst} Time travel 3 Gojo x reader {smut/fluff/angst} Time travel 3 Gojo part 2 {smut/fluff}
Short fics : (around 4k words or less)
Gojo x sick reader [fluff/angst] part 1 Sick Gojo x reader [fluff/smut] part 2 Ex fiance Gojo x yn’s goodbye letter [angst] Gojo x nipples pierced reader {fluff/smut} Birthday Boy Gojo x reader {fluff} Gojo loves kisses x reader loves his kisses {fluff} Night-club Gojo x reader {fluff}
Fanarts :
gojo 2000s satosugu in red brokeback mountain satosugu haunted
synopsis : you are invited to Shoko’s birthday party, and who would have thought that she had such a hottie as a friend?!
warnings : smoking, drinking, some grinding, tension, reader is implied having hair long enough to get stuck in an object.
words count : 3k
author’s note : this is completely based on what happened to me some weeks ago, like entirely. I had to change a few details to make it as a fanfic, but if Gojo is a bit out of character, it’s normal lmao. I wrote this just to cope.
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Sometimes fate has weird tricks up its sleeve. Who would have thought that going to a birthday party would have forever changed something in your brain’s chemistry?
Really, nothing. You weren’t even entirely sure to go to Shoko’s birthday. A simple text of celebration sent on her special day, which she answered with a thank you. Continuing the conversation, you sent an “I hope you’re having fun, today! Are you celebrating it with friends or family?”, which she answered with an invitation. An invitation to her birthday party two weeks after.
Something after eating with her family at a restaurant. You quite didn’t understand at first, thinking it was a familial gathering. You didn’t want to seem rude by dropping by, unannounced, in front of her relatives. So you almost declined. Almost.
“No, you don’t understand, y/n. It’s a restaurant that becomes a nightclub after eleven. My family’ll leave, and other friends will come. You can even bring some friends as well, so come, it will make me happy. ‘Kay?”
“Oh, right, sorry I didn’t get it at first. Of course I'll come! What time is it?”
Looking back, if you never cleared the misunderstanding, you wouldn’t have just missed on the party, but on meeting him as well.
The day of the party ticked by, you got dressed back at your tiny apartment in town, there with your best friend, Yuki, getting ready to leave around eleven and a half, just to arrive on time at midnight and thirty minutes.
“You know who else is at Shoko’s birthday?” she asked while leaning towards her reflection on the mirror, applying a thick layer of gloss and arranging her blond hair.
“Not really. I mean, yes, her girlfriend. Utahime. But that’s all,” you answered after fixing your makeup, having to close your eyes and mouth to not let any particles get in your poor lungs.
“Maybe she’ll have hot friends,” she smiled. You answered by rolling your eyes, gentle elbow.
“Ahah, let’s keep dreaming.”
“And let’s hope the music is not boring as well,” Yuki ended up by a tap on your shoulder, a reminder to get going.
Taking some pictures of your outfit, a last look in the mirror, you actually felt confident, pretty, hot, even. What a bummer that nobody else could enjoy it, aside from you.
Back in Tokyo, taking the subway wasn’t such a long ride. The pit in your stomach grew in a weird distortion, the feeling of wonder, quite intimidated to meet a whole new group of people for the first time. Holding down the bag containing her birthday gift, you took one last deep breath before heading to the door of the supposed restaurant-now-nightclub.
The music, loud. The lights, blinding. People, dancing and glued all around the place. A toxic atmosphere elevated in between the walls. A quick text to Shoko, asking where she was, you finally caught a glimpse of her next to the DJ, somewhere normally out of access from the public.
She actually made you enter it with your Yuki, and you immediately hugged her with a gentle smile, shouting a “happy birthday!” through the echoes of the music. A kiss on your cheek after handing her the gift, saying hello to your friend, her arm looped around your waist.
“Lemme show you some of my friends! They’re not all here, but you might talk to some!” she had to shout for you to hear her.
You nodded in understanding, gaze following her finger as she pointed at different heads in the crowd. Your eyes caught the faces in a blur, humming at each.
“And this group of guy, them, yes at the left, are my friends as well!”
You had to focus for a second before landing on the supposed men, until you met a tuft of pearly white messy hair. A dizziness, then noticing the smile on his face, dimples, talking to another guy next to him, not as tall as him but as charming. The corner of your lips twitched at the vision of this man, impressed by how handsome he actually was. Since when Shoko had such a hottie in her friend group?
“That’s his name! Yeah, that’s all for now!”
You snapped out of your thoughts, looking back at her. Shit, you didn’t hear the name she said.
“What?”
Because of the loud bass, impossible for her to hear your question. You didn’t bother more with it, and simply decided to start dancing with her and your best friend. One of the good things about Shoko being the DJ’s friend, is the access to a step, giving a full view of the nightclub. There, your hawk eye could easily spot anyone, while still having fun, and any stare could land on your form as well.
For the following thirty minutes, maybe an hour, you didn’t think much more of it, aside from having fun. Swaying your hips, sipping on Shoko’s drink, talking to Yuki and dancing with her whenever a song you both enjoyed started to resonate dreamily.
“Utahime bought a bottle for shots, come!”
It didn’t need to be repeated twice, you followed towards the table some steps next to your left. The moment you arrived in front of the glasses, and the small group gathered, you immediately noticed the white haired guy. Barely a glance towards him, not wanting to let your curiosity make you weird, simply waiting for your turn. Looking at what was in the bottle, the shots were served.
When raising your head, a hand in front of your face. Here, he was handing you your shot with a smile and without even needing to ask as well. The kind that could make anyone falter.
“Thank you,” you pronounced, before everyone shouted one, two, three, and gulped it down in a go.
When people went back to dancing, you grabbed Yuki’s arm.
“Wow, that friend of Shoko is, like, super hot. Did you see him?” you asked in a teasing voice, simply wanting to gossip with her.
“I know, right?” she answered in the same tone. A mutual giggle in between two girls, an acknowledgment that didn’t go further than a simple observation.
Shoko made a sign to her lips. A cigarette, silently asking you if you wanted to join her in the smoking area. Yuki and you followed her, not without some struggle because of the sea of moving bodies surrounding every meter left and right. The moment the door closed behind the two of you, the muffled sound of the music was a blessing, aside from the heavy air filled with smoke.
“There, girls,” said her voice.
Turning around, here he was, again. Leaning against the window, hands in pocket, eyes landing on you the moment you entered. Fuck, something must have been up with your hormones, but the sex appeal emanting from this man was inhumane.
“That’s my friend, he doesn’t smoke though,” she explained.
“Hi,” you said.
At your words, he smiled brightly, in the way that illuminated everything around him.
“Hi. I’m Satoru,” he introduced himself, followed by yours and your best friend’s.
Shoko started to exchange with Yuki, something you didn’t listen to while handing you a cigarette from her pack. Sliding the murderous item in between your lips, hands started to search for your lighter, and… shit, nowhere. Cursing internally, Shoko nor Yuki noticed your struggle. Until a lighter appeared right under your nose.
Satoru was handing you his lighter, then thumb rolling, flame springing out and licking the tip of your cigarette. Eyes in eyes, you inhaled in a smile that he gave you back, a kind of teasing smirk that made you wonder what he was thinking about while doing this kind gesture.
“Thank you!” you ended up saying, surprised that he noticed when your own friend friends didn’t.
He’s helpful, was your thought.
Cigarette ended, you all joined back the roaring of the party. Drawn by his magnetic appearance and charms, whenever you were dancing, your eyes couldn’t help but drop in the crowd in search of his figure. Simply to bless your eyes, because a hottie like this couldn’t get unnoticed. And all fun and games, a distraction during this birthday party.
Navigating in between different spots with your best friend, going to the bar, noticing other hot people, you and Yuki enjoyed your time through the following hours. Drinking, drinking again, every glass and shots offered and paid for by Shoko and her girlfriend. Talking with some of her friends, a guy named Nanami that clearly didn’t look his age. Others you quite didn’t catch their name, or didn’t bother remembering.
“Who is your crush of the night?” you ended up asking in a starting slurred voice, slowly becoming tipsy. Nothing crazy, really.
“The hot guy with the buns at the bar, for starters," responded Yuki. You laughed, tapping her arm in a wave of eyebrows.
“Hmmm, agreed. Did you see how he looked at you? Girl…”
“And you?”
“Well, him too. And Shoko’s friend, Satoru,” you managed to answer, scanning the area to catch a glimpse of his face.
“Duh, of course,” she said, like it was obvious and out of the question.
Really, simply to pass time. You knew that it was to giggle and shit, a way to distract yourself, a bonus, because no way something would happen in between you and a guy like him. Way out of your league, that’s what you said to yourself.
Following where Shoko disappeared, you found her back in another part of the dance floor, surrounded by her group of friends. Joining in, having fun, letting the music animate your limbs.
Traveling around, you stared at the way Satoru danced, the way his hips matched the tempo of the song, mastered in a way that left you surprised. Boy, that man had some moves in his blood. Mind wandering, you did let yourself imagine how he would dance with someone else, or with you.
Stupid smile on your face, you didn’t really notice the way he stared at you.
Suddenly, a very much drunk girl stumbled in front of your figure.
“Hi girl!” she stammered, before getting closer in an attempt to match your moves.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, letting her dance against you. The way her eyes were dizzy showed how far gone in alcohol she was. Then, a tug on your arm. There, a bracelet you put earlier, had a strand of hair locked on the metal. Her strand of hair. Carefully, you touched the girl’s shoulder.
“Wait, sweetheart, your hair is stuck in my bracelet. Don’t move, I'll take it off!” you warned and gently started to untangle the blondish lock.
“What? My hair?” she answered before tugging her head backwards.
“Wait, you’ll hurt yourself!” you exclaimed as you struggled to keep up.
Panic rose, not knowing how to properly handle the situation with a completely drunk woman, and not wanting to yank on it hard and create a bald spot on her poor head.
“Fuck, it’s messed up-” you mutter under your breath.
“I’ll help.”
Lifting your eyes, blue starred back, before looking down at your arm. With his long fingers and in some short seconds, Satoru managed to swiftly free you from the hair grip of the woman in an amused smile.
“Here you go,” he said with a wink.
“Shit, thanks, again.”
No time to answer, the woman almost fell on him. Satoru mostly knew her, as he kept up straight on her feet, articulating words you were unable to catch through the lyrics of the song vibrating all around you. Once he made sure she was okay, he turned back and glanced at you, offering you another grin of his that seemed to know how to twist your stomach.
Closing your eyes, continuing to let the music reverberate against your skin, guiding your moves. This moment was quite foggy, simply remembering dancing close to Satoru, yet a safe distance that allowed you two to not touch each other, but locking eyes every five seconds, smiling.
Until, it’s not that everything came crashing down, but this time it was a lock of your hair caught in Satoru’s ring. At the sight of it, the white haired man exploded with laughter, gently taking it off.
“Oh fuck!” you said.
“Hair is going everywhere around here!” he joked, which you answered by a stupid laugh, slightly embarrassed but thankful for his gentle help.
What happened after, a blur of moves and leaving the dance floor, surely to drink.
Finding your way, joining back Shoko, then Yuki, you explained what happened. While talking loudly enough to be heard, you couldn’t help but try to see where Satoru was in the crowd, this time. Turning your head, here, on your left he was. Face slightly more serious, searching for someone around him, surely the guy with the long onyx hair. His jacket off, tight black shirt compressing his arms. Holy shit, he didn't have just a pretty face and nice interactions, but that guy was jacked up as well!
“Girl, he seems really nice, why don’t you dance with him?!” asked Yuki, sipping on some cocktail paid for by Shoko.
Shaking your head, tearing your eyes to look back at her.
“Eh, I’m not going to ask him, what if he’s not interested? He simply was nice, nothing else,” you justified, shrugging in an attempt to seem uninterested.
“Shoot your shot,” she answered back.
Your face distorted in discomfort.
“Yeah, not confident enough to do that.”
“Bummer.”
“Whatever.”
Your best friend had this look in her face that you ignored. Staying close to her, you continued to dance without another thought. Tired or bored, Yuki stayed sitting on the sofa in front of your moving body, legs parted. Next to you, Satoru and other of Shoko’s friends that you joined to dance with. Slowly, the club was getting emptier, the closing hour approaching. Time flew way too quickly.
A few words exchanged, as well as lingering stares, your mind couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be against Satoru. His toned body, his charming stance, the movement of his hips. But this man was way out of your league, and if he was interested, he would have shown it! You didn’t want to seem like a creep. During the night, some weirdos actually asked to dance with you by gluing their disgusting hands and faces to you without even hearing a yes or no. You didn’t want to seem like them with their loathsome behavior.
Facing back your best friend, Satoru talked and danced with friends two meters behind you on your right. Yuki stared at you, then at him, then back at you. Oh oh, you knew where this was coming. A drunken smile, she rose from her sit and shouted :
“Hey, you two, dance together!”
Your heart dropped of embarrassment, not daring to look behind you to see if he heard, and immediately giving a deathly stare to your friend. Mimicking cutting her throat, you shook your head slightly.
“Shut the fuck up!” you mouthed silently, which she answered by a roll of her eyes.
Gosh, this woman was going to give you a heart attack!
Following this, around two musics passed in a weird blur.
“Hey.”
A tap on your shoulder, you faced Satoru smiling down at you.
“Wanna dance together?”
You had to let your brain assimilate what you just heard for a solid second. No, freaking, way. This man, Satoru, the one you had a crush on since the beginning of this party and out of your shot, was interested in dancing with you? What the hell was going on?
Not wanting to make him wait, you immediately nodded, offering him a pleased stretch of your lips.
“Yeah, of course!”
“Perfect.”
His hand invited you to take it, landing your palm against his. Gently, his free hand fell on the small of your back, bringing you closer. The music followed, as well as the rocking of your body. In less than two seconds, he matched your movements, eyes on your face all the way, eagerly swallowing your laugh, teeth showing in brightness.
At first, he kept a distance, just enough to let you get comfortable. The moment he felt you loosening up, and showing no intent to back away, Satoru acted.
He glued your torso to his, letting you feel the warmth of his body. The sway of his hips met yours, slowly swinging left and right.
You realised that every time you danced with someone, including very close friends of yours when partying together, you never had a dance that matched each other so well. Each time there was a little period of time, maybe a second or two, where your hips and your friend’s weren’t on the exact same beat, not perfectly in sync.
But now, it was. Being quite a surprise.
Lifting your head, meeting the depth of his blue, the grin, dimples. The atmosphere shifted, his moves got slower, more calculated. Legs bending just enough to meet your pelvis and blending completely with you.
The heat rose, getting bolder and followed by the own bend of your knees, reaching closer to the floor. There, a soft, barely perceptible, grinding. Fuck, the feeling slowly got addictive, something warm in between your legs.
Satoru shifted, and then made you twirl, tearing a laugh from your throat. Wanting to make him dance as well, you made him turn too, then showed him a trick you learnt back when you were younger, resulting in your dance alternating in between proximity and laughter.
Again, bringing you back against him, eyes never leaving your face and analyzing every of your expressions at each press and sway.
The moment everything stopped was when the lights turned on, showing it was the closing hour of the club. 5:30 AM. Time to get back home.
“You dance very well, y’know?” he said, quite a surprise coming from him.
“Woah, thank you! Well, you too.”
“Ah, I have to find my friend. I don’t know where he is,” Satoru announced after stepping back enough to let you breathe, glancing around, then back at your pretty face.
“Alright, go. I need to pee,” you answered, and not even knowing why you shared this piece of information, but the alcohol in your veins said otherwise.
He smiled and left, which resulted in you joining back Shoko and Yuki to go together to the bathroom. You were immediately met by their teasing smirks, asking about whatever was all that with Satoru.
“You guys saw?”
“Yup, and I recorded,” answered your best friend.
“No way you did?! Send me!”
The following minutes were giggles, while going the three of you to the toilets, then leaving and staying in front of the club, talking with Shoko’s friends, wondering how you will go back home. Cab? Subway?
“Satoru just pointed at you while talking to the DJ,” whispered Yuki while showing by a raise of her chin the supposed white haired man on the opposite side of the street.
You looked discreetly, wondering what he said. Indeed here he was, but whatever was exchanged remained a secret.
Around some minutes later, he crossed the street, exchanging a few words and jokes with Shoko, you and the other friends of hers. You made him laugh. Fuck. A pretty laugh.
One last smile, next to the black haired guy, Suguru if you remembered well, he announced they’ll leave as they were exhausted and had to work later in the day.
Eyes staring at his form disappearing in the last shades of darkness of the time, heart hammering and still stuck in that dance you shared with him.
Back on the way home, sitting in the empty subway, you stared at your phone. Your friend indeed sent you the video, and it allowed you one last time to reminisce about the sensation you felt.
Something you didn’t notice back then, but in the video you could see the way Satoru utterly stared at you while dancing. The stretch of his smile, so big, like he was having the time of his life with you. Man, he looked bewitched, to say the least.
Since when people could stare at you like this? Was this some kind of new superpower?
Yeah, he surely enjoyed this dance, but that guy left an impression on you that will hardly go away.
That night, you dreamt of him. Back in your mind, wondering if you’ll ever see him again. It might. Or, maybe, whatever happened that night was meant to be a one time thing, enough to drive your brain in a loophole of the crumbs that left this night behind.
Better luck next time.
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Well, I don’t think there will be a part two because it depends entirely on if I see that guy again. So I reallyyyy don’t think so! Hope you guys still enjoyed!
synopsis : 2016, two years has passed since two Satoru from the future time traveled to your timeline. But now, they’re back. Good luck with that! You’ll need it. Again.
warnings : fluff, comedy, mention of parenthood, smut, foursome, semi public sex, use of pet names, p in v, double penetration, receiving head, being sandwiched.
words count : 13.k
author’s note : you guys asked, I finally delivered. Enjoy!
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Monday, 10 am.
Not one, not two, but three Satorus. Again.
What the actual hell is going on? Are you going to be killed twice? No way. You can’t be that doomed to have the world trying to make you meet your end a second time. Or maybe it’s not you, but indeed the world that is going to end. Explaining their comeback… Wait, scars Satoru wouldn’t look so happy and amused if that was the case. Nah. So, the question is : why are you finding yourself in the same situation that happened two years ago?
Yeah. You’re going crazy. Totally. Or maybe it’s just a dream.
“Y/n, hearth is calling you,” he snaps you out of your thoughts, your boyfriend, the real one of this current timeline. You blink, once, twice, then stare at the three of them surrounding you in the chaotic entry of your apartment. The scene is oddly familiar.
“I think she’s still as confused as us. Maybe she’s daydreaming about having a foursome again…” adds the blindfolded Satoru, tapping his chin then giving you this stupid boyish grin that always manages to find its way to your heart.
“Shut up, Satoru,” you snarl in an attempt to hide the sudden pool of heat that brewed in your stomach at the reminder of this eventful night.
“Which one?” asks your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow.
“The husband one,” you sigh.
“But we are two of us being your husband now, sweetheart,” answers scars Gojo, tilting his head and accompanying it with a charming wink. You swallow your saliva, annoyed to have to explain yourself for something as stupid as saying shut up.
“The blindfolded one! Yeah, you, without the scars!” you point at the one in question, which ends in a mutual laugh. Indeed, two years have passed in your timeline, but in theirs as well. The blindfolded Satoru had the joy to marry you, a stark reminder of the future of your relationship with your boyfriend.
During these short few years following what happened, you always avoided the subject, finding it embarrassing, but Satoru thought otherwise and never stopped talking about it. Even proposing the stupid idea, one year ago, to marry you as fast as possible, saying : “whatever, we’re already going to get married in the future. Why not do it now? It’ll save us time, yeah?” You obviously refused, saying that the two of you still need to fully get accustomed to each other being in a romantic and devoted relationship instead of jumping to fast conclusions.
“So we managed to avoid getting cut like a steak, I see,” comments your boyfriend, stopping your train of thoughts and making you listen back to the conversation. Blindfolded Satoru leans against him and smiles brightly, hand on his heart.
“Younger me, we managed to avoid a lot of things in my timeline, including my sealing and all Shibuya’s incident,” he says proudly.
“You were supposed to be sealed?!” you exclaim in utter shock. After all, Satoru never told you the extent of what was supposed to happen in the future. You always wondered why keeping it a secret, though.
“Yeah. A drag, really. In such a pitiful way. But, at least you’re not dead anymore, so a win is a win for my timeline,” explains scars Satoru, ending his sentence with a soft smile. Which you give him back. Because, knowing that the changes the four of you made two years ago managed to impact his own reality and modify the course of time, is a big relief.
“So why the hell are you two— me? whatever, back here? Is y/n still in death danger? Something else?” adds your boyfriend in an irritated tone, clearly annoyed by the presence of his doppelgängers.
“Nope, and the jujutsu society is doing fine, so I have no idea,” admits the oldest of them all. You rub your nose, confused.
“Then it’s not one of us that deliberately made us time travel. Was it unconsciously? A curse that instead triggered it?” concludes the blindfolded one.
“Ok, maybe to figure all this out we need again to calm down, sit down, and just… breath,” you propose as you guide them towards the living-room, already feeling your energy being drained when the day just started.
They sit. Your boyfriend is the first one to reach for you, but the blindfolded one, apparently quicker than his younger self, brings you sitting halfway on his and scars Gojo’s lap.
“You’ll be the one that needs breathing. We’re not holding back anymore compared to two years ago, remember?” he muses as the strong grip of his biceps around your waist keeps you tucked to his chest. Scars Satoru takes the opportunity to steal a kiss the moment you turn your head in confusion.
“Get your hands away from her, even more with what you two did earlier” snaps your boyfriend, snatching you back to him, and this time you end up completely caged. Arms and legs rolled around your body, chin propped on your head, and deathly stare. His jealousy gets to a ridiculous level. What happened earlier, hours ago, stills plays in your minds
“My hands are your hands,” retorts the blindfolded one.
“We’re sharing, like we made that night. Understood?” adds scars Satoru, standing up and raising an eyebrow.
The three of them are in a silent battle that only Gojo Satoru’s mind can understand. Some telepathic shit in between versions of himself. After some long and agonizing seconds, your boyfriend sighs and lets you go, all of them now making you sit in the middle of the couch and hogging your personal space.
“And my say in this?!” you protest, glaring at your boyfriend, then two husbands. Two husbands, what a strange way to say now that you think about it.
“We know you enjoy way too much the attention, baby,” chuckles the blindfolded one, nose finding its place in the crook of your neck and kissing the hickey he made seven hours ago.
“Here we go again…” you whisper to yourself. Because yeah. Here we indeed go again.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Monday, 3 am.
This intricate situation started hours back in the middle of the night.
Going out, a nightclub well known by people in your neighborhood. Dancing, drinking, letting go. Including Shoko that needed much relief after a stressful week of dealing with a lot of injured sorcerers. You proposed to bring her to a girl’s night, and that’s how you're finding yourself dancing in the haven of debauchery, alcohol, sweat, body moves and music.
Poor Satoru was devastated to not be invited to this hangout. Your boyfriend forgot that first, it’s a girl’s night, and second, he’s supposed to work on a mission until very late. It’s with puppy eyes and tons of kisses, some devoted sex in a futile attempt to keep you by his side longer than expected, that you left him to his demise.
Your hips sway, a stupid smile on your lips at the sight of Shoko loosening up. Your skin is glistening from the humidity, the neons illuminating the pearls of sweat rolling down your neck. Losing yourself in the temptation of the song, you can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to dance with Satoru right now. To feel the stiffness of his torso against your back, his big hands on your waist, the heat of his breath on your throat and the sensitive feel of his lips on your cheeks.
“I go smoke!” exclaims the brunette.
“It’s your tenth cigarette since we arrived!” you scream back to make yourself heard upon the loud basses. She winks at you, slides the deadly weapon in between her rouge lips and walks towards the exit. You roll your eyes, being left alone but not minding it, long used already.
The music changes, including the sulfuric atmosphere and energy surrounding you. Then, the moment you breathe out, you feel a mouth landing on your shoulder, and hands wrapping on your hips. You gasp, turning around in a move of protecting yourself from the audacity of this person to touch you like this without your consent, only to be met by blue striking blue eyes.
Gojo.
“Having fun without me, baby?” he taunts, lips ghosting over yours and this tempting smirk of his.
“Satoru? What are you doing here?!” you exclaim in surprise, eyes widening of wonder.
“The question is, what are you doing here, sweetheart?” adds his voice, but from behind.
A torso brushes yours, another arm snakes your waist, lips curl around your ear. Your face snaps up, only to meet another pair of blues. Satoru. Again.
You think you’re high. Someone drugged your drink. You’re being completely delirious. Fuck. What the hell is going on?
“What-”
“I think she’s having a stroke,” mocks the Satoru in front of you, pulling down halfway his blindfold. Blindfold, blindfold! Your Satoru still doesn’t have one, and the only one that has is him from the future!
You instantly turn around to face the man you thought you’ll never see again. Satoru, your supposed to be husband, covered in scars.
It’s them. They’re back.
“The fuck is happening,” you breath out, bumping against blindfolded Satoru that caresses your arms, slowly, softly, guiding you to sway against him.
“Dunno, baby. We both found ourselves in an empty street, thirty minutes ago, in the dead of the night,” he answers in your ear, loud enough so you can hear despite the loud music.
“We felt your cursed energy in here and decided to go check by ourselves what you were doing and maybe what was going on in this timeline,” adds scars Satoru, stepping once, the perfect amount to sandwich you.
“What if people recognize you?! There are two of you!” you say in panic, attempting to push him away. Surely towards the exit.
“Chill out, everybody in here is drunk, and with the lightning there is no way a sorcerer would physically recognize me,” retorts the one behind you, this time trailing a hot path of wet kisses on your nape. The shiver that runs down your spine is sulfurous.
“Yeah, tuned down our cursed energy as well,” adds the other, the blue of his eyes shining under the neons. The tip of his fingers tilt your head, one inch away from his minty breath. “Since we’re here, why not have some fun before facing the reality of why we’re here and going to fish for answers? Hmm?” he finishes.
“Dying to dance ‘bit with you, baby. What year are we?” says the blindfolded Satoru behind you, rolling his hips against your ass. Deliberate move, your blood rushes in your veins. Shit, the euphoric feeling of having the man that you love being duplicated and grinding his hips against you like this, is making you see blurry.
“2016. But Shoko will come back-” you stammer out.
“Don’t worry about that,” interrupts the older one. At his words, he checks for the entry of the nightclub, making sure your friend is not coming.
He looks back at you, a knowing grin, and then the corner of his lips cut by a scar, tilts towards your mouth and kisses you suavely. You swallow a moan of surprise, both of their lower bodies slowly moving in a way that makes you accompany their sway.
Their lips find yours, the slope of your neck, the sides of your faces. They change positions, turning you around. Their hands travel your back, stomach, thighs, waist, hips. Following the circles and twirl of your dance. Breathes mingle. Warmth falls on your heated skin. You think you’re losing your mind. Each grind, the hardness pressed from the front and behind is really, really, really consuming your thoughts.
So when the two of them notice Shoko coming back, it’s no surprise that they teleport you to the bathroom and lock the door. Lips smash against yours, and you don’t know which one is kissing you so hardly. Hands, four, adventure under your clothes, gripping moans out of your throat. Your knees weaken, and a leg slides up to press against your clothed cunt. Again, finding yourself sandwiched, you barely notice the mirror to your left showing you the oh so sinful image of what you’re doing right now.
“Look at our lovely y/n all wrecked. You missed having the two of us, hmm?” muses what you recognize being the blindfolded Satoru. His thumb presses against your lower lip, facing you, then letting his hand trail down your chest and slowly caress the curve of your breast. Your eyes widen when they catch the golden shiny jewel on his finger.
“The ring?” you manage to ask, while the other Satoru, who was supposed to be your husband, only husband in the future, kisses your neck.
“Got married too. My lovely wife,” says the blindfolded one, showing the ring proudly.
“Our lovely wife,” corrects the other.
“Two years passed for us too,” he continues, winking, then stopping you from saying anything else by kissing you again.
Fingers that massage your breast, slide up your top, then start to toy with your nipples. Others walk down your clothes, slip under your panties and soon reach your clit. Horribly slow circles that drag you in agony. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure, from two persons at the same time, soon starts to swallow everything else. Your moans cover your thoughts, legs barely able to hold you straight on your feet.
“Already so wet? Almost forgot how easy it is to bring you to the edge, y/n,” muses scars Satoru, showing his two digits to your face, slowly separating them to make the liquid glisten under the flickering light of the bathroom.
“What do you mean forget? Don’t tell me that in your timeline of barely some months older than mine, you two don’t fuck anymore. Right?” says the other one in an offended voice. You attempt to participate as well in the conversation, but the way fingers slide back across your folds, insert themselves inside your cunt, curl at the right place, and a thumb presses on your clit, you simply moan out of pleasure.
“We barely have time anymore, but you’ll soon understand why…” explains scars Satoru, followed by a tender kiss to your shoulder.
“What?” you manage to blurt out. Are the two of you too busy with life in the future? To the point of having no sex for weeks? Maybe months?
“Shhh, just concentrate on cumming for me, sweetheart, yeah?” he coos, accelerating the pace of his hand.
“Cumming for us,” corrects blindfold Satoru, letting his tongue caress the tip of your nipples before slightly biting down in a teasing way.
You see stars, scars Satoru grinding his hard clothed cock against your ass, following the same rythm of his fingers that are fucking you just so goodly. The one in front of you grabs your face, melts his lips on yours, moves his mouth in the angle that you happen to love so much, and gropes your tits. When you feel your orgasm approaching, some rationality hits you back widely, and you instantly push blindfolded Satoru away, breaking the kiss.
“Shit, wait, wait, this is not fair for my Satoru, the one from this timeline,” you stumble on your words, and the one behind you slows the thrusting of his fingers, but quite doesn’t stop either.
“Unfair? You’re right, we’re very jealous,” he says from your back.
“How about we call him so he’ll know that we’re back? Show him what he’s missing right now and how he should come join you quickly…” proposes the one that got shoved away, flashing you this type of evil grin that means nothing good is brewing. Nothing. At the same time, scars Satoru takes off his fingers and instead you feel the hardness and warmth of his cock poking your entry, caressing it temptingly.
“Call him? Like right now?” you stammer, because the burning need of having him inside you right now is slowly crumbling your self control.
“Yep. Lemme take your phone for you, baby,” confirms the one in front of you, adding a wink to his sentence. His long fingers travel your body, surely on purpose, before reaching the place you hide your phone. Satoru grins, grabbing it. “Here… yep, found it,” he smiles.
Your eyes roll back down your skull at the sloppy and sticky humping of Satoru’s cock on your folds, waiting for you to accept it inside. At the same time, the Satoru using your phone is busy finding his own contact, devilish eyes scanning the screen.
“Sweetheart, can I?” whispers scars Satoru behind you, hips bucking against yours, desperately waiting to finally fuck your pussy. And how can you blame his eagerness when for a secret reason he hasn’t been able to have sex with you, for a few months, in his own timeline? So the moment you nod dumbly, spaced out and in desperate desire to feel him inside, he slams his tip right against your cervix. You think you’re about to faint of pleasure and surprise. His thrusts are passionate, needy, and blindfold Satoru has to maintain you against his torso for you to not fall forward. Then, his hand grabs your fucked out face, slides his thumb inside your mouth, presses on your tongue and turns your chin towards your phone.
“Look at the camera sweetheart,” he teases, brightly.
That’s when you see the FaceTime button he presses on, your face appearing, and waiting on the other line for your boyfriend to answer the call.
“Ah- fuck!” you cry out, both because of pleasure, and both because of the situation you find yourself in.
“Exactly, moan louder. Yeah, just like that,” taunts the Satoru pleasing your hole meaningfully. You gasp when your Satoru, your boyfriend, accepts the call one second later. His eyes are covered by his bandages, head under the moon, meaning he’s still outside busy with his mission. And for a second of him not looking at the camera, he’s smiling. Surely because he’s happy you’re thinking of him.
“Y/n, my love, why are you calli-” Satoru’s voice comes to an abrupt stop when his chins dips down, showing that he just saw on his screen the sight of his girlfriend being fucked good by two versions of himself, two stupid kind of doppelgängers, ones he knows too well and wished to never see again. “What the fuck is going on?” he barks.
“Hi younger me! We’re back!” muses the blindfolded one, pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth to emphasize what he’s implying, and surely to make his younger self see red. Your lips part in an attempt to say something, but scars Satoru takes the opportunity to angle his hips right on your sweet spot and instead make you strangle out a whimper of ecstasy.
“Kind of busy, maybe come quick,” he adds, wrapping his bicep around your neck to lock you against his torso.
“Yeah, instead of losing your time with whatever mission you’re at… ah! It’s the one in the east of Tokyo? I remember how boriiiing it was,” continues the other, bringing up the phone to show a better view of the scene. Using his other hand as well to fondle your breast, then pressing his cheek against yours.
“The way I’m going to obliterate you two once I arrive,” menaces your boyfriend, voice so deeply serious you know he’s not joking. Not even one second.
“Ahah, very funny, that’s basically killing yourself,” answers the blindfolded one, now biting your cheek but you can’t even care to protest, too busy riding your pleasure and trying to not fall because of your wobbly legs.
“Let’s see if you can arrive before our pretty y/n cums, how about that?” finishes scars Gojo.
Your Satoru doesn’t even take the time to answer, instantly hanging on the phone, and surely finishing his mission in inhuman speed, accessorily erasing of the surface of hearth any curse coming his way.
The two other Satoru don’t lose time either and continue their torment, leading you to squeeze shut your eyes and cry out when you feel your orgasm approaching dangerously.
“In 2016 you’re still on birth control, right?” asks scars Satoru.
“Yes she is, I remember that,” confirms the other for you, swallowing your answer by a kiss.
“Perfect.”
At his words, his pace doubles, and you last approximately three seconds before reaching your high. At the way your walls clench painfully around Gojo’s cock, squeezing him hard, he doesn’t last long either and hot splashes of thick cum plaster your insides. His moans are lowered to your ears, while the other Satoru carefully wipes the tears of your orgasms in a triumphant grin.
“Younger us didn’t come in time,” he whispers.
The moment his sentence ends, and that scars Satoru slides out of your hole and zip back up his pants, your boyfriend teleports right in front of you with his fingers ready to flash purple on his two future versions of himself.
“You’re late of thirty second,” smiles blindfolded Satoru.
“Get the fuck away from my girlfriend before I poeticly kill myself, how about that?” snarls the angered one, cursed energy flickering around his limbs.
“She’s our wife, so-” he argues back.
“Stop arguing,” you crack out, shaking your head and stepping one foot away from their grasp. Your Satoru immediately brings you behind him, like a shield from himself. “Can’t believe this just happened. Why the hell are you two here again?!” he continues in disbelief, looking at you, at them, back at you and then again at them.
“No idea, but now that you’re here, shouldn’t we continue what we started?” replies the Satoru that adjusts his blindfold over his sparkling blue eyes.
“I don’t want to share,” he barks, like a guarded dog in utter rage. You realize you practically almost never saw him like that. Last time was two years ago, back in the same situation that you’re all finding yourself in once again.
“I forgot how fucking possessive we were,” sighs the older Satoru, bringing his mutilated hand to his face and rubbing it in annoyance.
“Like it changed,” jokes the other, lazily leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
“We toned it down through the years,” retorts scars Satoru.
“Yeah, so try to do it now, younger me. Anyways, y/n, down for more?” he asks, giving you a knowing smirk. You adjust your messy clothes, point at them.
“Down for nothing. I’m going back to Shoko. I started my night with her and I’ll end it with her. So you three will figure out how to leave and go to my apartment, making sure nobody sees you, before we cause a scene,” you exclaim.
“Bossy, baby,” coos blindfolded Satoru.
“Are you serious?” pouts your boyfriend, turning around to face you. Puppy eyes stare at you as he took off his bandages before coming here. But his charming looks aren’t working on you right now.
“Dead serious. Now shoo,” you wave your hand and frown your eyebrows.
“Let’s do as she said,” mutters the oldest.
“Ugh, fine,” groans the middle one.
“I’m going back to the apartment I have with her, you two can find a hotel and stay there,” huffs your boyfriend. You roll your eyes.
“This apartment you’re talking about is technically ours too,” answers blindfolded Satoru.
“Actually, I have an idea…” mutters scars Satoru pensively.
You don’t continue to listen to their endless bickering, that you immediately close the bathroom door behind you in a loud thud and walk your way back on the dance floor in a desperate hope to spot your friend. Ah! Here she is, upstairs, drinking at the bar.
“Where the hell have you been?” Shoko asks as she gives you a glass that she specially ordered for you.
“Texting Satoru in the bathroom. You know how he is…” you lie. Well, technically, it’s not entirely false. She answers by an understanding chuckle. Meanwhile you groan at the lingering sticky feeling in between your legs. Maybe you should go back to the bathroom to wash up.
The following two hours, you try to forget about what happened. Soon finding out that the bathroom is indeed empty and that the three of them finally left, you attempt to focus on having a good time with Shoko until the nightclub closes its doors. But it’s hard to not let your mind wander when everything falls silent the moment you go back to her place at 5 am in hope to rest, finish the hangout, and quietly take off your makeup while she washes her face in the sink. Yeah, trying to not lose your mind at the thought of not knowing why the future versions of Satoru are back in this timeline. Or about what sinfully happened in the bathroom… Is it considering cheating when it’s technically him that you fucked? What a weird question that you can’t really answer and have no will to debate on.
So, that’s how you find yourself 5 hours later, at 10 am, back at your apartment with three hours of sleep maximum in your blood, sitting on the couch and attempting to know what caused this second time travel.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Monday, 11 am.
“So, from what you guys think…” you start to say, organizing your thoughts while one is playing with your hair, the other caressing your hand, and the third hugging you from behind. “Because of time traveling twice, it created a sort of tiny portal in your cursed energy that caused, by accident, the three of you to reunite again in this timeline?”
“Yeah, I noticed it after analyzing the three of us. But you, y/n, can’t see it,” comments scars Satoru, the one caressing your hand, gently touching the finger where is supposed to be your future wedding ring.
“What triggered this travel by accident, then?” you ask.
“This whole history of time travel was firstly triggered by me and from a strong will to save your life two years ago,” he continues, kissing the hand now.
“And we were all in Shinjuku at the same moment,” adds your boyfriend, cradling you closer against his chest.
“But not now. So maybe something fluctuated in my cursed energy during these past two years and caused this time travel very randomly. I think it’s the only reason. As simple and stupid as that,” he explains back, pressing your fingers.
“Meaning we’ll get time traveled back to our timeline randomly too,” comments blindfolded Satoru, letting his hand fall from your messed up hair.
“And that it could happen all over again, and again, without us ever knowing why and when,” sighs your boyfriend, warm breath on your neck causing you to shiver.
“Yeah, I suppose,” affirms scars Satoru, giving them two a glance.
“Oh fuck, that’s a living nightmare,” groans your boyfriend in agony, letting his head fall on your shoulder.
“Well, until this issue gets fixed, we can’t do anything else but wait for your cursed energy to decide to fluctuate again and bring you all back,” you interfere.
“Exactly,” nod all of them at the same time.
“But I can’t keep the three of you in this apartment for an undetermined amount of time!” you protest, eyes wide open and agitating your arms to emphasize your helplessness.
“That’s why I got an idea. There is a place we can go to,” calms you down scars Satoru.
“Is it the place I recently went to visit back in June?” questions the blindfolded, pensive.
“Yeah, that one. And for our younger self, it’s the place situated in the north of the Gojo estate back in Kyoto,” he answers.
“The last time I went there was when I was fourteen,” comments your boyfriend, raising back his face from the crook of your neck.
“Yeah, but it’s the safest place to go and to stay the four of us without anyone else noticing our presence,” says scars Satoru.
“Wait wait wait, I can’t abandon my duties like this! I have tons of responsibilities if you two didn’t forget,” suddenly protests your boyfriend, making you shake from the brutality of his body movement against your back.
“Not my problem anymore,” grins scars Satoru, shrugging nonchalantly. Everyone turns around towards him, surprised by his words.
“What do you mean not your problem anymore?” questions blindfolded Satoru suspiciously.
The answer he gets is a simple smile, a wave of the hand for him to figure out later. You stand up, taking the opportunity of the agitation to leave their grasps.
“We don’t have other possibilities if we want to stay together. So, Satoru, maybe it’s time for you to have some vacations. And for me too. I agree to go to the estate. There is no way I’m keeping you three in my apartment. Not like last time. It was chaotic,” you end up saying in a calmer voice.
Your Satoru grabs your hands in imploration, nervous smile on his lips.
“Y/n, my love, I can’t just quit everything like that, understand that? I still have a lot of teaching, missions, boring reports and-”
“I swear, younger us, you need this break. The me of my timeline is done being the puppet of jujutsu society. Maybe do all of us a favor and reconsider this as well,” interrupts him the oldest version of himself.
That seems to make your boyfriend fall into deep thinking, spiraling words in his mind.
“So, vacations?” you try a second time. Your boyfriend sighs, before giving an approbative nod.
“Vacations.”
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Monday, 7 pm.
A car, four persons inside, baggages, bickering, speeding up, and hours later in the evening you find yourself finally at the location. Finally. The deserted part of this estate welcomes you in a soft breeze, your eyes discovering for the first time the walls, the smell, the interior and the serenity of the atmosphere. You wonder how long it will last before chaos comes crashing down everything.
“A bit dusty in here, but that’ll do,” comments scars Satoru, putting down your baggage on the floor like a true gentleman.
In reality, they fought about who would carry your belongings.
“Nobody will come in here aside from us,” continues blindfolded Satoru, turning around in a grin.
They make you visit, your boyfriend having the privilege to guide you left and right, arm looped around your middle. When you walk towards the open garden, you stop dead in your tracks and point at what is facing you meters away.
“You have a freaking private onsen in your garden?!”
“Ah, that? Yeah. Should we have sex in th-” he muses, tilting his head towards yours in his infuriating cheeky habit. You cut him by a slap on the torso.
“Didn’t ask you to say something perverted,” you groan.
“What younger me means, is that we’ll have fun relaxing in it after such a long day,” adds blindfolded Satoru, arm falling lazily on your free shoulders. You hum slightly, gazing at the fuming water, already drooling at the idea of stepping a foot into it.
You continue the visit, downstairs and upstairs. Opening doors. Again. And again. A lot of options, all decorated just enough to make the guest inside feel comfortable, but not enough to make it personal.
“There are so many rooms! Sometimes I forget how rich you are…” you mutter, almost with disdain.
Blindfolded Satoru is the one that comes at your side, peeking his head in the opening of the door.
“In which room you want to sleep in, baby?”
“This one,” you point at the bed that is already calling your name, waiting for you to jump in it and sleep like a log.
“Ehhh, it’s a small bed. We won’t fit all in,” adds scars Satoru, raising an eyebrow when appearing behind you.
“I’m sleeping alone,” you instantly correct.
As a matter of fact, or tragedy, your boyfriend arrives like a charging bull inside the room.
“Who the hell said y/n is sleeping alone?!” he practically yells.
“Me. We’re not going to sleep the four of us together, even if the bed is twice king sized,” you retort firmly, arms crossed over your chest.
“But we made it work last time,” frowns scars Satoru, confused as to why the hell you’re changing your mind like this. You shake your head, already tired of having to explain yourself.
“Yeah, one of you was sleeping on top of me, the two others sandwiching me. I kind of suffocated,” you say sarcastically.
“Then let’s-” tries to say the blindfolded one.
“No. I’m sleeping in my own bed. For once. So shoo and let me unpack in peace, because God knows I need that right now,” you scoff, pushing the three of them away.
“Yeah yeah…” pouts your boyfriend.
They all walk towards the exit, giving you pleading glances.
“When you’re done and showered, join us in the onsen. We’ll eat dinner after that. How about that?” proposes the older one.
You stop, think, try to know if it’s a good idea, but your exhaustion soon wins your internal argument.
“No funny business in the onsen, alright?” you warn, eyes throwing daggers at each one of them.
“Yes ma’am,” answers blindfolded Satoru, and the three look at each other in a knowing smirk. You gasp, agitating your arms.
“I said no funny business!”
They simply laugh, leaving you to your doom. Fuck.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Monday, 8 pm.
Ok, wait wait wait. It’s been two years since you started dating Satoru. Two years that you know perfectly what he looks like naked, him as well. But, three of him surrounding you, suddenly sounds way more intimidating than you anticipated. Yes, you did fuck them three, two years ago, yes you were surrounded in his Adam’s outfit, but that was in the middle of a heated session!
Breath. Calm down. Stepping out of the shower, you ghost your toes over the wooden floor, reaching as silently as possible the room that leads outside, including the private miniature onsen.
Scars Satoru and another one are already sitting inside the water, talking and surely gossiping about some things only Gojo Satoru can understand. But without the blindfold to decipher which one is which, you can’t recognize if it’s your Satoru or the older one next to scars Gojo. Who the fuck is that?
“Spying on my future selves? Bad y/n…” whispers a voice in your ear. A gasp later, you spin around to face Satoru, which you deduce being your boyfriend, leaning over your shoulder. Your eyes meet, he chuckles lightly, then you look down to inspect his outfit. He’s shirtless, only a tiny, scandalous, towel, tied around his waist.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” you defend yourself, hand over your heart to ease the drumming. Instead, he kisses your lips, softly, and whispers against your pouting mouth.
“Ah, I should punish you for this,” he taunts.
“You just want to be kinky, you know damn well I did nothing of such,” you shake your head.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’re shy. Let’s go, I’m- uh they, ugh, we’re waiting for you,” he muses lastly before pushing you backwards until you stumble on the garden.
Then, he scoops you up thanks to the strength of his arms and brings you inside the onsen. The moment your legs touch the ground of the puddle, blindfold Satoru snatches the towel off your body. A shiver of freezing cold hits you all at once, which results in you yelping and instantly immersing yourself in the warmth of the heated water.
“Why are you so far away from us?” asks scars Satoru, raising an eyebrow. You stare at the red lines on his muscles, before gazing back at his face and shrugging nonchalantly.
“I don’t need to be constantly glued to you, you know?”
“Ohhh, she’s shy,” laughs blindfolded Satoru, amused, and even taking a tone of voice that shows he’s having fun gossiping about it with his clones.
“She is,” they answer at the same time.
Wisely, you decide to ignore them and simply close your eyes, getting as far as the small space allows you to.
“Are you scared of something, or-” starts your boyfriend.
“I’m warning you, no sex, I’m dead tired. Understood?” you snap when brutally opening back your eyelids, looking at them with seriousness and warning.
“Not even if we give you head-” tries to propose the supposed blindfolded Satoru, even if he’s not wearing it right now. You sigh deeply, passing your hand over your tired face and trying your best to not stare at the droplets of water cascading down his flushed skin.
“Three persons, I mean you, three you giving me head will suck my soul out of my body. And I still need energy to deal with you all during dinner,” you explain.
“Ah, shoot,” he pouts.
“Yeah, now, be quiet,” you reply, closing back your eyes.
“Love it when she’s bossy,” says one.
“Getting hard right now,” adds another.
“Of course we are,” finishes the third.
“Shut the hell up!” you yell, angered.
“Oops, she’s getting angry,” laughs, what you suppose being, blindfolded Satoru.
Reaching your limit, fingers tightening around the edge of the onsen, you stand up and head towards the stones like stairs to get out of the water.
“I’m leaving,” you announce.
One foot on the grass, that six arms, six, wrap around your torso and drag you back in hell. Meaning, their bodies. Tucked like a burrito. You can’t move.
“Nooo, ok, ok, we’re sorry!” exclaims your boyfriend.
“You better be,” you snarl, knowing that fighting would just lead to exhaustion.
“Sorry sweetheart,” whispers scars Satoru, pressing his lips to your cheek.
“Deeply apologizes, baby,” adds blindfolded Satoru, thumb caressing your hip in a comforting gesture.
“Then close your mouth,” you groan.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Tuesday, 2 pm.
The night you spent was strangely calm. Too calm. Something was brewing. And you know that by the looks they keep sending each other, you’re soon going to have to share your bed. You managed to sleep alone, in peace, last night. Your gut is telling you it will soon be over.
“Can’t this time travel issue get fixed now? I can’t wait for you two to go back to your own timeline,” mutters your boyfriend, eating some sweets he went to buy earlier that day.
“You said that four times this morning,” you reply as you turn the page of the book you’re currently reading, sitting on the couch while the sun, high in the sky, is illuminating you through the large windows.
“Then I’ll say it five times,” he answers, sitting down next to you and almost making your book slip off your fingers. You glare at him, but blindfolded Satoru, who is reading some intricate book as well on a chair two meters away, rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, well, I’m pissed off too because I start to regret the possessive tendencies I had that are backfiring on me right now,” he huffs.
“I can’t believe that you’re that jealous of yourself,” you laugh, because yes, that is the most ridiculous situation you ever saw your boyfriend in.
“Y/n, you’re my girlfriend, why do I have to share when they have their own y/n?!” he scoffs, turning around and even grabbing your book to force you to look at him, and only him.
“Because it’s still the same y/n! Thank god I’m not that possessive anymore…” groans Satoru, raising his blindfold in disbelief of having to explain this to himself.
Scars Satoru pops his head from the kitchen, giving you all a look.
“Eh, if I’m being honest, it will come back widely in a few months. You’ll see,” he says in an enigmatic kind of way.
“What? Why?” you question, intrigued. That seems to pick the interest of the two other younger versions of himself. He walks back in the living room.
“More like, protective. You’ll understand why when the time comes, sweetheart,” he winks slightly at you, then kisses the top of your head with such softness that it leaves you speechless.
“The fuck…” one of them says.
Later in the afternoon, doing your best to pass time by participating in activities, such as baking cookies or playing games, you try as well to not turn crazy. Three Satoru are too much for your patience. You already learnt the lesson two years ago. As you sigh, drinking a glass of water after losing your breath in a verbal fight with blindfolded Satoru that took his jokes too far, you notice your boyfriend on his phone. Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, tone of voice serious. He’s surely dealing with the higher ups. So, you step towards him and tap his back.
“Satoru, stop answering your calls, you’re on vacation!”
“Stupid higher ups that are calling me for shit. Sorry, love,” he groans before putting back the object in his pocket. You try to steal it away from him, just to make sure he’s not going to answer any more work calls, but he’s way faster than you and manages easily to dodge your attacks.
“I’m glad I don’t have that problem anymore,” says scars Satoru, wiping his hands covered in flour.
“Yeah, since we killed them all, lol,” adds blindfolded Satoru, licking his chocolated thumb.
“You killed them?!” you scream.
“What a good choice,” seems to approve your boyfriend, nodding to himself.
“Yeah, but I’m not saying that for this. I meant in the way that I don’t have to deal with anything related to jujutsu society anymore,” corrects scars Satoru, leaning against the wall.
“What? Why?” asks your boyfriend, confused.
“Because I retired,” he simply announces, shrugging.
Everyone stops moving, all turning towards him.
“We what?” chuckles nervously your Satoru, clearly in disbelief.
“Holy shit. In some months I’ll retire? I don’t even understand how and why! I still have so many duties on my shoulder to deal with,” adds blindfolded Satoru, tilting his head to the side before shaking it, lost.
“You’ll have more important to deal with, believe me,” answers scars Gojo.
You all look at each other. Your mind is working at full speed, trying to figure out what he’s meaning by these enigmatic words. Is he speaking in riddles?
“You’re scaring me right now. What kind of fucked up future will happen to me AGAIN that leads to the point of needing to retire? Even more if it’s to deal with something more important than jujutsu society?” says blindfolded Satoru, opening his arms in incredulity.
“Nothing bad. Quite the contrary,” he answers, laughs, then looks at you intently.
Your brain works twice his usual speed, turning its gears, dots connecting one by one. Your facial expression distorts in utter shock.
“Oh,” you whisper.
“I think y/n understood,” says the oldest, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
Blindfolded Satoru lets his gaze travel in between you and his scarred version of himself. Once, twice, ten times, before parting his lips.
“Is it…?” he murmurs.
“Yeah, because you’re a dad now,” confirms scars Satoru, the softest smile appearing and brightening the atmosphere.
“What?!” you choke out. Not that you didn’t figure it out, but it’s still deadly surprising to have it approved.
“Excuse me?” exclaims your boyfriend, letting the spoon he was holding fall on the floor for dramatic effect.
“You’re excused,” he answers, before turning towards blindfolded Satoru. “You’ll soon discover that y/n is nine weeks pregnant. In my timeline she just gave birth three weeks ago,” he explains.
“I’m going to be a mom…” you mutter, hand on your mouth and shaking in bewilderment. Everything makes sense now. Explaining all the weird statements he made since he appeared in the nightclub more than 24 hours ago.
“And I’m going to be a dad,” stammers your boyfriend.
Your eyes lock, the both of you look at each other as if the world revolved around you and only you. Suddenly, it ends, when blindfolded Satoru grabs you and crashes you against his chest in the most suffocating hug you could ever experience. Big hands cradling your back, nose bumping against your shoulder, and the feeling of wet and warm tears staining your shirt.
“I think that’s the prettiest gift you could ever give me, baby. My baby is giving me a baby!” he chokes out, sniffing loudly. Not knowing how to react, you tighten your grip before trying to gently part away.
“That’s- that’s not me… I mean yeah, but it’s not me that is pregnant! Say that to the future me,” you intend to explain yourself. Your heart is hammering, too many emotions swallowing you whole at this piece of information. Satoru wipes his tears, tip of his nose turning red and lips pouting.
“Fuck, you’re right. But it’s still you. Oh lord, that’s way too much information for me,” he replies, taking his face in his hand before turning on his heels, coming back, and turning around again, clearly not knowing what to do with himself right now.
“I was an emotional mess when I discovered it too,” whispers scars Satoru to your ear.
“Shit, no, I have to keep my tears for when I’ll see her! Someone please slap me, that will stop the crying,” dramatically asks blindfolded Satoru, taking off the piece of tissue and with his hand ventilating his eyes.
“I’ll do it,” proposes your boyfriend.
He slaps him, hard. That managed to stop the tears. Before they start fighting each other. Yeah, the whole emotional moment went to the trash after this.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Wednesday, 2 am.
After hours of being surrounded by Satoru, you can finally, finally, rest and lay back down on your bed. Empty and only for you. A deep sigh escapes your lips, pulling the sheets and making yourself comfortable.
It doesn’t last long, actually. Ten minutes later and a crack on your door, before a silhouette appears and scars Satoru enters your room.
“Hi, sweetheart. Still not asleep?” he asks, approaching step by step before sitting down next to your laying form. His hand falls over your forehead, gently caressing it.
“What are you doing here?”
Satoru smiles, stares around at the room that seems so empty with only you in it.
“Just came to check on you,” he whispers. Seconds go by where he stares at you, before sighing and laying down next to you, arms crossed behind his head and letting his gaze travel the walls, the roof.
“You’re getting yourself comfortable,” you comment teasingly, like a matter of fact as well. His chest rises and falls deeply, taking a big breath before turning his head towards you. The smile on his lips is small, tired.
“Actually, I sleep very badly,” he admits. You frown.
“Why so?”
“Because I don’t have my wife in my arms,” he replies in a dramatic sulk, which results in you rolling your eyes to the back of your skull.
“Satoru, we said that everyone sleeps alone, so-”
He interrupts you by grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together.
“I know. But, I started to sleep skin to skin with our baby as well. I miss it. A lot,” he reveals.
The look in his eyes is genuine, making you swallow your saliva. Imagining Satoru as your husband, but now as a dad too, cuddling with your child to fall asleep, melts your heart. The ring on his finger caresses your palm, and you breathe out a small :
“Oh…”
“Hmm,” he hums. His eyes don’t leave you. Not even a second. Carving in his brain the curves of your face, the tenderness of the affection he’s feeling in this intimate instant.
“How is it? I mean, how is it to be a dad right now? Parenthood… God, that sounds so weird to talk about it when in its timeline we... you know,” you mutter shyly. He takes a good five seconds to gather his thoughts, turn his tongue in his mouth, hoping to find the right way to express his feelings and articulate his answer.
“If I’m being honest, it’s scary. I’m scared to mess up, and I retired because I didn’t want to be an absent father to our child. I wanted to give everything I could, be present, and make sure our baby never experiences the loneliness I was forced to go through.”
The end of his sentence is vague, but not enough so you can understand the depth of it. Satoru was taken from his parents at an early age, because of having the title of the Six Eyes and Infinity holder. You bite the inside of your cheek, touch his jaw affectionately. It’s warm. You feel warm. And proud. So proud of him. Of what he’s trying and what he is doing to become the best version of himself.
“I’m sure you’re doing amazing,” you murmur for his ears only. His eyelashes flutter, the slope of his lips touching the top of your head.
“And the you of the future is doing amazing too. I retired because I wanted to be fully by your side as well,” he explains. Your heart is not melting anymore, it’s combusting, widely. A shattering breath escapes your mouth, and you desperately try to stay calm, because this is still not your reality. It’s for you in the future.
“How is the baby?”
Satoru smiles brightly at this question.
“Got my eyes, but got your skin and hair color. Very energetic too… let’s say we don’t sleep much, you and me,” he chuckles. Your lips twitch at the thought of being sleep deprived by a little monster holding your and his genes.
“Oh god, I don’t want to imagine that…”
“Before time traveling, you fell asleep while breastfeeding. That was very funny to see,” he grins. Gently, you nudge his shoulder.
“Can’t believe you’re making fun of me through space and time,” you scoff. Satoru answers it by a laugh that ends up echoing in a silent wave, before dying in the quietness of the night. He squeezes your hand. Gets closer.
“I’m so glad I have you by my side again, y/n. I don’t think you understand how having this second chance changed a lot in my perception of life, and our relationship as well,” he whispers in a tightened voice. Your eyes meet his again, and it’s intimidating to face this serious side of himself. Something you’re still not used to.
“Why exactly?”
“I went through the experience of holding you dead in my arms, and then holding life itself created by the two of us. I… when I traveled back in time, that everything changed, and you were still here, alive, I think my heart just stopped beating before beating again, but differently, so much differently than it ever did. I don’t think I can really explain what I mean by that. I’m not very good with words, you know that,” he intends to explain, before biting his lower lip and cradling you against his chest in an attempt to hide the depth of his emotional storm.
You stiffen, eyes wide open, heart hammering at the realization of what he just confessed. You take a few seconds as well before gathering your thoughts and answering.
“I don’t really know what to say either. But, jokes aside, bickering aside, knowing that your love for me triggered two versions of yourself to time travel to save my life, is the biggest proof of love that can possibly exist. And I don’t think I’ll fully comprehend how much I mean to you, but, for sure, I’ll never doubt your feelings. And if I could do the same for you, I’ll do it.”
His mouth kisses yours. Your eyelids close, answering it before he parts and says against your lips :
“You already did, y/n. You already did. When you died by the hands of Sukuna for the sole purpose of saving my life. I think that’s a big proof of your love.”
He’s right. But it’s a matter of the you of the future. Not the you of now. But it’s still you.
“We’re even, then,” you lighten the mood in a more cheerful voice.
“Can I sleep with you tonight, then? I just really need it right now,” he questions with some pleading. But you can’t seem to refuse his request, so you nod.
“Alright.”
Satoru gets comfortable in bed, takes you back in his arms, hugs you in the kind of way that is protective but clingy too. It’s comforting.
“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers in your nape. You caress his arms, he tightens his grip.
“Good night, ‘toru.”
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Wednesday, 11 am.
“Betrayal, betrayal!” echoes your boyfriend, refusing to let you approach him by turning on his infinity, blocking you any access or redemption.
“Satoru, calm down, it was just one night!” you scoff, head hurting by this stupid argument about scars Satoru joining you in bed last night. He scoffs, crosses his arms over his chest.
“So he gets to sleep with you but not me? Starting by tonight I’ll sleep again with my girlfriend, uh,” he huffs loudly, raising his head in disdain.
“I agree with younger me. I won’t hold back too, that’s unfair,” adds blindfolded Satoru, nodding.
Meanwhile, you look at scars Gojo for support. He’s a dad now, and should be mature enough to know how to ease this situation. Yet, nothing. He’s looking at the scene from the couch, eating some cookies with the fattest grin he has in stock. You gasp, point at him.
“And you, stop having this triumphal smile on your face! That’s your fault-”
“Sorry sweetheart,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
“He’s not sorry for one second. I know myself well,” comments the blindfolded one.
“Thanks lord you do,” you snarl.
“Tonight, I sleep back with you,” interferes your boyfriend, stepping in front of your face to block your view from the distracting dad that is enjoying way too much the chaos he caused.
“And me,” adds the blindfolded.
“The bed is not big enough!” you exclaim.
“Eh, we’ll make it work. Like two years ago,” says scars Satoru.
A big, long, sigh, escapes your lips, rubbing your face in defeat.
“You’re insufferable,” you mutter in acceptance of your doomed fate.
“Yet you end up marrying and creating a family with me. Fuck, I still can’t believe this… a tiny y/n and Satoru..” almost cries blindfolded Satoru, arm wrapping around your shoulders and smashing his cheek against yours. Rubbing. And rubbing. Like a cat would do.
“Ok, cut it out,” you stop him.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Wednesday, 11 pm.
Limbs, including arms and legs, hands and faces, all pressed against you in what is supposed to be a comfortable cuddling session on the couch. Your head is on scars Satoru’s laps, your torso on the blindfolded one, and your legs on your boyfriend’s. They all take the opportunity to caress, massage, press kisses, everything, but watching the tv. And it’s luring you in a very sleepy state.
“I’m dead tired. At the end of the movie I go to sleep,” you mumble.
“Really? I wanted to play some games,” groans your boyfriend, hands adventuring themselves on your knees.
“Without me, do it with the others you,” you point at the two ones busy with your shoulders and head.
“No thank you,” he glares at them.
The discussion ends in you rolling your eyes, focusing on the screen and the display of the movie. The characters talk before an action scene starts abruptly. Your attention is entirely directed to what is happening. Yet, a feeling, a scratch, keeps you on your toes. Eyes are looking at you. Sometimes acting like they’re focusing on the screen, but always ending up back on gazing at your face. Nose, lashes, lips, cheeks.
“Can you stop staring at me? I feel your gaze digging holes in my skull,” you end up snapping of annoyance, and overall, flustering.
“Can’t we admire our girlfriend?” coos your boyfriend, raising his eyebrow.
“You mean our wife,” corrects blindfolded Satoru, playing now with your hands. The other is kneading your shoulders, forcing a gasp of relief to escape your lips. You shake your head to snap out of it.
“We’re watching a movie, stay concentrated,” you try to sound as serious as you’re allowed to be in this intimate moment.
“But you love the attention,” muses scars Satoru, thumb sliding over your throat. You swallow, hard.
“I never said the contrary,” you manage to croak out after a second of being distracted. His answer is a knowing grin. Infuriating, stupid, grin.
The peace lasts one minute. The hand that originally was on your knee, slides up, softly. A shiver runs down your spine when digits caress the inside of your thighs. A nail barely scratching the tissue of your loose shorts. Then, two fingers glide inside the pajama, just enough to brush your panties.
“Satoru,” you breathe in a weak warning.
“Which one?” asks the one in the middle.
“The Satoru that is caressing my thigh, way too close to my panties,” you answer, and your boyfriend licks his lips.
“What? You don’t want to?” he questions.
“Watch the movie, you horny dog,” you decide to not answer yes or no, simply trying to redirect his attention on the tv. Ignoring the pool of heat and horrible ache in between your legs is harder than expected when he touches you like this.
“How can we when you’re so soft, and sweet, and beautiful, and-” starts to protest blindfolded Satoru, palm moving over your stomach, waist, under your shirt and feeling the texture of your burning skin.
“Makes me want to put another baby in you,” whispers scars Satoru by lowering his head towards yours. You almost jump out of surprise, meeting his dazed eyes full of desire, and gently pushing him away.
“Woaaawwwww! I’m not even pregnant in this timeline, hold down your horses!”
“I agree with y/n. But, but…” starts your boyfriend, slipping your shorts on the side, finger hooking around the lace of your underwear. Fuck. You tighten and rub your thighs together without realizing. But he does. And he basks in the smugness of seeing you reacting like this.
“No buts,” you shake your head.
“But, we can ease the tension in your muscles, baby,” proposes blindfolded Satoru, ending his sentence by a press of his knuckles against your shoulder, while scars Satoru digs his fingers on your scalp.
“What tension?” you try to ask through the moan of relief you just let out. And that’s stupid of you.
“Here,” says a voice after letting his hand massage the junction of your neck and collarbone.
“And here,” adds another, hand on your lower back now. Dangerously low. But oh, that feels so good.
A gasp of surprise and pleasure is heard when a digit, the one of your boyfriend, goes under your panties, caresses your clit and gently parts your folds.
“Look how stiff you’re here… you need to loosen up, yeah?” he taunts. The look in his eyes is everything but innocent. Your breath quickens.
“An orgasm is the best idea, don’t you think so?” murmurs scars Satoru, kissing your temple. Your boyfriend takes the opportunity to insert a finger in your tight hole, a squelchy sound that seems to satisfy him.
“I think she’s thinking the same because of how wet she is right now,” he comments smugly. “Look at that,” and he proudly shows the soaked finger. “Let me- let us take good care of you, okay? Just lay down and relax. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”
“You want that, sweetheart?” questions scars Satoru, just to be sure. Blindfolded Satoru wanders his hands around your chest. Tempting. Not yet touching. Only making you desire the feeling of his fingers on your breast. Shit. Be damned.
“Yeah. But be quick, I’m tired,” you accept in a weak voice. And that’s all they need.
“Ahah, we’ll make it work so you’ll be sleeping like a rock. Hmmm?” he says before finally freeing your boobs and taking them in hands.
Lips capture yours, and by the feeling of a scar on the side of his mouth, you know who is kissing you. A whimper gets swallowed by his tongue when another finger hooks inside your hole and rubs your walls in an agonizing dance that instantly makes you see stars.
The movie long forgotten, your clothes disappear off your skin, and the cool air hits your wet folds when one of them parts your thighs. But it quickly gets replaced by the warmth of a breath hitting your bare cunt, and then a hot suave tongue traveling from your busy hole to your clit. Your legs shake of pleasure, already lost in another dimension because the three of them know exactly where to touch to make you crazy.
Lapping at the dripping juice, your boyfriend wraps his arms around your waist and brings your ass up, in a way that allows him to eat you out better, and to stop you from squirming away. Meanwhile, your mouth and breast are being kissed, licked, bitten. And your boyfriend was right. All you have to do is lay down and bask in the pleasure. Nothing else. Only you. Satoru doesn’t even ask you to jerk him off or suck his tip. Simply whispering sinful things in your ear, or sweet nothings to ease your aching nerves. All their focus is in draining you out.
Or maybe to make you want more.
Because when they edge your high, and that you finally reach it in an imploring cry, they all look at you very, very, smugly. A satisfied smirk at the sight of the eagerness in your eyes, lips parted and skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat.
“Look at her, I feel like she’s still in need for more,” coos your boyfriend, kissing gently the side of your thigh.
“One orgasm is not enough,” says scars Satoru, making you look at him and the satisfied facial expression of his.
“What a greedy girl…” adds blindfolded Satoru by softly biting on your nipple.
“Want more, sweetheart?” asks the oldest, thumb caressing your lower, swollen, lip.
“All you have to do is ask,” continues your boyfriend, straightening his back and opening wider your legs for more access.
“You’re fucking playing with me-” you groan.
“Fucking? We hope. Playing? It’s just called teasing,” corrects blindfolded Satoru by starting to unbunckle his jeans with an eager hand. “How about one dick for starters, yeah? And I will be the one,” he proposes before moving to the side. “You already had the privilege of eating her out. You good with that, baby?” he says as he pushes the youngest, to instead get in between your thighs and softly grind his clothed dick against your sensitive pussy.
“It’s still the same you, so whatever,” you manage to grit out. He smiles, freeing his cock, taping his tip on your folds, smearing his precum, before winking at you one last time when lifting halfway his blindfold and slowly entering your quivering hole.
“Ahhh, already sucking me in. Fuck- so tight,” he moans, biting his lower lip and gripping your waist. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes in annoyance and instead busy himself with playing with your swollen and overstimulated clit. As well as laying his mouth on your neck to suck it and mark you as his.
By the way the one making love to you is hitting rightly the sweet gummy spot on your walls, many, too many moans escape your mouth. Scars Satoru brushes your cheek, massaging your body and inviting you to lay more comfortably against him. Like this, he has the full view of seeing the way your pussy swallows his younger self’s dick. The lewd and squelchy sounds resonate in the living room at each sinful thrust.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll have another dick after this round,” he says to your ear, appreciating what he’s seeing.
“Who said I needed two?!” you gasp before blindfolded Satoru slams his length fully back inside, choking you out, and your boyfriend accelerating his circling movement on your clit.
“Your pussy,” he smiles.
The following minutes are a blur. The only thing you can remember is reaching a second time your high, stimulated by inside and outside pleasure, and falling limp on the couch. Scars Satoru lifts you up, turns you around and embraces you in his arms as he pepper kisses all over your face. He holds your ass, you straddle him on your wobbly legs, and he slams you back down on his dick. The feeling of being full again makes you bite his shoulder.
“Let me prep’ her well,” he says, adding a finger to your twitching hole. Meaning that, like last time, two years ago, you’ll soon get double penetrated again.
“Yeah, blindfolded me, get out. It’s my turn too to make y/n feel good,” says your boyfriend, readying himself behind you. The sound of a bell that falls on the floor, a cock grinding against your ass and another pair of arms wrapping around your waist.
It takes some time before it starts. He slowly joins his dick inside, penetrating centimeter by centimeter, waiting, stopping, making sure you’re okay, brushing his mouth against your shoulders to praise you, and finally inserting his whole length. A guttural moan leaves your lips, digging your nails in scars Satoru’s back.
“Can you handle it?” he asks, and you nod as an answer.
“I think she’s already feeling very good,” grins blindfolded Satoru, watching the scene unfolding before his own two eyes. Poor him, wishing he could be inside again. But he’ll have to wait for that, if you’re still willing, that is. After all, they’re focusing on your pleasure tonight. Not their.
Your ass gets slammed by your boyfriend’s balls at each thrust. Your clit, on the other hand, grazed by scars Satoru’s pelvis. They sync their movements. Thrust after thrust. Slamming all the way up, tips caressing your womb, arching your back and curling your toes at the sensation. Before going crescendo, and suddenly switching the rhythm. One fast, the other slow, torturous. Your moans are becoming ruthless, dangerously lewd. And they are being vocal about it too. Moans. Groans. Sinful sentences. Mindfucked praising.
The one in front of you ends up kissing you senseless, discovering again, like back at the nightclub, the pleasure of having sex with you. Joining and intertwining your bodies together.
When after minutes, or seconds, or hours, you don’t know anymore, you reach your high a third time, they already switch positions. They decide on who is the one charged to be in front, or behind. This time, it’s the blindfolded that has the pleasure of making you bounce on his cock, while scars Satoru kneels and eats you out like a damn feast. Because for him? You are one. Lapping, making out with your cunt, licking every drop of juice you produce from the intense electric pleasure you’re having by the way you’re getting fucked dumb. He’s going at it. Maybe he’s trying to compete against your boyfriend, wanting to showcase that with the years of experience ahead of him, he gives you head better than the younger version of himself.
But even when you cum, taking a pause for you to gain back some energy. Letting your swollen, overstimulated, hole and clit to calm down. They already pounce on you once you’re back on track.
You end up not even knowing where you start and where they end!
Let’s stay, the heated session didn’t end on the couch, but on the matrimonial bed. Big enough to manhandle you around in the way that makes you shiver of desire. Fucking you so good you’re drooling on the sheets. Crying of pleasure and screaming your heart out at each intense wave of thrill and delight you receive.
You don’t even remember falling asleep, nor the aftercare, with a lot, lot, lot, of sweet affection. Maybe too much. But only a blurry memory of a set of limbs laid out on the sheets. Comfortable enough to let you sleep.
Yeah, your body will die in the morning. Of ache and soreness. Poor muscles. Poor overstimulated y/n.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 6 pm.
Your doom? Boredom. Because, yes, when you have three Satoru that are bored to death as they can’t go outside, or else it will cause a riot to see three of them in the wild, not having much to do in this house, aside from playing games, talking, reading or watching some tv… it’s not enough for their hyperactive brain! So, what better activity than a good fuck?
In the kitchen, onsen, laundry, couch, bedroom n1, n2, n5, shower, bath, everywhere! Even on the floor, or the damn table!
Yeah, a good cure for boredom, but what is the good cure for your exhaustion? Sleeping, maybe. Aftercare too. Nonetheless, you’re still dead. Maybe more dead than by the hands of Sukuna. When will this time travel end, seriously?! Not to add the endless bickering in between them, making you want to bang your head on the wall.
“Y/n, he fucking ate my daifuku. We should ban him from the house,” complains your boyfriend as he points at blindfolded Satoru, licking his coated lips in a winning grin.
“Oh, wow, so sad,” you mumble, flipping the page of the book you’re reading. He whines loudly.
“If it’s your daifuku then it’s mine too,” corrects the culprit from where he's sitting.
“I swear, I’ll hollow purple your ass and erase your existence from your own timeline,” he menaces back, standing abruptly from the couch. You sigh.
“Yeah? Wanna fight? It’ll be fun to be against a worthy opponent, aka myself,” he answers, standing up as well and raising his head in defiance.
“Should we do that in the garden?”
“You’re not going to stop them, sweetheart?” asks scars Satoru, walking behind you and sliding his arms around your shoulders. You shrug.
“Nope. I’m too busy reading right now to bother with this.”
“As you wish,” he chuckles, kissing your cheek.
“Baby, can you bet on who will win?” asks blindfolded Satoru, pointing at him and his youngest version with his thumb. You barely look up from your book.
“Yourself against yourself?”
“Yeah. I’ll surely win. I’m older and technically wiser and stronger,” he answers, adjusting his blindfold after landing you a knowing wink.
“Ok, I bet on you,” you mumble. And, that sentence, triggers your boyfriend that comes rushing at your side like a wounded puppy.
“Are you serious right now?! Betraying me like this?!”
“Ok, what if we did something else than fight?” proposes scars Gojo in a calmer tone.
“You think so highly of yourself because you’re a dad, but you’re only a few months older than me, just in case,” scoffs blindfolded Satoru, crossing his arms on his chest.
At his words, the oldest freezes, before slowly, very slowly, turning towards him. His eyes twitch, showing he’s barely holding down his horses.
“Ah?” he says in an annoyed voice. Realizing that the situation is escalating towards a dangerous outcome, you put down your book and stand up in panic.
“Let’s do something else! We need to get out of this house! Like, anywhere else. If possible, some empty place…”
“Agreed. Can’t stand breathing the same air as… me? Whatever,” nods blindfolded Satoru.
“We can go to the-” starts to say your boyfriend.
“Sight seeing of the mountain,” they end up repeating all at once. You blink, chuckling slightly at the comic effect it caused.
“It's always very fascinating to see the three of you talk at the same time. But maybe not now. There will be people, no?”
“That’s why we’ll go at night,” answers scars Satoru, tapping your shoulder gently.
“When it’s closed,” continues the blindfolded.
“Isn’t that illegal?” you question in a suspicious frown.
“Who cares about the law when I’m Gojo Satoru? Ahahahaha!” retorts your boyfriend proudly.
“Yikes…” you mutter.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 12 pm.
“Bitch, it’s freezing cold!” you exclaim, rubbing your arms in a shiver. After getting teleported to the base of the mountain, you all took a short cut and walked around, enough to feel some fresh air and ease the tensions. Well, fresh air, more like glacial air. Scars Satoru is the first one, the quickest actually, to lend you his jacket.
“Sweetheart, watch your words in front of the baby- oh wait… Sorry, habit,” he says, before giving you a bashful smile. Softly, your lips stretch too, and you give him a warm look.
“It’s alright,” you answer.
Sensing the intimate moment, out of cupid jealousy, your boyfriend grabs your arm and makes you follow him closer.
“Ok, come here, you’ll see better the view,” he announces, guiding you up until you walk on green grass, next to a bench, facing the curve of the mountains ahead, and the lights of the city. The night sparkles above your head, the moon reflecting its shine on your skin.
“Oh my, it’s beautiful,” you manage to pronounce in utter awe. The wind brushes your face, making you tighten your grip on Satoru’s jacket. It smells just like him.
“We know,” they all answer at the same time, standing behind you.
“How do you know this place?” you ask as you sit down on the bench.
“When I was a kid, the Gojo estate was very suffocating. I always sneaked out,” starts to say your boyfriend, following suit and sitting at your side.
“I once got lost when adventuring myself in the forest, and decided to have a better view of where I was. So I climbed up the hill,” continues the blindfolded one, being at your left now.
“That’s how I found myself here, discovering the view. Some people were sightseeing as well, as I understood it was a touristic place,” explains scars Satoru, leaning against the bench in your back. You raise your head to look at him. He gives you a smile.
“And since then, I came back a few times at night when they closed the park. Never got arrested, thought. I’m Gojo Satoru after all,” finishes your boyfriend, arm falling around your shoulders in a proud move. You can’t help but laugh, before nudging him teasingly.
“Always ruining cute moments with your big ass ego,” you groan.
“But you love it,” he retorts, stealing a kiss.
“Questionnable,” you mumble. He rolls his eyes. After a second, you let your eyes travel the surroundings.
“It’s very calming when you’re alone in here. It gives the feeling of being above everything, anyone, including your responsibilities and duties,” ends up admitting blindfolded Satoru, taking your hand in his, sighing as he parts his legs, and admires the view more comfortably. For a short moment you assimilate this piece of information, wondering how he must have felt in those moments when he was a kid. You squeeze his fingers in silent comforting.
“This place, at night, used to be my nightly escape. A secret,” murmurs scars Satoru, toying with your hair. Again, you lift your head to stare at him.
“That you now share with me,” you comment. He grins, lands his lips on your forehead.
“How couldn’t I? You’re the love of my life,” he whispers back gently, devotion written all over his face, his deep blue eyes, the shine of his irises, pupils dilating. You give him back his smile. Something shifts, a flicker in his cursed energy.
As you're about to answer, in an insignificant blink, Satoru disappears. It’s short, really. But he’s not here anymore, empty spot now. In confusion, you turn to your left. Blindfolded Satoru disappeared as well, hand free of his grip.
“They left,” you whisper, before having your boyfriend taking you in his arms and cuddling you against his heart. He doesn’t make a snappy comment on how happy he is that his ‘clones’ finally went back to their own timelines. No. He simply kisses the top of your head, shields you from the wind, and stares at the lights of Kyoto down the mountain.
“I think it’s time that we go back too,” he whispers.
“To the estate?”
“No, back in Tokyo. Home.”
Satoru is right. The two others went back to their own timeline, their real home. You should too. You lean your face against his collarbone, he lays his head on top of yours.
“Then tomorrow we take the first train,” you agree. He nods. Silence falls for a few short minutes, before he interrupts it again.
“Are you still sure you don’t want to marry me now? Might as well when we’re going to start a family in the future.”
You look at him, rolling your eyes, even if that comment makes you smile more than anything else.
“Satoru, we already talked about this.”
He pouts.
“Alright, alright. I’ll wait a bit more before asking officially your hand in marriage,” he mumbles in resignation, thumb caressing absently your arm.
“A bit more? And how long is that?” you question, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.
“Like… in two weeks?”
“Satoru!” you scoff, eyes wide open. And he laughs loudly.
“I’m joking! I’m joking! I’ll wait at least one more year, promise,” he affirms. A quick look on the side, and you have the confirmation he’s lying. You look at him deadpan.
“I saw you crossing your fingers behind your back,” you comment.
He shrugs, clearly not feeling sorry at all. “Oops?” Satoru kisses you before you can answer.
But you smile. Because having the truth that your love will indeed last years ahead of you, resulting in building something as strong as a family with him, confirms that, yes, as scars Satoru said, you’re the love of his life, as much as he’s yours. And not even death can erase that simple fact. Nothing can, nothing ever will.
——
Hope you guys enjoyed this part 2! I know I’m very late, but I was super busy and to be honest, I struggled a lot to find a new plot. But here it is! Don’t forget to interact with the post if you liked reading it, xoxo
Im not dead guys! I know I’ve been posting nothing for some time now, but I was very busy with writing my own book that I finally finished yesterday!
Anyways, I’ll try to soon get back on track and write the part 2 of three Gojos like many asked, but I first have to brainstorm and everything, so we’ll have to wait a bit more for it.
If you have any recommendation, you can send requests as well! It’s not sure I will 100% write them, but it will surely give me ideas ;)
(Si il y a des lecteurs français qui sont intéressés par mes livres, autre que mes fanfics, vous pouvez commenter et je vous donnerai mon compte, etc.)
Thought it would be funny to draw my middle aged sailors in a stupid moe style i'm not used to hehe (also i really like their whole white top black pants/black top white pants ordeal…)
synopsis : 2014, and you think one Satoru is already the bane of your existence? Yeah. What about three of them? Including two coming from different futures. Good luck with that! You’ll need it.
warnings : fluff, comedy, angst, mention of death, smut, foursome, use of pet names, p in v, double penetration, receiving and giving head, being sandwiched (lol), cock drunk, aftercare, plot with porn.
words count : 16.k
Saturday, 6 pm.
Not one, not two, but three Satorus.
You’re dreaming, yeah. You’re totally dreaming. Or maybe it’s more appropriate to say a nightmare. All of them talking in a chaotic conversation about why, when, how and where it all happened, while you just found yourself in the middle of it all. With no way to escape. Not like you can easily sneak away when you have three versions of The Strongest Sorcerer of his time looming over you.
“Satoru- I mean, you guys, you… three? Whatever. I’ll just go take some air, I need to think about everything that happened,” you end up saying, interrupting their unstopping talking. Confused on how to refer to them, him, Satoru, you just give up and step away.
“Don’t leave me with those three!” exclaims one of them, which you recognize being your Satoru, the one from this timeline. His hand grabs your arm and he’s already at your side in a second.
“I’m you from the future, we’re basically the same person,” retorts the blindfolded one, crossing his arms on his chest. “Ah, what a drag…” he adds to himself, pinching his nose.
“Now I understand why people call me annoying,” retorts your Satoru, starting to lose patience at a situation that is out of his control, and worstly, with himself. He always works alone, but having to team up with two more versions of him that come from the future, and that clearly know more than him, makes Satoru feel this strange inferiority yet curious feeling. He had dreams about seeing some sort of doppelganger, having fun by eating tons of food together and pulling pranks on Nanami. Teamwork is dreamwork, after all.
But having to team up with himself for the sake of knowing why this situation is happening and how to deal with it, is a living nightmare. So, teamwork feels more like nightmarework at this point. He kind of regrets how he acts with Ijichi sometimes -all the time-.
“Just leave y/n be,” interferes the older Satoru, body full of fresh scars, making the younger him step back a good meter away. “Go before I- we change our mind,” he winks at you and you quickly stare at the red lines on his face with intense worry and confusion, before walking towards the door of your apartment.
“Yeah, I’ll just go for a quick walk down the block. So stay here until I come back, and please don’t make a mess!” you exclaim as you point at them three with some authority.
“Me? Doing a mess? You wound me, y/n!” retorts your Satoru with a big smile on his face, hand over his heart as if he received a dagger.
“You’re the messier of us three,” scoffs the scars one, pointing at all the sweets and chips bags scattered on the dining table. Empty, on top of that. Right, he left them yesterday when he came for a sleepover, and forgot to throw them in the trash.
You close the door in a loud bang to block their bickering, and quickly slide down the stairs at all speed to find some fresh air when you step outside. Lost in thoughts, you start reminiscing about how this chaos started.
And this, barely some hours ago.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Saturday, 1 pm.
“Satoru, I swear to god if you won’t let me go alone to this mission, I’ll take your eyes out myself,” you snap, stopping your way towards Ijichi’s car to face the insufferable bane of your existence.
“Eh? My precious Six Eyes? Come on, don’t be a buzzkill, let me come with you,” he coos, smoothly sliding closer to you. His finger lifts the white bandage wrapped around the left shiny blue. Just enough to properly look at you.
“Sometimes I wonder why you’re even my best friend,” you mutter, passing your hand over your face to try to wipe away the exhaustion of this banter that is starting to last too long. Satoru tilts his head to the side, lazy smirk pulling at his lips.
“Because you love me so much. I know, who wouldn’t? I’m Gojo Sato-” you nudge him, stopping him before he can finish his sentence. He laughs slightly. “Ok, shut it down,” you say and start to walk again towards the car barely meters away.
Yet, you feel the atmosphere shift. His hand grabs your wrist, strong enough to stop you from going farther.
“Y/n, I’m serious. I’m coming with you,” Satoru insists. You sigh, gathering some strength to face this one more time. “No you’re not,” you retort.
“That’s a dangerous mission. You’re not strong enough for it. You’ll need my help,” he replies, making you face him. Expression colder, less joking around, only seriousness. You frown at the way he called you, feeling hurt by it.
“Not strong enough? Excuse-me?” you ask one more time, giving him the chance to apologize and take back his words.
“Yeah, you heard me,” yet he confirms. You scoff, yanking your wrist away from his grip.
“Fuck off, Satoru,” you snap at him, and don’t let him have the time to answer that you directly enter the black car and slam the door at his nose.
“Ijichi, please let’s go quick,” you exclaim. Sensing the tension, he does as asked and pulls away. You don’t even look at him staring at the car disappearing on the road. You even receive a text after some minutes, Satoru saying ‘y/n, don’t be stupid and let me come with you,’ and ‘you know I care about you,’ ‘are you really going to ignore me?’ ‘fine, suit yourself,’ and finally ‘please be safe.’
You stare at the screen, interrupted by Ijichi pulling over in a small street of Shinjuku. At the same time, your phone dies, no more battery. Great. Arriving at the location of the mission, having to face a grade 1 curse, you immediately try to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. But your mind keeps wondering about what just happened. You cast the veil and enter the abandoned building.
When the curse finally shows itself, the fight starts in the dust of this empty hallway. The curse is small, but extremely powerful.
“Me? Not strong enough? Is he calling me weak? I can’t believe it! He’s really being a dick,” you exclaim to yourself mid-fight, wiping the sweat on your forehead. The curse answers something, mocking, but you don’t really pay attention to it.
Actually, you don’t pay much attention to the critical blow it launches at you. Tired of the fight being more complicated than you expected, it’s only at the last second that you see it coming. Time seems to almost stop, eyes widening at the realization that what it threw at you might be what will end your life.
“Fuck!” you curse in a last attempt to protect yourself, preparing to receive it right in your heart, a fast reflex of throwing a last hope of attack at the curse. Something shifts in the atmosphere surrounding you, all at once.
A flash of blue, your eyes are blinded in what seems like death, then the curses blood splatter everywhere. You fall on your ass, against the destroyed wall, catching back your breath and adjusting your earring from the intense ringing. That wasn’t you. You’re not the one that just ended the curse with some blue technique.
“You better not die on me yet,” exclaims a voice that you instantly recognize. Him, obviously. You raise your head, only to see his shadow looming over you. The dust slowly dissipates around him, revealing inch by inch his face. Angry at his presence, you stand up on your wobbly legs.
“Satoru, I can’t believe you still came even though I told you to leave me alone! I was perfectly handling my-” you stop yourself when you notice a black tissue covering his eyes, instead of the usual white bandage, “-self,” you finish in a breath. Staring at his form, his cursed energy vibrates stronger than usual.
“Wow, easy there, baby. Didn’t seem like handling yourself perfectly fine to me, y/n,” he raises his hands before putting one in his pocket, the other tenderly bringing you closer to him. Your head falls on his chest, and you frown confused.
Oh, that’s new. The nickname. He never called you ‘baby’ before. You put some distance, which makes him, as you suppose, stare at you in confusion too. But why would he be confused? You’re still mad at him.
“What is that blindfold? A new style?” you end up asking, rubbing the blood off your face. Yours, obviously. Oh, and some from the curse that he obliterated. Satoru lifts his said blindfold to look at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Did you hit your head? You must have a concussion,” he retorts, now taking your face in his hands, warm against your cold cheeks. His touch brings you comfort, as he analyzes your head. But since he’s clearly making fun of you, you don’t take it sweetly and yank off his wrists.
“Get away from me, and stop joking around. Why suddenly changing your bandage?” you ask annoyed. Satoru stops moving, for a solid second looking down at you seriously. His eyes bore into your skull, your cursed energy, your thoughts, searching for informations you don’t even know why he’s looking for them.
“You’re the one kidding me right now. I changed it almost two years ago,” he answers, voice less light. You jerk your face in confusion. He’s pranking you. For sure.
“What? Barely one hour ago you were wearing your bandages!” you protest. Satoru stares around him, then checks his phone. No signal. He puts it back in his pocket and steps closer, analyzing you.
“Just to be sure, what year is it?” he asks. You have a nervous laugh, not understanding why he’s asking you that.
“2014. And yet you’re the one saying I had a concussion ?.. the irony,” you answer, now thinking he’s going delirious. He turns around you, hand on his chin, circling round and round. Your head has to follow his lead.
“What are you doing?”
He stops, then leans very close, too close. Not that you’re not used to you and Satoru being physically close. He’s your best friend, after all. But his lips are almost brushing yours. He then suddenly straightens his back, leaving you some space.
“Hmm, that’s what I was thinking, you’re the younger you, and I’m the older me,” he states as a matter of fact.
“Younger me?” you question, twice confused now. What is he even saying?
“Come on baby, ‘think I’m lying to you?” he muses, whipping a tiny cut on your chin with his thumb, carefully. Again with that nickname. You shake your head.
“That’s… Let’s imagine I believe you. If you’re here, from the future, where is my Satoru?” you ask in a frown.
“Hey, I’m still yours, and more than him actually. But, to be honest, I don’t know. Maybe I took his place, maybe we’re two of us now,” he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets in a hum. Again, his eyes shift all around him, Six Eyes trying to find an answer to this situation.
“If you’re pranking me right now, know that it’s not funny,” you argue, pointing at him. If he’s being for real, you’re going to freak out. He sighs.
“Ok, you’re not listening. I’m bringing you to Shoko. You’re bleeding,” he comments instead, “but well, I hope the other Satoru, if there is one, is not at the campus. It would start a riot to see the two of us there. Well, at least until I understand better what just happened,” he adds before scooping you up efficiently in his arms, cradling your body against his chest with ease. You yelp, startled, and to not fall, your hands roll around his neck.
“I can walk,” you protest. He smiles, raising an eyebrow, “come on baby, you love when I’m taking you in my arms,” he replies. Once again he’s flirting in a way that is bolder than the usual, calling you nicknames… Is he really from the future?
“Can you quit calling me baby?” you prefer to say. He raises an eyebrow, some understanding flashing before his eyes while he starts to walk towards the edge of the veil.
“Oh, that’s right, we’re still not dating in 2014,” he shrugs lightly. You almost choke on your saliva, staring at him eyes wide open. “Dating?!” you blurt out. He chuckles lightly, looking at you fondly for some seconds before staring back before him.
“Hey, don’t freak out too much. From my timeline, I’ve been dating you for a few years now,” he explains simply. You bite your lower lip, hardly realizing what he’s saying. Ok, you do have feelings for your best friend. But learning that in a possible future you’re dating him, means he loves you too. Romantically. Not wanting to overthink it too much, you decide to ask something else.
“What year are you from, then?”
“2018,” he says, passing through the veil. He uncasts it for you. You take the opportunity to stare at him. You can’t help but feel like he’s telling the truth. He does look older now that you look at it. More mature looking. His cursed energy too seems more intense. And the change of the attire with the blindfold.
“That’s crazy,” you whisper. You call Ijichi to come pick you up, and everything happens fast. You’re put in the car, and Satoru enters it as well, staring at Ijichi with a knowing look. Surely he’s thinking how in four years he still has the same face, or the contrary. Yet, the black haired man is surprised to see him, as he didn’t recall driving him to the exact location of your mission. He stares at the tissue over his eyes, questioning it with a small voice while engaging on the road.
“Oh? The blindfold? Yeah, just wanted to try something new,” lies Satoru. You’re anxious when you arrive at the campus. You don’t know if you’ll see your original Satoru in here, or maybe he disappeared because one from the future is standing next to you, cooing in a way that tries to convince you to let him take you in his arms and bring you to Shoko himself.
Instead of listening to your protest, he directly teleports you there, so he’ll avoid as many people as he can. He opens the door with his foot, facing the woman that was normally on her break. She turns around and raises an eyebrow, before looking down at you with some worry.
“Shoko! Mind taking care of sweet y/n over here?” he asks cheerfully, laying you down himself on the white bed.
She doesn’t even ask about the blindfold, probably thinking it’s just Satoru being Satoru. Not one from the future, obviously. Yet, as she approaches you to analyze your condition, she raises an eyebrow while looking slightly at him.
“What are you doing here? You told me earlier you left for a mission. Is it already finished?” she asks as she inspects your wounds, and starts to work her cursed energy while you suck up a groan of discomfort.
“Made it quickly,” Satoru lies, with an arrogance that apparently didn’t leave him four years in the future. But having a new information about the situation, now knowing that the original Satoru of your timeline went to a mission, might help you out in meeting him again and arrange the situation. If he still exists, that is.
“Oh, a mission? What did he said to you? He refuses to tell me,” you say lightly, pointing at the blindfolded one as if you were having your usual banter in between the two of you. To add to the lie, Satoru nods. Shoko, always on your side, chuckles.
“Well… Don’t know much, aside from the fact that it was one of the missions he postponed for two weeks. So I expected that it would take the afternoon,” she explains, side-eyeing him. He tilts his head to the side, smirking. Great, that doesn’t help you much.
“What can I say, I made it fast,” he fakely defends himself, exactly like he would have normally done. Some more minutes pass, Shoko finishes stitching you up as Satoru has to turn his back to not look at your naked chest. But knowing that in his timeline he’s your boyfriend, and for God knows how long, he mostly already knows every inch of your bare body. That makes you slightly embarrassed.
Shoko finally lets you go. Satoru turns back around, lifting his blindfold to check on your healed form. He approaches and leads you to the door by lazily wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“All done? Thanks, we’ll go,” he cheerfully says, opening the door. As he steps outside with you on his heels, he stops a second and looks back. “Oh and, I know your cigarettes are hidden in the teacher’s room, so throw them away before I burn them myself,” he suddenly says. The door closes before Shoko can answer. You look at him confused.
“How do you know?” He smirks, shrugging like it was nothing.
“I would say it’s around some months later in your timeline that I stumbled upon her cigarettes, when she clearly said she quit smoking,” he explains, while you nod, slightly chuckling to yourself. The both of you walk in the corridor, the sun high in the sky illuminating the walls and casting your shadows on the floor.
“We should go, we can’t afford more people seeing you. What if that makes a time paradox?” you break the short silence. He hums, pensively.
“I thought about it. But to have a paradox, firstly we need to know if the me of this timeline still exists, and to do something by accident that will change the course of time,” he answers, you stop walking, facing him. His arm falls from your shoulders.
“Let’s go to my apartment. You’ll stay there, and I’ll charge my phone so I can contact the other you,” you propose as a plan. His lips stretch with teasing.
“Inviting me over when we’re still not dating in this timeline? Aw, babe, you’re bolder than I thought,” he nudges, leaning his face towards you jokingly. You want to punch his face, but you don’t. Sadly.
“Firstly, you always come to my apartment in this timeline, and secondly, I’m not supposed to know about us dating or whatever!” you exclaim, while he answers by tenderly kissing your cheek, the atmosphere switching into something softer. The blood rushes in your veins.
“Relax, that won’t create a time paradox. I’m just letting you know the inevitable,” he muses, lips lingering on the plump of your face, before kissing the skin again with a loud and obnoxious smack. Thankfully, the corridor is empty.
“Inevitable?” you nudge him away, “yeah, you’re stuck with me guaranteed for the next four years,” he affirms, pinching your cheek playfully and you roll your eyes, hardly being able to control your heart in this strange situation of him openly dating the you of the future, while the you of right now is stuck hiding her feelings.
“Poor me,” you decide to joke instead. He slaps his tongues in his mouth, chanting “you love me.”
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Saturday, 3 pm.
The two of you finally arrive at the elevator of your building. Home awaiting inbarely some floors. The number 0 illuminates, indicating you can finally open the door and enter the small space. Your elevator has always been tiny, but now, with this weird atmosphere in between this new Satoru and you, it feels twice smaller. Suffocating. You awkwardly arrange your shirt, as if it would allow you to breathe more normally.
Satoru stares at you, and you can feel it through his blindfold. His back nonchalantly against the wall. He grins seeing you more flustered than you want to let it show.
“You know, it feels weird that I can’t really treat you like my girlfriend right now. In my timeline, I would have already kissed you around fifteen times and we would have sex in the elevator,” he suddenly announces with no ounce of shame. You think you choke on your saliva, snapping your head towards his winning face. And it infuriates you.
“Oh my god, what?!” you exclaim. A pool of heat rushes to your lower abdomen at this fact, imagining your future self getting laid by Gojo Satoru right where you’re standing.
“Hmm, you’re freakier than you think, baby. It was one week ago for me, that we had sex in here,” he points it out with his chin, teeth showing as his lips stretch even more. You want to answer something, instead you pass your hand on your face and then point at him.
“I don’t want to know. Keep it for yourself,” you warn him, looking away. Because you can’t continue staring at the way he’s standing next to you, or else it will fry your brain.
“Sure thing,” he mocks. At the same time, the elevator’s doors open. You breathe relief when you rush outside. Yet, you feel Satoru stiffening and grabbing your arm, forcing you to slide to the side so he can stand before you.
“Y/n, stay behind me,” he suddenly orders with seriousness. You frown. He holds your wrist, teleporting you both inside your apartment. The second that follows goes so quickly you can’t even see what is happening. In a flash, Satoru is face to face, ready to strike against someone else that is as ready to kill as him.
When you blink, you can finally recognize the man before you. Satoru, but with scars all over his face, and arms. His outfit is different, buffer muscles, nothing to hide the coldness of his blue that lost all warmth in them. Something feels weird about him. It’s clearly not your Satoru.
Ok, what the fuck? Another one? What type of future is this? Nothing adds to make you feel hopeful when looking at him.
“I see I’m not the only one that traveled time. I guess you’re the me from the past,” says the scars Satoru, straightening his back and lowering his hands. But his voice shares no teasing, no arrogance, nothing. Just hollowness.
“And me from the future. What happened that got us all beaten up? Did we finally find a worthy opponent?” replies arrogantly the blindfolded one, a hint of tiny worry in his voice at seeing himself so… changed.
“Sukuna,” simply answers the older Satoru. The younger stops moving, understanding instantly, which leads in making you even more lost in this situation. You clear your throat to make your presence acknowledged. The new Satoru finally looks behind the other him, to see you standing awkwardly. His eyes widen, and a storm of emotions illuminates the dullness of his blue.
“What the hell is happening right no-” you start to answer before being cut off. “Y/n,” he breathes out, suddenly taking you in his arms with eagerness. His skin is cold, crushing you against his wounded chest and his nose inhaling your scent like a yearning man. He holds you close, because you feel like you’re his only life line at this instant. With the overwhelming emotion of this hug, you end up wrapping your arms around him under the watchful eye of the other Satoru.
“You’re here,” he murmurs in the crook of your neck. Confused, you part your lips. A shiver runs down your spine at the coolness of his mouth on your skin.
“I- of course, it’s my home. Why wouldn't I be here?” you ask, not understanding what is happening anymore. You’re not very surprised to see a new Satoru, yet it’s still baffling.
“But the question is, why are you here? I mean, did you travel back in time by accident too?” questions instead the blindfolded Satoru, staring at himself and analyzing every inch of his skin, the look on his face, his dull blue irises. Slowly, he parts from the hug. His hands nonetheless stay on your waist, unable to let go. Grip firm so you can’t disappear from his grasp.
“No, I found myself somewhere else. A district of Shinjuku, that’s where I initially was. I at first thought it was a domain expansion, before understanding that in some way I was back in 2014,” explains the scars Satoru, turning slightly to face the younger him.
“I too originally was in Shinjuku before I traveled back in time,” he answers thoughtfully, caressing his chin lost in questioning.
“Why coming here, then?” you end up asking. His eyes meet yours with such depth, that you even wonder if it’s really the Satoru you will know in the future, and not someone else.
“Because I wanted- no, needed to see you.” Words truthfully serious. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the hidden meaning of this answer.
“I see I’m still as smitten as I thought,” muses the other Gojo. Overwhelmed by the heavy atmosphere, you step back.
“You’re from 2018, I guess. Or 2017,” states the older one.
“Hmm, 2018, and you? I mean, me?”
“2018 too,” he confirms. You frown, and you see Satoru being flabbergasted by this answer before gaining back some normal facial expression.
“What the hell happened for you to change so much in the same year?” you ask in disbelief.
“Lots of things in barely a few weeks,” he says vaguely.
“All related to Sukuna, then. Guess I will have to change some things with yuji once I’m back to my timeline,” assumes the other Satoru, adjusting his blindfold in a sigh, already feeling twice the weight on his shoulders. To be honest, you don’t even know -yet- who Yuji is.
“Not only Sukuna,” corrects the scars Gojo in a way that only him can understand, a depth in his words that sets the mood colder.
“Eh. Not very reassuring,” tries to lighten the younger him. You decide to make things move a bit, so you begin to walk towards the living room.
“Let’s just sit on the couch. I need to charge my phone and call the Satoru of this timeline, to see if he still exists… and we’ll then figure out how to arrange this time traveling issue,” you explain as you directly walk towards your room, not waiting for an answer nor sparring them a glance. Once you’re inside, you shut the door and run to your charger. Immediately, you plug it in, and have to wait the agonizing seconds of your phone turning back on.
“I’m going to go nuts…” you grumble, typing your code and instantly pressing the contact of your best friend, hoping he’ll answer, proving that he’s still here with you in this timeline. It’s after three rings that someone picks up. Your heart jumps up and down and you blurt out.
“Satoru? Please tell me you’re-”
“Are you ok? You didn’t answer my calls nor my texts. I thought something happened,” interrupts his voice. God, it’s him. Really him. A wave of relief washes over you all at once. You slump back on the floor next to your charger, back against the bed.
“I’m good. My phone died. When are you back from your mission?”
“What? Wanna see me already? I thought you still were mad at me,” he teases and you’re sure you can imagine his smirk. You roll your eyes even if he can’t see you.
“There is more important to deal with right now,” you vaguely say. There is a pause.
“What do you mean? Did something happen?” his voice shows hints of seriousness.
“Quit lazing around and just kill that damn curse, then bring your ass to my apartment. And quick,” you order him instead. He chuckles, slightly relieved to not hear you panic or sound injured. Just mad and annoyed at him. That, he can handle.
“Yes ma’am. Love it when you’re so bossy, y’know?” he flirts. That only reminds you how you’ll be dating him in the future, and that he’s surely serious, not entirely joking around like you always thought. You clear your throat slightly.
“Satoru,” you warn.
“Coming!”
“Hurry,” you add, before finishing the call. At the same time, the door opens and the scars Gojo leans against the frame, gazing at you. Arms crossed over his chest.
“You okay in here?”
You stand up, leaving your phone to charge. “The you of this timeline still exists, he’s on his way and doesn’t know what he’s about to see,” you explain, following him back towards the living room. Your shoulders brush, his hand falls naturally on the small of your back. Then, his eyes, full of unconditional affection, bore into yours. Tenderly, his lips lingers on your head.
“If we’re here it’s for a reason, love,” he calls you this nickname that the Satoru of this timeline never used before. And it falls so prettily out of his mouth, rolling down his tongue with ease. It shows how often he must have used it. That shakes you.
“Don’t do that, she’ll get all embarrassed. We’re still not dating her in this timeline,” interferes the younger Satoru, bringing you back to the couch. You end up sitting in between the two of them, completely sandwiched. Thighs touching, arms tucked, warmth englobing. But the thing that actually bothers you is the mocking tone he just used. You glare at him and tell him to shut up.
“Oh, I forgot. So many things happened that it feels like a lifetime by your side,” chuckles the older Satoru, tilting his head to the side and letting his Six Eyes travel your body up and down. A shiver runs down your spine
“Can’t you heal yourself back? I mean, you’re scars,” instantly asks blindfold Satoru. Indeed, you thought the same thing. Gojo Satoru has the infinity that protects him from attacks or anything touching him. Then, he has his rct to heal his wounds. Is Sukuna, the king of the curses, that powerful to leave him in this physical and mental state?
“My brain is kind of fried right now,” he justifies in a nervous laugh.
“It really is a messed up future awaiting me,” Satoru replies. You raise your eyebrows, looking at him intrigued and finally breaking your silence.
“He told you what happened? Can I know too?”
“No, it’s better you don’t. And he doesn’t know everything,” answers scars Gojo, redirecting your attention back to him. You scoff.
“What? I’m not a kid, I can handle the truth,” you retort.
“I kind of agree with myself right now,” adds blindfold Satoru.
“Of course you do,” you mock. A sigh escapes your lips. “But… If you two manage to go back to your respective timeline, I hope things will change for the better. I mean, from what you vaguely said it doesn’t seem like a lot of happiness and order is awaiting us,” you end up saying.
“No, it’s not,” confirms the older Satoru with gravity and truthness.
“Wow, we’re really a moodkiller now,” lightens the younger. Starting with this, the conversation continues. They exchange some information about the situation, and you explain in return the day you had before the incident happened, trying to see what anomaly could have caused this intricate situation. But after some minutes, you notice how the two of them snap their heads to the door at the same moment.
“The other us is arriving,” says scars Gojo. You part your lips before laughing slightly of disbelief.
“What kind of spider sense is that?”
“It’s a Gojo Satoru thing, baby,” answers blindfold Satoru.
The door opens, and you rush at his side. Your Satoru. It’s barely been a few hours that you both parted ways, but it felt like an eternity. So many things happened. Your original anger towards him shifted to need and relief once his eyes behind his sunglasses meet yours. Time seems to stop because his body is already in a fighting stance. Muscles contracting, gaze sharpening, cursed energy flickering. He feels them. He feels him.
“What the hell is going on?” he asks instantly. Surely he recognizes his cursed energy. Thinking it might be family, the Gojo Clan coming to pay a visit. But that can’t be possible.
“Hey younger me. Oh- that’s so cool, I forgot I had this pair of glasses back then!” exclaims cheerfully the blindfold Satoru that suddenly appears right behind you. You jump of surprise, yet another hand ends on your shoulder.
“I found them back not so long ago. I mean, it’s y/n that did,” adds scars Satoru. Now, you’re side by side with the future versions of him, while he faces you three in disbelief, before quickly trying to understand what is happening. You notice how his Six Eyes must definitely scalp every part of their being, searching for anything that would prove it’s not a doppelgänger or something similar. Scanning the cursed energy, the soul, the body.
“That definitely can’t be a curse’s doing,” he mutters, lifting back his gaze.
“Nah, no curse. We’re smart uh?” compliments the blindfold Satoru to the younger him, glad they’re on the same page.
“You’re me from the future,” he states, pointing at the two of them.
“And I figured it’s surely our own cursed energy’s doing,” explains the older one, which is an information that you still didn’t quite understand earlier, when they were exchanging about it on the couch.
“Ok, I think we need to all talk together now that you’re here,” you cut the conversation and lead back the three of them in your living room that seems incredibly tiny once the four of you stand in it. First, you explain the situation to your Satoru. Then, quite fast, they engage all in questionings, suppositions, things they say you don’t even understand because only Gojo Satoru’s brain knows. Himself, not even you.
You go silent, not even having any idea of what you could possibly propose. You’re as lost as them. Intimidated too. You never asked to be in this situation. But now you’re with your Satoru, another one that claims to be your boyfriend, and a third that went through hell and is apparently still your partner too.
And that’s how the conversation continued to go on, leading you to the situation of the beginning, losing patience and needing to go take some fresh air. Walking down the street to clear your head and bring back some sense to your thoughts.
The three of them think it’s their own cursed energy that brought them here, an anomaly that got triggered by the same thing through space and time.
But what did trigger them? That’s the question. Maybe they’re talking about it right now, but with how chaotic the conversation started to be, you doubt they do. Maybe they’re bickering. Apparently Satoru has a hard time standing himself. That’s ironic. You hope, if there is an end to this situation, he’ll come back from it like a new man that stops being so annoying. Even if you do love him for who he is.
When you come back, you expect to find some mess. Actually, not much. Only the way they all look at you when you take off your jacket.
“Found anything?” you ask, approaching the couch. The moment you’re about to sit back down, scars Satoru’s arm swings around your waist and makes you sit on his lap, lips grazing your shoulder.
“We’re still brainstorming, sweetheart,” he explains in a soft voice that makes your lower abdomen do this weird thing. You tighten your fingers on your thigh.
“What are you doing?” snarls your Satoru to the older him, standing back up.
“Oh my god, I’m being jealous of myself. That’s sooo intriguing,” muses the blindfolded one, smirking at what he’s witnessing. Sensing the tension, the Satoru you’re sitting on opens his arm to let you have the free access you need to sit on the couch instead of his lap. You do so, sighing.
“Jealous? No, it’s just the me from the future being a weirdo,” he argues.
“That’s alright, he’s- you’re not a weirdo, Satoru,” you try to calm him down, but clearly, none of them wants to stop biting.
“Still didn’t change,” retorts scars Gojo. Your Satoru points at the two of them, accusatory. It’s rare to see him act like this. Jealous. Which is ironic, coming from him, and caused by himself. “Yeah well, stay away from my y/n, you have yours from your own timeline,” he exclaims.
“It’s still my y/n, it’s just she’s not yet our girlfriend, so I sadly can’t give her all the kisses I want,” wines blindfold Satoru that coos his head against yours, and you ignore him, waiting to see the reaction after he revealed that the two of you would be dating in the future.
“What? Girlfriend?” he questions in disbelief, eyes widening behind his glasses. His irises trail over your form, maybe searching for an answer, but you quite do the opposite.
“Bro, don’t tell him!” you end up nudging the one at fault, giving him the nastiest glare you have in reserve.
“Calling your boyfie ‘bro’?” he chuckles as his nose digs in your neck to annoy you, and you try to not physically react at this intimate proximity you’re not entirely used to. Not yet, more exactly.
“Husband,” corrects the scars Satoru with a hint of pride in his voice. And, that seems to break the chaotic banter for a solid ten seconds. All eyes on him, including yours that are so widely opened you’re scared they’ll dry. Your lips part, and you swear you want to say something, but having this information of your future revealed is making you speechless. It’s only now that you notice the ring on his finger. You want to curse at yourself for not seeing something so obvious before.
You’re going to marry Gojo Satoru. He’s not only your best friend, nor a soon to be boyfriend. No. He’ll be your husband. Hu-sband. It sounds incredibly foreign in your head.
“What?” ends up saying the youngest Satoru, raising his glasses on top of his head to maybe have a better look at the truthness of his words.
“In my timeline, she’s my wife,” he continues to explain.
“Excuse me?” you finally say in a nervous chuckle. “You’re excused,” he simply answers to tease you. To tease you in such a normal way as if what he just dropped wasn’t the biggest news of your entire life. A fly is seriously going to enter your mouth if you don’t close it.
“That went quickly! I was already planning on proposing next week. I see we didn’t lose time,” cheers the blindfold Satoru, the biggest smile on his lips, hugging you closer like the happiest man in the world.
“We’re married,” whispers the youngest, hand passing over his face with trembling fingers. You wonder what he’s thinking right now, aside from the tip of his ears turning red. Blushing.
“I’m going to explode if you all don’t stop tal-” you try to stop them from adding anything else that will blow your mind. What next, you’re pregnant? Already have 5 kids? You’re a grandma?
“We’re married…,” ends up repeating your Satoru with a gigantic smirk, gazing at you. That makes you swallow your saliva.
“Satoru,” you warn him. “Yes?” the three of them answer.
“Not you! I mean, yes. No. Ugh, just shut up for once, for God’s sake!” you lose yourself in your own words, starting to feel again overwhelmed by all this.
“Easy baby,” tries to calm you down your supposed boyfriend, biting his lower lip at seeing you angry like this. Your heart beats quicker.
“Don’t start,” you say, and your supposed husband, this time, lets his fingers on your shoulders then slides it on your nape to attend to your tensed muscles. “Someone is left out…” he muses, looking at the Gojo of this timeline that has to stare at you being sandwiched by the future versions of himself.
“Hey,” you have again to warn, stopping him from adding anything else. “Instead of playing around, got any suggestions on the anomaly that started all this?” you decide to change the subject by asking him, for a second looking at the ring on his finger.
“You, me, a place,” he enumerates.
“Me?” you ask. The two others stay silent to let him explain.
“Yes, look. The other me arrived in your timeline when he was in a district in Shinjuku. I too was originally in the same district. And the Satoru from here went on a mission in the same street too. So firstly, the three of us were at the exact same place the moment it arrived,” he slowly starts to clarify.
So your Satoru was earlier on a mission in Shinjuku. Your mission was too here. Everyone was there, actually. Now, you’re sure that with the fight you had before, he on purpose chose to go on this mission to maybe keep an eye on you. Instead, it’s a version of him from the future that went to your help. The irony. A lot of things are ironic today.
“It explains the place, stills doesn’t explain how it would be linked to y/n, or to our cursed energy,” frowns your Satoru, thoughtful.
“One of us triggered something in particular,” adds the blindfolded one.
“I think it was me,” sighs scars Gojo, passing his hand on his face in an enigmatic way.
“What do I even do in this equation?” you question, still confused.
“The moment I traveled back in time was when I wished the most for your safety, and to help you, including… needing help. I never felt like this before. I guess I was hurting so bad that something shifted with my cursed energy,” he continues to explain, vaguely explaining his situation. On purpose not mentioning the details. For your safety? Were you hurt? You start to wonder what happened.
“So, if we’re here, it’s to answer the need of y/n’s safety that you made,” he elucidates, toying with the black tissue around his eyes.
“When I thought I was about to die, you came to my safety at the last second,” you add, pointing at him.
“You did what I failed to do. I was in the same district with another mission,” gravely continues your Satoru, seriousness washing over his tortured face at the thought he wasn’t here for you when you needed it. Worse, you refused his help earlier that morning.
“I don’t know if this timeline is different from mine, but the y/n of the future is very much alive and well. She wouldn’t have died on that mission, even if I wasn’t here,” reassures the Satoru that came to your help. At his words, you nod, relieved to remind yourself of this logical fact.
“Yeah, he’s right. I’m fine right now, I’m fine too in his future, why would they be here?” you intend to cheer up.
“To help me prevent something that’ll happen in the future, related to you, maybe,” adds scars Satoru, sounding almost defeated, voice unusually cracking at the maybe. You gaze at him, starting to worry.
“How can you all go back?” you decide to ask.
“Maybe once we managed to, I have no idea,” he sighs, hand with the ring brushing his hair out of his forehead.
“Wait wait, what you’re saying is not very reassuring. What will happen to y/n?” interferes your Satoru, frowning.
“It’s Sukuna, isn’t he?” supposes the other one, voice uncharacteristically deep. There is a pause. Satoru looks into your eyes. You close your mouth, trying to ready yourself for whatever he’s about to announce.
“Sukuna killed you,” he whispers.
It feels like the sky is falling over your head. You shiver of terror, nails digging in your thighs at the revelation of your death. Assassinated, by the king of the curses. In four years. Your blood turns cold, and you barely pay attention to the heavy silence or the facial expressions of the others. Your world just got crushed in a few words, and you physically have to restrain yourself to not fall apart after this horrifying news.
“You’re kidding,” grits bitterly the middle Gojo, almost barking his words out of his mouth.
“How could we have let it happen?!” explodes your Satoru, voice raising of utter anger, not accepting what he just heard.
“I was too late, too tired, it happened when I wasn’t looking for a second, and I hate myself for it. You gave your last breath in my arms. And that’s when I traveled back in time, wishing so badly to prevent this from ever happening,” he croaks from his tightened throat, having a hard time saying out loud what happened. You look down at your hands, trying to fathom your death that will soon arrive in 4 years.
“We can’t let this happen again, I won’t lose y/n,” scoffs your Satoru, while you’re shaking.
“You okay?” softly asks your supposed husband. You snap back out of your thoughts.
“That’s hard to swallow,” you shake your head, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.
“I swear on our life. If I managed to travel back in time, and even triggered another me from the future, that means we’re here to have a second chance,” he tries to reassure you, make you believe there is a chance you’ll survive and won’t meet such fate.
“So you’ll only go back to your timeline once the future of y/n is secured from getting killed by Sukuna?” he asks, putting back his glasses on the edge of his nose.
“I think so,” your husband sighs.
“Then there’s only one thing to do,” announces another one, standing up from the couch and adjusting his blindfold. You raise back your head, shooting your hand to his wrist to stop him from going anywhere.
“Wait! I don’t know what you guys want to do, but only one of you can go out, not all at once. We can’t have three Gojo Satoru in the wild,” you exclaim.
“Right. And me, with the scars, it’s impossible,” nods the other, looking at the red lines on his pearly white skin.
“Guess we’ll have to take turns,” mutters a seemingly tired Satoru, fingers pinching his nose, under his sunglasses. “I’ll go get the first Sukuna’s finger. Guess we’ll have to steal as much away,” he adds.
“How long will it take?” you frown, slightly shivering at the name of the entity that will end your life.
“As far as I know, and as much as we can hide, it’s for a few days,” explains the Satoru still behind you, hands scattered in scars on your lower back.
“To not raise any suspicion, while one Satoru goes to get the fingers, the other will continue his normal usual life, doing the missions, the teaching, and nobody will suspect a thing. Then, we’ll all meet back at my apartment,” you order, pointing at the two concerned.
“Then that means I’m stuck here,” sighs Satoru, head falling on your shoulder.
“I’ll try to keep you company,” you pat his arm, slightly surprised to notice how his biceps are bigger compared to the younger versions of himself.
“Hey, don’t go and have a favorite version of me,” pouts your timeline Satoru.
“He deserves more affection than you,” you retort, half joking, half serious. After all, he’s the Gojo that went through the hell of his fight with Sukuna and had you dying in his arms. Well, maybe you’ll need some comfort too after knowing this terrible fact about your future.
“And I’m her husband,” he shows the ring.
“Whatever! We’ll start this plan tomorrow. Now, we need rest,” you interrupt, smacking your hands on your lap as you stand straight up.
“I’ll rather start now-” intends to protest the blindfolded one, which you interrupt. “No, you’ll rest,” and you walk towards the kitchen.
“I’m right,” tries to convince your Satoru. You sigh, already exhausted and not wanting to deal more with their stubbornness.
“You’ll sleep. We have time. I’m far from dead in this timeline,” you retort, opening the fridge and lowering your back to search for something that’ll be the main ingredient for dinner.
“Well, I’ll sleep in the bed tonight,” one of them announces, lifting his blindfold to look at the fridge by your side, analyzing the food you have in 2014.
“And me?” you scoff at the audacity.
“You’ll obviously sleep with me, I’m your boyfriend,” he smirks, winking at you with his twinkling blue eyes.
“And I’m her husband, so we’ll share the three of us,” appears the other behind you, arm wrapping around your waist. You swallow hardly your saliva.
“Wow, I’m the Satoru of this reality, I’ll sleep with y/n like I always do,” he retorts as he quickly follows in the kitchen.
“Yeah, no. You’ll take the couch or go back to the campus,” refuses your future husband, softly using his thumb to caress the skin under your shirt, which you do your best to ignore.
“What, afraid we’ll do a threesome?” adds the other Satoru teasingly.
“Can’t you just shut your mouth?!” you snap at him, wanting to take his blindfold and gag him so he’ll finally stop talking nonsense.
“That’s right, the me of this timeline was too shy to make a real move,” muses scars Gojo, and your Satoru parts his lips in silence, having his own insecurities exposed by himself being the strangest thing to happen, because he knows he can’t lie or protest his own words.
“Bullying yourself is such a weird thing to witness, but anyways, we’ll figure out the sleeping matter after dinner,” you finish, glaring at all of them to stop bickering and instead start cooperating.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 1 am.
The rest of the evening was chaotic. You ended up ordering food, because feeding one Satoru is already a challenge to satisfy his hunger, but three of them is suicide. For the shower time, the future versions of himself were about to bring you with them in the bath, apparently used to do so, and it’s the one of your timeline that saved you last minute before seeing them/himself butt naked.
It’s only later that you managed to lay in your bed, yet stuck sleeping in between the two versions of him, while your Satoru got kicked out on the couch. You knew he for sure would have a horrible mood in the morning. But now, you can’t seem to fall asleep, limbs a tangled mess. Hot breaths in your neck. Arms around your waist. Satoru being clingy is an understatement. But two of them, that are even less afraid to let it all out because they’re your boyfriend and husband, means you can’t breathe.
“Can’t sleep?” whispers scars Satoru, snapping you out of your thoughts. You swallow your saliva, realizing your nose is brushing his when you turn it around to face him. His eyes glow in the dark, and you sigh, nodding.
“Thinking about everything that happened, I guess?” he asks.
“Of course I do,” you answer, head sinking on the pillow. His thumb brushes your cheek, tenderly.
“I wish I could help you to fall asleep, but my techniques won’t be happily accepted,” he adds. You hear the other Satoru shifting a bit behind you. You hope he won’t wake up.
“What do you do in your timeline then? To help me sleep when I can’t,” you question, looking back at him. It’s when a grin tugs on his lips that you expect the type of answer he’ll give you.
“Having sex until it wears you out,” he whispers in a knowing voice. You freeze and feel heat pouring in your stomach, biting the inside of your cheek at his seductive words.
“Oh,” you mutter, flashes of images describing what he just said in your head. You, getting laid on this bed until you fall asleep, exhausted. Ok, that’s one way to put it.
“But I guess I won’t now, so we’ll have to find an alternative,” he continues, chuckling softly.
“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. He looks at you, surely analyzing your facial expression. A tiny sigh escapes his lips.
“Ah… come here,” he murmurs, opening his arm. You roll your tongue against your teeth, looking at his chest.
“I don’t think I can come closer than I already am,” you say in a nervous laugh.
“Yes you can,” he scoffs, suddenly bringing you against his torso. Your nose stuffed on his chest, his arms rolling around your back to keep you tucked against him. Sensing your body moving away, and the small emptiness it felt, the other Satoru catches back the space in his sleep. He glues himself to your back, sandwiching you completely in between the two of them. Oh, if your Satoru saw that, you wonder how he’ll react to himself.
“Ugh-” you mutter at the suffocating proximity. But the only answer you have is a silent chuckle. Some seconds pass, and you strangely find yourself comforted in their presences. The warmth, the cuddling, you feel safe and sound.
“Good night,” you end up murmuring.
“Good night y/n.” Lips kiss your forehead. You close your eyes.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 11 am.
You've been left alone since the morning at the older Satoru’s side. The other two left to start the plan. One went to search for Sukuna’s fingers and a way to hide them somewhere else, and the other to act like the normal Satoru that would attend to his usual duties and routine.
Thankfully, being on Sunday, not like The Strongest, you have no work on this day. Completely free to do whatever you want. So you spend it with him, doing what you’re used to doing with the Satoru of your timeline, which is weird because it’s all things he does now differently as your husband.
Like, baking pastries. The way his lips kiss the corner of your mouth to taste the chocolate you just ate. Or how he stands behind you, strong arms helping with the mixing of the dough. Hands holding yours to accompany your movements. When he openly lets his eyes roam over your figure, lovingly or hungrily sizing you down with no shame. Because why would he hide it when he’s your husband?
Or when later in the afternoon, after lunch, you’re watching a movie to pass time. Keeping you close, not wanting to let you go, barely staring at the screen. His eyes are on you all the time. Head plopped on the couch and lazily dropping his arm around your middle. Thumb gently caressing your hip, enough to drag your thoughts away from the screen.
“Satoru, you’re not watching,” you end up saying. You glance at the scars on his arms, his bicep snaking onto your body.
“I am,” he retorts.
“Seriously?” you let out a chuckle as you finally turn your head to face him, realizing how actually close his head is positioned towards yours.
“I just don’t want to look away,” he continues in a gentler voice, eyes tempting yours in the depth of his sky blue irises. You feel your stomach dropping, realizing why he means that.
“I’m not going to disappear,” you whisper gently. Anxiety seems to eat away at his heart. Fingers tightening on your waist.
“You did,” he protests.
“I’m alive right now, and… as you told me, if you traveled back in time it’s for a reason. I’m sure the plan will succeed,” you try to reassure him, but reassure yourself as well. Satoru gets closer.
“But the question is: would this plan only change the future of this timeline but not my own present? What if it succeeds here, and when I’ll be back in my reality, I’ll realize it only worked for the you in here, and not the you of there?” he suddenly asks, and by the intensity of his eyes and the truthness of his words, you know what he’s saying is a real dilemma. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it will work for you, but never change the path his own reality took. The other Satoru will have a chance too to protect you, as he’s still months away before your death. But the you of his timeline is already dead. And, you’ll never know if it worked for the two of them too, because you’ll never see these exact versions of Satoru again.
“Oh.. I actually don’t know,” you whisper, suddenly so unsure. Having nothing to say, to reassure.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it. It’s for that, just in case it is the last time I see you, I don’t want to take my eyes off you, y/n,” he implores, his other hand gently cupping your cheek. The movie is long forgotten. Your gaze meets his again, you part your lips slightly.
“Then don’t,” are the only words you manage to murmur back. Your heart hammers in your chest at the proximity, his head intimately closer. His eyes fall eagerly on your lips, and you swallow hard. The temptation becomes hard. Everything you ever wanted in the palm of his hand. His head tilts to the side. When your lips brush, you think you’re going to melt. You just felt the softness of his mouth for a millisecond, and it was enough to drive you crazy for more.
But, common sense interrupts in your brain, and you slightly push him away.
“Wait- I… I don’t think it’s fair that I kiss you when I still never kissed my own Satoru,” you explain, looking down because if you look up, all resolve will falter.
“I’ll surely be jealous of myself,” he agrees with a tiny laugh to ease the tension.
“Yeah…” you simply nod, imagining taking possession of his lips, his mouth devoting yours, tasting his tongue.
“I wish I had more guts, back then,” he confesses, implying he just wants to kiss you so badly right now, but won’t because of this.
“I think with everything that is happening, it will change,” you smile slightly. He gives you back the smile, then his eyes shoot at the door. He drops his hand from your cheek and casually leans back to give you more space.
“One of us is coming back,” he simply states. At the same moment, the door opens and the Satoru of your timeline enters. His bandage around his eyes, he starts to untie it while kicking his shoes. He seems to analyze what is going on in the living room.
“Watching a movie without me? I mean, the me… whatever, you understood,” he starts to say, lazily walking towards you.
“What about the fingers?” you ask when he sits in a grunt at your side.
“I went to put two of them somewhere else, sealed in a place that only me knows. So, sorry y/n, just in case I won’t say where. For your safety, the less you know, the better,” he explains.
“Agreed,” nods the other Satoru. You sigh. You understand why. If a curse, or whatever person kidnapped you, torture you or threaten you to tell you where are Sukuna’s fingers, they will surely stop when they’ll realize you have no idea of their location.
“But to not raise any more suspicion, we’ll have to continue tomorrow. Two in one day is already way enough, or else it would be too noticeable. I had to balance the cursed energy around the places I took it, and fight some curses that popped,” he continues to explain, tilting his head to the side and noticing the yet still present and lingering proximity in between you and the other him.
“How many fingers of the twenty do you think it will take before the future versions of you go back to your own timeline?” you ask the older.
“Eh, dunno. It will be a total surprise,” he shrugs, his thumb leaving your waist.
“How is doing the other us?” he ends up asking to the younger version of himself. That makes him grin at the question.
“All pissy that he had to take back my duties, but I won’t complain, it felt good to finally do something else than my paperwork and missions,” he admits, smirking.
“You’re just taking revenge because we made you sleep on the couch,” you point at him, and he raises his hands to show he’s guilty, but doesn’t care one bit.
“Yeah, and I decided that we’ll take turns. Tonight, I’ll sleep on the bed,” he affirms, and you realize he really took it badly that he got kicked out of the shared bed of his own timeline by some kind of doppelgängers, even if they technically aren’t.
“Alright, I’m good for taking turns,” agrees the other.
“I have literally no say in this,” you sigh.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Tuesday, 8 pm.
Two more days pass, and they are taking turns on who sleeps with you or on the couch. In the spawn of this short time, a routine started. In the morning, the two Satoru leave. One to attend to his usual duties, the other to search for Sukuna’s fingers, hiding them somewhere else and locked, while dealing with everything he carefully has to take care of. You don’t really know how much longer, or fingers, it will take before your safety in this timeline is succeeded and that the two of them will disappear. Every morning, you say goodbye to the blindfold Satoru just in case.
On the other hand, you stay at the apartment to keep scars Satoru’s company when you’re not going on a mission. Doing the usual. But, in all honesty, the tension keeps growing. Touches, kisses on your skin but never on your lips, never enough to cross a boundary. Lingering hands, stares. When the two Satoru come back home, they feel the tension. And when the three of them are reunited, you almost suffocate at all the attention you’re receiving. Even your own Satoru starts to be more open about his love for you. After all, it’s no real secret that the two of you love each other with the proof of it right before your eyes. Yet, he still doesn’t kiss you. Or do anything else. Maybe he’s waiting for the two of him to disappear and finally have the intimacy he really wants to have.
But it’s starting to make you go crazy, in all honesty. Aching to be touched, to have more. But the three of them restrain themselves right before it goes too far. It’s toying with your nerves. Your patience.
Like now. When you’re showering, and the door casually opens, letting the Satoru that is your boyfriend enter with no shame.
“Baby, come eat, we tried to bake-” he starts to say before you suddenly hide your body with your hands, having no shower curtain but only a glass.
“Ah! Get out!” you yelp, and you swear you see how his eyes flicker on your body before he turns around, back facing you to give you some privacy.
“Oops, my bad, I forgot for a sec you’re not my girlfriend yet,” he apologizes with no ounce of regret. You stare at his back and carefully continue to shower, quickly scrubbing the soap on your limbs.
“You tend to forget a lot,” you snarl in a scoff.
“Not like I never saw you naked. We always shower together now. I kind of miss it. Want me to rub your back?” he ends up asking, tilting his head enough to show his profile, without being able to look at you. You’re quite caught off guard by his nonchalant question, sounding so natural, and it must be in his own timeline.
“Well- the you of here never did, so you know the answer,” you end up answering.
“Alright, just saying. Because I know you love when I scratch that right spot on your back when I wash it,” he muses, and you swallow hard.
“The one I can’t reach?”
“Yep,” he confirms. Fuck, that’s tempting. For many reasons. First, there is no logical meaning in hiding yourself when he already knows perfectly every inch of your naked body. Second, that spot is the one you always struggle to reach, and God knows how you yearn for someone to do it for you whenever you take a shower. Third, you can’t help but want to jump in this sexual tension that is ridiculously becoming stronger at every one of your breaths.
“Alright… but keep your eyes closed!” you end up accepting. You swear you notice the way his lips curve in a winning smile.
“If you insist,” he hums, and turns around. In a reflex you hide yourself again, but his eyes are closed. He approaches carefully, then soon his hands fall on your back. You silently give him the shower flower, and he slides it on your skin to rub it slowly. You can feel his breath falling on your nape, the strong grip yet careful hands holding your waist. You’re fully naked, he’s not, and it’s a vulnerability that makes your mind go crazy. Inch by inch, he reaches the spot and aside of the shower flower, he lets his long finger press onto it. You bite your lower lip, a sound of relief escaping your mouth.
“This is where you’re weak, right?” he whispers in a tempting voice. You fluster.
“Don’t start with your perverse mind,” you intend to warn him, but it fails miserably.
“I never said anything perverted, it’s you interpreting it like that. Maybe because you want me sooo bad right now,” he drawls in your ear, and you shiver head to toe.
“Oh my god, stop talking!” you nudge him.
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles. Suddenly, the door slightly opens again, and the Satoru of your timeline, aka your best friend, enters to search for you or the other Satoru.
“Why are you not-” he starts to say, before being cut. “I’m coming!” he says leaving your back, without a small tap on your shoulder and stepping out of the shower with a bright smile. You hide yourself under the water.
“The hell you’re doing here?” snaps your Satoru, carefully not looking at you to not embarrass you. You just want to disappear right now. It’s deadly embarrassing.
“Washing her back?” answers nonchalantly the cause of the problem.
“I should be the one doing that,” he retorts, and your eyes widen. You quickly wrap a towel around you, not believing he said that, your Satoru.
“Then do, what are you waiting for?” taunts the other with provocation.
“Hey, I’m still right here!” you exclaim, pushing him away so you can stand on the shower mat, tightly keeping the towel around your body.
“Sorry baby, I’ll go back to the kitchen to help the other me bake the dessert,” he shrugs, kissing your cheek under the burning eyes of your Satoru.
“Don’t eat all the dough or the chocolate!” exclaims the younger him while he watches him step out of the bathroom.
“Come on, I’m sure you already ate half of it,” he laughs.
“You know yourself well,” he smirks in return, and now the two of you are left alone. You continue to stand on the shower mat, water dripping on your skin, droplets rolling down your limbs. Satoru stares, hands on the sink and caging you in between his arms. You look at him through the mirror, wondering why he’s letting his eyes roam over you like this.
“What?”
“I’m just looking,” he defends himself.
“Yeah, totally not digging holes on my skin with your eyes,” you answer sarcastically. Instead, you’re met by his biceps pressing against you and bringing your body against his chest. His face digs in your neck, and slowly his eyes lock with yours in the mirror.
“Stay with me, y/n. Not with these two impostors. I’m your Satoru,” he utters, thumb caressing your arm.
“We’re not in Among Us,” you retort at him calling himself impostors.
“Yes we are,” he wines, nose brushing against your neck, your throat. You swallow hard and try to inhale normally.
“You’re a crybaby,” you weakly say.
“Can’t I feel a bit possessive over my future wife?” he muses, and his lips boldly brush your jaw. You think your heart is hammering as widely as a horse from the far far west. His arms contract around your body.
“Don’t mention that,” you whisper, not sure you can face this reality with him.
“Right,” he grins. You end up nudging him away gently.
“I’ll go change and let’s go eat,” you say, and don’t wait for his answer to rush to your room. The door slams behind you, and you let your back against it as you pass your hand on your face.
You’re going to die from a heart stroke before Sukuna’ll have the pleasure to do so if it continues like this.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Friday, 7 pm.
“Again with sweets? Cut on the sugar for today-” you try to stop scars Satoru that is holding a square of chocolate. He brings it up, then back down towards your lips.
“Just taste it. I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about you,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow while he stands closer towards you.
“Before I eat everything else,” adds another voice, blindfold over his eyes. He keeps it most of the time so you can easily recognize and see the difference between him and the Satoru of this timeline.
“Don’t before we eat dinner,” you sigh, knowing how he’ll surely stuff himself with sugary things before actually eating a real dish.
“Yep, the delivery is soon here,” intervenes your Satoru, walking in the kitchen with his eyes on his phone to check when the food will arrive.
“Come on, open your mouth,” taunts scars Gojo, bringing the chocolate against your lips.
“Seriously?” you ask, deadpan. He smirks. “Say ahhhh,” he tempts, and you end up sighing before parting your lips and letting his thumb slide the chocolate against your tongue. Your eyes are locked on his, feeling a warmth enveloping your face at the way he eagerly stares at your lips. Then, his thumb slides on your tongue and leaves your mouth in a loud pop.
“Atta girl,” he teases, and you munch on the chocolate to think about something else aside from the tension it just ignited in your heart. But a hand shoots at your wrist, and you realize it’s your own Satoru, holding his phone on the other hand.
“The guy is here. Y/n, come with me take the food downstairs,” he says, walking you out of the kitchen. You raise your eyebrow, confused.
“Isn’t the delivery guy supposed to come directly to my door?” you question.
“Not this one, so come,” he replies quickly. You feel the two other Satoru stare at the interaction until the door of the entry of your apartment slams behind you. Instead of walking down the stairs, his hand intertwines with your fingers and something in the air shifts. Suddenly, you find yourself on the rooftop of the building. The wind caresses your face, the moon already showing in the sky turning dark.
“I lied, he’ll arrive in ten minutes,” announces Satoru before you can even say something. You look around, the city lights illuminating the streets under you.
“What the-,” you start to say. “We’re on the rooftop. I just wanted to be alone with you, without the impostors,” he explains, hand still firmly holding yours. He leans his back on the railing, looking down at you that finds yourself standing before him.
“They are you,” you retort.
“Well, can’t wait for this plan to finish so both your survival will succeed, and they’ll finally disappear and go back to their own timeline with their own y/n,” he explains, thumb caressing your palm in a way that electrifies your epidermis.
“You’re really jealous of yourself?” you ask, tilting your head to the side mockingly.
“They’re taking all your attention, doing filthy things. I should be the one instead, not them,” he argues, bringing your hand to his lips. A lingering kisses, eyes staring at yours with such intensity it contrasts with the night taking control of the setting sun.
“Well, the older you said that in this timeline you’re not bold enough,” you provoke him. He raises his eyebrows, lifting his head to look down at you. His cursed energy vibrates. Your heart jumps up and down.
“Bold enough? Hmm, let’s see,” he takes the bait, suddenly showing all his teeth in a smile. His hand tug on yours, bringing you to his chest. His other hand snakes on your neck, then cups your cheek. Before you can comprehend what is happening, his lips smash yours. The kiss is eager, hungry, making you shiver with pleasure. Your eyelids flutter and you don’t wait any more second to answer the kiss.
His tongue enters your mouth, hot breath mingling together. Your lips mold against his, the sweet taste you craved for years melting on your tastebuds. Your free arm finds his nape, going on your tiptoes to reach the kiss better.
“They’re right. Dunno why I waited so long to do this,” he whispers against your mouth. Your chuckle is stopped by his lips crashing again on yours. It’s even more passionate, trying to press you as physically possible against him, to feel you. The heat rises at all speed. You want more. He wants more. He can’t seem to stop, drowning in finally having you to himself.
You lose track of time until his phone rings. The delivery. In a grunt, he parts ways. His hand leaves your cheek to adjust his hair.
“Food is here.”
“Then let’s go,” you nod and tug him towards the stairs.
“This is only postponed to later,” he muses, talking about the kiss. You bite your lower lip, images flashing before your eyes.
You two go to grab the food, and come back. The dinner is again a chaos of talking, the three of them almost fighting over your attention. Your Satoru is twice bolder now that he finally crossed that invisible line in between you two. And the others obviously noticed it with a knowing look.
Nothing is stopping them now from doing the same.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Friday, 11 pm.
Sitting on the bed, it seems like they’re fighting over who will sleep on the couch. You stare at them, annoyance rising, until you snap and stand up.
“I’ll take the couch since you guys can’t decide for God’s sake,” you announce, turning around towards the door. Yet, a hand grabs your arm and makes you fall back down on the mattress.
“Wait wait wait. You’re not going anywhere, stay here,” says your Satoru, eyes finding yours and almost imploring you to not leave him alone.
“He’s right, maybe he should take the couch since he’s not your boyfriend yet,” teases the blindfolded one, scooting closer.
“I am now, so what?” he retorts with conviction and confidence. You fluster, realizing that what happened with that kiss was the proof of your newly romantic relationship. But acknowledging it like this so bluntly surprised you nonetheless.
“Ohhh, quicker than it was supposed to be,” adds the older Satoru, tilting his head cockily as he stares at the two of you.
“That changes a lot of things,” drawls the other, lifting his blindfold to have a better sight. You tense at the proximity of them three, digging your nails in the bed.
“We can’t sleep the four of us in here,” you change the subject in hope it would ease the heavy atmosphere that keeps thickening every more second.
“Who talked about sleeping?” asks Satoru with his finger still hooked under his blindfold, before slowly sliding it to the edge, toying with the tissue in a way that makes you swallow back any confidence.
“A bed is made for sleeping,” you end up simply saying.
“Not only,” he smiles brightly, and he knows that you know what he means. So, being twice embarrassed, you jump on top of him trying to erase that arrogant smirk off his face. He falls back down on the bed, fully letting you do as you please. Not even protesting in the slightest.
“I swear, I’ll shut your mouth myself!” you exclaim, and he stares at your lips while he bites his. You hear a laugh behind you, surely one of them finding your reaction amusing, or cute, maybe even ridiculous. You don’t know.
“Do, I’m aching for this,” he taunts. You go silent, and part your mouth as you let the burning need of kissing him possessing your mind.
“Don’t tempt me,” you whisper, slowly digging down. Before you can connect your skin to his, a hand covers your lips and brings you away, against a chest.
“Nuh-uh, if you’re going to kiss me, it won’t be him,” protests your Satoru, face rubbing against your cheek and letting his thumb caress your jaw then the plump of your lower lip.
“Can’t share?” laughs scars Gojo, coming closer.
“Don’t think so,” he retorts, keeping you against his chest.
“I think it’s y/n opinions that matters, not ours,” intervenes the other Satoru that entirely lifted his blindfold so he could fully analyze every tiny of your reactions. “And I know what my baby wants,” he adds.
“You guys are making me go nuts,” you whisper in a short breath, surrounded by their three bodies.
“I only want to be the one to kiss your lips,” complains your Satoru, voice in your ear and you shiver at the tickling and warm sensation.
“Then that’s too bad, because I’m literally you. What about it, sweetheart? Wanna give a kiss to your husband?” says the other, bringing his face so close to yours, you feel his minty breath caressing your skin. The moment his lips brush against yours to tempt the waters, you remember how the two of you almost kissed some days ago, and that’s when you give in. You tilt your head and let your mouth fall on his.
You notice how he shivers at the contact, immediately aching for more. But the kiss is short, an eager Satoru pushing him away and instead claiming your lips. You moan of surprise, but close your eyes, recognizing the blindfolded one. Your Satoru gets impatient, hands roaming over your body and teeth grazing on your neck.
Then, when you part to take a deep breath, he grabs your chin and makes you look up. That’s when he claims your mouth as well. The makeout starts to warm your lower stomach, hands and two other mouths discovering all over again your body. Shoulders, neck, collarbones, cheeks. The three of them are eager for more, greedily taking what they can. And the worst is that two of them already know perfectly how to make you melt. Where to touch, to caress, to press.
“Want to go to the next step, sweetheart?” asks your future husband, hand sliding under your shirt in anticipation.
“Look at her, she can’t help herself but wants to try the three of us,” muses the blindfold Satoru, biting your ear tenderly while his hand digs in your thighs.
“I think we should let the younger one take the lead since he never did it before,” ends up saying the other, his hand leaving your shirt.
“I agree, you two can fuck off, let us do our thing,” mutters your Satoru against your mouth, swallowing your moans.
“Because you think we’re only going to watch and do nothing?” scoffs scars Gojo.
“I think our sweet baby here wants the three of us, am I right?” taunts the other, sliding his hand closely to your heat before retracting his fingers. You shiver, aching for your most private part to be relieved.
“That’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, so… yeah,” you end up admitting and agreeing.
Your words are all it takes to be laid down, your Satoru on top of you kissing your lips, gently caressing your body, being the first one to actually touch your breast through your shirt. His knee presses against your crotch. A moan escapes your lips, and he gently takes off your shirt, revealing your bare chest for the first time.
“Beautiful, right?” licks his lips blindfold Satoru. “A living dream,” he answers, latching his mouth on your right nipple for the first time, and he relishes in the sensation of finally having his tongue rolling around it. The other takes the opportunity to lick the left one, while scars Gojo tastes your lips. Drinking each of your whines of pleasure.
The knee that was pressed against your crotch lets a hand slide down your shorts, then cup your pussy through your panties. You jolt with surprise.
“So wet,” he breathes out, a finger hooked around the edge of the tissue to glide over your folds.
“Of course she is,” muses the one against your mouth.
At first, the digit rubs against your clit, exploring your anatomy, bringing waves of pleasure. You can barely move too much, every part of your body ignited. Mouth, tits, then now your clit. His thumb continues to draw lazy circles until his longest finger gently enters your hole, curling, searching for your sweet spot against your gummy walls.
When he finds it, it’s the first for you and for this version of him too. It feels strangely dangerously good, and you arch your back.
“Don’t go and cum now, baby,” mocks the Satoru that still is busy with your nipple. But you don’t answer, focused on the pleasure that is brought to you. You barely realize the coldness hitting your folds when your panties are thrown away, then the warmth of a mouth makes you shiver. The moment you look down, stopping the kiss, you meet your Satoru’s eyes when his tongue slides on your slit until it reaches your clit. Gaze intensely glued to yours. You let out a choked moan that gets swallowed again by a pair of lips, this time from blindfold Satoru while scars Gojo busy himself with your chest, marking your skin with tender bites.
Satoru’s mouth is eating you out as if you were the sweetest dessert his tongue ever laid upon, and that might be right. He never savored something like this before, becoming addicted, and now he understands why the older versions of him were turning insane that they couldn’t have a taste of you these past days.
He pumps his fingers in your hole at the same time, and it’s enough to drag a long orgasm out of your body. Satoru continues to ride your climax with his tongue until it dies down, licking the remains on your thighs.
“First cumming of the night. At least two for each one of us, that should be fair, right?” asks the Satoru that is kissing you.
“6 orgasms?!” you exclaim in a weak voice.
“You totally can handle it, I assure you,” says the older Gojo.
You look at the three of them surrounding you, and you swallow hard, realizing the exciting hours that are awaiting.
It’s like this that some minutes later you’re getting penetrated for the first time by your Satoru, while he has to physically restrain himself on the spot. The two others look eagerly, remembering the delicious feeling of their first time with you.
“Holy shit,” you groan, gripping the sheets, and scars Gojo ease your mind and the discomfort by toying with your clit, while the other pampers kisses on your shoulders and neck.
“Fuck, so tight… I’m going to cum if you squeeze me like this,” he breathes out in a deep moan, fingers gripping your hips harder.
“Younger me, you’re making me jealous. Better do it quick so I can take your place,” says the oldest Satoru, licking his thumb to taste you and add some lub to go circle again your clit.
“Think she’ll be able to take two of us at the same time?” asks the other one, chuckling in your ear. You open your eyes wide.
“Let me already take one!” you exclaim but get cut short when Satoru bottoms up his cock inside your cunt, and you arch twice your back. A mix of pleasure takes over the discomfort of having something inside of you.
“I’ll like to see that,” he admits before changing his pacing and angles his hips to hit your sweet spot at each thrust.
Barely some minutes later, you’re on all fours. Ass slammed by the deep plunges. Nasty sound resonating with your and his moans. At the same time, Satoru puts back his blindfold on his forehead before starting to zip down his pants. But you try to stop him and do it instead, fingers grazing against his sticky hardness that aches to be taken care of.
“You’ll have your dick sucked later, younger me. Can’t wait any more,” he grunts in a nervous way, licking his lips when you let his shaft fall on your lower lip, tasting his precum for the first time.
“Not fair-” whines the concerned, harding his thrusts on purpose to destabilize you. You barely can open your mouth and try to take the length on your tongue, mind blurred by the intense pleasure.
“Look out, baby,” he murmurs, instead opening your jaw wider so he can himself move his cock against the walls of your mouth, grazing your throat. He’s doing you a favor after all, you can’t do it yourself in the state you’re in.
“I’m feeling left out,” says scars Gojo. “Sweetheart, think you can handle two cocks? Or will it be too much for you?” he approaches, capturing your eyes as he takes off his shirt, revealing his torso buffer than the two others. The marks scattering his skin are hypnotizing, and when you want to answer, your eyes roll down your skull as your legs shake at the pleasure.
“Her mouth is full right now,” snickers the other Satoru, keeping your jaw open. His thumb wipes the saliva, continuing to grind his shaft against your tongue.
“Then take your dick away,” he groans in return, and sadly for him, he as to do so with much reluctance. Scars Gojo’s hand instead cup your cheeks, making you look at him.
“So, my love? Can you?” he asks slowly, grin tucked at the corner of his lips.
“Dunno, I'll be too full,” you babble, shoulder blades moving as the Satoru behind you is still relentless, slamming at the same pace as earlier.
“Wanna try?” he continues to ask.
“M’kay,” you nod, eyes wet with pleasure.
“Greedy girl,” he muses.
It’s like this that you end up straddling scars Gojo, sinking on his dick. Your Satoru behind rubs his tip at the busy entrance after rolling a condom around his dick, spitting on his length to add more lub. Your nails dig in the already wounded chest under you when he starts to enter too, stretching you out. For comfort, the left out Satoru kisses your lips and caresses your chest, your waist, and steads you.
At first it feels too much, too full, uncomfortable. It’s with minutes that you adjust to the sensation, they finally can move. Two dicks, twice the pleasure. Your legs are a trembling mess, having to let them do all the work. Unable to move much. They grunt, moan in your ears. Their bodies sandwiching you, one mouth on your spine, the other on your throat, then swallowing your tits.
“It’ll be my turn after, yeah?” wines the other that is on the side, so you let your hand busy itself on his cock, masturbating him up and down.
“Baby, you’re overdoing yourself,” he breathes out, yet not refusing the helping hand.
“She’ll be greatly reworded,” drawls a voice, but you don’t even know which one of them is, losing yourself in the pleasure. And that, you were.
Minutes, hours even, maybe days pass where you’re getting laid by the three of them at the same time. Taking turns, emptying all the possible condoms you could have in your possession. Mouths on your clit, your hole, your nipples, mouth, throat, spine, shoulders, thighs… everywhere. Teeth teasing your skin, fingers digging on your flesh, cocks slamming inside in different paces. Sometimes hard, quick, then sweet, loving, passionate. You don’t even know where you start and where they end. How many orgasms you had, how many times they cum. Who is who. Which Satoru is taking you on the side, which is using your mouth, which is eating you out.
You might think that must be all but a wild wet dream at how confusing but consuming it becomes.
It’s only when dawn arrives, that their insatiable thirsts of more take a pause, realizing you need some intense rest, and a shower, with lots of aftercare.
You’re half awake, knocked by the pleasure, when one of them takes you in his arms and brings you to the bathroom. Apparently, when you were having your last orgasm, one went to run a warm bath for you. Did they talk together about ending this for the night? Who’ll take care of you? Who’ll be the last one to make you cum? You can’t even remember, or maybe you never realised.
You’re pampered, two of them entering the bath while the other showers as fast as he can to go prepare a big glass of water and some breakfast. Hands tenderly washing your skin, the sweat, the cyprine on your thighs. Knuckles digging in your sore muscles. Kisses on your forehead.
“You deserve your much needed rest, baby,” murmurs a voice in your ear.
“Did so good. I knew you could handle it,” adds another one.
“I’m dead,” you mutter. They chuckle.
You barely remember what happens after. Eating, yes. More like being fed. Also forcing you to pee, to not have some sort of infection. Making you drink. Then laying you down. A mess of limbs wrap around you, and the four of you lay in your bed in a ridiculous way. Two on each side, the third on top of you. But in all honesty, you have no strength left to complain about one of them going on the couch. Your eyelids flutter shut, with the warmth of their skins and their soft caresses lull you back to sleep.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 10 am.
“You really should go back to sleep, baby,” chuckles Satoru, finishing to tie his blindfold around his eyes. Meanwhile, a pair of arms are keeping you against a warm chest, not letting you go even when you intend to stand up.
“Stay down. I’m sure you won’t even be able to stand straight on your legs,” adds scars Gojo in your ear.
“Yes I can,” you protest.
“We’re watching,” he raises an eyebrow. So to prove him wrong, you slide off the bedframe and press on your feet to straighten yourself. Your knees give up and your ass falls back on the mattress.
“Ok, I can’t,” you end up admitting, and they laugh at the same time in the same way, which is actually what is funnier than your stubbornness.
“That’s what I thought,” says Satoru after arranging the black tissue covering his burning gaze on your marked skin.
“No, but seriously. Even if I’m exhausted, I at least want to say goodbye, just in case today is the day. And the Satoru of this timeline already left to work. I can hug you without him fussing around,” you end up saying more seriously.
“Well, we literally had sex last night so I don’t think he’ll continue to whine over a hug,” he chuckles mockingly, buttoning up his pants.
“Like you two don’t have habits that die hard,” you protest, rolling your eyes.
“Guilty as charged. Just a bit more mature, I guess,” confirms the Satoru behind you, still sitting on the bed.
“Whatever, let me say goodbye. Just in case,” you insist, shaking your head with imploring eyes.
“Then stay there, I’ll come to you,” he smiles. He finishes putting on his pants, before crawling towards you. He brings you in a hug, kissing your forehead, then your lips. The first goodbye this Satoru gives you with a kiss. “Here, goodbye y/n. Let’s hope this time it’s the good one to guarantee your safety, yeah?”
“Won’t let Sukuna kill me that easily, I guarantee. My fate will be changed,” you agree.
“Gojo Satoru will also make sure of that,” he confirms. “Bye,” you end up waving, looking at him leaving after one last glance.
The rest of the morning and the early evening is spent cuddling the remaining Satoru. Fingers gliding on his scars, one by one, intimacy brewing in the air. Then, you take his hand, and gently touch the wedding ring with awe. It’s still hard for you to realize that one day you’ll marry him. How did he feel when you died in your arms? Were you in intense pain? Were there any regrets? Did the two of you have any plans for the future? A family, maybe? A pet? A house? Traveling? Your career, hobbies? And what about the honeymoon?
It got all crushed down by the king of the curses. And you know that Satoru’s grief was so intense, his cursed energy made him travel back in time for your sake.
“How was the honeymoon?” you end softly asking, letting the sun rays caress your limbs, your face. His hand touches your hair, admiring the shape, the length. Surely your haircut is different in his future, and he’s reminiscing about old times.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to reveal anything about our future?” he answers in a tiny smile.
“True, but since things will irrevocably change for me now, I’m almost sure what will happen will be different than what you experienced,” you reply, laying your head on his bicep. His eyes stay on yours. A short silence follows. His smile saddens.
“We… didn’t have a honeymoon. We were supposed to, after fighting Sukuna. We planned everything. The place, the activities, how much time we’ll stay there. The marriage was already rushed with the war conditions. So we obviously had to report the honeymoon for later,” he admits, and you freeze at the realization that he and you never had the chance to be happily married together. That irrevocably shatters your heart. You’re sure the breaking of his has wounds deeper than his physical scars.
“Oh… I’m sorry,” you murmur in sadness, a wave of weird feelings taking a tool on you.
“Don’t be sorry for something completely out of your control, sweetheart,” he whispers back. You want to cry. You flutter your eyelids to bite back the tears.
“I really hope that when you’ll come back to your own timeline, it would have changed the past, saved me from dying, and that you’ll have this honeymoon with me,” you confess, voice cracking at the end. He takes a deep breath.
“I hope too. But, if it doesn’t, I’ll still be relieved that the you of this timeline and the other me will have a bright future, protected from this death. At least, here, you’ll be safe,” he answers in the most reassuring voice he can have.
“Satoru…” you whimper at how unfair it sounds. He’s the one that begged for his reality to change, his future to have you in it. He’s the one that provoked the time travel. And he’s maybe the only one of the three that will never have you back in his arms ever again. The only one that will have this plan not succeed for his own timeline.
Seeing your distress, your understanding, he brings you against his chest. Giving you the hug he wishes he could give to the you that died, his wife. It’s gut wrenching. Your skin melts against his, inhaling his scent.
“Shh, don’t. I’ll be alright. Always am,” he says in the crook of your ear. But you notice how he’s holding back tears. Gojo Satoru about to cry. Maybe he does. But his sobs are silent. He tightens his grip, merging your bodies together, becoming one entity, one soul, one love. His cursed energy envelopes you in a protective way, giving you a bubble of protection.
“I trust you,” you say. His lips find yours, in a kiss so tender you falter at the sweetness and devotion of it. He kisses you like the love of his life, like his wife, like his one and only.
“I love you,” he whispers, hugging you back. You dig your face in his chest, finding solace in his embrace. Then, with courage, you decide to confess these three words you still never said out loud to your own Satoru.
“I love you.” You let the silence wash over you for some seconds.
You open back your eyes. Feeling suddenly cold. Your body is laying on the mattress, not his torso.
“Satoru?” you ask in a trembling voice, confused. Your head snaps to the side, then up, down, left and right. Everywhere. “Satoru?!”
You stand back up. Nothing. No trace of him. He’s gone. Which means it’s the same for the other him. The plan succeeded. You no longer will die by the hands of Sukuna in this timeline.
You lay back down on the bed, breath short, staring at the ceiling. Lost in a storm of thoughts.
The sheets linger with the warmth and the scent of his skin. A proof he was there, some seconds ago. You wonder if he heard you confessing your love back. Or maybe he disappeared right before. You’ll never know. You’ll never know either if he’ll find you back alive, or if he’ll once again be met by the coldness of your death.
A mystery that is maybe better buried alive.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 6 pm.
“That's all that matters now. Your safety is my top priority,” Satoru says, standing on the rooftop of your building, watching the sunset with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Voice uncharacteristically serious.
“I know.”
“I’m relieved to know that whatever future I’ll build with you won’t end cruelly," he admits, sighing, tightening his grip on your body. Your head falls on his shoulders, staring at the horizon. His head falls on top of yours.
“We’ll stay side by side, I promise,” you say. Minutes pass in silence.
“Y/n, I love you.” Simple words that you already know the meaning of, but the first time you hear them from his mouth. The him from here. You turn your head, then look at the man that you love in the eyes.
“I love you, Satoru.” A kiss that seals it.
This time, you know he heard it. You’ll make sure he’ll always hear it.
The way I struggled so bad to describe the three of them at the same time without getting the reader lost on who is who… Anyways. If you liked please repost and comment!
synopsis : after being hijacked, you never knew how Finnick lived through the nightmare of your fear of him. How he handled the loss of your relationship, and the rebuild of it step by step. In this bonus, discover it all.
words count : 15.k
warnings : depression, mention of death, angst with comfort only at the end, mentions of sex, yearning, violence
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : @sunnyshopeworld kindly asked me to write this bonus, so I basically made it for you, lol ! Sorry, it’s not proofread, it took me long to write it and was time consuming. I tried to not repeat too much the original events of the fanfic, hoping you will enjoy it !
trailer of the bonus
“I can’t… I can’t… she’s my everything, I can’t lose her like this,” exclaims a panicked Finnick, hyperventilating while walking around in circles. Round and round, again and again. Tears are swelling at the border of his green eyes, nails digging in the rope he’s always caring with him. His teeth rip the flesh of his lips, and he falls to his knees. Breathing loudly, hard to catch a normal pattern of rise and fall of his chest. Completely helpless, letting the darkness swallowing him whole.
“Mags, I can’t do this. I don’t know- how can I handle this after what they’ve done to her ?!” he adds, voice breaking in a pained sound. The old woman wraps her weak arms around his shoulders, handling the shake of his gut wrenching sobs.
He holds her closer. Playing in his mind the way you screamed at him, calling him a mutt, a liar, scratching his arm and trying to hurt him deep.
A knock on the door. The whole moment breaks. Reality comes back in a full blown. Mags helps him stand back up on his wobbly legs. She opens the door, and someone simply looks at him before saying, “Mr.Odair, they called you to meet Beete and Katniss. You may follow me.”
He already knows what awaits him. It doesn’t take long before Finnick sits at a table, next to an injured Katniss, her neck gravely hurt. Days have passed since you came back from your rescue. With what happened, he was left shaken and in total confusion. He thought he would have no more tears left to cry now that you were safe. But he did. For hours on end, wondering what you went through, how unfair it was that you weren’t the same. You didn’t deserve any of this. And now, you paid the price of his own mistake.
The fact that he let you know about the rebel’s plan, and come with him in the Arena of the Quartel Quell.
Finnick was prohibited to come see you for the time being, informed that you were in urgent care and any trigger could make you spiral again. Trigger. He was the trigger. This simple information made him spiral. He heard that it was the same for Peeta, maybe worse, as instead he was now conditioned to kill Katniss.
At the end of the discussion he had with Beete about what hijacked means, he stands up from his chair, guiding the braided girl outside. He should normally head to his training, like marked on his schedule, but he prefers to do something else.
“Thank you, Beete. I’ll deal with that. Come on, Katniss. Let’s go,” he says to the girl, putting a hand on her shoulder. She snaps out of her thoughts. “Right…” she says in a hoarse voice and stands up slowly. Finnick guides her out of the meeting room, walking towards the corridors that lead to the hospital where Peeta and you rested.
“I’ll go see if I can meet y/n. I won’t accept losing her,” he says as he stops and turns to look at the girl in the eyes.
“Well, that will be easier for you, as Beete said. Peeta thinks I’m a mutt-” she starts to say, tightening her fist. “Y/n thinks I’m a mutt too, Katniss,” he interrupts her directly, his gaze firm and unwavering. Katniss holds his stare, and then turns her head.
“I’ll come with you. I at least want to see how Peeta is doing, even if I can’t talk to him,” she answers after a few seconds. Finnick nods. “Then let’s go,” he whispers and the two of them walk towards the hospital. A gloomy face plastered, unable to crack a smile. Finnick doesn’t even try to make a joke, or to relieve the tension. Not anymore.
Katniss goes another way as he walks towards your room. A nurse and a man that he didn’t know, papers in his hands while writing notes, notices him.
“You must be Finnick ? You arrived the moment I was about to go search for you. I’m Teff Silverlock, the psychologist in charge with Miss Y/n L/n,” the man presents himself, extending his hand to shake Finnick’s. He does as well, analyzing the said psychologist. His skin is very dark, and he has a scar next to his left eye. He looks old, maybe around 70 years old.
“Can I come inside ?” Finnick asks and gives a look to the door separating him from you. He realizes he’s slightly shaking. Of fear and anticipation.
“She is slowly calming down and getting accustomed to being in District 13. I need to test her reaction when she sees you. As you are her main trigger in her psychosis. She is under morphine, so normally she’ll be alright,” Teff continues to explain, taking some notes on the paper he was holding then scratches his head. Finnick nods in understanding, assimilating the news. Psychosis. That’s worse than he thought. He hopes that he has a chance to have a normal conversation with you today. Because he missed you so much, he is going insane. To the point they proposed that he goes back to the hospital, but he judged it useless if he wasn’t allowed to see you there. Until now.
“Morphine… well, I’ll enter…” he says as he swallows his saliva and strengthens his back to give himself some courage to try to look presentable and to not show how much he is falling apart.
“Open the door,” says Teff Silverlock to the nurses. They do so, and after a hesitation, Finnick slowly enters it.
Here you are, sitting on the bed in the typical District 13 hospital robes, tubes connected to you so they could put you back on track towards a healthy body. Your eyes are somewhere else, occupied with looking at pictures in your hands.
Finnick’s lips part in chock. Of course he saw what you looked like when you came back from your rescue some days ago. But seeing you again, proves the state you’ve been in. So much thinner, sickly looking, and hollow facial expression. For a second he doesn’t think he can do this.
Finnick fought for his life during the Hunger Games, twice. Facing death in many ways. He went through the horrors the Capitol and President Snow made him do when they forced him to sell his body. Each cruel thing that happened in his poor Panem citizen life. But, seeing you like this, having to acknowledge the fact that you’re in deep suffering because of him, is actually the scariest thing he ever faced.
Guilt eats him alive the second he sets a second foot inside the hospital room.
When you hear someone entering, you start to say “Silverlock, I think I remember this picture but who is this man next to me-”
Finnick sees you stopping dead on your track when his eyes meet yours. Slowly, his gaze falls on the picture in your hand. Him. You’re wondering who he is. He’s your lover, and you forgot it all. Oh, his heart is getting tighter. Nauseous too. Finnick stiffens before gaining back his usual smile, the one he only gives to you or Mags. He forces himself to appear calm and collected. For your sake.
“Hey, how are you feeling ?” he asks softly as he approaches slowly, not wanting to seem menacing and waiting for you to show acceptance.
“Fine…” you vaguely answer warily, the same way you did when you were mad at him. But Finnick knows it isn’t, because you pronounced it as if he was a stranger. He holds back a sigh, keeping his smile on his face even if he just wants to cry. You play with the pictures in your hand, and look back at the one you were holding earlier.
“Is that you ?” you question after some seconds, your finger gently caressing the face on the paper, then raising your head to stare at him. Finnick walks closer, you flinch slightly. That breaks something in him. He stops and simply looks from where he is standing. Like this, he won’t startle you, he thinks.
“Yes,” he answers in a nod and stares at it, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. His heart tightens. “Do you remember this picture ?” he questions with hope. Please, do, he thinks. You bite the inside of your cheek.
“I think so. It was in District 4,” you say in a whisper. He wonders if you’re reminiscing about this lost memory. Finnick does, remembering that moment as if it was yesterday.
The conversation slowly continues. Yet, again, you remind him that you think you killed him. The possibility of him being a mutt. He tries to reassure you, taking your hand and putting it against his heart. To show that he’s alive, in front of you. And when you do.. Bloody hell, it’s heaven. How much he missed your touch. Your fingers on his skin, to have you close. It felt like hell, having restless sleep, nightmares, craving to be next to you, hear you breath, see your eyes, your face, your smile. Anything. He was prohibited. So every second by your side is like a blessing. Even if you aren’t yourself, even if you will never be entirely yourself again.
Then, something in your eyes shifts. You yank away your fingers, shaking your head violently. He bites his lip, wondering if he did something wrong that could have triggered you.
“No ! No ! You liar ! You liar !” you scream, causing Finnick to look at you worriedly, yet he doesn’t back away, doesn’t do any harsh movements, doesn’t get scared or startled. Instead, he does what always worked to calm you down and ease your mind. He hugs you close.
“Let me go ! You mutt !” you yell and squirm like a wild animal, meanwhile his hold strengthens around your body and his face buries in your neck.
“I’m here, I’m alive, I’m with you, Y/n,” he whispers in your ear in a sweet and soft voice. Because he loves you so much. He’ll always be here with you.
When nurses come to try to stop the situation, he doesn’t let go of you. Even after, when they leave. It’s the moment you finally start to cling to him that he melts in relief. Your face finding solace in his neck, arms wrapping and tensing around his chest, fingers digging in his shoulders, nose brushing his skin.
“Shh, shh… everything is okay. I’m fine. And I love you. Never forget that,” he ends up murmuring when you finally stop your insatiable need to attack him or to get away from him in fear.
Finnick inhales, realizing it is the first time you didn’t say that you love him back. It never happened before. He doesn’t know how much his heart could break, but it did again today. Yet he tries to enjoy the small victory of succeeding in calming you back, clinging to him like a lifeline.
“Are you with me ?” he asks in a soft voice.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what is happening to me, I-” you suddenly sob, hot tears streaming down your face.
“Shh, shh… don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong. We’re going to go through this together, alright ?” he rocks you, lulling you back to calm down. He says that to convince you, but to convince himself as well. You raise your head and look into the green of his irises.
“Is it real ?” you question. Oh, he forgot for a second that your perception of reality is completely messed up because of him.
“It is. I’m real. Not an illusion. I assure you,” he nods, caressing your face and then your cheek. He tries to show with his eyes the truth they behold, that he is sincere. You end up sighing and laying back down on the mattress.
“I’m tired…” you whisper. Finnick’s hand rests on your forehead in a protective way, taking care of you. You’re so much thinner compared to before. He worries.
“Did you eat ?”
“Not yet,” you deny, staring at the wall and being soothed by his touch. He nods, giving a look at the door. He has an idea.
“Then I’ll eat with you, like we always did in the past at my house,” he smiles, the thought of it brings him some bitter joy. Confused, you question him as you raise an eyebrow. “We did ?” Again, he does his best to not appear shaken by your lack of memory.
“Yes, and you always stole the food on my plate when I wasn’t looking,” he chuckles softly. For a good ten seconds you are staring at him. At first it’s sweet, and he gives it back. But then, your eyes narrow.
Sensing the change in your behavior, Finnick stands up and tells you he’ll go ask to eat with you. Clearly, he keeps triggering you, and he knows it. He leaves you alone in the room, letting you breathe and think about something else.
Once he steps out, he sees Teff Silverlock waiting.
“I’ll eat with her. Is that possible ?” he asks as he stands before the psychologist.
“Of course. We’ll try and see how it goes. It could be a good first test,” he agrees with a big smile, and it manages to piss off Finnick. The ways this man keeps talking about tests concerning your mental health, reminds him of laboratory animals kept by the Capitol. Usually for the Hunger Games.
He looks as the man asks the nurses to bring another trail of food. When they come back, Finnick insists on bringing them both by himself.
“You can do it. If something happens, we’re right here,” he pats his back.
“She’s not a dog on a leash…” he comments bitterly in a whisper that maybe only himself heard. They open the door, while he looks at your plate having a bigger quantity and different ingredients to help you gain back weight.
He sits at your side, and waits for you to start eating before he does the same. Finnick keeps his eyes on you, while you munch on your food. His eyes fall on your hand, the trembling motion. You don’t even seem to realize the mashed potatoes that fell on your hospital robe. For the rest of the lunch he helps you stay clean while eating. But he notices how tired you are, so when he asks if you want to stay with him, he tries to stay collected when you reject his proposition.
“I need some alone time. To think…”
Yeah, without him. He understands. But that hurts more than he thought.
He sighs and simply stands up. For a second he leans towards you to kiss your forehead or your cheek, hell, your lips. But he doesn’t, because your relationship is different now, against his own will. You are lovers, but at what cost when you act avoidant and think he is an impostor, that you killed him and he isn’t the real Finnick but someone wearing his skin ?
Nonetheless, Finnick won’t stay like this doing nothing. He’ll help you heal, do everything in his power to gain back your trust, and your love. If in the end you still don’t accept him, then he would sadly have to agree to let you go. Everything for you he’ll do, even disappear from your life.
“I’ll come visit you tomorrow. I normally have training right now, but I skipped it. I hope the trainer won’t kick my ass too hard for doing so. I’m not into that kind of kink,” he tries to joke, forcing his usual flirtatious smirk on his face, hoping it would crack a smile on yours. And it does, your lips slightly twitching with amusement. It wasn’t much, but still a victory.
“Goodbye,” you simply say. He gives you one last look and steps out of the hospital room. When he closes the door behind him, nurses step in to give you the usual treatment and Teff Silverlock greets him back.
“Coming everyday would be nice. Each day, we’ll try to keep you with her for a longer time. Testing new things, like her main triggers, and seeing how she reacts. It’s called exposure therapy. It would be easier to deal with her mental state than Peeta’s one. Poor Katniss Everdeen, she has it bad,” he sighs and massages his wrinkled forehead before walking in the corridor next to the blond.
“How long will she stay at the hospital ?” Finnick asks. Teff Silverlock hums and thinks.
“Physically, she is healing pretty fast. I think once she gains more weight, she’ll be able to adapt to District’s 13 schedule. Training would do her some good, she needs muscles,” he explains.
“I’m considered one of the best soldiers with Gale Hawthorne, I’ll ask if during y/n’s training time, I can be retrograded to help her. Hoping President Coin would allow it,” Finnick proposes as he stops in the middle of the corridor, looking at Teff.
“It’s Soldier York, the one in charge with lower phases of training. I’ll talk with Coin and York, to arrange that,” finishes Silverlock. The blond thanks him. They say their goodbyes, and Finnick leaves with a troubled mind but with a new settled goal.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
“Yeah, she’ll soon leave the hospital. It’s for that reason that I wish to be retrograded for the time being, so I can help her adjust to her training. Silverlock already mentioned it to Soldier York this morning,” Finnick explains while standing firmly, facing the president Alma Coin. Her piercing eyes look into his soul, analyzing his words. The way she joins her hands shows she’s not convinced.
“You are one of our best soldiers. Retrograding now will not allow you to fully prepare yourself for when we’ll try to invade the Capitol once District 2 would be under our control,” she explains, refusing in a way. Yet, Finnick doesn’t back away.
“I know y/n better than anyone else. She needs my help. I won’t let her down. Not now,” he insists, gaze unwavering. But Coin doesn’t falter.
“Soldier Odair, this is a war, not an emotional battle,” she says.
“I’m one of your best soldiers. I can handle my own when still being in a retrograded class. And, I believe y/n will be able to quickly upgrade and join me in my upper level training. We need good soldiers, right ? Y/n will be one. With my help,” he argues. And, Finnick knows that Coin thinks the same. You are considered a valuable asset for the war. A very skillful woman that handles a spear perfectly and with surviving techniques that aren’t forgettable. Plus, you survived the Hunger Games twice. Refusing to have you as a possible soldier during the war is abandoning a good pawn. And Alma Coin needs pawns.
She sighs. “If Soldier York judges it adequately, you’ll be free to do so,” Coin ends up vaguely accepting in her own cold way.
That puts a smile on Finnick’s face. It’s with some hope that he goes to join you again at the Hospital. Yet, all trace of joy leaves his lips when he’s faced with the same as yesterday. Being wary, sometimes falling back in a mental state that makes you scream and cry at him, calling him a mutt and a liar. But Finnick stays a bit longer this time, enough for you to slowly get used to it, until it gets too much and he leaves.
This time, he can’t skip training. The only thing that manages to cheer up him is knowing he at least won the fact that he’ll be able to help you train, and seeing Mags walking towards him.
“You’re going to the hospital ?” he asks as he looks at the corridor behind him, and the older woman nods with a soft smile. She explains she’ll ask if she can talk to your psychologist, and be allowed to talk to you.
That reassures Finnick. Surely Mags will be able to bring you comfort and some joy. That’s all he asks for. You, feeling better. Mags is an amazing woman that always manages to calm you down. He trusts her to do so.
He goes to his training session with a lighter heart.
Yet, at the end of the day, even if Mags reassures him during dinner that it went well with you, he can’t help but feel something on his shoulders weighing him down.
It’s when going to sleep, alone, that he kisses the ring of his mother he kept with him in a hope of marrying you one day if the two of you survived the Quartell Quell. The dream you both shared once. Yet, laying alone in bed, curled on himself, he realizes that no matter how better you’re doing each day, it will never be the same. Not now, maybe never. And the promise you two made of hoping to have a better life together, and finally be called husband and wife, is now just another crushed wish.
He stares bitterly at the ring, wants to throw it at the wall in despair and anger. Yet, he ends up putting it under his pillow and prays to at least have some peace in his sleep. To dream of you and the future he always wished to have. That will never exist. Not until Panem is free.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The next morning, Finnick came again. You were sitting on your bed, after breakfast. He was by your side, staring at you intently while your fingers hesitantly approached his face. In a breath, the tip of your nails brushes his skin.
You were recalling a nightmare, or a hallucination, about him being killed by your hands. He listens to your words carefully, a pang as he imagines how hard it must be for you. But, he felt relieved to see you slowly started to believe him, erasing the idea that he is a mutt and not the real Finnick.
He shivers at your touch, swallowing his saliva and letting you caress him. He craved your hands on his body, so much, that he didn’t dare to move, scared it would make you back away.
When your fingers reach his lips, his eyes bore into yours with such an intensity. And he can’t help thinking that, Lord, Finnick has to restrain himself from softly kissing you.
“Y/n…” he whispers your name desperately. Sliding your hand up, your thumb caresses under his green orbs.
“Your eyes were staring at me with so much… so much sadness, betrayal, yet overall you did it full of love. Even though I was, I was.. I was killing you with my own hands !” you exclaim, shaking and choking on a breath. Your limbs contract, and Finnick instantly grabs your backing hand, scared to have you slipping away from him.
“It never happened. Trust me. But if it did, I’ll still love you no matter what,” he explains, bringing your knuckles to his lips, pressing his mouth in a gentle way. “The day I’ll die, I want it to be by your side, and by your hands only,” he adds, pupils not leaving yours. His lips worship your fingers, trailing down your palm and reaching your pulse point on your wrist.
“Finnick, don’t say that,” you protest, gasping. He hates the way you think you’re at fault. Because you’re not.
“Never blame yourself for something I won't even be mad at,” he cuts you, squeezing your hand and kissing one last time your skin. It gets silent, both of you lost in thoughts. Finnick feels grateful that you accepted his touch, not like yesterday when you were yelling at him to leave you alone, insulting him in the worst ways possible. He thinks about the wedding ring tucked in his pocket. Like a tiny hope of your love.
You squeeze back his hand, and Finnick senses you’re about to say something. The moment you open your mouth, Teff Silverlock, your psychologist, enters the room with a notepad in his hands. You instantly yank your hand from his grasp and back away, your face showing a swirl of negative emotions towards Finnick. He curses mentally about getting interrupted, and bites his tongue in disappointment. His heart is clenching, but he keeps it from himself and simply looks at the psychologist with bitterness for stopping this intimate moment with you.
“Good morning miss y/n, sorry to interrupt, but I have to update your schedule today. There would be some changes,” announces the man as he nods to Finnick in a hello. He doesn’t answer, feeling slightly petty but decided it was childish so he nods in return after some seconds.
“It’s alright, you didn’t interrupt something,” you say defensively.
Finnick stiffens at your harsh words, quietly digging his nails in his palm and takes a deep breath to ease his mind. You’re still healing, he shouldn’t feel sad over feelings you can’t control. Teff raises an eyebrow and Finnick directly takes a rope from his pocket to tie and untie, hoping it will ease his nerves and how much he wants to cry right now at your words. Being dismissed like nothing by the person he loves the most hurts more than anything, but he knows it’s not your fault, it never will be. So he takes it and accepts it, doing his best to bear with it.
“I see…” murmurs Teff suspiciously and writes something on his notepad before sitting on a chair next to the hospital bed, “well, let’s start. Two things. First going to see Peeta, to test your trauma bond and how you will react to each other. Maybe interesting things will come out. Then after lunch, we’ll try something with Finnick this time,” he explains.
Try something with him ? He’s suddenly very curious and kind of hopeful, but at the same time he’s guarded about Peeta’s state.
“Is Peeta in the mental capacity to talk with y/n ?” Finnick asks, untying his knot and looking at you then Teff for a second.
“From what I analyzed, the two of them became quite close during their captivity at the Capitol. Y/n, you told me yourself that you were in the same room as him,” says Teff truthfully. Finnick didn’t know about that. So he stares at you, waiting for your answer.
“Yes… we were getting tortured too. I can say we became sort of friends,” you confirm in a nod. Tortured. The reality of what you went through came crashing down on him all over again. He stays composed.
“As long as she’s safe. Peeta is still only a teenager after all,” adds Finnick in a sigh and rubbing his face, before going back to his rope and mindlessly toying with it. Betraying how he is really feeling right now.
The conversation briefly continues until Finnick follows and the three arrive at Peeta’s door. Through the glass he can see what he looks like. Worse than you, to be honest. But he looked like he was doing better.
“Here we are. If you feel uncomfortable, make a sign and we’ll make you leave the room. Alright ?” says Teff. “Alright,” you nod. Finnick restrains himself from grabbing your hand, wanting to say that he would be close if you needed anything. But with your sudden reaction earlier, he doesn’t want to risk triggering you. Even more before seeing Peeta.
The nurse opens the door, greeting the three of you before leaving. You enter the room, Finnick looking at your back and soon he’s left alone with Silverlock. Keeping a watchful eye on you.
“You wanted to talk to me ?” he slightly turns around to look at the man, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes, it’s about the tests I want to do with you and y/n. As a matter of fact, one of the torture she had was getting drowned. Since then, she developed a traumatic response to water. She can’t shower anymore, only with damp clothes. And, knowing she is from District 4, it’s deeper than we think,” he explains with neutrality, and considering the impact it has on Finnick, Silverlock’s words almost sound cold and uncaring. The blond stares, eyes wide open in utter disbelief.
“She can’t get in the water anymore ?” he asks just to make sure that he understood well. He hopes not.
“Yes, we’ll need your cooperation,” confirms Silverlock. Finnick digs his teeth in the inside of his cheek, the realization worse than ever. You, someone from District 4, being unable to go back under water is like saying a fish can’t breath in the sea. That sounds unbelievable. Absurd.
“I’ll do anything you need me to do if it means helping her,” says Finnick with devotion. A firm intention. He glances at the glass, seeing you talk to Peeta. For now, it looks calm. He’s reassured.
“We’ll try to make her used to immersing herself in water, step by step, with you by her side to guide her. You’re surely a part of trust, a key in her mind that she’ll discover again,” adds the psychologist, tapping against his notepad.
“I’ll only agree if we don’t involve drugging her during these therapy sessions,” he warns.
“Sedatives are important to control any aggressive behaviors,” protests Silverlock, giving a long look to Finnick. That doesn’t succeed in making him falter.
“I’ll deal with it myself. It’s either no drugs, either I won’t do it,” he repeats firmly. Silverlock sighs
“I agree that we don’t during the beginning of each session, not during the process if it gets too complicated,” he ends up somewhat agreeing, writing something on his notepad with reluctance. Finnick knows he can’t protest more, so he simply stays silent after whispering a “we’ll see.” He stares at the glass.
“We spent all our free time in the sea,” whispers Finnick, for a second reminiscing the feeling of swimming with you under the blinding sun, laughing together and just forgetting life on earth to focus on the waves.
“Good. We’ll start after the test with Peeta,” confirms Silverlock but the blond barely listens to him, too lost in thoughts of his nostalgia and broken memories.
Finnick snaps back out of his thoughts when he hears a commotion. Immediately, he recognizes your voice, and he approaches the glass of the door to look at what is happening with apprehension.
“You mean that Finnick is actually a mutt and that I did kill him with my own hands ?” you suddenly ask in a harsh voice, and Peeta has a motion of backing away. “I killed him. You’re right, he is a mutt. I killed him. I’m not only a murderer for killing innocent people in the games, I’m a monster too !” you yell.
Finnick’s hand falls on the door, staring at you and how you’re calling him these names again. Silverlock lands his palm on his shoulder for some comfort, but in all honesty, Finnick doesn’t want his pity.
Peeta points to somewhere on the wall, behind the glass that separates you from Finnick outside the room. “It’s Katniss, all Katniss’ fault !” he protests.
“No, it’s mine ! Mine ! Do you understand ?! Mine !” you yell back, and then you approach him suddenly. “My hands killed him, my hands… did this !” you suddenly grab him and put your hand around his neck and the other holding his cloth threateningly.
“We have to separate them !” exclaims Finnick as he gives a quick look to the psychologist before holding the door knob.
At the same time, Peeta pushes you away, but in a sudden fury you jump on him violently and force him to look at your hand with unmeasured strength. It’s the moment Finnick decides to enter, not caring about waiting for the agreement of the psychologist for him to enter. Silverlock and a nurse follow suit.
“Look at my hands ! Full of blood ! His blood !” you scream and Peeta looks at you in confusion before frowning and attempting to attack you back. You yelp and protest harder.
With coldness, the same way he did when holding back Johanna from attacking Katniss back at the Arena, Finnick grabs you efficiently. His strong arms lift you from Peeta and force you to back away, keeping you against him and making sure Peeta won’t be able to hurt you either. Even if you’re the aggressive one in this situation.
“Y/n !” Finnick exclaims a voice behind you, stopping you from doing any more damage. Like this, he doesn’t recognize you. And that’s what makes him panic more. Yet he can’t let it show, he has to be the one to stay calm. Because if he doesn’t, how could he expect you to do so ?
“Get away from me ! I have to show- to… show…” you mumble and lose your train of thoughts, squirming and slowly realizing what you just did. Finnick makes you back away again, stepping three meters behind. His grip is unbreakable. He has to make you snap out of it, and quickly. So that’s what he does.
“Y/n, repeat after me. Killing me and whatsoever are all but an illusion, but you being in district 13, safe, and me being alive, is real,” he says as he turns you around to face him and takes your face in his hands, the green of his eyes boring into yours. An idea pops in his head. He stuffs his rope in your palms, and you instinctively start to play with it and tie a knot as you mumble “Finnick is alive, I didn’t kill him. Finnick is alive, I didn’t kill him,” in repeat.
He seems relieved when you quit being aggressive, concentrating on the task at hand. After all, during years he made lessons of knowing perfectly how to untie yourself from ropes. It’s instinctive now. His gaze softens, before hardening once again at full speed at the sound of Peeta’s grunts.
“Hey, be careful with him,” Finnick says to a nurse putting back Peeta on the bed, showing concern for the boy as well.
Teff Silverlock comes back from calming down Peeta, and brings the two of you out of the dorm, his hands on your back. Finnick notices you don’t even pay attention to Silverlock as he says something to you. The blond suddenly feels guilty for everything that happened. He should have known better, to stop you from going.
“We should have never let the two of them meet, it was too early. They still are both unstable,” says Finnick, frowning.
“It was a test, and even if the result was negative, it helped me to better understand the mental state of Miss y/n here,” answers Teff pragmatically. As if he heard the stupidest thing ever said to mankind, Finnick snaps at the psychologist.
“Are you treating her like a lab rat ?! She is not a patient you can experience with. She needs active therapy, not some tests thrown to her face without any preparation !” he exclaims as he turns around to face the old man. He puts his hands in front of himself, like a barrier to the anger of the blond.
“Easy now. It’s my job, I know what I’m doing, Odair,” Teff replies. It only worsens Finnick’s anger, to see how he’s dismissing what he just said, as if he was the crazy one here and not the other way around.
“It doesn’t look like it,” answers Finnick, going back to you and gently grabbing your hand. This psychologist clearly never left District 13, faced the horrible conditions of the rest of the world, and even less went through the living nightmare of the Hunger Games. It shows, so badly, that Finnick feels bitter towards having to bring you to the newly next phase of your daily therapy. So instead, he makes you follow him towards your room, opening the door and inviting you to enter it first like a true gentleman.
“Where are you going ? She needs to go to lunch, and then we have to start the second phase of her therapy. With what we talked earlier,” asks Teff as he walks faster to arrive behind Finnick. He internally mocks the man, and if they have to fight him off to make him let you go to the next phase, then so be it. Over his dead body.
“I refuse to do it today. She needs rest,” retorts Finnick firmly, not even giving one last look to Teff, slamming the door right at his nose before he could answer. Yet, Teff doesn’t seem hurt about it and simply scribbles something on his note pad, whispering to himself “then tomorrow.”
Inside the room, Finnick guides you towards the bed and makes you sit back down on it. He surely wasn’t allowed to stay with you without any given permission, but in all honesty, he didn’t care about it right now.
The following conversation is him trying to convince you that you’re not some type of monster, whatever you thought about yourself after what happened. He insists he’ll never let you down, and it’s utterly true. You are getting better, so nothing is doomed.
“You really love me that much ? To the point it hurts you more than anything ?” you ask. He stares at you. Never in your entire life since the two of you started dating, you had to question him about his love. It never wavered, and he always proved to you how devoted he is. But now things are different, you’re different.
“If loving you means getting myself hurt, then I’ll gladly take the hit,” he replies as if it was the simplest answer he could give you.
“That’s not healthy,” you retort, gazing away from him. Finnick wants to laugh at the absurdity of your words. Yet, he stops himself from doing so.
“I never was mentally stable since my games, y/n. I assure you, loving you brings me solace, more than anything in this world. And some scratches and bites are nothing for me, compared to what I went through,” he sighs, answering as he slowly stands up and cups your cheek with his free hand, the other still holding your fingers.
“I don’t deserve what you are doing for me,” you end up saying, looking down, but his hand on your cheek brings it back upwards. How could you even think the contrary ?
“You deserve the world,” he answers with so much devotion it shakes you. His thumb softly caresses your cheek, tenderly. He wishes he could make you fully believe him again.
“I don’t,” you protest. Bullshit.
“I’ll offer you anything I could ever give you. Including my life. So don’t say the contrary, because you know it’s true,” Finnick says, smiling lightly, the corner of his mouth forming lines that always illuminated his face. Feeling like you couldn’t retort anything else, you shut your mouth. Finnick leans slowly towards you, staring at your lips for a second. He yearns for your mouth on his, dreaming of the feeling of it again, like a starved man. But he knows he can’t. Not now. He takes a breath before lending a kiss on your forehead, tenderly.
He looks at you. He needs to leave the conversation for at least some minutes to calm himself down.
“I’ll bring us lunch,” he breaks the quietness before backing up and leaving you some space.
When he faces the nurses again, they look at him sternly, acknowledging the fact that he didn’t respect the protocol of Teff Silverlock.
“Can I bring lunch to y/n ? I’ll share mine with hers,” he asks as he softly closes the door behind him. The nurses look at each other, before gazing back at him firmly.
“That’s not what we were told,” one of them answers. Finnick raises an eyebrow, seeing they won’t accept that easily.
“I did it last time, why wouldn’t it be possible today ?” he counters back. The other tightens her notepad against her chest.
“We only follow orders,” she retorts. Finnick approaches in his usual seducing way, adopting again the insufferable persona he had to create around himself.
“Come on, ladies. If Silverlock wasn’t okay with that, he wouldn’t have let me do it once, and would have specified to not allow me to do it again,” he says, giving his usual seducing smile. One of them looks at him, wondering what to answer to this argument and such flirty way of talking.
It’s with some back and some charm from Finnick that makes them comply with his words. It took longer than he expected so he hurries to follow suit and then come back with both food trails.
You both eat in silence, Finnick trying to make some conversation. Answering evasive sentences, you ended up warming a bit and chatting more freely. Until the both of you start to talk about your stay at the Capitol. You are the one that mentioned it. You explain how after his pseudo death, you started to forget who he was. How confusing it is, coming back suddenly without warnings.
“Did you wish I was dead ?” you asked.
“I wished we were all dead, yes,” he affirms, looking away. Like this, he seems like a lost child. And he feels like one. Without Mags being here to help him right now, nor your love, he’s drowning in his feelings and guilt.
“It would have been better,” you whisper in defeat.
“But I have you back now, and it’s all that matters,” he shakes his head and turns towards you, smiling again, a broken one.
“You don’t have me back completely. It’s not the same,” you answer, voice shaky. You bite your lip in frustration and dig your nails in your palm. He immediately notices it, refusing to let you damage your skin.
“I have you. Half or complete, as long as I know you are by my side, safe and sound, it’s all I need,” he retorts. His fingers crawl on your wrist and slide in your palm, intertwining with your hand to stop you from hurting you with your nails. He stares at the beauty of your eyes, something he adores to the moon and back. Then, your pupils fall down.
“What is-” you start to ask, reaching for his pocket. Finnick immediately knows what you mean. The picture. He lets you do so, before you are confronted to your own face on that tiny square.
“A picture of you,” he says, looking at it with so much softness, a silent explanation of his yearning.
“Why do you have it ?” you question, looking at it. It was you from District 4, before the Quartel Quell. One year after you won your games. You look so beautiful.
“When you were in the Capitol, looking at your face eased my mind. I missed you so much. It was the only thing I had left of you,” Finnick admits. He doesn’t mention the ring. Thankfully, you didn’t notice it. He doesn’t know how he’ll explain it to you like this if you stumble on the tiny little box.
You don’t answer and put back the picture in his pocket, hands lingering on the tissue. You grasp it, take a breath and raise your head. He holds your gaze.
At the same time, a nurse calls him when she opens the door, saying his time with you is over. Finnick sighs, again interrupted, kisses the top of your head and stands up.
“I have to go. See you tomorrow,” he caresses your cheek and turns around, walking away. The door closes behind him.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The next day, Finnick was busy with training, and going back to the hospital for some treatment. His depression came back abruptly in the morning. In reality, it was yesterday, the moment he left. Nightmares filled his sleep, making him wake up startled and in a pool of tears and sweat.
It’s by walking mindlessly in the corridor, following Katniss’ mom, the nurse that took majority care of him the past weeks before you came back, that he met Silverlock. The man told him that at shower time he’ll have to come with him to do the next phase of your therapy.
Later, Finnick is waiting anxiously, just wanting to quickly see you. When he sees you arrive with Silverlock, he wipes the nervousness off his face and greets you with a welcoming smile.
“Good evening, y/n,” he says warmly. “What is the next phase ?” you question wary instead.
“Taking a bath, Finnick will help you,” says your psychologist, stopping in front of a door. You open your eyes wider at the mention, and Finnick knows it’s scaring you deeply. “Going under… water ? No no no no, I’ll go clean myself with a damp cloth like Johanna, goodbye,” you instantly refuse and turn around to leave. Yet, Finnick is faster than that and your wrist gets gripped by his hand.
“Y/n, honey. Trust me,” he says instantly, turning you around so you could face him. His hands cup your cheeks. “I’ll be here on every step. Take it as being back in District 4 when we went to swim on the beach. Alright ?” he proposes, thumb caressing the skin under your eye. Lord, he wants to tenderly kiss your lips right now.
“I don’t know if I can,” you murmur.
“It’s okay if you don’t succeed at the first try,” he reassures you. He then gives a side eye to Teff, still not sure it is the best idea to make you go through this, but since he is here, he would do his best to help you.
“Let’s go,” says Teff Silverlock. You take a deep breath. It was time for the next phase of your therapy.
During the session, Finnick can’t help but feel like everything feels so foreign to him. He discovers you all again, your fear possessing you rather than logical thinking. Which is normal. But never in his life he saw you so hesitant to get in the water, when in the past you jumped head first to follow him in the waves. But he does his best to guide you step by step. Embracing you in his arms, whispering reassuring words when you’re screaming in panic.
It’s at the end of the session, seeing nurses approaching with syringes, that he lifts you up in the air, holding you bridestyle and steps out of the bath.
“I think it’s enough,” he says. You calm down when your body feels the cold air surrounding you instead of the water. You try to catch your breath.
“We’ll continue tomorrow,” Teff Silverlock says as he shows the other nurses to escort the both of you towards your room. They wrap towels around you, and without a care in the world of walking half naked, he goes in the corridor like this. Finnick thinks about how much he hates your psychologist for dismissing what happened so casually, but instead he focuses on you. Once you are back in your room, he keeps you in his arms, nurses putting dry clothes next to you and leaving the room to give some privacy after making sure that everything is ok.
Your cheek against his damp skin, you slowly let loose and flutter your eyes, realizing you were back inside your hospital room. Finnick’s hand was on your cheek, brushing your skin in a reassuring way.
The both of you talk, when you will heal enough and be able to leave the hospital. The room Finnick will try to arrange to share with you. How he’s going to retrograde to have training in your company as well.
“You do so much for me, Finnick. When will I be here for you too ?” you sigh with despair as you sit back up on his lap, turning slightly to face him. A pained smile forms on his face and he shakes his head. Of course he does a lot for you. You deserve the world. But he doesn’t want you to feel guilty over his wellbeing. He doesn’t want you to know how miserable he feels. Not now, not yet, never.
“You already did a lot, y/n. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, and focus on you,” he answers, but you refuse, frowning deeply.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I did. In the past. Now, all I bring you is misery,” you retort, angry at yourself. He tightens his jaw, not wanting you to discover the real misery he’s going through, because you’ll never forgive yourself. He knows that. Nothing is your fault.
“We already talked about this, y/n, and-” he starts to respond, “I’ll be here for you. I want to get better…” you interrupt him by turning your face in front of him, eyes drowning in his green orbs. Your hands around him, one on his nape and the other on his cheek. You get closer, nose brushing his, and breathes mingling “...for you,” you confess. His smile weavers, eyes looking down at your lips with tentation, like the forbidden fruit. He aches for your lips. For a second, he thinks, no, hopes that your mouth will brush his.
Instead, you kiss his forehead like he always did to you.
Finnick has to swallow back tears when he feels your mouth landing with carefulness on his skin. Having you acting so delicate, and caring, even for just a second, reminds him of all the time the two of you spent together glued to each other. To the point that back in District 4, when you were in private, the cheesiness and overwhelming love and affection never bothered you. Because that’s how the two of you were, being apart feeling like torture.
Now, it’s not the same. For you. Fuck, he’s about to crash out right now. He can’t let you see it.
“I think I need to go back to my quarters,” he announces, putting you on the bed and standing up. You look at him a bit surprised, his gaze avoidant when he puts back clothes on.
“I thought you had all day,” you say, raising your eyebrows, questioning his actions. He doesn’t want to lie to you. So he says nothing. He can’t. Instead, he kisses your cheek and turns his back to you.
“See you tomorrow, y/n,” he says, walking towards the door of your hospital room. The moment his back his facing you, tears are already blurring his vision, rolling down his cheeks.
When he arrives at his door, he doesn’t even bother to say goodnight to Mags, too focused on not falling on his knees. He drags himself to his bed, taking out the ring, kisses it and sobs until no water is left to cry. His face becomes one with the pillow, body shaken by the future he once hoped to have with you, if not killed in the Arena. But it will never happen. Because of him, because of his own mistake, because of…
“Remember who the real enemy is” echoes in his mind.
Because of Snow.
Loving you will never bring peace to Finnick Odair. Not until you were free, nor Panem. So, he’ll have to kill him.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Days pass. One week and a half. Finnick continues to help you with your therapy. During the past days, you barely snapped at him anymore, nor accused him of being a mutt. Yet, there is this distance in between the two of you, no matter how much he smiles at you. Finnick just started to have a very hard time controlling his mental breakdowns. If he showed it, he’ll be sent again to the hospital, and you will see it. He can’t afford that. Not to add, until you’ll be freed and sent to live a normal citizen life of District 13, Finnick his drowning himself in his free time with training. One of his main focus is making sure he’s ready enough to be part of the squad that will be sent to the Capitol in the future. In order to end this war, to kill Snow.
Even when his body aches from working too hard, his brain hurts from studying military tactics for too long, or when he cries so much his eyes burn, he doesn’t stop. For the sake of Panem, and for the sake of your love. For you.
When coming back from his daily tasks, Finnick messily enters the room, sitting on the mattress and sinking down on it. Hands reaching for his faces, he holds it, biting his lower lip to try to not cry too loud. It doesn't work. He looks at the picture he has of you. Then, his hand reaches for his rope, tying and untying it mindlessly. Hoping to cope with the torture of his thoughts.
“Finnick ?!” says your voice. Finnick thinks he just hallucinated. He jerks his head behind. Here, you’re standing at the door. He’s too stunned to realize that you caught him red handed drowning in his sorrow.
“Y/n ?” he asks, “Finnick,” you repeat and rush towards him. The next thing he knows, your arms are around his body. The rope falls on the floor from the surprise, not believing you willingly reached him like this. For a second he thinks he’s back at District 4, when everything was fine between the two of you.
“Why are you crying ?” you ask concerned. Finally realizing what is happening, without a second thought he hugs you back like a lifeline. Because you are. His arms hugging you tighter, face digging in the crook of your neck, nose brushing your skin. Your scent calms his shuddering breath. Big large hands caress your back, fingers digging in your flesh.
“God, y/n. What are you doing here ?” he says in a broken voice, sniffing.
“I now have one hour free from the hospital,” you explain, looking at him and grabbing his face in your palms. He melts when he feels your thumb put away his hair from his forehead.
“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” he mutters, nervously laughing as he wipes his face with his arm.
“I did,” you answer in a murmur, “is it because of me ?” you add after some seconds of silence. He hesitantly looks away, clearly not wanting to answer. How can he agree when you look at him with such guilty eyes ? It’s not really because of you. It’s because of him, of Snow.
“I’m sorry. It’s just hard to handle sometimes,” he sighs in a broken sob, trying to smile, but he doesn’t succeed. He wants to disappear, to erase what you just saw off your mind.
“I’m the one being sorry. I’m trying my best. This past week I barely snapped at you, I’m making progress, I-” you start to explain yourself, to defend.
“Y/n, please, don’t blame yourself,” he cuts you mid-sentence.
“But I do,” you whisper, letting your head fall on his shoulder.
“Things are different, and it’s... alright. As long as you are safe, I’m happy,” he says gently, trying to reassure you, but mostly himself too. His mouth lands on your head, softly.
“No, you aren’t. Look at you,” you raise your gaze to meet his.
“I’m alright,” he responds through his tears. Of course, it’s not true. “Liar,” you spat. And of course, you see right through him like an open book. Not like he’s a great actor to hide his pain when it’s about you.
“Honey…” he intends to say. “Liar. Stop lying to me !” you exclaim louder.
“Y/n, it’s complicated,” he admits, not knowing what else he could say.
“I never wished for things to be different,” you confess as well. “I know,” he whispers. Silence. You calm down, look back at him, staring at each other lost in your swirl of thoughts and conflicted emotions.
“Let’s rest,” you propose. Finnick relaxes, and glances at his bed.
“You have one hour, right ? Do you want to take a nap ?” he asks, in hope that you will accept. It’s actually like back in District 4, the two of you enjoyed napping together, cuddling for endless hours, skin to skin. You end up nodding, that relieves him.
He lays down on the bed, you do too, facing each other. Close, he inhales your scent. Your limbs mingle, you close your eyes. Finnick doesn’t, softly staring at your calm expression. It’s so rare to see you serene these past days. Actually, not once he saw you with such expression since you got rescued. So he basks in it. It’s when you fall finally asleep that two arms bring you closer, tugging you against Finnick’s chest.
“I’m always here for you,” he whispers, closing his eyes as well and letting himself finally drift off to sleep.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You finally left the hospital. Finnick managed to arrange a room with you. With Mags. For security, Teff Silverlock ordered to not let you alone for too long with Finnick, in case your psychosis would start again.
During your reflection time, Finnick tried to act with you like he always did in District 4 as much as possible, in an attempt to make your relationship feel the same as in the past. It worked sometimes, but not always. Yet, it manages to make Finnick more hopeful, and his depressive episodes lessen gradually.
On the fourth day, training is finally added in your schedule. Finnick is excited to finally have something more stimulating to do with you. At breakfast, you sit at a table next to Finnick, and soon are joined by Gale Hawthorne. Finnick appreciates him. They both trained a lot together, until today.
“Mind if I join ?” asks Gale, putting down his plate of food in front of you. “Please yourself, Hawthorne,” answers Finnick as he gestures him to do so. He greets you, and you do the same.
“I heard you won’t be training anymore, Odair. Did something happen ?” Gale asks as he bites on his fork, with what seemed like meat, even if it actually wasn’t.
“He’ll be training with me,” you reply instead of Finnick, who was about to say something. “I guess with Soldier York,” adds Gale in understanding.
“It got scheduled with y/n’s psychologist. And I wanted to be with her, in case something happened,” Finnick explains after drinking some water, then looking at you with care and worry. Gale, for a second, widens his eyes then has a small chuckle and points at Finnick with his fork, shaking his head.
“I thought for a second that you changed your mind. But I’m glad you didn’t,” he says. Finnick immediately stops chewing his food, realizing Gale just vaguely said something that you aren’t supposed to know.
“Changed his mind for what ?” you ask, frowning. Finnick tenses even more but he tries to appear normal and relaxed, swallowing his food. You turn towards him, and as he thinks of what he could answer without saying the truth, nor lying, he’s cut off.
“To be part of the squad sent to battle against the Capitol,” answers Gale nonchalantly, not really seeing how the atmosphere shifted a bit. You stop eating, dread all over your face. That’s when Finnick knows he’s in for a fight with you.
“Excuse-me ? Why didn't I know about it ?” you exclaim in betrayal. Fuck, you’re taking the information worsely than he thought. And seeing you like this breaks a part of his already wounded heart.
“You had other things to focus on, y/n. Your recovery. I didn’t want to trouble your mind-” starts to justify Finnick as he looks pained and guilty, softly taking your hand to calm you down.
“Finnick, seriously you… nevermind,” you sigh, yanking your hand away from his grasp and go back to eat instead of sparing him a glance. Finnick’s shoulder sag in defeat, and instead of forcing you to listen to him, he simply goes back to finish his food. Even if he lost all his appetite. You preferring to not continue to argue shows how disappointed you are with him. Great, that adds to the already big mountain of difficulties in your relationship that he has to deal with.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start an argument,” Gale excuses himself awkwardly.
“No, it’s alright Hawthorne. It’s my fault that I didn’t warn y/n beforehand,” protests the blond as he shakes his head, fully taking the blame. Gale nods, and the three of you eat the last bites of your dishes before he stands up with his empty plate in his hands.
“Well, I won’t see you around for some time, Odair. I go on a mission to District 2,” he announces. This information actually changes something in Finnick’s train of thoughts. If that’s what he thinks, that means invading the Capitol is soon at the corner. Depending on the success of Gale’s mission. His need for revenge will hopefully be fulfilled soon. But that means too that his time with you is counted now, before his squad will be sent.
“With Katniss ?” you ask. “How did you know ?” Gale questions, surprised. That surprises Finnick too.
“She told me,” you simply answer in a shrug. Finnick looks at you, wondering when did you meet the girl.
“Then say hi to her. Goodbye,” waves Finnick in his usual charming smile.
“Goodbye. And good luck for your training, y/n,” finishes Gale before leaving the two of you alone at the table. It didn’t last long as another group of District 13 citizens arrived to eat as well.
You stand up from your chair, and follow Finnick silently outside the refectory. You are supposed to go to the training grounds, but the moment you are alone in a corridor, he suddenly gets grabbed by the arm and faces your glare.
“Why didn’t you tell me ?” you ask angrily, his back against the wall. He stares when you let go of him. He knew you would mention it again soon.
“I told you, I didn’t want to put too much on your shoulders when you are still in recovery. I’m sorry,” he explains himself for the second time, shaking his head. You point at him, not accepting his apology.
“No, you aren’t really sorry. You did the same for the Quarter Quell. And yet here you do it again ? Hiding that you’ll go for the second time in a suicidal quest without me ?!” your voice raises without you could control it. And you’re right, he thinks. Finnick is actually not sorry at all for hiding it. If he had to do it again, he’ll do it gladly. All he feels is guilt that you know, and that you’re disappointed in him.
“I can’t lose you twice !” retorts Finnick, raising his voice as well, “I can’t lose you twice…” he repeats, calming down and lowering his voice instead.
“I know I’m not completely myself, I need active therapy everyday, and that in between you and me… things are different now. But for fuck’s sake, I still will never let you slip through my fingers !” you retort, gesturing your arms to emphasize what you are communicating. At first, Finnick is surprised that you still refer how you will never let him slip through your fingers, meaning not everything is lost in between the two of you. But anger rises quickly after it.
“YOU are the one slipping through my fingers, y/n ! Don’t you understand it ?!” Finnick suddenly screams in a way that he didn’t know he was capable of when talking to you. He catches back his breath, looking at you with anger and so much despair that it hurts.
“... I know I… I’m…” you hesitate to answer, stuttering. He brushes his hair then his face with his hand. He regrets instantly how he raised his voice. Suddenly, you feel his arms around your body, colliding against your chest. His hug is tight, warm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just… everything is too complicated. And I’m scared. It’s hard to know what to do anymore,” he whispers in your hair, nose brushing against your ear. Limbs shaky, fingers contracting against your back. You hug him as well, letting all the built up tension go away.
“Are you serious about wanting to be part of this squad ?” you ask after a few seconds in a calmer voice, raising your head to look at him in the eyes. He nods, fingers gently caressing your cheek.
“I am. I need to go fight there. To avenge you, to avenge myself, and to avenge the Districts.”
“Until Panem is free, loving each other would never bring us peace, right ?” you murmur in utter defeat. No, it won’t bring peace. That’s why he has to kill Snow. Finnick sighs softly, hand resting at the back of your head and snuggling your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.
“Y/n, understand why I’m doing that,” he says gently, soft voice brushing your skin.
“Then understand that I want to follow you,” you retort, taking his face in your hands. He freezes, not wanting to do the same mistake of bringing you with him in a surely suicidal quest.
“Please,” he begs, shattering word, imploring you to not follow him again in such madness. Not again.
“I know I look like a puppy following you into the Quarter Quell, and now wanting to volunteer to be part of a squad that would surely kill us as well. But after all you’ve done to me, I refuse to let you down. I need to avenge myself too, for what they did to me, to you, Peeta, Johanna, everyone. So don’t take it too personally,” you explain yourself. He looks at you in the eyes for a solid five seconds, wondering how he could convince you to do otherwise. But Finnick knows he can’t, so he simply sighs, then takes a deep breath and looks at the corridor that would lead you to the training grounds.
“If the Assignment Board deems you fit, possibly your case will be reviewed,” he says. You nod, relieved that he won’t protest more.
“Then I’ll guess I’ll have to train like crazy,” you say, determined.
Like this, you both go training.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Time passes, training brings something new, and old at the same time. Finnick’s charming persona sometimes comes out again, a fresh feeling of simplicity when being with you. You eat together all the time, then he helps you with the bath, therapy session with Silverlock. At night, when you have nightmares, Finnick is always here to whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
After the incident of District 2, watching Katniss get shot, Finnick’s hand find yours to never let it go. You don’t either. But what you both saw on TV was a reminder of the war, of the situation. Now that District 2 is under control, it means one thing : they’ll leave in maximum a month for the battle front at the Capitol. It makes him spiral, staring at the wedding ring when waiting for you to come back from the shower. When he hears you approaching, he immediately hides it back in his pocket.
Finnick asks you to follow him. You do, while he nervously stares before him. You both arrive at a railing, allowing you to see the other floors of District 13. He puts his arms against it, looking down. The soft dim light illuminates your skin, and his blond hair.
“I just wanted to talk, you and me, alone,” he simply says in a lower voice that wants to sound lighter, but it fails. You lean on the railing too, shoulder sagging.
“Everything is becoming even more serious right now. Time is counted. And before we realize, we’ll have our answer if Panem will finally be free, or back to slavery,” you state.
“I know. Everything goes fast, and I’m scared that our time together is not enough,” he admits in a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“Honey, I already told you multiple times that it’s not your fault,” he takes your hand again, warm and soft. He doesn’t even get tired of having this type of conversation all over again with you. But he knows you need it. So he repeats himself without complaining.
“It is. I don’t even know what we are anymore. Are we still really dating ? I destroyed everything with my psychosis, and my fear, and-” you start to protest in a louder voice, before he interrupts you. “Do you hear yourself ? You are a victim of the Capitol, y/n. Please, don’t worry about something you can’t control.”
He’ll be lying if he says that doesn’t affect him, but not like he would admit it to you out loud.
“What if I got rescued by District 13 instead ? Do you think about it often ? How would things have turned out for us ? I do everyday,” you retort, shaking your hand. Your free hand lands on your intertwined fingers, looking at Finnick in the eyes. His lips falter, gaze shifting, strength crumbling under the reality of your words.
Everything would have been different. Living your love freely, finally embracing your relationship without fear, without the control of the Capitol, of having to sell his body, to share something he never wanted to. He thinks about the ring. Of finally being your husband, making you his wife, marrying you. That hurts ten times worse now that you acknowledge how things could have been different. He swallows his tears.
“I do too,” his voice cracks. You don’t answer. He tries to gain back some mental strenght. If he asked to talk with you was for something. For the ring. It scares him, more than anything, but he has to get it out of his chest.
“Can I be honest about something ?” he asks softly.
“Of course,” you nod. He stares at your eyes one last time, because maybe that’s the last you’ll look at him like this. He fears your reaction. He takes a deep breath to seemingly gather some courage in an attempt to speak his mind and express his feelings.
“I thought… I thought that after your rescue, things would have been different. And with the fear of us dying soon because of the war, of losing you again, I wanted to seal our love for good before it would be too late. Something we dreamed about back in District 4, but was impossible. I know that now, I can’t ask you this anymore. Not with how things changed in between us. Yet, I couldn’t keep it to myself, and I wanted to confess it to you,” he starts to say, free hand searching in his pocket for the box. His fingers are shaking.
“What was it ?” you ask in a weavering voice. Then, holding in his hand, the beautiful ring that belonged to his deceased mother.
“I wanted to ask for your hand in marriage.”
Your reaction is everything he needed to know. The way your face betrays your inner turmoil, eyes wide open, lips parting. He immediately regrets it. So badly. Instead, because looking at you hurts too much, he stares at the ring.
“I shouldn’t have told you. That’s wrong of me to put such information on your shoulders. Please, forgi-”
“I’m so sorry,” you interrupt him in a broken sob so violently that you almost choke on your words.
“Y/n…” Finnick whispers, trying to reach for you, but you step back. He wishes he could know what is happening in your mind, what exact thoughts are going through your brain.
“I’m so sorry, I can’t… I can’t take this. What have I done ?” you half whisper to yourself, taking your face in your hands then landing your nails on your chest, where your heart belongs.
“Don’t say this,” retorts Finnick, not wanting you to blame yourself. That’s the least he wanted. Not like this. He just wanted to express for once his feelings, his promise made to you, to show he never forgot it.
“It destroyed all our hopes ! It’s a nightmare, I’m making you go through a nightmare,” you exclaim strongly. He notices how your nails dig in your skin, akin to wanting to rip your heart out. His hand shout towards yours, grabbing it to stop you from doing any damage.
“You’re not in fault ! Please, forget what I just said,” he insists.
“I can’t, I can’t. I can’t do this,” you repeat, putting your hand away and walking quickly one meter from him.
“Don’t do this to me,” cries Finnick in a broken whimper.
“I need to be alone,” you answer with guilt before rushing towards the corridor, leaving Finnick all alone in front of the room. He wants to yell, to scream his sorrow to the top of his lungs, to fall apart completely. He holds the box of the ring so tightly that it cracks. He swears in a sob and rush inside the room. Immediately, Mags that was preparing herself to sleep, goes to take him in her arms when seeing Finnick’s state. He succumbs completely, body shaking from the crying. It’s pathetic, really, but it’s as if the world crushed under him and he desperately tried to not fall.
Hours go on, and no sign of you coming back. Walking in back and forth in the tiny space of the room, blood shoot eyes squinting in thinking, labored breath of worry. Finnick is a mess. And Mags hardly manages to fully stay awake, worried as well that you still didn’t come back.
“Does she hate me now ? Did I fuck everything up by telling her ?” he mumbles, a sad whimper of culpability escaping his trembling lips.
“What if she’s hurting herself somewhere, what if she needs help ?” he adds, a snapping move of his wrist unraveling the knot he just made out of stress.
“Maybe she’s having hallucinations, going through psychosis and it’s all because of me !” he exclaims, letting his head fall on the wall. He hears Mags standing up from her bed, then mentioning she’s going to go search for you even if it’s the middle of the night. She can’t continue like this. But Finick immediately brings her back to her bed, shaking his head in disapproval.
“No Mags, you stay here, I’ll go search for her myself,” he protests. She can’t really argue back, so she sadly watches him go. Finnick storms out of the room, not caring that he’s supposed to wonder out of his quarters at such hours. But who cares ?
District 13 is gigantic, with a big number of floors. You could be almost anywhere. Finnick still can erase all the floors that need access by high ranked people or are only open during the day. So he starts his search. Each minutes that pass are torture. No matter how long he searches, he doesn’t find you. Maybe hours went by, maybe only one, he doesn’t know. He starts to wonder if you came back to the room by now. With hope, he hurries to his quarters.
In a swing, he opens the door. Your bed is empty. Mags softly rises from her bed. His stomach twists, his breath caught in his throat. You’re nowhere to be seen.
“I didn’t find her, I don’t know what to do…” he murmurs, sitting next to Mags in utter defeat. She tries to reassure him, caressing his back.
“What if she doesn’t want to come back anymore ? What if she doesn’t want to see my face ever again ? I scared her, didn’t I ?” he sniffs, mentally cursing himself for messing up everything by his own selfishness of wanting to show you the ring. He takes the box in his hand, angrily staring at it as if it is the object that holds all his ailments.
“I should have never loved her. It would have saved her from a lot of trouble and suffering,” he mutters to himself.
Finnick doesn’t sleep that night.
In the morning, he has to go to the dining hall for breakfast. He hopes to see a glimpse of you. His movements are slow, slurred, eyes haggard and lost in the void. His hair disheveled, looking perturbed. His hands holding the plate of food are shaking, fingers moving in the same pattern when he ties a knot.
When he comes back to the dorm, he’s alone. Again, he hopes finding you. But when he does, he freezes. Here, you’re putting on the shirt of the daily uniform, back facing him. The first thing he blurts out is “Where were you ?”
You don’t turn around. So he steps closer, anger suddenly rising at your silence. With how exhausted he is, his emotions are a wreck, that he fears he might snap for good.
“I”m talking to you, y/n. Where were you ?” he asks again, repeating more firmly, in a way that he never talked to you before. You turn around after taking a deep breath. One that felt hard to inhale.
“With Johanna,” you say, finishing putting on your shirt in a hurry and looking down at your feet. By how stupid that answer is, he thinks he heard badly.
“What ? How-” he starts to ask in disbelief, not quite understanding what happened. Because why while he was searching everywhere for you in panic that you didn’t come back to the room all night, you were instead with… Johanna ?
“She escaped from the hospital. We bumped into each other. We spent the rest of the night together,” you explain directly, slowly raising back your eyes to finally gaze at him. His hand passes on his messy hair, then he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. No, that can’t be true.
“And it didn’t occur to you that you could warn us with Mags ? When you didn’t come back, we were dead worried. I even went to search for you !” he exclaims, facing you as he opens an arm to emphasize his emotions.
“You did ?” you ask in a smaller voice.
“Yes I did, y/n ! We thought something happened, with how things turned out after our discussion. You still are mentally unstable, and I was scared that you went through hard times, all alone, suffering or having hallucinations,” he retorts, frustration etched across his face. He then starts to walk in circles in the room. “I couldn’t sleep, worried sick for your safety. And now, here you are, back in the room after breakfast without saying anything. I can’t believe this…” he adds, shaking his head with disapprobation.
“I”m tired, y/n,” he ends up saying, sitting on the bed and taking his head in his hands. You stand straight on your spot, unable to move and looking at him with the realisation of your action and the consequences it brought.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize in a whisper. It’s the first time he doesn’t believe your words.
“Are you really ?” he scoffs. Finnick just scoffed at you with disdain. He really was disappointed. Angry.
“I am,” you answer, slowly approaching him. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. Because he knows that if he does, he’ll crumble. You step closer. “I am really sorry. You’re right, I should have said something. I didn’t mean to cause you any harm. I’ll apologize to Mags too when I come back from training,” you continue. He sighs.
“Never do that again. You don’t understand how scared I was.”
“I won’t. I promise,” you nod when answering that.
“Come on, we’ll be late to training. York won’t be happy,” he ends up announcing when he stands up from the bed and walks towards the door. You exhale and follow him. Finnick knows that with still how shaken, exhausted, angry and sad he feels after everything that happened these 24 past hours, he won’t be able to act all nice and charming like usual. Not with you.
The following days were the same, with a cold in between you and Finnick. It got warmer with time passing, but it affected the two of you greatly. You both heard each other cry, yet did nothing about it.
The only moment everything felt back like it always did, was when you had your nightmares. He never stopped to come calm you down. Because he was the only one that could.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When you upgrade your training phase by Finnick’s side, things are getting warmer. Again, he slowly starts to do his charming sentences from time to time, but not too much, because he still has no idea how you feel after the ring episode. Yet, he still shows his support, his care for your wellbeing.
But so deep in your new training, it’s hard for Finnick too to think much about what happened. It continues like this, to the point you eat, breath and sleep training. Finnick and you barely have time to talk, aside from breakfast, lunch and dinner. Only night welcome the swirling of thoughts and questioning when not falling deep asleep, sometimes awake to take you in his arms and calm down your night terrors. Because only his presence manages to ground you back to reality. At least that makes him feel relieved that you still rely on him, as much as he relied on you back in the days of his nightmares of the Capitol. Everything felt lighter even more after a particular conversation when you said you’re here for him, and proposing him to go on a walk together. Like a date.
At lunch, you eat while talking to a girl named Delly. And he clearly is so happy at the idea of going on a walk with you.
His easy going nature and self-effacing humor are slowly coming back, while he asks questions to Delly and chat with you too. At the same time, Gale, Johanna and Katniss join the table. They participate in the conversation, even Katniss. The whole dining hall is rejuvenating thanks to the good meal you were having. Finnick is telling some ridiculous story about a sea turtle swimming off with his hat, and everyone laughs, making him feel like the old Finnick. Himself.
“Peeta !” exclaims Delly. “It’s so nice to see you out…and about.” Finnick realizes the boy is standing here. He hasn't seen him since what happened with you in his hospital room.
Two large guards stand behind him. He holds his tray awkwardly, balanced on his fingertips since his wrists are shackled with a short chain between them.
“You come to eat with us ?” you ask, and he simply nods as now he stares at you.
“What’s with the fancy bracelets?” asks Johanna.
“I’m not quite trustworthy yet,” says Peeta. “I can’t even sit here without your permission.” He indicates the guards with his head.
“Sure he can sit here. We’re old friends,” says Johanna, patting the space beside her. The guards nod and Peeta takes a seat.
“Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capitol. We’re very familiar with each other’s screams, right y/n ?” she says. You have a crisped smile on your face as you nod. Finnick shoots Johanna an angry look as his arm encircles you to keep you in check, not liking at all the little comment that just made you very uncomfortable.
“What ? My head doctor says I’m not supposed to censor my thoughts. It’s part of my therapy,” replies Johanna. The laughter stopped and the cheerfulness disappeared.
“You alright ?” asks Finnick in your ear. As always, he is at your beck and call.
“Yes. And you ?” you reply, and he looks at you as if it was stupid for you to ask such a question when he is the one worried about you. He just nods before his thumb caresses your arm, sinking himself in the happiness he’s having to feel you close without the coldness of the past weeks. Then there’s a long silence while people pretend to eat.
“Y/n,” says Delly brightly, “did you know that Peeta told me how much of a good friend you were to him back at the Capitol ? He said he was glad that he could talk to you there.”
You raise an eyebrow, surprised, and cautiously look across Johanna. “Thank you, Peeta,” you say. Finnick wonders what kind of relationship the boy and you developed in such a traumatic experience.
“My pleasure, y/n,” says Peeta, and there is an old note of gentleness in his voice. Finnick checks the hour, too excited to wait any more minutes to have some alone time with you on this improvised date.
“If we’re going to fit in that walk, we better go,” Finnick tells you, trying to hide the eagerness. He arranges both of your trays so he can carry them in one hand, the other around your waist. He doesn’t want to let you go, even for a second. “Good seeing you, Peeta.”
“You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you,” he answers. It could be a joke, if the tone wasn’t so cold.
You freeze, and Finnick too. Everything it conveys is wrong. The open distrust of Finnick, the implication that Peeta has his eye on you, that you could desert Finnick, that Katniss does not even exist. He feels a weird feeling in his chest. Finnick is not used to jealousy. He’s not the type to be like this. Even more towards someone like Peeta. A poor younger boy that is deeply traumatized from the torture of the Capitol. Yet, his words strike a nerve in Finnick’s core. Because you’re threatened in a way, which he doesn’t like much.
“Oh, Peeta,” says Finnick lightly. “Don’t make me sorry I restarted your heart.” He keeps his tone friendly, because deep down he knows Peeta didn’t mean it at all.
He leads you away after giving Katniss a concerned glance. “Well, that was something,” you whisper. He nods. His fingers tighten slightly their grip around your waist when you leave the dining hall. Maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of insecurity, some jealousy, at Peeta’s threats. But not enough for him to show it.
Then, he gazes at you, aching to be even closer. His hand appears in front of you, and you look at his palm.
“During our walk, wanna hold hands ?” he asks softly, giving you the sweetest look the green of his eyes could behold. You smile, fingers intertwining, warmth shared.
Then you walk. To forget, and to rebuild. Something new, and maybe even stronger than it ever did.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Days are ticking by. Finnick is basking in a weird mix of utter love to finally have trust, love, affection and romance coming back in your relationship, and fear. Fear that time won’t be enough before the squad will leave for the Capitol.
“You still love me. Real or not ?” you ask in the quietness of the night, head next to his with intertwined fingers. After your talk a few days ago, Finnick proposing to hold your hand, he never stopped since then. He in any circumstance lets go of it, not even when eating or talking, like an anchor that allows him to be present. Here, with you. And maybe there are no rings on your fingers like wished in the past, but at least, even in death, he’ll hold your hand. And that’s all he needs.
“Real. Always did. Never stopped.” His words are true, pure, deep but simple. When he sees your face getting closer, time stops for Finnick. And when your lips fall on his, he thinks he just ascended something called heaven. After months of not feeling your mouth on his, his heart explodes all at once. Euphoria eating him up while he consumes the kiss with fervor like the starved man that he is. The desire and happiness of sharing this intimacy with you are forming a potent mix of emotions. His eyes close, his hands reaching for your face. Each patch of skin he caresses is making you falter in a puddle of need and love. His fingers tighten just enough to bring you intimately closer, enough to merge your bodies together. Soul and spirit.
A content sound escapes his mouth, a wave of forgotten sensations electrifying your limbs. He gets on top of your body, intensifying the kiss. Finnick knows it would be wiser to stop, to keep himself from wanting more physical contact. But his craving goes beyond human comprehension. He yearns for your lips, that the moment you give him what he dreams of feeling again, it’s like putting on fire a whole forest, or riding dangerous waves in a maelstrom.
Your hands wrap around his neck, bringing him towards you, as if it wasn’t enough. The second you part ways to catch back your breath, his tongue is on yours in a selfish and capricious touch. The kiss gets languorous, hot, steamy. Raw and intense.
And when another day, the two of you have sex for the first time again in a long time, it feels like you both reconnected on every level possible.
“Finnick, I love you.” These are the words you whisper in the quietness of the night, as true as your heart. He blinks, looking at you with so much surprise. Because it was the first time since you got hijacked that you expressed your love for him in the present time. He thinks he might combust all at once, so instead he brings you intimately closer.
“Real or not real ?” he asks in a weary voice.
“Real.”
Finnick fought seas and skies to make you love him back. And you finally did.
He holds back cries and tightens his arms around you until you fall asleep. Once your eyes are closed, a single tear rolls down his cheek.
Finally, he can die in peace now that the end of the war is approaching.
synopsis : you are the child of mermaid hunters. One day, they bring you on their boat, wanting to make you learn the family business that you’re supposed to take over. Until you meet a mysterious merman that lures you in. What will happen when you end up stranded on an island, all alone, with the threat of having a beautiful creature that wants to eat your soul ? A need of survival mixed with a strange love story.
warnings : supposed enemies to lovers, kind of forced proximity, violence, blood, killing threats, implied murder, doomed lovers, angst, fluff, some satosugu hinted.
words count : 17.k
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : it's originally a Finnick fanfic available on my account, but I changed many things to make it as a Gojo one ! Enjoy and don’t forget to comment and reblog xoxo
Mermaids are said to be the most enchanting and beautiful creatures you could ever lay your eyes upon. Irises reflecting the depth of the waters, skin glowing like the few rays of light diving in the waves, tails swinging in a tempting motion, voices vibrating like the heavens calling for you. But be warned. They’ll lure you in, slowly, in a chase you won’t even know you’re the prey of. Then, their mouths will open to chant the song of your death. Big teeth would tear apart your flesh, hands greedily bringing you away from land, then they’ll eat your soul in a feast.
That’s what your parents always told you, warned you of. After all, they’re not the typical sailors you could encounter on the land of Japan. No. They are mermaid hunters. Paid greatly by the elders to chase down these creatures, for their scales, hair, skin, and surely to eradicate any danger. After all, your clan is situated close to the sea, a business of fishing being the main income of the city.
In reality, you never really fully believed that mermaids were real. Not in the way that they’ll have the capacity to lure people with their beauty and voices. Creatures, yes. But idealized and romanticized to better sell their tails and flesh to high ranked elders citizens.
You only realized how entirely wrong you were when it was too late.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
“Do I really have to come ? These parts of the sea are too far away. I won’t be back on time for the weekend,” you whine, looking at your mother that is packing the necessities, brought by the sailors to the quite big boat meters away on the beach.
“Yes, you need to start to learn the basic skills of hunting. You can’t say no, it’s mandatory. In a few years, you’ll have to take the family business seriously,” retorts your mother, wiping her forehead. Today is a strange day in Okinawa. It’s hot, moist even. But the sky is grey, gloomy. As if something is brewing.
“I already know how to fish, I sell well,” you defend yourself, playing with the spear in your hand.
“Fishes, not mermaids,” corrects your mother in a deep frown. You sigh, rolling your eyes.
“Why do you need to be back for the weekend ? We’ll never be on time until Sunday in the evening,” suddenly says your father, behind you with thick ropes in his arms. You help him out by grabbing some, walking on the sand towards the boat.
“Maybe because the weekends are the only free days I have to be able to rest ? I’m already exhausted from this week,” you explain, groaning in pain at the ache in your back when you hand the ropes to the sailor waiting to put them inside the boat.
“Labor is normal in our Clan, even more so when being a mermaid hunter. No time to rest, or you’ll die. Worse, fall behind your competitors,” exclaims your mother. You can’t even answer her absurd reasoning because she’s already focused on discussing something with your father.
By looking at it, you know you can’t escape this situation. Actually, it’s after lunch that the boat already starts its journey on the sea, with you sadly inside. You look at the horizon, the land of your home slowly disappearing. You start to wonder, breathing in annoyance. Will you really encounter a mermaid ? Hunt one down ? You don’t even know how you’ll react in front of one. Your mother keeps saying to instantly kill them, and wear earplugs to not be lured by their songs.
Killing fishes for food purposes and half human creatures for aesthetic purposes are two different things. Will you even be able to end them, before they’ll end you ?
You don’t have much more time to ponder this existential question that you have some work to do on the boat. You’ll arrive the next day, in the early morning, on the territory of the mermaids and other sea creatures. Hours pass by, busy with preparing nests to lure them in, tying knots, fishing dinner, listening to the instructions of your parents by looking at a map and their usual plan to hunt them down efficiently. To be honest, you don’t pay much attention. Just wanting to sit down due to the exhaustion of this long day.
When the sun sets and some sailors retreat to rest, you stay on the deck to drink a bit. Your mother is the one that tells you to only consume one glass, as your mind needs to be clear at dawn. You simply let the wind caress your skin, the salty and seaweed smell fill your lungs while you sip on the alcohol. The moon reflects on the waves, their sound mixing with the laughter of the other sailors still awake. The atmosphere actually becomes kind of weird. Heavy but strangely light at the same time.
Your eyes that originally got lost on the water, suddenly catch some movement. Intrigued, you think you recognize the tail of a dolphin in the darkness. So you approach the bowsprit and stare, squinting your eyes while finishing your drink.
Here ! It jumps out of the water, then dives back. From the obscurity, you can’t see well. Only that the tail of the dolphin is shiny, so shiny it looks like the stars are sewn on its scales. But dolphins don’t have scales. Surprised, you hold your breath in an attempt to decipher the animal.
When two glossy blue orbs stare at you, your heart stops. For a solid second, the eye contact lasts like an eternity yet so fast. That can’t be a dolphin. You bite your lower lip, blood pulsating in your veins as it approaches slowly, making you able to understand better the depth of what you are staring at. Then, white lashes bat, and its eyes disappear again in the water.
You don’t know what happens to you, because you directly want to know what that thing was, that strange animal. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your organism that makes you see things, but you even start to wonder if it’s not a… Impossible, their territories would be attained only at dawn. Why would a mermaid or merman wander so far from their home ?
You stumble on the other side of the main desk of the boat, to be greeted again by the blue orbs staring at you. You try to recall all types of sea animals you encountered since you were a child, in an attempt to know what kind would have such eyes. Its face is half way in the water, down its -what you suppose- nose. Then, again, it swims closer. The light coming from the boat allows you to see better. Again, your eyes lock.
It’s face emerges from a wave, and you almost fall as you realize it’s humanish. Your legs shake, eyes widening open at the realization. A smile, so seductive, with dimples on the side from the way the muscles of its face move. Your heart pounds hard, thousands of thoughts in your head.
But clouded with alcohol, you panic, and freeze. They, your parents, told you to immediately kill if you encounter one, before they’ll kill you. But you’re bare, no weapon in hand, no earplugs, nothing to defend yourself. And the question remains, do you want to take a life for only aesthetic purposes, granted to greedy elders citizens ?
Suddenly, its mouth opens, and you wonder if you’ll hear the so-called song of your death.
“Come to me,” purrs the creature in such a tempting and appealing way, deathly charming, that you just want to throw every reasoning thought and jump head first in the waves to land in the softness of its voice.
“Y/n, what are you doing ?!” exclaims your mother, her hand landing on your shoulder and snapping you out of whatever just went through your mind. You blink, looking at her, then back at the sea. It’s empty, nobody in sight. Strange. Did you just hallucinate ?
“It’s already late, you need to rest before the morning. You’ll have to wake up early,” she reprimands, forcing you to follow her towards the captain cabin.
“I just…” you stutter in confusion.
“Are you drunk ? What kind of child I made to be drunk the night before such an important day ?! Hush, go to sleep now,” she snaps, annoyed, and pushes you inside before slamming the door at your nose.
As you stare blankly at the wooden wall, you can’t help but play again and again and all over again this strange moment that only you, the creature and the moon witnessed tonight.
You are sure now. What you just encountered was a merman.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When dawn arrives, you’re already awake. Actually, you've been awake since you saw that merman. You couldn’t fathom closing your eyelids. The blue of his irises haunted you all night, hours, minutes and ticking seconds. In raw honesty, you didn’t see much of his face in the darkness. Aside from his inviting smile. Heard a charming voice, a kind of sweet that tickles perfectly your brain, so tempting that if your mother didn’t arrive in time you would have jumped in the waves and have your soul eaten alive.
On the deck, sailors and your parents fuss around, looking at the map and forcing you to calculate which part of the sea you are crossing. At the northeast of the mermaid's territory, you realize.
“Prepare the nets !” exclaims your mother. The fussing is becoming worse and giving you a horrible headache from the lack of sleep and your haunting thoughts. So once you are dismissed for a short minute, knowing your dad will call you back in thirty seconds, you sneak behind the mast. Your eyes roam around the waves, wondering when the mermaids will arrive. You don’t forget to put on the earplugs, so their chant won’t lure you in the depth of the sea. You take a deep breath, a strange hope of seeing that one merman again.
A glimpse of bright blue in the middle of the darker water catches your eye, and like a moth towards fire, you fly on the other side of the desk. You don’t have any backup plan when you arrive face to face with the merman of yesterday night. Under the sunrise, his white pearly hair looks orange, and he smiles when he realizes you came to him.
Nobody else notices him. Only you. And you’re left unknowing of what to do. Take your spear and dig his heart ? Call the sailors to throw the fishing nets on him ? Your parents for them to know the quickest way to kill him ? But do you really want to kill him because it’s what you’re supposed to do to defend yourself, or only because it’s tradition and your family business ?
His lips move, but with your earplugs you can’t hear anything. Yet you can make out his tongue and mouth gesture, recognizing the syllables of your name, then what seems like being “come closer”.
Unconsciously you do, and you realize it the moment you’re having your head on top of the water to lean towards the godlike creature in front of you, in an eagerness you didn't even know you possess. When you want to immediately back down, to get away from danger, the water and the merman, something happens. His wet and cold scaled hands ascend and caress your cheeks, his face intimately getting closer. You freeze.
Like this, you can stare at his face. The hair, his fluttering white lashes, akin eyes to enchant you, his eyebrows, the curve of his lips, smile lines, scales glistening on his cheek towards his pointy ears. He’s so shiny under the orange rays of the rising sun that he looks like a pearl. A beautiful pearl.
“Y/n,” he says again, and you know because you read your name on his lips.
“How do you know my name ?” you ask in a voice that looks like you forgot how to properly speak. He smiles, like his knowledge is obvious, as if you are dumb to even ask such a question. But he’s so charming, you never saw a man that handsome, you end up losing your train of thoughts like a toddler staring at something captivating.
“Merman !” screams one of the sailors on the crow’s nest, staring at the creature in front of you. It’s so loud that you hear it. That startles you that badly, you fumble and fall. On the last second, your hands catch on the wood of the boat, legs dangling halfway in the water and the sea wind. It’s so stupid, really. But the wood is slippery, you don’t know why, maybe because of the sweat on your hands. Your parents exclaim something, rushing towards you, while others take their weapons and the fishing nets.
But as if the god of the sea himself wants to avenge all his lost mermaids and mermans, a violent wave crashes against the main deck and makes many sailors, including your dad, fall down. Your mom is the one to grab a spear, your spear, focused on aiming at the merman below you that dove back in the waves and to surely dig the weapon into his flesh.
“I’m going to fall !” you scream in sheer panic. One problem, did I forget to mention that you don’t know how to swim ?
“Y/n !” she yells back, messily throwing the weapon towards the creature, and then instead focusing on you.
Your fingers slowly lose strength and their grip, your last hope of surviving slipping away when under a ray of sun you suddenly see the hand of your mother. You’re about to reach for it, but another wave, twice as big as before, crashes back down. You slip. It’s too late when water fills your lungs and you sink in the depths of the sea. You want to scream but you can’t. Your body is heavily rocked side to side, your vision becoming blurry from the lack of air in your lungs.
Red surrounds you, barely noticing a white fish tail swimming across you. Blood, but not yours. You can’t really focus anymore, dots of black all around. Are you really going to die like this ? Because you got lured by the enchanting beauty of a merman ? Is this your stupid end ?
When you give your last breath forming bubbles, the blue of the eyes of the predator that was the cause of your downfall is the last thing you see.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Water. You choke out the water that was stuck in your lungs. Soon, air is eagerly swallowed by your mouth, blinking and trying to see something else than a blinding light upon your head. But what your eyes focus on aren’t the sun, nor the afterlife, but like when you thought you died, it’s the same blue orbs blankly staring at you. The lingering feeling of lips on yours are what brings you back to earth.
You’re alive. You weakly back away in fear as you realize that the merman is on top of your form laying on warm sand. The earplugs aren’t in your ears anymore, so you can’t protect yourself if he chants you something to lure you into his toothy sharp mouth.
“What are you doing ?! Kissing a corpse ?!” you accuse in defiance, wiping the wet sand from your cheeks and forehead, frequently looking around in hope to understand where you are. The waves are crashing at your feet, you can see his white tail linger on the foam. It’s wounded, blood still flowing out of the big cut created from what you suppose a spear. Your mother. She’s the one that threw it.
“Easy now, I was doing mouth to mouth. I just saved your life. You’ll need to give me more than a deathly stare to have a real kiss from me,” he answers, raising an eyebrow, a mocking smile drawing on his face. You look at him, not knowing if he is joking or not. Instead, you try to get up on your shaky legs.
“I’m supposed to kill you,” you spat, looking down at him. But really, you’re terrified.
“I’ll kill you before you can,” he retorts, showing the weapon that was previously behind him. It’s only now that you notice it, and with how magnificent the trident is, you can’t help but be amazed at the delicateness of the handwork on the blades. Yet you snap out of your thoughts as an alarm of danger is blasting in your head, wanting to reach for something to defend yourself, but realize you’re bare of anything to protect you. Only your clothes, not even a knife. And the way his brows are furrowed, his muscles tensed, you know he’ll throw the trident at your heart the moment you’ll try something.
Your breath is ragged. You never faced death like this, not with someone that could end your life in a snap of fingers. The merman notices your fear, and slightly lowers down his weapon.
“Sweetheart, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he says more seriously, the use of the nickname sweetheart being condescending rather than flirtatious. So you fall on your knees, legs unable to support your weight anymore. You pass your hand on your face.
“But you lured me in,” you protest.
“I wasn’t the one that made you fall in the sea,” he says as he scoops some water from the waves caressing his skin, and wets his neck. Surely to refresh himself from the burning sun up your head.
“Where are we ?” you ask carefully.
“On an island, it’s at the east of the mermaid’s territory,” he explains, but the way the droplets of foam fall down his golden skin, you remember again the seductive power this merman has. You can’t let yourself be lured again by his beauty, so you stare at your feet digging in the wet sand.
“And the boat ?”
“Oh, the boat seemed just fine when they all tried to kill me. Thankfully the waves made it move in the opposite way,” he answers in a mocking cheerful laugh. You throw a tiny rock in the waves.
“I need to go back,” you say.
“Good luck for that, you have no boat, and you humans would die quickly if trying to swim on this sea,“ he says with sarcasm, and you stop yourself from mentioning that you can’t even swim. So you’re completely stuck here. He plays with his trident before staring at the horizon, “but I guess with how eager they looked to skin me alive, they’ll follow my tracks and soon find you back on this island,” he adds. You kind of feel guilty, so you play with the sand in your hands, knowing you can’t do much right now aside from surviving until they’ll hopefully come to your rescue. You won’t be back for the weekend, and maybe not even alive. That’s for sure.
“Why did you save me ?” you end up questioning.
“Didn’t want my dinner to go to waste,” he simply says. You gasp, backing away and a hand on your throat, as if to protect it from his sharp teeth.
“Are you really going to eat my soul ?!” you shriek. You had no idea until now if the legend about mermaids eating souls is real.
“With how agitated you are, it doesn’t look tasty anymore. I prefer it sweet, not salty,” he shrugs, yet there is some attitude in his tone, meaning you can’t decipher if he’s joking or being brutally honest. A merman having a sweet tooth for the souls he eats sounds almost comical.
“Good for me then,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. There is some silence before you turn your head to slowly look at him, surely analyzing the creature in front of you. Maybe nobody had the chance to be this close to an alive merman without being killed.
“What is your name ? You know mine, but I don’t know yours,” you start.
“Satoru,” he ends up answering, locking his blue eyes with yours. Fearing to fall prey to his charms, you stare back at the waves.
“Well, Satoru, you've been bleeding to a certain death since earlier,” you announce as you grimace at the still open wound on his slightly shaking tail.
“I know, I just wanted to see how long it would take you to notice,” he answers as it looks like he finally acknowledges the pain, gritting his teeth and holding the part of his tail that is soaking the sand in red. You give him a look, and he answers it with a forced tempting smile.
“I did save your life. Maybe save mine ?” he adds, and with the reality of his words and knowing you’ll hate yourself forever if you end up not helping a dying person in front of you, you oblige. Even if he is a merman and that he joked about eating your soul. You rip a part of your pants, with some difficulty, but end up succeeding. It’s large enough to wrap it tightly around the tail and stop the bleeding. As you do the knot, you decide to continue to talk, ignoring his small groans of pain that he fails to suppress.
“You didn’t answer my question last time.” The way he takes a good five seconds shows that he recalls what you mean.
“That was a stupid question. I know your name because your mother was screaming it all the time since I started to follow your boat,” he explains after a ragged breath.
“You’ve been following us ?!” you exclaim, lifting your head to stare at his pained smirk.
“Chasing my dinner,” he corrects in a smile, wink. You glare at him and finish the knot in a strong grip on purpose, making him grit his teeth at the pressure, swallowing hardly his saliva. He lets out a strangled chuckle before sliding more deeply in the water.
“You’re kind of naive, y/n,” Satoru ends up saying.
“What do you mean ?” you scoff in disdain, feeling insulted.
“It shows I’m the first mermaid you ever encountered in your life. Last night, you blindly went towards me and weren’t wearing anything in your ears to block my voice from reaching you. You didn’t attack me, and now you’re wondering if I’ll really eat your soul,” he enumerates. You sigh, knowing he is saying only the truth.
“Well, I have to admit that you’re right… Maybe it’s for that that I’m stupidly helping you out so you’ll have the chance to eat me later,” you snap. “But, was I really supposed to be your dinner ?”
“That’s a secret,” he vaguely answers.
“A secret ?” you question back, annoyed at how evasive he is being.
“Yes, confidential. I am very secretive. So why don’t you tell me one of your human secrets ?” he purrs as he approaches you again, lifting his torso from the small waves licking your ankles.
“About what ?” you raise an eyebrow, wondering what Satoru meant by such a weird statement.
“I don’t know. Maybe about the land where you’re from. Or the people that buy the flesh, scales and eyes of my people. Perhaps the name of the person that controls this traffic ?”
Japan, land divided in Clans. Rich eccentric elders or heads of other clans. Elders again. These are the silent answers to his questions that you say in your mind.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you end up retorting before standing up. He simply looks at you rising from the sand, eyebrow arched in mocking attitude.
“For now, I need to survive until my parents find me back. So I guess, and hope so, that I won’t see you again. Goodbye,” you decide to put an end to this interaction, not trusting him to stay longer by his side. His answer is silence, and he dives back in the sea, soon disappearing from your eyes. You’re left alone on this unknown beach, with the desperate need to make it out alive. And it surely won’t be a merman that will help you on land. Even more if he threatens to eat your soul.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You left the beach to wander in the forest, seeking for the most important thing : water. Somewhere you can actually drink and hydrate yourself. While walking, you’re hyper alert of everything. Animal sounds, the leaves cracking below your feet, the wind, the ocean meters and meters away. After two hours, even if you don't really know how much time has passed, it’s by following a bird that you find a small, very small river. With your finger you taste the water, and sigh of utter relief when you realize it’s not salty. You know drinking it straight up like this might be dangerous from the possible bacteria, but it’s either that or dying.
Eagerly, you gulp down until you satisfy your thirst. You take some time to recover from your exhaustion, happy to have found somewhere to drink, and away from the sun. The trees around you protect you from it.
But you need food. You can fish in many different ways, and efficiently. But with nothing around you, not even a knife, you know the task at hand will be hard.
By looking around, you wonder if with the leaves you could build a fish net, but the lack of resources doesn’t guarantee success. If you had something sharp, you could take a stick, and try to make it as a spear. You grumble as you walk on the river, trying to find some stone you could use, wetting half of your legs. After many tries, you manage to find one, and with one more hour, sharpening it enough by throwing it on bigger rocks and rubbing it against the hardness in a hope to make it as sharp as a knife.
When looking up at the sky, wiping your forehead, and gazing at the beach behind the trees, you know the sun will soon set. You rush to find a stick, use the long leaves, and tie a knot around your sharpened stone to build a kind of rustic spear. Soon, you stumble on the sand, determined to have some dinner tonight. Maybe you’ll even find fruits, or anything else that could keep you alive until the boat will come back.
Being as easy as walking, you’re quick to know on which part of the beach you’ll find the best spot to fish. When you catch a glimpse of a bunch of your preys, you throw your newly made weapon towards your target. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for you to catch a good and quite big fish of the bunch. Even if most of them are supposedly small on this part of the island. You analyze the animal more closely, it’s strangely beautiful that you almost feel bad to eat it. You never saw such a fish before, in all your years of experience. Are they proper to this island ?
Your name is being chanted somewhere on your left, and you raise your head in confusion. Only to be met by, what you recognize, the blue eyes of Satoru staring at you behind rocks. You instinctively, with your dinner in hand, half wet and dirty, walk towards the melodic voice.
As your toe hurts on some rock, the pain snaps you back into reality and you instantly shake your head. Seeing you won’t come to him, Satoru swims closer.
“You’re quite good at fishing, for a human. But that tiny fish won’t be enough to keep you alive for long,” he says as he leans against a rock on the shore. Close enough so you can hear his voice, but far enough so you can’t touch him even if you extend your arm.
“Is it because it’s tiny ? I could fish a good ten of them, and it would fill my stomach,” you say in a scoff and with some disdain, showing the fish in your hand with some pride. Satoru’s tail flicks in the air. He smirks, surely wanting to laugh.
“I’m sure of it, but you’ll be dead seconds later. Their flesh is venomous, their scales too,” he answers in a sing-song voice, followed by a smile. Your eyes widen of surprise and horror, instantly dropping what was supposed to be your meal. You directly notice the redness on your hand, fingers looking like they have tiny pimples. Your skin tingles, and you try to wash the remains of the poison in the water.
“Oh my-” you suck up a sharp breath.
“Stay here,” he orders before diving back into the ocean and leaving you in your distress. Two minutes pass. Satoru comes back with what seems like a type of sea weed. He munches on them, then takes your injured hand in his. He applies the mixture on your skin, and even if you kind of are grossed out, you forget your disgust entirely at the relief it procures you. The coldness of his fingers add to the sensation, and you take a moment to look at him up close.
“I leave for an afternoon and you’re already dying on me,” he breaks the silence.
“I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” you feel the need to correct.
“I never agreed to it, and I’m still keeping track of what was supposed to be my dinner,” he corrects back, giving you a look. He drops your hand and you want to thank him, but the conversation being about you as his dinner doesn’t really make you want to be grateful.
“You’re still after my soul ?”
He holds a small laugh at your question.
“I told you, it’s a secret. I’ll only answer if you have something to give me in return,” he explains, leaning against one of the rocks under the burning sun.
“And I told you I don’t have anything to say to you,” you retort.
“Then I guess you won’t know. I only do fair trade,” Satoru shrugs. You sigh, and look around. You just lost the most important source of food you were supposed to have. And it’s not only some nuts or fruits -that you still didn’t find- that would be sustainable.
“I need to fish for my own dinner,” you whisper to yourself.
“You won’t find other types of fish on this perimeter,” he explains, holding his trident in hand, as a sign that you won’t be able to attack him if you suddenly had the idea to eat his flesh for your own food. Ok, that actually pains you to do so, but you realize you’ll need his help. Again. You take your deep breath to gather some courage.
“Can…” you bite your lower lip, “Can you show me where I’ll find non-venomous ones ?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, toying with his weapon then raising his head to look at you better.
“What do I get in return ? Remember, sweetheart. Fair trade,” he muses, now intrigued, but still firm on his rule of exchange, or payment. You ponder, and for the sake of your life, you don’t mind giving information to the enemy.
“I’ll tell you who rules over my land,” you end up offering, and he smiles.
“See when you want ?” he teases, “We have a deal. Come on, follow me,” he adds before plunging again in the water, expecting you to follow suit.
You walk in the waves carefully, and after some minutes as he sometimes turns around to see if you’re on track, the both of you arrive in a cove. The water is transparent, compared to how much darker it was on the main beach. Like a haven, it shines, and is as a paradise piece of land.
“Here, you’ll have enough bunches of fish to survive,” he explains, and in awe as the sun is setting, you stare.
“Non-venomous ?”
“Non venomous,” he affirms. You smile, pleased, and maybe you can trust him because he actually helped you twice. He surely wants to keep you alive to eat you better later, but at least you’re alive. With your homemade spear, you start to aim at the ones that look the best to choose, and start your chase of food.
“I’m waiting for our deal,” says Satoru after rising from the water, since he was swimming around, relishing in the feeling. His home. You then remember, and nod, still concentrated.
“Right. They are called the elders, a bunch of old wrinkled men that think they’re better than anyone else. But heads of Clans too have an important role in ruling the country,” you say.
“Clans ?” he asks, he doesn’t seem to know this word.
“It’s like small kingdoms of families,” you explain. He narrows his eyes, getting closer.
“So they’re the ones that order the genocide of my people,” he hums in bitterness, tighting his grip on his trident that for a second you think he’ll aim your heart by the look in his eyes.
“Genocide ?” you say unsure of what he meant by that.
“It is a genocide, what else did you expect it to be ?” he answers as he stares at you directly. With so much depth that you stop fishing.
“We-” only defend ourselves. But you know it’s not true, that what he just said makes sense, so instead you close your mouth and don’t answer. A long moment passes where you continue to collect your due dinner. You have no bucket so you have to improvise. You’re already thinking of trying to start a fire, and cooking the flesh, feasting on the flesh.
“It kind of pains me to see you struggle so much for just some fish. Are you that weak ?” Satoru suddenly says in a teasing fake pained manner. That catches your attention and you snap at him.
“Struggling ? I’m one of the best from my Clan !” you exclaim. And with all modesty, you are. Having parents like yours made it impossible to accept failure. Satoru laughs.
“Don’t tell me you’re crying,” he adds in such a teasing tone it makes you want to slap his face. Instead, you roll your eyes.
“Nevermind. Why am I struggling then ?” you decide to question him, since he seems mocking about your skills. And the way his eyes slightly light up, you know he’s feeling happy that you asked.
“I have to admit you are more efficient than I thought. But you’re too slow. Look,” he answers before holding his trident. He raises his arm, his muscles and scales glistening under the last rays of sun. Then, in an inhuman speed, because he’s no human, he aims at a fish and with the precision of a god touches the part of the body that would kill it instantly and won’t damage the flesh.
“Oh, you just wanted to show off,” you end up saying as you roll your eyes, trying to dismiss the awe you felt at such skills. He’s a merman, after all.
“But it worked,” he retorts, and grabs the corpse before analyzing it in a way that only a mermaid would understand.
“Then show me again, how to do it,” you say back as you show with your chin his trident. But by the look he gives you, you can already know that he is silently saying “fair trade, sweetheart,” so you sigh as your shoulders sag.
“Fine. I’ll tell you how Clans work,” you offer. And he smiles. The same smile that lured you in. So you need to stare at the wildlife of the beach instead of his lips and toothy grin. Sharp fangs shining as a reminder of their dangerousness
“I see we understand each other. Good. Here, let me show you,” he invites you to do. You stay on the safe depth of the beach, knowing you can’t swim, and follow his instruction.
The following thirty minutes are actually funnier and more interesting than you thought. Satoru explains to you the way he fishes and hunts smaller prey, a knowledge rooted in a culture that their species possess. They are very respectful of the sea as well. Each life they take has to be for a meaningful purpose, the food chain. And by the way he says it, you feel ashamed that your own people, parents, kill them for no real reason aside from aesthetics, greed, and vengeance. In a way or another, you’re part of this genocide, as Satoru explained. But it’s such a big part of your life, that you still struggle in entirely understanding the point of view of a merman you only met yesterday night.
In return, you explain to him the system of Clans and how each has a specificity. When the moon is up in the sky, you end up thanking him and retreat to start a fire. In hope to find dry wood. It takes some time to succeed, because aside from trying to start a few ones like in the past, you actually had the tools to help. You only are doing so based on very little knowledge. But with some hard work, you succeed, and sit next to the fire that is situated at the edge of the forest. Like this, the river is not very far, you’re protected from the rain and the sun, and can still have a watchful eye on the beach in case the boat of your parents arrives.
As you let your meal roast, you stare at the flames, then the stars. You feel the gaze of Satoru observing you from afar. It would have been creepy if you knew better. But you noticed during the past hours that he was more curious than he let it seem. You know that as much as you, he’s intrigued by you being a human. Maybe he never saw a fire up close before. Analyzing as well how you eat. After all, not like you saw him do, you don’t eat the flesh raw out of the animal with your bare teeth. The way he did it was quite impressive and considered animalistic. You feared he’ll do the same to your throat. His teeth looked sharper when digging in the meat of the fish.
It’s laying down on leaves you took from the forest, on top of the sand, that you have a weird sleep in between consciousness and rest. Suddenly waking up thinking you are in your bed, before the reality of your nightmare reality crashing back down onto you. Weird dreams of being lured in the sea by Satoru haunt you, then drowning into the depths of the ocean.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following day is filled with adventuring yourself in the forest, and bringing back your goods on the beach. You start to build a small shelter, with the very few resources you have to do a proper job based on your skills. Then searching for something else than fish to eat. You find some nuts, and even wonder if the roots you dug can be eaten. You spend some time as well in the river, washing yourself and just getting refreshed from the heavy weather.
When you go back to fish for lunch, Satoru is on the same spot as yesterday, behind rocks, to analyze you. He even comments on the way you throw your spear, like a teacher would do, and you ask him if he doesn’t have something better to do.
Looking at the water, you wish you had the ability to swim. Yesterday, Satoru went to search for seaweeds to heal your hand from the poison. They surely are edible. And you only found nuts and roots. Maybe there are even multiple crustaceans that would fill your stomach. Yet, your inability to do so keeps you from accessing a larger food resource.
You do your best to not ask help from Satoru, because you have precious knowledge about the human world, and you think that you shouldn’t waste those secrets for services you could pass on or do them by yourself.
So days pass. Three more, actually. Your mood gets worse and worse. No sign of the boat. Did Satoru lie to you ? Did your parents and their crew drown because of the violent waves ? Or maybe they’re not after you, and think you’re dead. Actually, that would be the smartest possibility. They know you can’t swim. And your mother would never believe that a merman saved your life. They must be persuaded that your corpse is somewhere in the sea. Meaning they won’t come to you. Unless they’re tracking down Satoru to avenge your supposed death, and like this, will find you alive.
So you keep some hope, that you’re not doomed to rot on this island.
During these days, you have a routine : fetch water, start a fire, fish, cook, occupy yourself by adventuring in the island and avoiding the possible predators. There are a few. Thankfully they don’t seem to approach the beach. You intend to make other utensils with wood and sharpen other rocks as knives or blades for your spear.
With Satoru, even if you refuse to ask for his help, he stays around. He keeps an eye on you, and you keep an eye on him. He’s not always here, but he’s never far. Sometimes you end up talking. Or silently acknowledging the presence of the other. He observes, you observe. Your human habits, his merman habits. Sometimes you exchange some words, information that seems meaningless. You’re kind of glad, actually, that he’s here. Having someone to talk to somewhat keeps you sane. Even if the threat of your soul being eaten looms over your head.
On the seventh day, you snap. You can’t continue eating the same thing every morning, lunch and dinner. You know it’s not healthy either. And if you want to survive well enough, you have to change some of the usual food you consume on this island.
You need to swim. To get weeds, crustaceans and sea shells. The ones you found on the beach were usually empty. And the crabs are actually extremely fast. Your spear is not sharp enough to dig on their shell-like-body-armor and kill them.
But you can’t swim. And the only option you have right now, is Satoru. After eating when the sun is not as high in the sky as at lunch, you walk on the burning sand before reaching the waves. You stand, looking around, and not seeing him, you call his name.
“Satoru ?” you raise your voice. Nothing. As you’re about to call his name again, he appears, sitting on the rock at your left, glistening. The way the sun shines on his hair, it looks like gold. Pearls of water akin to diamonds. Scales a vibrant white, sometimes a soft blue, depending on which angle you look at it.
“Need my help ?” he purrs, tempting. His tail flicks against the foam. Like a cat.
“Teach me how to swim,” you blurt out before rethinking how to formulate your sentence. But it’s so sudden, so blunt, that with the way he looks at you, you end up adding “please,” in a more ashamed voice.
“Do all humans not know how to swim ?” he asks intrigued. You approach to hear him better.
“A lot of people from my Clan know how to. Everyone, actually. So we all learn how to swim,” you explain. Seagulls scream up your head, and for a single second you look at them, wishing you could have a bow and try to hunt them. Some bird meat makes you drool at the idea. Your stomach growls.
“Then how come you don’t know how to ?” Satoru snaps you out of your thoughts. Knowing he looks genuinely curious, you can’t afford to lose his interest, not for a question so critical. So you continue.
“When I was young I had a lot of nightmares of the sea, with the tails my parents told me. I had severe thalassophobia and when all kids at school learned to swim, I didn’t because I was too scared. Since then, even if I overcame my fear of the sea, I never tried to learn how to swim again and nobody offered either to teach me. That’s as stupid as that.”
He nods, something in his eyes that shows he probably thinks of you differently than two minutes ago. You don’t know if it’s mocking, pity, understanding, maybe even some respect. Nothing really shows what he is thinking.
“That’s not stupid,” he ends up answering. Not knowing how to react, you add to convince him “At each lesson you’ll give me, I’ll tell you another secret.”
But the way he stares at you so intensely since you said this, you can’t decipher if from the beginning he wants to agree, or if he just got convinced now thanks to your deal. Then, how his lips stretch tells you everything you need to know.
“We’ll start now,” he announces, his strong tail making him swim and be at your side in an instant.
“Really ? You agree ?” you exclaim, shocked for it to be so… easy. Maybe for the counterpart, he’ll ask you to give him secrets on a deeper level.
“Hmm, approach,” he hums and nods, then his cold fingers trail on your arms and bring you towards him. His touch is sudden, a shiver parcouring your body at the contact. His fingers are as soft as the skin of a dolphin, which surprises you.
You follow a few steps into the water, slowly reaching your waist. You don’t protest and simply let him guide you.
“I guess swimming with legs is not the same as swimming with a tail, so we'll have to find what is best for you. For now, I’ll support your body so try to relax and float,” he instructs, as you stare at his said tail. The way it moves is so strong, yet now in such shallow waters it’s half still, showing he barely needs to do anything to keep afloat. You look back at him, and it always surprises you the way he switches from being playful to actually being serious when being on teaching mode.
“Float ? I’ll drown for sure !” you protest in an instinct of avoiding danger.
“You still can stand on your… things,” he tries to explain by showing it with his chin.
“Feet,” you correct. He nods in acknowledgement.
“You still can stand on your feet, here. Even if you fail, you won’t drown. Do you trust me ?”
“No,” you directly answer without thinking. Strangely, he laughs. It’s the first time you hear it coming genuinely from him. Soft yet deep. A melody that caresses your ears. You thought mermaids' laughter would be scary, because you always imagined some evil laugh as they’ll feast on their victims. It’s nothing of such when it’s Satoru’s laugh.
“At least you’re honest. But if you want us to work, then you should trust me for this. That’s the bare minimum,” he calms down, shaking his head.
You take a deep breath, and try to let yourself float. His hands slide under you, on your stomach, strong grip to keep you stabilized. The other maintains your waist. Clearly, he’s the one supporting your weight.
“Y/n, the first step it’s for you to learn how to float. If you can’t swim, at least that’ll keep you alive instead of drowning. So believe me, and now, turn on your back,” he orders, seeing that trying to make you be comfortable on your stomach doesn’t work. In a groan you turn around, the weight of your clothes from being drenched clinging to your skin. His hand supports your back, and your eyes meet his. The sun shines brightly behind his head, like a crown.
“Relax your muscles,” he orders.
“I can’t,” you say through gritted teeth. Your body is completely tense, and you’re not sinking only thanks to him.
“Do you need some help ?” he asks.
“What do you mea-” you get cut short by the way his pupils seem to grow bigger, and you immediately get drowned into the darkness of it. Not the sea. “Relax, y/n,” Satoru whispers in a melodic voice, and a breath escapes your parted lips. Enchanted by his words and irises, as if you are floating in a dream, all your muscles stop to be so tense. Guided by his hands, he keeps your back straight.
“Put your strength in your abdomen,” he murmurs closer to your head. You get lost in the contemplation of his face and do as he says. Gently, you start to float by yourself without realizing. Then, his hands, inch by inch, leave your waist and back. You only realize later that he’s not holding you anymore.
A hint of panic crosses your eyes, and as you’re about to stop all your efforts, his hand cups your cheek and makes you stare at the sky.
“Beautiful, isn’t it ?” he asks in a lovely tone. Instead, you focus on the bright blue similar to his eyes, the seagulls, the wind, the trees far away, the few clouds dancing in the air.
“Yes,” you manage to whisper. You don’t know how much time passes. Five minutes, or twenty, or hours, maybe barely thirty seconds. All but a mystery. Your consciousness is here but far away at the same time. You know it’s because of Satoru. His voice, his blue.
“Wanna try to move your limbs ?” he proposes after a while.
“Ok,” you end up agreeing.
“With your legs, not your arms. We usually simply move our tail up and down, but for you it’s different,” he states as one of his hands touches your leg, intrigued. You freeze.
“I’ll try to recreate what I saw back at my school when I was a kid. But keep your hands on my back ! Just in case, I don’t want to drown,” you exclaim. He gets back on your side to maintain your body structure, softly floating on small waves.
“When you’re ready,” he muses. You messily start to move your legs in a paddle, an attempt to recreate what you always saw. It actually helps you to move, even if you can’t really choose which direction to take. You think you look ridiculous like this, but Satoru doesn’t seem to think the same. You manage to actually… swim, on your back, with his help supporting your weight. And that’s already a good start.
Satoru is kinder than you thought. Much kinder. When he’s not threatening or mocking you. You don’t really know him, and maybe you’ll never really do because he is a merman. But, the way he diligently assures that you’re comfortable, your safety, and actually takes time to teach you, even if it’s a deal, kind of… it’s weird, but warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible.
Once your swimming session comes to an end, you’re sitting on the sand next to Satoru that is half way on the water. After all, you need to keep your deal. And tell him something, a secret.
“One of the elders that buy a lot of… mermaids scales and flesh… is someone that is part of a circle close to my Clan. All of them actually are the biggest buyer, because they resell it for an astronomical amount of money to well known stylists, or on the black market,” you admit. You actually know all their names and influence. You know other things too. Actually, a lot. Either from your parents telling you, or from hearing about it vaguely.
“Stylists ?” he asks confused, a gravely look on his face at the knowledge of this.
“People that make and design clothes, accessories,” you explain.
“So these civilians hunt my people but disguise themselves with our scales,” he scoffs at the absurdity of this information.
“Actually, some of them dream of being mermaids. They say that there are legends where humans could turn as a mermaid,” you add while looking at the sun slowly setting, very slowly.
“Ridiculous,” he mutters.
“Is it true ?” you ask, turning towards him. Satoru stares back at you, holding your gaze, before looking back at the ocean before him.
“Never saw it with my own eyes,” he vaguely answers.
“I heard it’s by a specific sea shell, some kind of magic,” you add in a thoughtful whisper.
“A sea shell,” he murmurs back.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following days, no signs of a boat. You continue to exchange swimming lessons with Satoru, and secrets. You get used to the feeling of his cold touch on your skin whenever he helps you. Long fingers and palms always securely around your waist, stomach or back.
Your tutoring is going slowly but surely. You started to learn how to hold your breath as well, because Satoru obviously wanted to show you how to swim under the water. Not with your head at the surface.
Once, he directly gave you seaweed, because you still can’t dive efficiently to go grab them yourself. You went to cook it by the fire, and Satoru stayed close at the shore to stare at this strange thing called flames. So once you finished roasting some fish as well, with nuts, you felt kind of generous and quickly approached his form.
“Satoru ! Here, taste it,” you exclaim as you extend in a leaf the cooked flesh along with the seaweed.
“That looks… interesting. You humans really don’t eat it raw ?” he comments, narrowing his eyes. Gently, he takes the leaf, analyzing from every angle the proposed food before staring back at you intensely.
“Not really. Depends. But try it,” you shrug. He takes the meat in between his fingers, and rolls it against his lips to feel the warmth of it. He shivers slightly, startled, then bites into it. His expression is neutral, before he licks his fingers, and swallows the seaweed. Yet, with how sinfully you look at him, entranced by such a simple task, you take back the leaf and stare at it instead.
“Do you have to always be seductive ? Even when eating ? Is it like a merman thing ?” you question with some disdain, but really, you’re just embarrassed at how easily you became eager to observe his lips.
“Did you get seduced ?” he retorts in a smirk with a voice that hints at the usual flirt it holds.
“That’s not what I meant,” you deny.
“I don’t know. You’re just weak to my charms, I guess. You’re a human, after all,” he shrugs in a chuckle. Oh, even his chuckle is charming ! That’s torturous. He can and will maybe kill you the moment he wants it, and yet you keep falling weak to his antics, to his voice, smile and eyes.
“I prefer it raw,” he comments, passing his hand in his wet shiny locks.
“Raw ?!” you exclaim in a blurt before you could realize how embarrassing that just was. He raises an eyebrow, eying you in a cocky way.
“The fish, and the seaweed. What did you think I meant ?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head and walk away, back on the beach as you can hear a “sure” from behind.
The next day, after another swimming lesson and some due secret sharing, with nothing else to do, waiting for dinner time to go fish your food, you decide to stay for once in Satoru’s company.
“Why are you always here ? Don’t you have some people to go back to ?” you ask, using one of your rocks you found next to the shore to do some ricochet. And at the same time, teaching Satoru how to do it as well, as he never saw such an intriguing thing before. But, at your words, he throws the small stone and it bounces nine times on the quiet still water of this part of the cove.
“Ask that to your parents,” he ends up saying in a neutral voice. Which is unusual from him. You frown, confused at first.
“What do you mea- oh,” your words die in your throat at the realization. You fail your ricochet, and slowly gaze back at him. His back is turned to you, busy focusing on the waves, and surely for you to not see the utter pain and bitterness etched on his face. Shame eats you alive, nails digging in your palm, and you stutter a pathetic apology because it’s your own parents and their crew that killed Satoru’s loved ones.
“I’m sorry…”
“Are you really ?” he says in a mocking tone, the kind that doesn’t make fun of, but doesn’t trust, doesn’t believe. And you actually wonder. Do you say that out of politeness ? Or because you genuinely realize the horror and hypocrisy of this whole family business that you’re supposed to take control of -in a future where you’ll come back alive.-
“I think I am,” you end up revealing. The way he looks at you changes, and a tiny smile of recognition goes on his lips before he leaves you alone for the rest of the day. Disappearing in the ocean with a building of mysteries following him. Because Satoru is an enigma. He doesn’t come back until the next afternoon.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Satoru kept you company at dinner, him asking you if he could try again the cooked fish and seaweeds. He even brought seashells, to cook too, making it a real feast for your stomach. Satoru is actually a merman with a very big appetite, and love for food. You know you lost weight, surely more than in a healthy way, but at least you’re still alive and kicking. Not mentally, but physically. Again, the loneliness and doom of being alone on this island is not as bad since Satoru sticks by your side.
Like right now. Laying on the foam, stomachs full, eyes locked on the stars and the moon. Next to each other in silence, aside from sometimes explaining the way navigators learn to read the stars to know where they are. Mermaids do the same. But call the constellations differently, each word part of their own culture and history.
Strangely, your skin gravitates towards him. Maybe because you got so used to being physically close during your swimming sessions, his body is like a part of yours when he guides your hips, legs, chest and arms to move around along the waves. The feeling of his dolphin like soft skin, his scales, his temperature. It’s all getting imprinted on your memory. Your new habit.
So, your arm touches his, his fingers flickering on yours. It’s weird but seems normal at the same time.
“You’re cold,” you say suddenly, turning your head to meet his.
“Are all humans that warm ?” he questions back, the edge of his digits sliding on your arm. Exploring his claim. You shiver head to toe. He notices it. The goosebumps an indicator that he learnt to know what it means.
“Compared to you, yes. Why ? You don’t like it ?”
Satoru’s hand slides up, then up, resting on your heart. Feels your pulse, your warmth. He can rip it apart if he wants to, but he doesn’t. The contrast with the coldness of his palm is soothing. He feels, closes his eyes to connect on a deeper level that only he knows with your beating heart. Maybe it’s a mermaid thing. But ô, it makes your organ flutter.
“It’s nicer than I thought. It feels like the sun,” he explains.
The sun.
“You’re cold as the moon, then,” you whisper in the quietness of the night. His eyelids open and the intense blue swallows your thoughts.
The moon.
“Can’t deny it,” he murmurs.
“Still after my soul ?” you suddenly ask.
His hand, nails, trail to your throat. Strangely, you don’t move, don’t protest. For a long second, it lingers on your jaw, then your cheek. Falls on your lip in a brushing touch.
“Maybe.”
Maybe.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You ended up cooking the roots you found, after testing them and waiting some days to be sure you had no stomach ache or something abnormal happening. Each day that dragged along, when not being on the beach, you'd carefully explore the forest, avoiding all potential predators, and continue to make some utensils, weapons, arrange your shelter, to the point that in a cope mechanism you called this part of the island your home. You referred to it like this whenever you had to go back there, and even if you know it’s not, it gives some sense of security in this strange routine of survival you had to develop.
There are nights where you cry of despair, hopping the boat, any boat, will come to you. You always make sure that the fire is big enough to create some smoke that would be seenable up in the sky. In those moments of solitude, Satoru is never far, and you end up joining him in silence at the shore. Nobody talks, maybe because he is tired of constantly joking and teasing around. But he’s here, and it starts to grow into you.
You are waiting for him one afternoon, to have your usual swimming lesson. He shouldn’t be very far, but even if you call his name he doesn’t answer. You climb on the rocks carefully to try to spot his tail somewhere in the clear blue.
“Satoru ?” you yell again, starting to wonder if he’s even here. But, is he still ? Did he leave, to your doom ? A wave of panic possesses your body and you rush to the rest of the beach, running on the sand in hope to find him. You haven’t seen him all morning as well. You genuinely start to think he left for good, but why ? Everything was fine until now, your deal satisfied both of you, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Did he stop being after your soul ? Even if considering yourself his prey, this strange relationship gave you much more comfort than you intended.
“Satoru, where are you ?!” you call again in despair, foot slipping on a rock and falling, but catching yourself just in time. You climb the slippery rock again to get a better look at the sea, in hope to see a glimpse of him. Somewhere, please.
Then, a faint groan, not very far from your left. You rush immediately, and stumble on a sight that makes your heart beat so much quicker in the spawn of a millisecond. He’s there, laying on the sand and half in the foam, all bloody and breath ragged. Trident in hand, trying to lift himself up and go back in the ocean.
“What happened ?!” you exclaim and fall on your knees at his side, only then he notices you. Your hand lands on his skin, and gets tinted by the bright red liquid.
“I need to go back to the.. ocean…” he mutters painfully. You look at your palms and feel your whole body tingle in fear.
“Why ?” you ask, not knowing what to do to stop his bleeding, aside from taking off your clothes and intent to tie a knot on his wounds and stop the bleeding.
“Seaweeds… healing,” he groans, but you stop him from attempting to move. You immediately understand what he means. You recall your first day on his island, and what he used to heal your hand.
“I’ll do it, don’t move !” you protest and push yourself on your shaky legs and rush in the water without a second thought. You vaguely remember where he always went to search for them, on the left of the clove. But your swimming skills are not very efficient, yet you have to rely on what he taught you. Even if you’re scared. So you go faster, towards the left, the water reaching your shoulders. You take a deep breath and dive.
You can’t see very well, even if it’s so clear on this part of the island. But you intend to move your legs and arms, adjust your body and strength like he always told you to do. You spot the seaweeds, deeper down. You go back to the surface to take another deep breath, then dive again. You struggle to manage to reach the depth, but still succeed in grabbing as much as you can. Seconds later you push yourself up again and paddle towards where he is. It’s messy, rushed, you struggle to breath correctly, but you do your best to do it as fast as possible.
You cough some water when you lunge yourself at his side, and he looks at you surprised and worried, whispering your name in a grunt of pain.
“Let me take care of this,” you exclaim. First, you put some water on the wounds to clean it. Since he’s a merman, you know that the salt isn’t aggressive to his skin or flesh. Then as you recall what you saw him do, you munch the seaweed. The taste is bitter, but you don’t stop. Then, apply the gross mixture on his wounds.
You don’t know if it will work, and normally, for such a situation he’ll need urgent care in a hospital or with qualified medics of your Clan, getting stitched. But he’s a merman, and he wanted to reach for this. So you try to believe in this supposed working magic. After all, it healed the poison on your skin.
He sighs of relief and lets his head fall on the sand, closing his eyes in surrender. You know he’s still alive at the way his thoracic cage moves up and down.
“Y/n…” he whimpers your name, while you continue to apply the munched seaweed on each cut and wound. His hand shakes and he tries to take your face in his hand. His digits manage to rub against your cheek, and you lock eyes with him.
“Thank you,” he whispers. You stop moving, relishing in his touch.
“You better not die on me. I still need your help,” you answer in a stressed and terrified tone.
“I didn’t plan to,” he murmurs, his hand falling from your cheek. His eyes close again, but he’s still breathing. You stay by his side, finishing to clean and apply the mixture on the wounds. You regularly put back water on him, to keep him refreshed. You don’t know how merman bodies work, but surely staying under the sun would do nothing good.
You realize he is asleep, clearly exhausted, and let some time pass as you anxiously stay next to him. When you think it’s required, you change the mixture that started to dry, and need to dive back in the water to collect more seaweeds. It’s as hard as before, trying to move correctly and swim, but you manage to do it faster. You quickly repeat the process, hoping it will continue to work. You have the surprise to see that the blood stopped, and the wounds slowly started to close by themselves.
Whatever magical or scientific mystery these weeds possess, they are working marvelously well. You munch and apply. Then once it’s done, you realize how your body is exhausted from all this panic and swimming. Softly, you lay down, catching back your breath next to his sleeping form. You mindlessly continue to apply water on his scales, and then just to make sure, let your head fall on his chest where his heart is supposed to be.
It’s beating. Not in the same way as humans, which startles you. But it’s beating. The sound of this live against your ear lulls you into a sleepy state, the coldness of his skin refreshing your burning cheeks. You’re sure you got sunburned with how strong the rays are on this island, but with no mirror it’s hard to know what you look like anymore.
Fluttering eyelids, you end up closing your eyes. Lips parted, sleep takes over and dreams dance in your head.
It’s a soothing hand, refreshing, that wakes you up. The sound of the waves softly crashing on your legs and middle, the seagulls up your head, the sun gently setting at the edge of the ocean. You lift your head, realizing you fell asleep on Satoru’s chest.
His eyes meet yours, caressing your face with a softness you didn’t know would make you feel so safe.
“You’re alive,” you whisper.
“And you’re awake,” he retorts. You rise and put your hands on each side of his face, sitting on the sand. Your eyes worriedly try to catch his, to see the truth they behold.
“What happened ?” you ask in panic and concern.
“I got attacked, but that was to be expected,” he vaguely explains.
“Attacked ? By what ?” you question, confused. Your brows furrow.
“Your parents,” he admits. Your world seems to crumble underneath your legs before snapping back to reality. Your fingers curl around his cheeks, and your breath is becoming erratic. You look around you. Nothing.
“My parents ?! What ? Where are they ?!” you exclaim.
“Kilometers away from here. I wanted to see where their boat was. It’s towards the north. I quickly realized they were after me, because when they saw me, instead of chasing a bunch of others of my people that were attacking their crew, they immediately went for my skin,” he continues in a calmer voice than you expected.
“But why did you do that ? Satoru, you could have died !” you snap, feeling tears of despair in your eyes but you shake your head to stop them from rolling down your skin. He rises too, lifting his torso, the setting sun’s ray glowing on your back and on his skin.
“Because you seemed devastated that nobody would come to get you back to your home. I wanted to know if they were going towards the direction of this island,” he admits.
“You did that for me ?” you blurt out in shock.
“Can’t have your soul being too sad,” he says. Fingers smoothing the dried sand on your cheeks, maybe a tear too.
“Or the taste will be bad, right ?”
“I prefer its taste when you’re happy, being sweet,” he answers, a small smile forming on his lips. You bite yours, and suddenly take him in your arms before you can realize what you are doing. Heartbeat against his, you feel his arms wrap around your body as well. Your face digs in his chest, worriedly. His smell surrounds you, and it’s like a cold sea yet a warm summer. So enchanting that you breathe in to it.
“Never do that again. They’ll get here when the time comes. Sooner or later. For now I’m surviving. I can still handle it. So don’t get yourself killed,” you shake your head ordering that.
“I think it won’t take them much longer. They’re still tracking me down, and they’ll quickly find this island,” he soothes your hair, talking against your head as his eyes are locked on the ocean. Chin tucked on top of you.
“Then why don't you go ?! Why don’t you hide, stay in safety in the depths of the ocean ?” you ask, lifting your face to be in front of his.
“You said you needed me.”
“I do. But I can’t… I can’t handle the fact that because of me you’re getting hurt or awaiting a certain death !” you cry out.
“Feeling pity for someone that wants to eat your soul ?” he gently jokes, and you put your hand on your heart.
“Satoru, we both know it’s not true. I figured that out. If you really wanted to eat me, you would have done so by now,” you end up saying. He simply looks at you. The way your eyes stare at his. Your lips twitching. Your eyebrows. Your facial expression. He doesn't say anything. Doesn’t need to.
“I think I can handle myself now. I managed to swim, to get these sea weeds. I can fish. I have water. Fire. And can cook roots too. So don’t stay here, and go back to your own home, to your people,” you tell him.
“I have nobody, y/n, nobody. They all got killed,” he answers more seriously, and you can’t help but remember what he told you some time ago. Days really went fast.
“Nobody at all ?” you whisper unsure.
“Not even Suguru anymore…” his eyes get lost in the waves with bitterness.
“Suguru ?” you ask confused. He doesn’t explain. Some seconds pass, his hand falling on your back, trailing your skin.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it ? The only person I have right now, is you. The child of the humans that killed my loved ones,” are his words. They are so harsh, so true, so intense and a painful reality that you have nothing else to say to this. What can you, really ? Excuse your parents ? No apologies would ever erase the fact that they are all dead. He almost died too today, because of them.
You even start to wonder if your life would ever be the same if you are reunited back with your own family. No. Not after this.
“I’m staying here. I have love and dreams too,” he finishes the conversation.
Satoru is staying here. You look at him. What are his dreams, for him to not go back ? And love ? You touch your heart.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Something significantly changed in your relationship between Satoru and you. But it feels right. You continue your daily routine with him. But when he was usually watching you from afar, now he stayed by your side. Unless when you went into the forest. You’ll cook him more fish, and sea shells. So he can try. He brings you things from the ocean, to help you eat better and make you gain back some weight.
His wounds ended up completely healing, pretty fast actually. As you get more used to swimming, thanks to him, Satoru brings you with him deeper in the ocean. But he’s always close to you, to help you just in case. When you’re tired and too far away from land, you do as taught. You float on your back, staring at the sky. Like this, you gain some energy before being able to swim again.
Tonight, after eating the usual, Satoru took your hand and is nos dragging you with him in the water. Because of the hotness of today, you’re only in your underwear, your clothes finishing to dry as you tried to wash them in the morning. But with no soap, it’s a harder task than you thought.
“In the middle of the night ? I’ll see nothing !” you protest, stopping straight, but he swims closer and faces you. Hands sliding on your waist, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.
“You really don’t ? I guess human eyes are weaker than I thought,” he mutters to himself, analyzing your pupils and irises with a certain devotion that you don't entirely understand.
“You see in the water during the night ?” you ask intrigued, taking a step closer in the water reaching your collarbones.
“Perfectly,” he confirms, smirking slightly.
“You’re just like a cat,” you comment in a chuckle.
“A cat ? What is this ?” he frowns.
“An animal on land,” you explain. He does a small hum of acknowledgement then his strong tails makes the two of you move forward without you can protest.
“Y/n, come on. Swimming at night is fun ! And you’ll have the moon to guide you,” he tries to convince you. It’s quiet around, and the stars reflecting on the waves actually is a beautiful sight. It makes you want to fully engross yourself in this experience.
“Ok, but stay close,” you agree. He smiles and guides you to swim at his side. As you asked, his body doesn’t leave you. Arms wrapped around your middle to bring you with him. You barely paddle, his tail doing all the work. With no clothes on, you realize how each centimeter of your skin is rubbing against his scales and torso.
“You told me you can’t see ? I have the perfect solution. Hold on to my waist, and hold your breath,” he suddenly says, excitement crossing his eyes. You nod, and instantly swallow enough air to keep yourself as long as you can underwater. He brings you with him, this time in an inhuman speed swimming. You have to squint your eyes, but really, you see nothing. Even more with the pressure.
Then, as you hold yourself more strongly to his waist, chest glued to his, he turns in a loop. Suddenly, the whole ocean all around you lights up in tiny sparkles of shiny blue. Like his eyes. You want to exclaim of amazement but you can’t, so you wait for Satoru to bring you back to the surface to express it.
“Oh, that is amazing !” you laugh in ecstasy, looking around at the waves rocking your body shining by the sparkles of blue. “I saw this phenomenon a few times when going fishing back in my Clan. But I never… had the opportunity to swim in it. We call it Noctiluca. The name of the plankton,” you recall. He stares at you, deeply.
“We call them the stars of the sea,” Satoru explains, and moves his tail on purpose to make it shine even more. You chuckle again in happiness at this piece of art painting itself in front of you.
“Now you see. Come underwater with me again,” he says, bringing you down so you gasp and catch your breath quickly before having your face submerged. He makes you go deeper, faster and more impressively when you explore part of the oceans at night you never thought you would ever see up close in your entire life. Satoru stays attentive to your needs, and whenever he notices you need air, he brings you back to the surface in time.
“Not so scary anymore, right ?” he asks, wiping the hair from his forehead.
“I wish I could hold my breath longer,” you admit, gulping some air.
“Why ? You want to stay longer underwater with me ?” Satoru asks, moving his eyebrows in a jokingly flirtatious manner. You roll your eyes.
“It’s fun, and it feels good,” you confirm, wondering what it would feel like to have the same capacity as a mermaid. Swimming as fast as you can, breathing in air and water, luring people with your charms and voice.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Do you trust me ?” he then asks, a tempting smile on his face. So you look at him, recalling that one time he asked if you trusted him and you answered no with fervor. So you smile back, and answer.
“Yes.”
Something in your chest flutters, and Satoru seems surprised before relief and appreciation wash over him. He licks his lips, and gets closer, his arms slowly guiding you towards him.
“That’s a nice change of heart,” he muses. “Hold your breath,” he whispers in his sing-song voice that always seemed to lure you in. So you do so, and again you find yourself under the water. The planktons shine all around you, glowing in your hair, your eyes. Satoru looks unreal like this, his irises never leave you. He brings you in a dance, diving deeper, keeping you close. You let yourself follow his lead, until he turns you around. When you face him back, his beauty strikes you all at once.
You almost forget that you need air. But when you’re about to express it, his lips melt on yours.
Satoru kisses you, eyes closed, while yours are wide open. Everything brightens around you, and your heart seems to wildly hammer in your chest. It’s soft, warm, yet cold. His lips are fresh, and a new sensation swallows you whole at the contact. You end closing your lips and time stops.
“Now you can breathe,” he whispers so clearly, you hear it like an echo at the back of your mind. You open your eyelids, a bubble of air escaping your parted lips as his mouth slowly parts from yours.
Indeed, realization hits you as you can really breathe in. Even if you’re underwater. You touch your throat, your chest, where your lungs are supposed to be. Fascination overcomes everything as your smile stretches and stretches even more.
“I can breathe… and I can talk clearly too !” you exclaim. “How is that possible ?!”
Satoru swims around you, round and round, taking your hands to make you spin as well.
“Mermaid kisses offer the ability to breathe under water. I guess no humans know that, because if they did, they’ll for sure capture and assault my kind,” he explains.
You then realize something, something that proves you and Satoru are more than just a survivor on an island and a merman that made a deal with. No, so much more than that.
“So I’m the only human to know,” you swim closely while confirming this, and he does the same.
“You’re the only human to know.”
He trusts you. Satoru trusts you. Your eyes light up, and you touch again your heart, your throat. You can breathe, you can talk, all underwater without any problem. Your eyes see better as well. It’s purely magical. Almost unimaginable. Are you dreaming ? Maybe.
“Thank you. That would be our secret,” you say with devotion. His smile becomes so genuine, so full of a strange feeling you’re not sure to understand.
“The first secret that we share, then. There is always a start to everything,” he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the palm instead.
The night ends on this note.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following days are full of kisses, frequent, allowing you each time to explore the depth of the ocean at Satoru’s side. Places you would have never seen with your own eyes before. Being able to hunt new kinds of seafood, finally having a new diversity of dishes.
Each time his lips fall on yours, it’s a breath of life. Soft, cold, electrifying. Your body freezing then melting. Yet, what your relationship is, remains unknown. After all, these kisses are only made for you to live in the depth of the sea. For a limited amount of time. Around two hours each.
Maybe you want more. Something real. You don’t really know anymore. You even start to forget about your life back at Okinawa. Your parents. The boat. Your job. Everything.
Aside from this island. This place is the only thing you have with him.
A piece of land, where all your secrets are hidden. Your bodies on the sand. Your kisses in the water. His arms around your waist. His eyes, blue, always analyzing every little muscle movement of your face to decipher what you are thinking about. As if you are an enigma. But Satoru is the enigma.
He still didn’t eat your soul. You’re sure he won’t. But at this point, it’s like he already consumed every bit of it to nothingness.
Head laying on his chest while the waves softly crash on the warm sand. His hand touches the edges of your hair, then the curve of your nose, to the plump of your lips. It’s still the morning, the sun rising. A night spent exploring the sea and the cove at his side.
It’s so silent. Really. But you don’t mind it. You just relish in the intimacy of the moment. Your left hand busy caressing his tail, admiring the scales shining under your digits. Nails softly grazing the hardness of it.
“You’re an enigma, Satoru,” you end up commenting after some minutes of mindlessly caressing. You don’t see his face because of looking at his tail, so you don’t know what kind of reaction or facial expression he’s having. But you’re sure he’s having his usual charming smile right now.
“Am I ? I could say the same thing about you,” he chuckles slightly, musing his words.
“Why were you so far away from your territory when we first met on my family boat ?” you end up questioning.
“Asking hard questions, hmm ?” he answers, fingers stopping on your jaw to instead trail on your shoulder, then arm.
“I always wanted to know,” you defend yourself. You hear him sigh, the conversation taking a more serious tone.
“It was careless of me. But, I didn’t really lie to you. I was tracking down your family. The ones that killed Suguru in front of me. I wanted to avenge him,” he ends up admitting in all honesty.
“Who is Suguru ?”
“Someone I loved very much,” he says in a pained voice, hand tightening around your arm before he realizes it and immediately loosen his grip.
“It’s for that you went so far away from your home ?”
“Yes. And then I found you. Kind of an anomaly. It has been some time since I was following your parent’s boat, planning the ideal time to kill them with my trident. Until I saw you for the first time. You weren’t supposed to be here. Were you a new threat ? I just needed to know who you were,” he continues. You stare at the sun lights in his tail, being extremely captivating.
“So you lured me in ?”
“I did. And I never expected you to fall and drown,” he adds.
You recall this moment, the feeling of dying that haunted your dreams every night since then. You inhale a big breath to steady yourself.
“You could have eaten me a long time ago,” you whisper with acceptance.
“I did think about it when I learnt your identity when your mother called you her child, screaming for you to go to sleep so you’ll be awake at dawn. I thought that I'll take a life for a life, so they’ll know what it feels like to lose someone they love,” Satoru confesses. You blink, biting your lower lip. Strangely, you wonder what it would have felt like feeling his mouth on your throat, diving on your heart, then on your mouth to consume your life essence.
“But after all this time, you still didn’t,” you comment.
“I didn’t,” he confirms. You’re sure he’s smiling now.
“Why ?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. Two seconds pass. So you finally turn around to face him again since the two of you laid on the foamy waves.
“Satoru ?”
Your question is met by his lips. Hands cradling your head, tilting it to the side to deepen the intimate exchange. It’s so raw, bare of any barriers, or excuses of allowing you to breathe underwater. No. It’s real, authentic. It’s him and you. Sharing something true to your heart.
“Because I learnt to love you,” he confesses against your mouth. You think you just died then went back to life. He parts slightly, locking eyes with you. Your heart is hammering in your throat, and you take back his face, diving on his lips once again.
“I do too,” you confess as well, his eagerness answering your kiss. It’s soft now, hot and fresh, steamy and passionate. His hands explore your back, bringing your legs closer, still amazed by these strange body parts foreign to him.
“You’re the only person I have now, y/n. I can’t lose you,” he whispers against your lips.
“I don’t think I want my parents to ever find this island,” you admit.
“I can’t stop you from going back to your home, even if I wish to continue to spend everyday by your side,” he sighs.
“Where I’m from, I work all the time to exhaustion. When I have my weekends, I still have to help them with the preparation of their boat before leaving on Monday. When do I really rest ? Never. Work, work, work to the bone. I had friends, but with our jobs, my Clan, I can barely see them anymore, them neither. My whole life is forced to follow a path my Clan wants. What the elders want from my family. And I don’t want it. I don’t. If that’s home, then I prefer to not have one anymore. Not after I tasted what freedom tastes like. By your side,” you exclaim, expressing a mountain of feelings you kept inside.
It’s only by being here on this island that you finally grasped what it feels like to be human. To be alive. To not be controlled by a government. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, you have to survive each day. But Satoru significantly made you able to be alive every hour of passing weeks. So freedom but harsh survival ? Or captivity and eternal suffering ?
Maybe you’ll die young, because of a complication. It’s not like the magical seaweed can even stop all diseases including death. But at least you’ll be free. Back at your Clan, you’re sure you would die at work. Or from exhaustion.
“Then let’s stay together. Here, in the ocean,” he says, cradling your cheek tenderly.
The choice is quickly and easily made.
“Let’s hope for it,” you swallow your saliva, anxiety building up at the gore possibilities of outcomes.
“I told you, y/n. I’m not leaving this island. Even if the boat comes back,” Satoru assures you strongly. So you have to believe him. You nod.
“What will you do then if they do ? Will you kill my parents ?” you ask in a wavering voice. You don’t know what to think about this. They are your parents. But they killed his. What can you even try to rationalize in this situation ? You don’t even know what will happen.
“I can’t tell you. But you’ll know what I’m planning soon enough,” he ends the conversation by kissing your forehead with devotion.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Satoru left that morning and said he’ll be back for sunset. A last kiss on your lips allowed you to go fish for your lunch, even if it felt weird to swim alone in the depth of the sea without Satoru showing you around.
You did your best to occupy yourself. Going back into the forest, drink water, wash your clothes and let them dry in the sun, sharpen your rocks, and apply some seaweed on the small injuries you had. Like tiny cuts, or hematomas.
You are left waiting at the beach of the cove to look for the arrival of Satoru. The sky is orange, and pink. The sun slowly hiding at the horizon behind the sea. So you sit, playing with rocks, the sand.
You even try to arrange your hair. Smooth the wrinkles of your dried clothes. Wipe the sand off your cheeks. Make sure that your hands are clean, the cleaner you can actually feel as you only have water and no soap. You try to peek at your reflection on the waves, wondering what you really look like right now. It’s stupid. Satoru already loves you for who you are, the way he sees you. There is no need to try to make yourself look prettier. You don’t even know what image of yourself you give him. But it’s you, wild and raw of everything else. So it’s alright. No need to change for someone else.
Your name is chanted. You know it’s his call. So you rush to the side of the beach, and see him waiting for you behind rocks. He gestures to you to join him in the water. You smile, relieved to see him back, and hastily take off your clothes before jumping in the waves. He arrives halfway and immediately his lips melt on yours the moment you’re in his arms.
“Where did you go ?” you breathlessly ask eagerly.
“That’s a secret, y/n,” he answers in his usual charming voice, smiling against your lips when he kisses you again.
“Come on, I’m curious now,” you try to make him talk. He raises an eyebrow, finger gently tapping on your shoulder like a reminder.
“Fair trade, sweetheart,” he says. Like a small nostalgia of your swimming lessons, you sigh playfully.
“Ok ok… what do you want in return ?”
“A promise,” Satoru admits. Curious, your head tilts on the side.
“A promise ? Then tell me,” you nod.
“Promise me you’ll seriously consider your answer. That’s all I want. Think you can do that ?” he caresses your cheek tenderly.
“Well yes, but consider my answer of what ?” you look into his blue eyes. Satoru then, with his other free hand, raises it up towards your face and slowly opens his fingers. Lies in his palm a necklace, the lace made in a kind of seaweeds tied like ropes, so beautifully in meticulous handwork. Then, a seashell. So vibrant it looks unreal. You gasp, fearing to even touch what is in front of you, as if it would break. You look back at him, a smile on your lips.
“Wow, that’s beautiful… is it why you took so long to come back ? You went to search this for me ?” you ask in awe, not believing that Satoru really did that just for you. He chuckles ô so softly, his thumb gently rubbing on the seashell. And you swear, it shines like magic at the gentle contact.
“Yes. It’s not any necklace. It’s made with a special seashell. The one of the legend,” he explains in a calmer tone. To emphasize the truth of his words. You open your eyes widely in disbelief, not quite sure that you heard right.
“What- the legend is real ?! Are you serious right now ?” you exclaim with pure shock.
“When putting it on, it allows humans to transform as mermaids. Only when it’s on, though. So, if you do put it, we could truly live our life together, free of our problems,” he confirms, and you can’t even form coherent thoughts, flabbergasted to the point of going mute. So this is true. It’s not a legend.
“Promise me you’ll consider your answer. I’m not forcing you to say yes, to commit to me, to leave everything behind. It’s your choice,” he adds with seriousness, making sure you have your claim in this.
At his words, you finally snap out of your thoughts and throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tail supports both of your weight in the water, and his face digs in the crook of your neck to relish in your closeness.
“How could I leave everything behind when it is already behind me ? The boat never came back. You’re all I have left,” you say, hugging him tighter. After all, you got used to this new life. You accepted the fact that you’ll never go back to Okinawa. And maybe it’s better like this. To be far away from your Clan. From the elders. Here lies your freedom, with him.
“I think, from what I saw during my trip, that the boat is already coming this way. Towards our island. It’s for that, y/n. I’m being serious about this. For you to truly consider your answer,” Satoru says. You stop dead in your train of thoughts and look at him. All your future possibilities crashing down at this news. The boat is coming this way. Your parents are. Meaning, you’ll have to leave Satoru if they do find you. Maybe to never see him again, because what if they kill him ? What if you witness Satoru being skinned alive ? Taking his eyes, his scales. Everything that you learnt to love about him, being reaped away.
Will you be forced to look at his remains being worn by fancy heads Clans ? To stare at his scales that you used to caress with so much love, used to decorate the coat of an old man ? To see his eyes as a necklace ? Or in a jar as a trophy ?
“I understand…” you whisper in anxiety. Your trembling hands gather around your throat, to softly take off one of the accessories you had on you since you left Okinawa. A necklace with a symbol of a fish delicately carved on a pearl. Gently, you take it off.
“Here, take this necklace too. It doesn’t give any magical power or anything. It’s just one from my Clan. So you’ll have a piece of me always,” you explain while lovingly wrapping it around his own neck. He uses his free hand to roll the pearl against his fingers, staring at it with so much care. He kisses it.
“I don’t think I can live without a piece of you now,” he murmurs. You lean towards him to kiss him again, but you freeze when your eyes notice meters away something that the fog kept hidden until now. Your parents. They’re back.
“Satoru ! The boat !” you scream and make him spin around. He positions himself before you. Surely to hide you or to protect you, maybe both.
“They’re here earlier than I calculated,” he says to himself with a deep voice, characteristic of the seriousness and gravity of the situation.
“Leave the island !” you exclaim and try to push him away in panic. You don’t know what to do yourself, aside from first making sure he’s safe and sound.
“I told you y/n, I won’t !” he protests, which makes you twice anxious. Quick, you have to think of something that will both save you time.
“I’ll put the necklace then, and we both run away,” you affirm. He nods and hands you the necklace. Opening it to wrap it around your neck.
A scream of vengeance coming from the boat. Spears are thrown. It hurts his hand, making the necklace flying and falling back down, sinking in the waves.
“No !” you scream and directly turn around to catch it before it disappears or gets rocked away by the water. You manage to grab the lace, before turning around to check on your lover.
“Satoru ?!” you exclaim when you notice that the water is red, and he’s holding his side in a panting. Another spear did touch his hip. You immediately wrap the jewelry around your neck by yourself, and rush to his side.
“Quick, let’s go-” you yell, grabbing his hand and ready yourself to dive underwater. But he stops you.
“It’s broken, the seashell,” he comments with sorrow, holding it in his hand.
“What ?! Oh fuck- Fuck ! It won’t work anymore ?” you cry out in fear. Your plan is getting doomed in front of your own eyes, and in the panic you don’t know what to do anymore.
“I don’t know. Maybe, I don’t know- ugh, y/n,” he grunts in pain at the blood loss.
Voices are heard in your back, closer now, so much closer. You lost time. When you lift your head, you see a net falling down towards the two of you. Satoru is quicker, and drags you with him inside the water to the left, avoiding the attack. The net falls and sinks in the depths, with no merman caught. As Satoru continues to drag you with him as fast as possible, even though he’s in strident pain, you do your best to not freeze of fear. Being chased by your own parents, taking you for a prey, is scarier than you ever thought. So is that what mermaids and mermans went through ? Felt before dying ? Raw instinct of escaping to survive ? Or fight back with dignity and vengeance until their assassination ?
Thankfully, since the two of you kissed, you still can breathe underwater. Allowing the escape to be more efficient. The necklace is shining, but the broken piece that is missing, it only sends a strange wave across your body. Everything tingles. You don’t know what is happening. You even forget to swim for a second because of the weird feeling you’re experiencing. But that is your mistake.
Another net falls, it touches you, and the technology of it immediately wraps your body and lifts you off the water as you scream of fear. Your hand extends towards the waves, where Satoru tries to do something, invoking his trident that rushes to him. He throws it towards the net, in an attempt to cut it in two. But it doesn’t work.
“Kill him !” the voice of your mother, that you never thought you would hear again, resonates behind you. Another spear, your spear, you recognize it, is aimed at his heart.
The impact is so brutal, and Satoru screams your name one last time before he sinks in a pool of blood. His blue becomes dull, his shine disappears, your name is the last word on his lips. You yell in agony, crying and trying to get away like a wild animal in a cage. The net is brutally thrown on the deck of the boat, and all the sailors, including your parents, lower their weapons when they realize it’s you. Their child. Alive.
“Y/n ?” asks your father in disbelief. Everyone exclaims in surprise and happiness to see you back. But all you see is red. His red. His blood.
“What did you do ?! What did you do to him ?! You monsters ! You killed him ! You’re all but monsters !” you cry in pure rage and madness, standing back up on your feet with pain. You feel dizzy, your legs barely able to hold your weight.
What they say to you, their words, are replaced by a horrible ringing. You don’t hear anything. Hands and arms wrap around your body that tries to jump back down in the ocean, seeking your lover’s body.
“You’re all monsters ! He’s dead because of you !” you continue to yell in agony, seeing blurry all around you. Black dots cover your vision. You don’t know if it’s because of the necklace, or the brutality of what just happened in barely five minutes of pure chaos, or maybe because they use a syringe in your arm, but you soon are knocked out.
Blue. The blue of his eyes. Red. The red of his blood. The chant of your name. His voice lures you in the sea. You wish you could join him one last time.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
A month has passed since your parents found you on the island, and made you come back to Okinawa. You’ve been under medic care. Not going to work. Staying at home. Not talking. Nothing. Really, since Satoru’s death, you have refused to eat, to talk, to sleep, or to do anything other than wanting to go back to the sea. Just once. That’s all you wanted. But they didn’t let you.
The only thing that kept you sane was the necklace. The shell, placed where your heart belongs. You caressed it, recalling Satoru’s touch. His lips. His hands. His scales. His hair. Or his smile, his voice, his teasing, his charming shenanigans, his care for you, his teaching, hell, everything about him !
You wish Satoru would have never fallen in love with you. He would have been alive. Unbroken. Untouched by the spear. Your spear. It’s as if you were the one that did it. That aimed at his heart.
Satoru was the one supposed to take your soul. Not you. Not the other way around.
So, that night, when everybody is sleeping, you vanish. The necklace is making you have hallucinations of his voice, his eyes, him, somewhere close to you. You make sure that nobody hears you. The door is locked, of course. So you open the window, and manage to fully escape. A few steps, you’re in the street. It’s quiet. Your head hurts. You hear his voice at the corner of a house, but you know it’s not him. So you run.
Why is it so painful ? Why are your legs killing you ? The sand is fresh under your toes. You sigh of relief. Before you, lies the ocean. You hear its call. Luring you in. Step by step, you approach with dizziness but strong will. The foam caresses your ankles. You don’t stop. Walk, deeper and deeper in the ocean. Staring at the moon shining on the water. Your necklace is vibrating, glowing. You hear your name, his voice. It’s coming from the seashell on your skin.
You dive in the waves, swimming, like he taught you. You don’t stop. Breathless. You don’t stop. Body tiring. You don’t stop. Sinking. You don’t stop. Chasing a future you wished to have. A dream. Satoru, somewhere.
You don’t feel your legs anymore. You don’t know if you’re breathing underwater. Maybe you’re dying. But it’s the call of the sea. You can’t escape it. Maybe you’re crazy.
You drown in blue. Satoru’s eyes. His lips fall on yours. His arms wrapping around your body to reunite with you again. You don’t know if he’s really here. Maybe he didn’t die. You hear your name again. Or maybe it’s a hallucination. You don’t know and don’t wish to know the truth.
“Satoru… eat my soul,” are your words. He does.
And like this, you vanish into the night, into the waves, into his heart. For all eternity. Nobody ever found you again. Only the sea knows the secret of what happened.
synopsis : you are the child of mermaid hunters. One day, they bring you on their boat, wanting to make you learn the family business that you’re supposed to take over. Until you meet a mysterious merman. What will happen when you end up stranded on an island, all alone, with the threat of having a beautiful creature that wants to eat your soul ? A need of survival mixed with a strange love story.
warnings : supposed enemies to lovers, kind of forced proximity, violence, blood, killing threats, implied murder, doomed lovers, angst, fluff.
words count : 17.k
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ autor’s note : My first Finnick one shot after my series "Until Panem is free" ! If some of you already know me from this fic, I hope you guys will enjoy this new one. xoxo
edit of the fanfic
Mermaids are said to be the most enchanting and beautiful creatures you could ever lay your eyes upon. Irises reflecting the depth of the waters, skin glowing like the few rays of light diving in the waves, tails swinging in a tempting motion, voices vibrating like the heavens calling for you. But be warned. They’ll lure you in, slowly, in a chase you won’t even know you’re the prey of. Then, their mouths will open to chant the song of your death. Big teeth would tear apart your flesh, hands greedily bringing you away from land, then they’ll eat your soul in a feast.
That’s what your parents always told you, warned you of. After all, they’re not the typical sailors you could encounter on the land of Panem. No. They are mermaid hunters. Paid greatly by the Capitol to chase down these creatures, for their scales, hair, skin, and surely to eradicate any danger. After all, the fourth district is the one of fishing.
In reality, you never really fully believed that mermaids were real. Not in the way that they’ll have the capacity to lure people with their beauty and voices. Creatures, yes. But idealized and romanticized to better sell their tails and flesh to high ranked Capitol citizens.
You only realized how entirely wrong you were when it was too late.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
“Do I really have to come ? These parts of the sea are too far away. I won’t be back on time for the weekend,” you whine, looking at your mother that is packing the necessities, brought by the sailors to the quite big boat meters away on the beach.
“Yes, you need to start to learn the basic skills of hunting. You can’t say no, it’s mandatory. In a few years, you’ll have to take the family business seriously,” retorts your mother, wiping her forehead. Today is a strange day in District 4. It’s hot, moist even. But the sky is grey, gloomy. As if something is brewing.
“I already know how to fish, I sell well,” you defend yourself, playing with the spear in your hand.
“Fishes, not mermaids,” corrects your mother in a deep frown. You sigh, rolling your eyes.
“Why do you need to be back for the weekend ? We’ll never be on time until Sunday in the evening,” suddenly says your father, behind you with thick ropes in his arms. You help him out by grabbing some, walking on the sand towards the boat.
“Maybe because the weekends are the only free days I have to be able to rest ? I’m already exhausted from this week,” you explain, groaning in pain at the ache in your back when you hand the ropes to the sailor waiting to put them inside the boat.
“Labor is normal, even more so when being a mermaid hunter. No time to rest, or you’ll die. Worse, fall behind your competitors,” exclaims your mother. You can’t even answer her absurd reasoning because she’s already focused on discussing something with your father.
By looking at it, you know you can’t escape this situation. Actually, it’s after lunch that the boat already starts its journey on the sea, with you sadly inside. You look at the horizon, the land of your home slowly disappearing. You start to wonder, breathing in annoyance. Will you really encounter a mermaid ? Hunt one down ? You don’t even know how you’ll react in front of one. Your mother keeps saying to instantly kill them, and wear earplugs to not be lured by their songs.
Killing fishes for food purposes and half human creatures for aesthetic purposes are two different things. Will you even be able to end them, before they’ll end you ?
You don’t have much more time to ponder this existential question that you have some work to do on the boat. You’ll arrive the next day, in the early morning, on the territory of the mermaids and other sea creatures. Hours pass by, busy with preparing nests to lure them in, tying knots, fishing dinner, listening to the instructions of your parents by looking at a map and their usual plan to hunt them down efficiently. To be honest, you don’t pay much attention. Just wanting to sit down due to the exhaustion of this long day.
When the sun sets and some sailors retreat to rest, you stay on the deck to drink a bit. Your mother is the one that tells you to only consume one glass, as your mind needs to be clear at dawn. You simply let the wind caress your skin, the salty and seaweed smell fill your lungs while you sip on the alcohol. The moon reflects on the waves, their sound mixing with the laughter of the other sailors still awake. The atmosphere actually becomes kind of weird. Heavy but strangely light at the same time.
Your eyes that originally got lost on the water, suddenly catch some movement. Intrigued, you think you recognize the tail of a dolphin in the darkness. So you approach the bowsprit and stare, squinting your eyes while finishing your drink.
Here ! It jumps out of the water, then dives back. From the obscurity, you can’t see well. Only that the tail of the dolphin is shiny, so shiny it looks like the stars are sewn on its scales. Surprised, you hold your breath in an attempt to decipher the animal.
When two glossy green orbs stare at you, your heart stops. For a solid second, the eye contact lasts like an eternity yet so fast. That can’t be a dolphin. You bite your lower lip, blood pulsating in your veins as it approaches slowly, making you able to understand better the depth of what you are staring at. Then, lashes bat, and its eyes disappear again in the water.
You don’t know what happens to you, because you directly want to know what that thing was, that strange animal. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your organism that makes you see things, but you even start to wonder if it’s not a… Impossible, their territories would be attained only at dawn. Why would a mermaid or merman wander so far from their home ?
You stumble on the other side of the main desk of the boat, to be greeted again by the green orbs staring at you. You try to recall all types of sea animals you encountered since you were a child, in an attempt to know what kind would have such eyes. Its face is half way in the water, down its -what you suppose- nose. Then, again, it swims closer. The light coming from the boat allows you to see better. Again, your eyes lock.
It’s face emerges from a wave, and you almost fall as you realize it’s humanish. Your legs shake, eyes widening open at the realization. A smile, so seductive, with lines on the side from the way the muscles of its face move. Your heart pounds hard, thousands of thoughts in your head.
But clouded with alcohol, you panic, and freeze. They, your parents, told you to immediately kill if you encounter one, before they’ll kill you. But you’re bare, no weapon in hand, no earplugs, nothing to defend yourself. And the question remains, do you want to take a life for only aesthetic purposes, granted to greedy Capitol citizens ?
Suddenly, its mouth opens, and you wonder if you’ll hear the so-called song of your death.
“Come to me,” purrs the creature in such a tempting and appealing way, deathly charming, that you just want to throw every reasoning thought and jump head first in the waves to land in the softness of its voice.
“Y/n, what are you doing ?!” exclaims your mother, her hand landing on your shoulder and snapping you out of whatever just went through your mind. You blink, looking at her, then back at the sea. It’s empty, nobody in sight. Strange. Did you just hallucinate ?
“It’s already late, you need to rest before the morning. You’ll have to wake up early,” she reprimands, forcing you to follow her towards the captain cabin.
“I just…” you stutter in confusion.
“Are you drunk ? What kind of child I made to be drunk the night before such an important day ?! Hush, go to sleep now,” she snaps, annoyed, and pushes you inside before slamming the door at your nose.
As you stare blankly at the wooden wall, you can’t help but play again and again and all over again this strange moment that only you, the creature and the moon witnessed tonight.
You are sure now. What you just encountered was a merman.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When dawn arrives, you’re already awake. Actually, you've been awake since you saw that merman. You couldn’t fathom closing your eyelids. The green of his irises haunted you all night, hours, minutes and ticking seconds. In raw honesty, you didn’t see much of his face in the darkness. Aside from his inviting smile. Heard a deep voice, a kind of raspy that tickles perfectly your brain, so tempting that if your mother didn’t arrive in time you would have jumped in the waves and have your soul eaten alive.
On the deck, sailors and your parents fuss around, looking at the map and forcing you to calculate which part of the sea you are crossing. At the northeast of the mermaid's territory, you realize.
“Prepare the nets !” exclaims your mother. The fussing is becoming worse and giving you a horrible headache from the lack of sleep and your haunting thoughts. So once you are dismissed for a short minute, knowing your dad will call you back in thirty seconds, you sneak behind the mast. Your eyes roam around the waves, wondering when the mermaids will arrive. You don’t forget to put on the earplugs, so their chant won’t lure you in the depth of the sea. You take a deep breath, a strange hope of seeing that one merman again.
A glimpse of green in the middle of the water catches your eye, and like a moth towards fire, you fly on the other side of the desk. You don’t have any backup plan when you arrive face to face with the merman of yesterday night. Under the sunrise, his blondish hair looks orange, and he smiles when he realizes you came to him.
Nobody else notices him. Only you. And you’re left unknowing of what to do. Take your spear and dig his heart ? Call the sailors to throw the fishing nets on him ? Your parents for them to know the quickest way to kill him ? But do you really want to kill him because it’s what you’re supposed to do to defend yourself, or only because it’s tradition and your family business ?
His lips move, but with your earplugs you can’t hear anything. Yet you can make out his tongue and mouth gesture, recognizing the syllables of your name, then what seems like being “come closer”.
Unconsciously you do, and you realize it the moment you’re having your head on top of the water to lean towards the godlike creature in front of you, in an eagerness you didn't even know you possess. When you want to immediately back down, to get away from danger, the water and the merman, something happens. His wet and cold scaled hands ascend and caress your cheeks, his face intimately getting closer. You freeze.
Like this, you can stare at his face. The moles, his fluttering lashes, akin eyes to enchant you, his eyebrows, the curve of his lips, smile lines, scales glistening on his cheek towards his pointy ears. He’s so shiny under the orange rays of the rising sun that he looks like a pearl. A beautiful pearl.
“Y/n,” he says again, and you know because you read your name on his lips.
“How do you know my name ?” you ask in a voice that looks like you forgot how to properly speak. He smiles, like his knowledge is obvious, as if you are dumb to even ask such a question. But he’s so charming, you never saw a man that handsome, you end up losing your train of thoughts like a toddler staring at something captivating.
“Merman !” screams one of the sailors on the crow’s nest, staring at the creature in front of you. It’s so loud that you hear it. That startles you that badly, you fumble and fall. On the last second, your hands catch on the wood of the boat, legs dangling halfway in the water and the sea wind. It’s so stupid, really. But the wood is slippery, you don’t know why, maybe because of the sweat on your hands. Your parents exclaim something, rushing towards you, while others take their weapons and the fishing nets.
But as if the god of the sea himself wants to avenge all his lost mermaids and mermans, a violent wave crashes against the main deck and makes many sailors, including your dad, fall down. Your mom is the one to grab a spear, your spear, focused on aiming at the merman below you that dove back in the waves and to surely dig the weapon into his flesh.
“I’m going to fall !” you scream in sheer panic. One problem, did I forget to mention that you don’t know how to swim ?
“Y/n !” she yells back, messily throwing the weapon towards the creature, and then instead focusing on you.
Your fingers slowly lose strength and their grip, your last hope of surviving slipping away when under a ray of sun you suddenly see the hand of your mother. You’re about to reach for it, but another wave, twice as big as before, crashes back down. You slip. It’s too late when water fills your lungs and you sink in the depths of the sea. You want to scream but you can’t. Your body is heavily rocked side to side, your vision becoming blurry from the lack of air in your lungs.
Red surrounds you, barely noticing a fish tail swimming across you. Blood, but not yours. You can’t really focus anymore, dots of black all around. Are you really going to die like this ? Because you got lured by the enchanting beauty of a merman ? Is this your stupid end ?
When you give your last breath forming bubbles, the green of the eyes of the predator that was the cause of your downfall is the last thing you see.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Water. You choke out the water that was stuck in your lungs. Soon, air is eagerly swallowed by your mouth, blinking and trying to see something else than a blinding light upon your head. But what your eyes focus on aren’t the sun, nor the afterlife, but like when you thought you died, it’s the same green orbs blankly staring at you. The lingering feeling of lips on yours are what brings you back to earth.
You’re alive. You weakly back away in fear as you realize that the merman is on top of your form laying on warm sand. The earplugs aren’t in your ears anymore, so you can’t protect yourself if he chants you something to lure you into his toothy sharp mouth.
“What are you doing ?! Kissing a corpse ?!” you accuse in defiance, wiping the wet sand from your cheeks and forehead, frequently looking around in hope to understand where you are. The waves are crashing at your feet, you can see his green blueish tail linger on the foam. It’s wounded, blood still flowing out of the big cut created from what you suppose a spear. Your mother. She’s the one that threw it.
“You’re not a corpse, and I was doing mouth to mouth. You’ll need to give me more than a please to have a real kiss from me,” he answers, raising an eyebrow, a mocking smile drawing on his face. You look at him, not knowing if he is joking or not. Instead, you try to get up on your shaky legs.
“I’m supposed to kill you,” you spat, looking down at him. But really, you’re terrified.
“I’ll kill you before you can,” he retorts, showing the weapon that was previously behind him. It’s only now that you notice it, and with how magnificent the trident is, you can’t help but be amazed at the delicateness of the handwork on the blades. Yet you snap out of your thoughts as an alarm of danger is blasting in your head, wanting to reach for something to defend yourself, but realize you’re bare of anything to protect you. Only your clothes, not even a knife. And the way his brows are furrowed, his muscles tensed, you know he’ll throw the trident at your heart the moment you’ll try something.
Your breath is ragged. You never faced death like this, not with someone that could end your life in a snap of fingers. The merman notices your fear, and slightly lowers down his weapon.
“Honey, what I just did back there was called saving your life. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he says more seriously, the use of the nickname honey being condescending rather than flirtatious. So you fall on your knees, legs unable to support your weight anymore. You pass your hand on your face.
“But you lured me in,” you protest.
“I wasn’t the one that made you fall in the sea,” he says as he scoops some water from the waves caressing his skin, and wets his neck. Surely to refresh himself from the burning sun up your head.
“Where are we ?” you ask carefully.
“On an island, it’s at the east of the mermaid’s territory,” he explains, but the way the droplets of foam fall down his golden skin, you remember again the seductive power this merman has. You can’t let yourself be lured again by his beauty, so you stare at your feet digging in the wet sand.
“And the boat ?”
“Oh, the boat seemed just fine when they all tried to kill me. Thankfully the waves made it move in the opposite way,” he answers bitterly. You throw a tiny rock in the waves.
“I need to go back,” you say.
“Good luck for that, you have no boat, and you humans would die quickly if trying to swim on this sea,“ he says with sarcasm, and you stop yourself from mentioning that you can’t even swim. So you’re completely stuck here. He plays with his trident before staring at the horizon, “but I guess with how eager they looked to skin me alive, they’ll follow my tracks and soon find you back on this island,” he adds. You kind of feel guilty, so you play with the sand in your hands, knowing you can’t do much right now aside from surviving until they’ll hopefully come to your rescue. You won’t be back for the weekend, and maybe not even alive. That’s for sure.
“Why did you save me ?” you end up questioning.
“Didn’t want my dinner to go to waste,” he simply says. You gasp, backing away and a hand on your throat, as if to protect it from his sharp teeth.
“Are you really going to eat my soul ?!” you shriek. You had no idea until now if the legend about mermaids eating souls is real.
“With how agitated you are, it doesn’t look tasty anymore,” he shrugs, yet there is some attitude in his tone, meaning you can’t decipher if he’s joking or being brutally honest.
“Good for me then,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. There is some silence before you turn your head to slowly look at him, surely analyzing the creature in front of you. Maybe nobody had the chance to be this close to an alive merman without being killed.
“What is your name ? You know mine, but I don’t know yours,” you start.
“Finnick,” he ends up answering, locking his green eyes with yours. Fearing to fall prey to his charms, you stare back at the waves.
“Well, Finnick, you've been bleeding to a certain death since earlier,” you announce as you grimace at the still open wound on his slightly shaking tail.
“I know, I just wanted to see how long it would take you to notice,” he answers as it looks like he finally acknowledges the pain, gritting his teeth and holding the part of his tail that is soaking the sand in red. You give him a look, and he answers it with a forced tempting smile.
“I did save your life. Maybe save mine ?” he adds, and with the reality of his words and knowing you’ll hate yourself forever if you end up not helping a dying person in front of you, you oblige. Even if he is a merman and that he joked about eating your soul. You rip a part of your pants, with some difficulty, but end up succeeding. It’s large enough to wrap it tightly around the tail and stop the bleeding. As you do the knot, you decide to continue to talk, ignoring his small groans of pain that he fails to suppress.
“You didn’t answer my question last time.” The way he takes a good five seconds shows that he recalls what you mean.
“That was a stupid question. I know your name because your mother was screaming it all the time since I started to follow your boat,” he explains after a ragged breath.
“You’ve been following us ?!” you exclaim, lifting your head to stare at his pained smirk.
“Chasing my dinner,” he corrects. You glare at him and finish the knot in a strong grip on purpose, making him grit his teeth at the pressure, swallowing hardly his saliva. He lets out a strangled chuckle before sliding more deeply in the water.
“You’re kind of naive, y/n,” Finnick ends up saying.
“What do you mean ?” you scoff in disdain, feeling insulted.
“It shows I’m the first mermaid you ever encountered in your life. Last night, you blindly went towards me and weren’t wearing anything in your ears to block my voice from reaching you. You didn’t attack me, and now you’re wondering if I’ll really eat your soul,” he enumerates. You sigh, knowing he is saying only the truth.
“Well, I have to admit that you’re right… Maybe it’s for that that I’m stupidly helping you out so you’ll have the chance to eat me later,” you snap. “But, was I really supposed to be your dinner ?”
“That’s a secret,” he vaguely answers.
“A secret ?” you question back, annoyed at how evasive he is being.
“I like secrets. Do you have any one to give me, y/n ?” he purrs as he approaches you again, lifting his torso from the small waves licking your ankles.
“About what ?” you raise an eyebrow, wondering what Finnick meant by such a weird statement.
“I don’t know. Maybe about the land where you’re from. Or the people that buy the flesh, scales and eyes of my people. Perhaps the name of the person that controls your human territory ?”
Panem, land divided in Districts. Rich eccentric Capitol civilians. The President, Coriolanus Snow. These are the silent answers to his questions that you say in your mind.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you end up retorting before standing up. He simply looks at you rising from the sand.
“For now, I need to survive until my parents find me back. So I guess, and hope so, that I won’t see you again. Goodbye,” you decide to put an end to this interaction, not trusting him to stay longer by his side. His answer is silence, and he dives back in the sea, soon disappearing from your eyes. You’re left alone on this unknown beach, with the desperate need to make it out alive. And it surely won’t be a merman that will help you on land. Even more if he threatens to eat your soul.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You left the beach to wander in the forest, seeking for the most important thing : water. Somewhere you can actually drink and hydrate yourself. While walking, you’re hyper alert of everything. Animal sounds, the leaves cracking below your feet, the wind, the ocean meters and meters away. After two hours, even if you don't really know how much time has passed, it’s by following a bird that you find a small, very small river. With your finger you taste the water, and sigh of utter relief when you realize it’s not salty. You know drinking it straight up like this might be dangerous from the possible bacteria, but it’s either that or dying.
Eagerly, you gulp down until you satisfy your thirst. You take some time to recover from your exhaustion, happy to have found somewhere to drink, and away from the sun. The trees around you protect you from it.
But you need food. You can fish in many different ways, and efficiently. But with nothing around you, not even a knife, you know the task at hand will be hard.
By looking around, you wonder if with the leaves you could build a fish net, but the lack of resources doesn’t guarantee success. If you had something sharp, you could take a stick, and try to make it as a spear. You grumble as you walk on the river, trying to find some stone you could use, wetting half of your legs. After many tries, you manage to find one, and with one more hour, sharpening it enough by throwing it on bigger rocks and rubbing it against the hardness in a hope to make it as sharp as a knife.
When looking up at the sky, wiping your forehead, and gazing at the beach behind the trees, you know the sun will soon set. You rush to find a stick, use the long leaves, and tie a knot around your sharpened stone to build a kind of rustic spear. Soon, you stumble on the sand, determined to have some dinner tonight. Maybe you’ll even find fruits, or anything else that could keep you alive until the boat will come back.
Being as easy as walking, you’re quick to know on which part of the beach you’ll find the best spot to fish. When you catch a glimpse of a bunch of your preys, you throw your newly made weapon towards your target. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for you to catch a good and quite big fish of the bunch. Even if most of them are supposedly small on this part of the island. You analyze the animal more closely, it’s strangely beautiful that you almost feel bad to eat it. You never saw such a fish before, in all your years of experience. Are they proper to this island ?
Your name is being chanted somewhere on your left, and you raise your head in confusion. Only to be met by, what you recognize, the green eyes of Finnick staring at you behind rocks. You instinctively, with your dinner in hand, half wet and dirty, walk towards the melodic voice.
As your toe hurts on some rock, the pain snaps you back into reality and you instantly shake your head. Seeing you won’t come to him, Finnick swims closer.
“You’re quite good at fishing, for a human. But that tiny fish won’t be enough to keep you alive for long,” he says as he leans against a rock on the shore. Close enough so you can hear his voice, but far enough so you can’t touch him even if you extend your arm.
“Is it because it’s tiny ? I could fish a good ten of them, and it would fill my stomach,” you say in a scoff and with some disdain, showing the fish in your hand with some pride. Finnick’s tail flicks in the air.
“I’m sure of it, but you’ll be dead seconds later. Their flesh is venomous, their scales too,” he simply answers in a smile. Your eyes widen of surprise and horror, instantly dropping what was supposed to be your meal. You directly notice the redness on your hand, fingers looking like they have tiny pimples. Your skin tingles, and you try to wash the remains of the poison in the water.
“Oh my-” you suck up a sharp breath.
“Stay here,” he orders before diving back into the ocean and leaving you in your distress. Two minutes pass. Finnick comes back with what seems like a type of sea weed. He munches on them, then takes your injured hand in his. He applies the mixture on your skin, and even if you kind of are grossed out, you forget your disgust entirely at the relief it procures you. The coldness of his fingers add to the sensation, and you take a moment to look at him up close.
“I leave for an afternoon and you’re already dying on me,” he breaks the silence.
“I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” you feel the need to correct.
“I never agreed to it, and I’m still keeping track of what was supposed to be my dinner,” he corrects back, giving you a look. He drops your hand and you want to thank him, but the conversation being about you as his dinner doesn’t really make you want to be grateful.
“You’re still after my soul ?”
He holds a small laugh at your question.
“I told you, it’s a secret. I’ll only answer if you have something to give me in return,” he explains, leaning against one of the rocks under the burning sun.
“And I told you I don’t have anything to say to you,” you retort.
“Then I guess you won’t know. I only do fair trade,” Finnick shrugs. You sigh, and look around. You just lost the most important source of food you were supposed to have. And it’s not only some nuts or fruits -that you still didn’t find- that would be sustainable.
“I need to fish for my own dinner,” you whisper to yourself.
“You won’t find other types of fish on this perimeter,” he explains, holding his trident in hand, as a sign that you won’t be able to attack him if you suddenly had the idea to eat his flesh for your own food. Ok, that actually pains you to do so, but you realize you’ll need his help. Again. You take your deep breath to gather some courage.
“Can…” you bite your lower lip, “Can you show me where I’ll find non-venomous ones ?” Finnick raises an eyebrow, toying with his weapon then raising his head to look at you better.
“What do I get in return ? Remember, honey. Fair trade,” he muses, now intrigued, but still firm on his rule of exchange, or payment. You ponder, and for the sake of your life, you don’t mind giving information to the enemy.
“I’ll tell you the name of the person that rules over my land,” you end up offering, and he smiles.
“See when you want ? We have a deal. Come on, follow me,” he answers before plunging again in the water, expecting you to follow suit.
You walk in the waves carefully, and after some minutes as he sometimes turns around to see if you’re on track, the both of you arrive in a cove. The water is transparent, compared to how much darker it was on the main beach. Like a haven, it shines, and is as a paradise piece of land.
“Here, you’ll have enough bunches of fish to survive,” he explains, and in awe as the sun is setting, you stare.
“Non-venomous ?”
“Non venomous,” he affirms. You smile, pleased, and maybe you can trust him because he actually helped you twice. He surely wants to keep you alive to eat you better later, but at least you’re alive. With your homemade spear, you start to aim at the ones that look the best to choose, and start your chase of food.
“I’m waiting for our deal,” says Finnick after rising from the water, since he was swimming around, relishing in the feeling. His home. You then remember, and nod, still concentrated.
“Right. His name is Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem,” you say.
“President ?” he asks, he doesn’t seem to know this word.
“It’s like a king,” you explain. He narrows his eyes, getting closer.
“So he’s the one that orders the genocide of my people,” he hums in bitterness, tighting his grip on his trident that for a second you think he’ll aim your heart by the look in his eyes.
“Genocide ?” you say unsure of what he meant by that.
“It is a genocide, what else did you expect it to be ?” he answers as he stares at you directly. With so much depth that you stop fishing.
“We-” only defend ourselves. But you know it’s not true, that what he just said makes sense, so instead you close your mouth and don’t answer. A long moment passes where you continue to collect your due dinner. You have no bucket so you have to improvise. You’re already thinking of trying to start a fire, and cooking the flesh, feasting on the flesh.
“It kind of pains me to see you struggle so much for just some fish,” Finnick suddenly says in a teasing fake pained manner. That catches your attention and you snap at him.
“Struggling ? I’m one of the best from my district !” you exclaim. And with all modesty, you are. Having parents like yours made it impossible to accept failure.
“Districts ?” he asks again. Right, he doesn’t know what that is. But explaining it would just give him more information about Panem. His so-called secrets. And as he said, it should be fair trade. If he wants to know, he’ll have to offer his help again.
“Nevermind. Why am I struggling then ?” you decide to question him, since he seems mocking about your skills. And the way his eyes slightly light up, you know he’s feeling happy that you asked.
“I have to admit you are more efficient than I thought. But you’re too slow. Look,” he answers before holding his trident. He raises his arm, his muscles and scales glistening under the last rays of sun. Then, in an inhuman speed, because he’s no human, he aims at a fish and with the precision of a god touches the part of the body that would kill it instantly and won’t damage the flesh.
“Oh, you just wanted to show off,” you end up saying as you roll your eyes, trying to dismiss the awe you felt at such skills. He’s a merman, after all.
“But it worked,” he retorts, and grabs the corpse before analyzing it in a way that only a mermaid would understand.
“Then show me again, how to do it,” you say back as you show with your chin his trident. But by the look he gives you, you can already know that he is silently saying “fair trade, honey,” so you sigh as your shoulders sag.
“Fine. I’ll tell you what Districts are,” you offer. And he smiles. The same smile that lured you in. So you need to stare at the wildlife of the beach instead of his lips and toothy grin. Sharp fangs shining as a reminder of their dangerousness
“I see we understand each other. Good. Here, let me show you,” he invites you to do. You stay on the safe depth of the beach, knowing you can’t swim, and follow his instruction.
The following thirty minutes are actually funnier and more interesting than you thought. Finnick explains to you the way he fishes and hunts smaller prey, a knowledge rooted in a culture that their species possess. They are very respectful of the sea as well. Each life they take has to be for a meaningful purpose, the food chain. And by the way he says it, you feel ashamed that your own people, parents, kill them for no real reason aside from aesthetics, greed, and vengeance. In a way or another, you’re part of this genocide, as Finnick explained. But it’s such a big part of your life, that you still struggle in entirely understanding the point of view of a merman you only met yesterday night.
In return, you explain to him the system of Districts and how each has a specificity. When the moon is up in the sky, you end up thanking him and retreat to start a fire. In hope to find dry wood. It takes some time to succeed, because aside from trying to start a few ones like in the past, you actually had the tools to help. You only are doing so based on very little knowledge. But with some hard work, you succeed, and sit next to the fire that is situated at the edge of the forest. Like this, the river is not very far, you’re protected from the rain and the sun, and can still have a watchful eye on the beach in case the boat of your parents arrives.
As you let your meal roast, you stare at the flames, then the stars. You feel the gaze of Finnick observing you from afar. It would have been creepy if you knew better. But you noticed during the past hours that he was more curious than he let it seem. You know that as much as you, he’s intrigued by you being a human. Maybe he never saw a fire up close before. Analyzing as well how you eat. After all, not like you saw him do, you don’t eat the flesh raw out of the animal with your bare teeth. The way he did it was quite impressive and considered animalistic. You feared he’ll do the same to your throat. His teeth looked sharper when digging in the meat of the fish.
It’s laying down on leaves you took from the forest, on top of the sand, that you have a weird sleep in between consciousness and rest. Suddenly waking up thinking you are in your bed, before the reality of your nightmare reality crashing back down onto you. Weird dreams of being lured in the sea by Finnick haunt you, then drowning into the depths of the ocean.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following day is filled with adventuring yourself in the forest, and bringing back your goods on the beach. You start to build a small shelter, with the very few resources you have to do a proper job based on your skills. Then searching for something else than fish to eat. You find some nuts, and even wonder if the roots you dug can be eaten. You spend some time as well in the river, washing yourself and just getting refreshed from the heavy weather.
When you go back to fish for lunch, Finnick is on the same spot as yesterday, behind rocks, to analyze you. He even comments on the way you throw your spear, and you ask if he doesn’t have something better to do.
Looking at the water, you wish you had the ability to swim. Yesterday, Finnick went to search for seaweeds to heal your hand from the poison. They surely are edible. And you only found nuts and roots. Maybe there are even multiple crustaceans that would fill your stomach. Yet, your inability to do so keeps you from accessing a larger food resource.
You do your best to not ask help from Finnick, because you have precious knowledge about Panem, and you think that you shouldn’t waste those secrets for services you could pass on or do them by yourself.
So days pass. Three more, actually. Your mood gets worse and worse. No sign of the boat. Did Finnick lie to you ? Did your parents and their crew drown because of the violent waves ? Or maybe they’re not after you, and think you’re dead. Actually, that would be the smartest possibility. They know you can’t swim. And your mother would never believe that a merman saved your life. They must be persuaded that your corpse is somewhere in the sea. Meaning they won’t come to you. Unless they’re tracking down Finnick to avenge your supposed death, and like this, will find you alive.
So you keep some hope, that you’re not doomed to rot on this island.
During these days, you have a routine : fetch water, start a fire, fish, cook, occupy yourself by adventuring in the island and avoiding the possible predators. There are a few. Thankfully they don’t seem to approach the beach. You intend to make other utensils with wood and sharpen other rocks as knives or blades for your spear.
With Finnick, even if you refuse to ask for his help, he stays around. He keeps an eye on you, and you keep an eye on him. He’s not always here, but he’s never far. Sometimes you end up talking. Or silently acknowledging the presence of the other. He observes, you observe. Your human habits, his merman habits. Sometimes you exchange some words, information that seems meaningless. You’re kind of glad, actually, that he’s here. Having someone to talk to somewhat keeps you sane. Even if the threat of your soul being eaten looms over your head.
On the seventh day, you snap. You can’t continue eating the same thing every morning, lunch and dinner. You know it’s not healthy either. And if you want to survive well enough, you have to change some of the usual food you consume on this island.
You need to swim. To get weeds, crustaceans and sea shells. The ones you found on the beach were usually empty. And the crabs are actually extremely fast. Your spear is not sharp enough to dig on their shell-like-body-armor and kill them.
But you can’t swim. And the only option you have right now, is Finnick. After eating when the sun is not as high in the sky as at lunch, you walk on the burning sand before reaching the waves. You stand, looking around, and not seeing him, you call his name.
“Finnick ?” you raise your voice. Nothing. As you’re about to call his name again, he appears, sitting on the rock at your left, glistening. The way the sun shines on his hair, it looks like gold. Pearls of water akin to diamonds. Scales a vibrant green, sometimes blue, depending on which angle you look at it.
“Need my help ?” he purrs, tempting. His tail flicks against the foam. Like a cat.
“Teach me how to swim,” you blurt out before rethinking how to formulate your sentence. But it’s so sudden, so blunt, that with the way he looks at you, you end up adding “please,” in a more ashamed voice.
“Do all humans not know how to swim ?” he asks intrigued. You approach to hear him better.
“A lot of people from my District know how to. Everyone, actually. So we all learn how to swim,” you explain. Seagulls scream up your head, and for a single second you look at them, wishing you could have a bow and try to hunt them. Some bird meat makes you drool at the idea. Your stomach growls.
“Then how come you don’t know how to ?” Finnick snaps you out of your thoughts. Knowing he looks genuinely curious, you can’t afford to lose his interest, not for a question so critical. So you continue.
“When I was young I had a lot of nightmares of the sea, with the tails my parents told me. I had severe thalassophobia and when all kids at school learned to swim, I didn’t because I was too scared. Since then, even if I overcame my fear of the sea, I never tried to learn how to swim again and nobody offered either to teach me. That’s as stupid as that.”
He nods, something in his eyes that shows he probably thinks of you differently than two minutes ago. You don’t know if it’s mocking, pity, understanding, maybe even some respect. Nothing really shows what he is thinking.
“That’s not stupid,” he ends up answering. Not knowing how to react, you add to convince him “At each lesson you’ll give me, I’ll tell you another secret.”
But the way he stares at you so intensely since you said this, you can’t decipher if from the beginning he wants to agree, or if he just got convinced now thanks to your deal. Then, how his lips stretch tells you everything you need to know.
“We’ll start now,” he announces, his strong tail making him swim and be at your side in an instant.
“Really ? You agree ?” you exclaim, shocked for it to be so… easy. Maybe for the counterpart, he’ll ask you to give him secrets on a deeper level.
“Hmm, approach,” he hums and nods, then his cold fingers trail on your arms and bring you towards him. His touch is sudden, a shiver parcouring your body at the contact. His fingers are as soft as the skin of a dolphin, which surprises you.
You follow a few steps into the water, slowly reaching your waist. You don’t protest and simply let him guide you.
“I guess swimming with legs is not the same as swimming with a tail, so we'll have to find what is best for you. For now, I’ll support your body so try to relax and float,” he instructs, as you stare at his said tail. The way it moves is so strong, yet now in such shallow waters it’s half still, showing he barely needs to do anything to keep afloat.
“Float ? I’ll drown for sure !” you protest in an instinct of avoiding danger.
“You still can stand on your… things,” he tries to explain by showing it with his chin.
“Feet,” you correct. He nods in acknowledgement.
“You still can stand on your feet, here. Even if you fail, you won’t drown. Do you trust me ?”
“No,” you directly answer without thinking. Strangely, he laughs. It’s the first time you hear it coming genuinely from him. Soft yet deep. A melody that caresses your ears. You thought mermaids' laughter would be scary, because you always imagined some evil laugh as they’ll feast on their victims. It’s nothing of such when it’s Finnick’s laugh.
“At least you’re honest. But if you want us to work, then you should trust me for this. That’s the bare minimum,” he calms down, shaking his head.
You take a deep breath, and try to let yourself float. His hands slide under you, on your stomach, strong grip to keep you stabilized. The other maintains your waist. Clearly, he’s the one supporting your weight.
“Y/n, the first step it’s for you to learn how to float. If you can’t swim, at least that’ll keep you alive instead of drowning. So believe me, and now, turn on your back,” he orders, seeing that trying to make you be comfortable on your stomach doesn’t work. In a groan you turn around, the weight of your clothes from being drenched clinging to your skin. His hand supports your back, and your eyes meet his. The sun shines brightly behind his head, like a crown.
“Relax your muscles,” he orders.
“I can’t,” you say through gritted teeth. Your body is completely tense, and you’re not sinking only thanks to him.
“Do you need some help ?” he asks.
“What do you mea-” you get cut short by the way his pupils seem to grow bigger, and you immediately get drowned into the darkness of it. Not the sea. “Relax, y/n,” Finnick whispers in a melodic voice, and a breath escapes your parted lips. Enchanted by his words and irises, as if you are floating in a dream, all your muscles stop to be so tense. Guided by his hands, he keeps your back straight.
“Put your strength in your abdomen,” he murmurs closer to your head. You get lost in the contemplation of his face and do as he says. Gently, you start to float by yourself without realizing. Then, his hands, inch by inch, leave your waist and back. You only realize later that he’s not holding you anymore.
A hint of panic crosses your eyes, and as you’re about to stop all your efforts, his hand cups your cheek and makes you stare at the sky.
“Beautiful, isn’t it ?” he asks in a lovely tone. Instead, you focus on the bright blue, the seagulls, the wind, the trees far away, the few clouds dancing in the air.
“Yes,” you manage to whisper. You don’t know how much time passes. Five minutes, or twenty, or hours, maybe barely thirty seconds. All but a mystery. Your consciousness is here but far away at the same time. You know it’s because of Finnick. His voice, his green.
“Wanna try to move your limbs ?” he proposes after a while.
“Ok,” you end up agreeing.
“With your legs, not your arms. We usually simply move our tail up and down, but for you it’s different,” he states as one of his hands touches your leg, intrigued. You freeze.
“I’ll try to recreate what I saw back at my school when I was a kid. But keep your hands on my back ! Just in case, I don’t want to drown,” you exclaim. He gets back on your side to maintain your body structure, softly floating on small waves.
“When you’re ready,” he muses. You messily start to move your legs in a paddle, an attempt to recreate what you always saw. It actually helps you to move, even if you can’t really choose which direction to take. You think you look ridiculous like this, but Finnick doesn’t seem to think the same. You manage to actually… swim, on your back, with his help supporting your weight. And that’s already a good start.
Finnick is kinder than you thought. Much kinder. When he’s not threatening or mocking you. You don’t really know him, and maybe you’ll never really do because he is a merman. But, the way he diligently assures that you’re comfortable, your safety, and actually takes time to teach you, even if it’s a deal, kind of… it’s weird, but warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible.
Once your swimming session comes to an end, you’re sitting on the sand next to Finnick that is half way on the water. After all, you need to keep your deal. And tell him something, a secret.
“One of the Capitol civilians that buy a lot of… mermaids scales and flesh… is someone that is part of a circle close to President Snow. All of them actually are the biggest buyer, because they resell it for an astronomical amount of money to well known stylists, or on the black market,” you admit. You actually know all their names and influence. You know other things too. Actually, a lot. Either from your parents telling you, or from hearing about it vaguely.
“Stylists ?” he asks confused, a gravely look on his face at the knowledge of this.
“People that make and design clothes, accessories,” you explain.
“So these civilians hunt my people but disguise themselves with our scales,” he scoffs at the absurdity of this information.
“Actually, some of them dream to be mermaids and even do physical changes to look like it. They say that there are legends where humans could turn as a mermaid,” you add while looking at the sun slowly setting, very slowly.
“Ridiculous,” he mutters.
“Is it true ?” you ask, turning towards him. Finnick stares back at you, holding your gaze, before looking back at the ocean before him.
“Never saw it with my own eyes,” he vaguely answers.
“I heard it’s by a specific sea shell, some kind of magic,” you add in a thoughtful whisper.
“A sea shell,” he murmurs back.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following days, no signs of a boat. You continue to exchange swimming lessons with Finnick, and secrets. You get used to the feeling of his cold touch on your skin whenever he helps you. Long fingers and palms always securely around your waist, stomach or back.
Your tutoring is going slowly but surely. You started to learn how to hold your breath as well, because Finnick obviously wanted to show you how to swim under the water. Not with your head at the surface.
Once, he directly gave you seaweed, because you still can’t dive efficiently to go grab them yourself. You went to cook it by the fire, and Finnick stayed close at the shore to stare at this strange thing called flames. So once you finished roasting some fish as well, with nuts, you felt kind of generous and quickly approached his form.
“Finnick ! Here, taste it,” you exclaim as you extend in a leaf the cooked flesh along with the seaweed.
“That looks… interesting. You humans really don’t eat it raw ?” he comments, narrowing his eyes. Gently, he takes the leaf, analyzing from every angle the proposed food before staring back at you intensely.
“Not really. Depends. But try it,” you shrug. He takes the meat in between his fingers, and rolls it against his lips to feel the warmth of it. He shivers slightly, startled, then bites into it. His expression is neutral, before he licks his fingers, and swallows the seaweed. Yet, with how sinfully you look at him, entranced by such a simple task, you take back the leaf and stare at it instead.
“Do you have to always be seductive ? Even when eating ?” you question with some disdain, but really, you’re just embarrassed at how easily you became eager to observe his lips.
“Did you get seduced ?” he retorts in a smirk with a voice that hints at the usual flirt it holds.
“That’s not what I meant,” you deny.
“I don’t know. You’re just weak to my charms, I guess. You’re a human, after all,” he shrugs in a chuckle. Oh, even his chuckle is charming ! That’s torturous. He can and will maybe kill you the moment he wants it, and yet you keep falling weak to his antics, to his voice, smile and eyes.
“I prefer it raw,” he comments, passing his hand in his wet shiny locks.
“Raw ?!” you exclaim in a blurt before you could realize how embarrassing that just was. He raises an eyebrow, eying you in a cocky way.
“The fish, and the seaweed. What did you think I meant ?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head and walk away, back on the beach as you can hear a “sure” from behind.
The next day, after another swimming lesson and some due secret sharing, with nothing else to do, waiting for dinner time to go fish your food, you decide to stay for once in Finnick’s company.
“Why are you always here ? Don’t you have some people to go back to ?” you ask, using one of your rocks you found next to the shore to do some ricochet. And at the same time, teaching Finnick how to do it as well, as he never saw such an intriguing thing before. But, at your words, he throws the small stone and it bounces five times on the quiet still water of this part of the cove.
“Ask that to your parents,” he ends up saying in a neutral voice. You frown, confused at first.
“What do you mea- oh,” your words die in your throat at the realization. You fail your ricochet, and slowly gaze back at him. His back is turned to you, busy focusing on the waves, and surely for you to not see the utter pain and bitterness etched on his face. Shame eats you alive, nails digging in your palm, and you stutter a pathetic apology because it’s your own parents and their crew that killed Finnick’s loved ones.
“I’m sorry…”
“Are you really ?” he says in a mocking tone, the kind that doesn’t make fun of, but doesn’t trust, doesn’t believe. And you actually wonder. Do you say that out of politeness ? Or because you genuinely realize the horror and hypocrisy of this whole family business that you’re supposed to take control of -in a future where you’ll come back alive.-
“I think I am,” you end up revealing. The way he looks at you changes, and a tiny smile of recognition goes on his lips before he leaves you alone for the rest of the day. Disappearing in the ocean with a building of mysteries following him. He doesn’t come back until the next afternoon.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Finnick kept you company at dinner, him asking you if he could try again the cooked fish and seaweeds. He even brought seashells, to cook too, making it a real feast for your stomach. You know you lost weight, surely more than in a healthy way, but at least you’re still alive and kicking. Not mentally, but physically. Again, the loneliness and doom of being alone on this island is not as bad since Finnick sticks by your side.
Like right now. Laying on the foam, stomachs full, eyes locked on the stars and the moon. Next to each other in silence, aside from sometimes explaining the way navigators learn to read the stars to know where they are. Mermaids do the same. But call the constellations differently, each word part of their own culture and history.
Strangely, your skin gravitates towards him. Maybe because you got so used to being physically close during your swimming sessions, his body is like a part of yours when he guides your hips, legs, chest and arms to move around along the waves. The feeling of his dolphin like soft skin, his scales, his temperature. It’s all getting imprinted on your memory. Your new habit.
So, your arm touches his, his fingers flickering on yours. It’s weird but seems normal at the same time.
“You’re cold,” you say suddenly, turning your head to meet his.
“Are all humans that warm ?” he questions back, the edge of his digits sliding on your arm. Exploring his claim. You shiver head to toe. He notices it. The goosebumps an indicator that he learnt to know what it means.
“Compared to you, yes. Why ? You don’t like it ?”
Finnick’s hand slides up, then up, resting on your heart. Feels your pulse, your warmth. He can rip it apart if he wants to, but he doesn’t. The contrast with the coldness of his palm is soothing. He feels, closes his eyes to connect on a deeper level that only he knows with your beating heart. Maybe it’s a mermaid thing. But ô, it makes your organ flutter.
“It’s nicer than I thought. It feels like the sun,” he explains.
The sun.
“You’re cold as the moon, then,” you whisper in the quietness of the night. His eyelids open and the intense green swallows your thoughts.
The moon.
“Can’t deny it,” he murmurs.
“Still after my soul ?” you suddenly ask.
His hand, nails, trail to your throat. Strangely, you don’t move, don’t protest. For a long second, it lingers on your jaw, then your cheek. Falls on your lip in a brushing touch.
“Maybe.”
Maybe.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
You ended up cooking the roots you found, after testing them and waiting some days to be sure you had no stomach ache or something abnormal happening. Each day that dragged along, when not being on the beach, you'd carefully explore the forest, avoiding all potential predators, and continue to make some utensils, weapons, arrange your shelter, to the point that in a cope mechanism you called this part of the island your home. You referred to it like this whenever you had to go back there, and even if you know it’s not, it gives some sense of security in this strange routine of survival you had to develop.
There are nights where you cry of despair, hopping the boat, any boat, will come to you. You always make sure that the fire is big enough to create some smoke that would be seenable up in the sky. In those moments of solitude, Finnick is never far, and you end up joining him in silence at the shore. Nobody talks. But he’s here, and it starts to grow into you.
You are waiting for him one afternoon, to have your usual swimming lesson. He shouldn’t be very far, but even if you call his name he doesn’t answer. You climb on the rocks carefully to try to spot his tail somewhere in the clear blue.
“Finnick ?” you yell again, starting to wonder if he’s even here. But, is he still ? Did he leave, to your doom ? A wave of panic possesses your body and you rush to the rest of the beach, running on the sand in hope to find him. You haven’t seen him all morning as well. You genuinely start to think he left for good, but why ? Everything was fine until now, your deal satisfied both of you, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Did he stop being after your soul ? Even if considering yourself his prey, this strange relationship gave you much more comfort than you intended.
“Finnick, where are you ?!” you call again in despair, foot slipping on a rock and falling, but catching yourself just in time. You climb the slippery rock again to get a better look at the sea, in hope to see a glimpse of him. Somewhere, please.
Then, a faint groan, not very far from your left. You rush immediately, and stumble on a sight that makes your heart beat so much quicker in the spawn of a millisecond. He’s there, laying on the sand and half in the foam, all bloody and breath ragged. Trident in hand, trying to lift himself up and go back in the ocean.
“What happened ?!” you exclaim and fall on your knees at his side, only then he notices you. Your hand lands on his skin, and gets tinted by the bright red liquid.
“I need to go back to the.. ocean…” he mutters painfully. You look at your palms and feel your whole body tingle in fear.
“Why ?” you ask, not knowing what to do to stop his bleeding, aside from taking off your clothes and intent to tie a knot on his wounds and stop the bleeding.
“Seaweeds… healing,” he groans, but you stop him from attempting to move. You immediately understand what he means. You recall your first day on his island, and what he used to heal your hand.
“I’ll do it, don’t move !” you protest and push yourself on your shaky legs and rush in the water without a second thought. You vaguely remember where he always went to search for them, on the left of the clove. But your swimming skills are not very efficient, yet you have to rely on what he taught you. Even if you’re scared. So you go faster, towards the left, the water reaching your shoulders. You take a deep breath and dive.
You can’t see very well, even if it’s so clear on this part of the island. But you intend to move your legs and arms, adjust your body and strength like he always told you to do. You spot the seaweeds, deeper down. You go back to the surface to take another deep breath, then dive again. You struggle to manage to reach the depth, but still succeed in grabbing as much as you can. Seconds later you push yourself up again and paddle towards where he is. It’s messy, rushed, you struggle to breath correctly, but you do your best to do it as fast as possible.
You cough some water when you lunge yourself at his side, and he looks at you surprised and worried, whispering your name in a grunt of pain.
“Let me take care of this,” you exclaim. First, you put some water on the wounds to clean it. Since he’s a merman, you know that the salt isn’t aggressive to his skin or flesh. Then as you recall what you saw him do, you munch the seaweed. The taste is bitter, but you don’t stop. Then, apply the gross mixture on his wounds.
You don’t know if it will work, and normally, for such a situation he’ll need urgent care in a hospital or with qualified medics of your District, getting stitched. But he’s a merman, and he wanted to reach for this. So you try to believe in this supposed working magic. After all, it healed the poison on your skin.
He sighs of relief and lets his head fall on the sand, closing his eyes in surrender. You know he’s still alive at the way his thoracic cage moves up and down.
“Y/n…” he whimpers your name, while you continue to apply the munched seaweed on each cut and wound. His hand shakes and he tries to take your face in his hand. His digits manage to rub against your cheek, and you lock eyes with him.
“Thank you,” he whispers. You stop moving, relishing in his touch.
“You better not die on me. I still need your help,” you answer in a stressed and terrified tone.
“I didn’t plan to,” he murmurs, his hand falling from your cheek. His eyes close again, but he’s still breathing. You stay by his side, finishing to clean and apply the mixture on the wounds. You regularly put back water on him, to keep him refreshed. You don’t know how merman bodies work, but surely staying under the sun would do nothing good.
You realize he is asleep, clearly exhausted, and let some time pass as you anxiously stay next to him. When you think it’s required, you change the mixture that started to dry, and need to dive back in the water to collect more seaweeds. It’s as hard as before, trying to move correctly and swim, but you manage to do it faster. You quickly repeat the process, hoping it will continue to work. You have the surprise to see that the blood stopped, and the wounds slowly started to close by themselves.
Whatever magical or scientific mystery these weeds possess, they are working marvelously well. You munch and apply. Then once it’s done, you realize how your body is exhausted from all this panic and swimming. Softly, you lay down, catching back your breath next to his sleeping form. You mindlessly continue to apply water on his scales, and then just to make sure, let your head fall on his chest where his heart is supposed to be.
It’s beating. Not in the same way as humans, which startles you. But it’s beating. The sound of this live against your ear lulls you into a sleepy state, the coldness of his skin refreshing your burning cheeks. You’re sure you got sunburned with how strong the rays are on this island, but with no mirror it’s hard to know what you look like anymore.
Fluttering eyelids, you end up closing your eyes. Lips parted, sleep takes over and dreams dance in your head.
It’s a soothing hand, refreshing, that wakes you up. The sound of the waves softly crashing on your legs and middle, the seagulls up your head, the sun gently setting at the edge of the ocean. You lift your head, realizing you fell asleep on Finnick’s chest.
His eyes meet yours, caressing your face with a softness you didn’t know would make you feel so safe.
“You’re alive,” you whisper.
“And you’re awake,” he retorts. You rise and put your hands on each side of his face, sitting on the sand. Your eyes worriedly try to catch his, to see the truth they behold.
“What happened ?” you ask in panic and concern.
“I got attacked, but that was to be expected,” he vaguely explains.
“Attacked ? By what ?” you question, confused. Your brows furrow.
“Your parents,” he admits. Your world seems to crumble underneath your legs before snapping back to reality. Your fingers curl around his cheeks, and your breath is becoming erratic. You look around you. Nothing.
“My parents ?! What ? Where are they ?!” you exclaim.
“Kilometers away from here. I wanted to see where their boat was. It’s towards the north. I quickly realized they were after me, because when they saw me, instead of chasing a bunch of others of my people that were attacking their crew, they immediately went for my skin,” he continues in a calmer voice than you expected.
“But why did you do that ? Finnick, you could have died !” you snap, feeling tears of despair in your eyes but you shake your head to stop them from rolling down your skin. He rises too, lifting his torso, the setting sun’s ray glowing on your back and on his skin.
“Because you seemed devastated that nobody would come to get you back to your home. I wanted to know if they were going towards the direction of this island,” he admits.
“You did that for me ?” you blurt out in shock.
“Can’t have your soul being too sad,” he says. Fingers smoothing the dried sand on your cheeks, maybe a tear too.
“Or the taste will be bad, right ?”
“I prefer its taste when you’re happy,” he answers, a small smile forming on his lips. You bite yours, and suddenly take him in your arms before you can realize what you are doing. Heartbeat against his, you feel his arms wrap around your body as well. Your face digs in his chest, worriedly. His smell surrounds you, and it’s like a cold sea yet a warm summer. So enchanting that you breathe in to it.
“Never do that again. They’ll get here when the time comes. Sooner or later. For now I’m surviving. I can still handle it. So don’t get yourself killed,” you shake your head ordering that.
“I think it won’t take them much longer. They’re still tracking me down, and they’ll quickly find this island,” he soothes your hair, talking against your head as his eyes are locked on the ocean. Chin tucked on top of you.
“Then why don't you go ?! Why don’t you hide, stay in safety in the depths of the ocean ?” you ask, lifting your face to be in front of his.
“You said you needed me.”
“I do. But I can’t… I can’t handle the fact that because of me you’re getting hurt or awaiting a certain death !” you cry out.
“Feeling pity for someone that wants to eat your soul ?” he gently jokes, and you put your hand on your heart.
“Finnick, we both know it’s not true. I figured that out. If you really wanted to eat me, you would have done so by now,” you end up saying. He simply looks at you. The way your eyes stare at his. Your lips twitching. Your eyebrows. Your facial expression. He doesn't say anything. Doesn’t need to.
“I think I can handle myself now. I managed to swim, to get these sea weeds. I can fish. I have water. Fire. And can cook roots too. So don’t stay here, and go back to your own home, to your people,” you tell him.
“I have nobody, y/n, nobody. They all got killed,” he answers more seriously, and you can’t help but remember what he told you some time ago. Days really went fast.
“Nobody at all ?” you whisper unsure.
“Not even Mags anymore…” his eyes get lost in the waves with bitterness.
“Mags ?” you ask confused. He doesn’t explain. Some seconds pass, his hand falling on your back, trailing your skin.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it ? The only person I have right now, is you. The child of the humans that killed my loved ones,” are his words. They are so harsh, so true, so intense and a painful reality that you have nothing else to say to this. What can you, really ? Excuse your parents ? No apologies would ever erase the fact that they are all dead. He almost died too today, because of them.
You even start to wonder if your life would ever be the same if you are reunited back with your own family. No. Not after this.
“I’m staying here,” he finishes the conversation.
Finnick is staying here.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Something significantly changed in your relationship between Finnick and you. But it feels right. You continue your daily routine with him. But when he was usually watching you from afar, now he stayed by your side. Unless when you went into the forest. You’ll cook him more fish, and sea shells. So he can try. He brings you things from the ocean, to help you eat better and make you gain back some weight.
His wounds ended up completely healing, pretty fast actually. As you get more used to swimming, thanks to him, Finnick brings you with him deeper in the ocean. But he’s always close to you, to help you just in case. When you’re tired and too far away from land, you do as taught. You float on your back, staring at the sky. Like this, you gain some energy before being able to swim again.
Tonight, after eating the usual, Finnick took your hand and is dragging you with him in the water. Because of the hotness of today, you’re only in your underwear, your clothes finishing to dry as you tried to wash them in the morning. But with no soap, it’s a harder task than you thought.
“In the middle of the night ? I’ll see nothing !” you protest, stopping straight, but he swims closer and faces you. Hands sliding on your waist, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.
“You really don’t ? I guess human eyes are weaker than I thought,” he mutters to himself, analyzing your pupils and irises with a certain devotion that you don't entirely understand.
“You see in the water during the night ?” you ask intrigued, taking a step closer in the water reaching your collarbones.
“Perfectly,” he confirms, smirking slightly.
“You’re just like a cat,” you comment in a chuckle.
“A cat ? What is this ?” he frowns.
“An animal on land,” you explain. He does a small hum of acknowledgement then his strong tails makes the two of you move forward without you can protest.
“Y/n, come on. Swimming at night is fun. And you’ll have the moon to guide you,” he tries to convince you. It’s quiet around, and the stars reflecting on the waves actually is a beautiful sight. It makes you want to fully engross yourself in this experience.
“Ok, but stay close,” you agree. He smiles and guides you to swim at his side. As you asked, his body doesn’t leave you. Arms wrapped around your middle to bring you with him. You barely paddle, his tail doing all the work. With no clothes on, you realize how each centimeter of your skin is rubbing against his scales and torso.
“You told me you can’t see ? I have the perfect solution. Hold on to my waist, and hold your breath,” he suddenly says, excitement crossing his eyes. You nod, and instantly swallow enough air to keep yourself as long as you can underwater. He brings you with him, this time in an inhuman speed swimming. You have to squint your eyes, but really, you see nothing. Even more with the pressure.
Then, as you hold yourself more strongly to his waist, chest glued to his, he turns in a loop. Suddenly, the whole ocean all around you lights up in tiny sparkles of shiny blue. You want to exclaim of amazement but you can’t, so you wait for Finnick to bring you back to the surface to express it.
“Oh, that is amazing !” you laugh in ecstasy, looking around at the waves rocking your body shining by the sparkles of blue. “I saw this phenomenon a few times when going fishing back in my District. But I never… had the opportunity to swim in it. We call it Noctiluca. The name of the plankton,” you recall. He stares at you, deeply.
“We call them the stars of the sea,” Finnick explains, and moves his tail on purpose to make it shine even more. You chuckle again in happiness at this piece of art painting itself in front of you.
“Now you see. Come underwater with me again,” he says, bringing you down so you gasp and catch your breath quickly before having your face submerged. He makes you go deeper, faster and more impressively when you explore part of the oceans at night you never thought you would ever see up close in your entire life. Finnick stays attentive to your needs, and whenever he notices you need air, he brings you back to the surface in time.
“Not so scary anymore, right ?” he asks, wiping the hair from his forehead.
“I wish I could hold my breath longer,” you admit, gulping some air.
“Why ? You want to stay longer underwater ?” Finnick asks.
“Yes. It’s fun, and it feels good,” you confirm, wondering what it would feel like to have the same capacity as a mermaid. Swimming as fast as you can, breathing in air and water, luring people with your charms and voice.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Do you trust me ?” he then asks, a tempting smile on his face. So you look at him, recalling that one time he asked if you trusted him and you answered no with fervor. So you smile back, and answer.
“Yes.”
Something in your chest flutters, and Finnick seems surprised before relief and appreciation washes over him. He licks his lips, and gets closer, his arms slowly guiding you towards him.
“That’s a nice change of heart,” he muses. “Hold your breath,” he whispers in his sing-song voice that always seemed to lure you in. So you do so, and again you find yourself under the water. The planktons shine all around you, glowing in your hair, your eyes. Finnick looks unreal like this, his irises never leave you. He brings you in a dance, diving deeper, keeping you close. You let yourself follow his lead, until he turns you around. When you face him back, his beauty strikes you all at once.
You almost forget that you need air. But when you’re about to express it, his lips melt on yours.
Finnick kisses you, eyes closed, while yours are wide open. Everything brightens around you, and your heart seems to wildly hammer in your chest. It’s soft, warm, yet cold. His lips are fresh, and a new sensation swallows you whole at the contact. You end closing your lips and time stops.
“Now you can breathe,” he whispers so clearly, you hear it like an echo at the back of your mind. You open your eyelids, a bubble of air escaping your parted lips as his mouth slowly parts from yours.
Indeed, realization hits you as you can really breathe in. Even if you’re underwater. You touch your throat, your chest, where your lungs are supposed to be. Fascination overcomes everything as your smile stretches and stretches even more.
“I can breathe… and I can talk clearly too !” you exclaim. “How is that possible ?!”
Finnick swims around you, round and round, taking your hands to make you spin as well.
“Mermaid kisses offer the ability to breathe under water. I guess no humans know that, because if they did, they’ll for sure capture and assault my kind,” he explains.
You then realize something, something that proves you and Finnick are more than just a survivor on an island and a merman that made a deal with. No, so much more than that.
“So I’m the only human to know,” you swim closely while confirming this, and he does the same.
“You’re the only human to know.”
He trusts you. Finnick trusts you. Your eyes light up, and you touch again your heart, your throat. You can breathe, you can talk, all underwater without any problem. Your eyes see better as well. It’s purely magical. Almost unimaginable. Are you dreaming ? Maybe.
“Thank you. That would be our secret,” you say with devotion. His smile becomes so genuine, so full of a strange feeling you’re not sure to understand.
“The first secret that we share, then. There is always a start to everything,” he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the palm instead.
The night ends on this note.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The following days are full of kisses, frequent, allowing you each time to explore the depth of the ocean at Finnick’s side. Places you would have never seen with your own eyes before. Being able to hunt new kinds of seafood, finally having a new diversity of dishes.
Each time his lips fall on yours, it’s a breath of life. Soft, cold, electrifying. Your body freezing then melting. Yet, what your relationship is, remains unknown. After all, these kisses are only made for you to live in the depth of the sea. For a limited amount of time. Around two hours each.
Maybe you want more. Something real. You don’t really know anymore. You even start to forget about your life back at District 4. Your parents. The boat. Your job. Everything.
Aside from this island. This place is the only thing you have with him.
A piece of land, where all your secrets are hidden. Your bodies on the sand. Your kisses in the water. His arms around your waist. His eyes, green, always analyzing every little muscle movement of your face to decipher what you are thinking about. As if you are an enigma. But Finnick is the enigma.
He still didn’t eat your soul. You’re sure he won’t. But at this point, it’s like he already consumed every bit of it to nothingness.
Head laying on his chest while the waves softly crash on the warm sand. His hand touches the edges of your hair, then the curve of your nose, to the plump of your lips. It’s still the morning, the sun rising. A night spent exploring the sea and the cove at his side.
It’s so silent. Really. But you don’t mind it. You just relish in the intimacy of the moment. Your left hand busy caressing his tail, admiring the scales shining under your digits. Nails softly grazing the hardness of it.
“You’re an enigma, Finnick,” you end up commenting after some minutes of mindlessly caressing. You don’t see his face because of looking at his tail, so you don’t know what kind of reaction or facial expression he’s having. But you’re sure he’s having his usual charming smile right now.
“Am I ? I could say the same thing about you,” he chuckles slightly, musing his words.
“Why were you so far away from your territory when we first met on my family boat ?” you end up questioning.
“Asking hard questions, hmm ?” he answers, fingers stopping on your jaw to instead trail on your shoulder, then arm.
“I always wanted to know,” you defend yourself. You hear him sigh, the conversation taking a more serious tone.
“It was careless of me. But, I didn’t really lie to you. I was tracking down your family. The ones that killed Mags in front of me. I wanted to avenge her,” he ends up admitting in all honesty.
“Who is Mags ?”
“She was like my mother,” he says in a pained voice, hand tightening around your arm before he realizes it and immediately loosen his grip.
“It’s for that you went so far away from your home ?”
“Yes. And then I found you. Kind of an anomaly. It has been some time since I was following your parent’s boat, planning the ideal time to kill them with my trident. Until I saw you for the first time. You weren’t supposed to be here. Were you a new threat ? I just needed to know who you were,” he continues. You stare at the sun lights in his tail, being extremely captivating.
“So you lured me in ?”
“I did. And I never expected you to fall and drown,” he adds.
You recall this moment, the feeling of dying that haunted your dreams every night since then. You inhale a big breath to steady yourself.
“You could have eaten me a long time ago,” you whisper with acceptance.
“I did think about it when I learnt your identity when your mother called you her child, screaming for you to go to sleep so you’ll be awake at dawn. I thought that I'll take a life for a life, so they’ll know what it feels like to lose someone they love,” Finnick confesses. You blink, biting your lower lip. Strangely, you wonder what it would have felt like feeling his mouth on your throat, diving on your heart, then on your mouth to consume your life essence.
“But after all this time, you still didn’t,” you comment.
“I didn’t,” he confirms. You’re sure he’s smiling now.
“Why ?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. Two seconds pass. So you finally turn around to face him again since the two of you laid on the foamy waves.
“Finnick ?”
Your question is met by his lips. Hands cradling your head, tilting it to the side to deepen the intimate exchange. It’s so raw, bare of any barriers, or excuses of allowing you to breathe underwater. No. It’s real, authentic. It’s him and you. Sharing something true to your heart.
“Because I learnt to love you,” he confesses against your mouth. You think you just died then went back to life. He parts slightly, locking eyes with you. Your heart is hammering in your throat, and you take back his face, diving on his lips once again.
“I do too,” you confess as well, his eagerness answering your kiss. It’s soft now, hot and fresh, steamy and passionate. His hands explore your back, bringing your legs closer, still amazed by these strange body parts foreign to him.
“You’re the only person I have now, y/n. I can’t lose you,” he whispers against your lips.
“I don’t think I want my parents to ever find this island,” you admit.
“I can’t stop you from going back to your home, even if I wish to continue to spend everyday by your side,” he sighs.
“Where I’m from, I work all the time to exhaustion. When I have my weekends, -which are granted because usually it’s only Sunday that is a rest day but thanks to my parents I have Saturday too-, I still have to help them with the preparation of their boat before leaving on Monday. When do I really rest ? Never. Work, work, work to the bone. I had friends, but with our jobs I can barely see them anymore, them neither. My whole life is forced to follow a path the Capitol wants. What President Snow wants from my family. And I don’t want it. I don’t. If that’s home, then I prefer to not have one anymore. Not after I tasted what freedom tastes like. By your side,” you exclaim, expressing a mountain of feelings you kept inside.
It’s only by being here on this island that you finally grasped what it feels like to be human. To be alive. To not be controlled by a government. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, you have to survive each day. But Finnick significantly made you able to be alive every hour of passing weeks. So freedom but harsh survival ? Or captivity and eternal suffering ?
Maybe you’ll die young, because of a complication. It’s not like the magical seaweed can even stop all diseases including death. But at least you’ll be free. Back at your District, you’re sure you would die at work. Or from exhaustion.
“Then let’s stay together. Here, in the ocean,” he says, cradling your cheek tenderly.
The choice is quickly and easily made.
“Let’s hope for it,” you swallow your saliva, anxiety building up at the gore possibilities of outcomes.
“I told you, y/n. I’m not leaving this island. Even if the boat comes back,” Finnick assures you strongly. So you have to believe him. You nod.
“What will you do then if they do ? Will you kill my parents ?” you ask in a wavering voice. You don’t know what to think about this. They are your parents. But they killed his. What can you even try to rationalize in this situation ? You don’t even know what will happen.
“I can’t tell you. But you’ll know what I’m planning soon enough,” he ends the conversation by kissing your forehead with devotion.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Finnick left that morning and said he’ll be back for sunset. A last kiss on your lips allowed you to go fish for your lunch, even if it felt weird to swim alone in the depth of the sea without Finnick showing you around.
You did your best to occupy yourself. Going back into the forest, drink water, wash your clothes and let them dry in the sun, sharpen your rocks, and apply some seaweed on the small injuries you had. Like tiny cuts, or hematomas.
You are left waiting at the beach of the cove to look for the arrival of Finnick. The sky is orange, and pink. The sun slowly hiding at the horizon behind the sea. So you sit, playing with rocks, the sand.
You even try to arrange your hair. Smooth the wrinkles of your dried clothes. Wipe the sand off your cheeks. Make sure that your hands are clean, the cleaner you can actually feel as you only have water and no soap. You try to peek at your reflection on the waves, wondering what you really look like right now. It’s stupid. Finnick already loves you for who you are, the way he sees you. There is no need to try to make yourself look prettier. You don’t even know what image of yourself you give him. But it’s you, wild and raw of everything else. So it’s alright. No need to change for someone else.
Your name is chanted. You know it’s his call. So you rush to the side of the beach, and see him waiting for you behind rocks. He gestures to you to join him in the water. You smile, relieved to see him back, and hastily take off your clothes before jumping in the waves. He arrives halfway and immediately his lips melt on yours the moment you’re in his arms.
“Where did you go ?” you breathlessly ask eagerly.
“That’s a secret, y/n,” he answers in his usual charming voice, smiling against your lips when he kisses you again.
“Come on, I’m curious now,” you try to make him talk. He raises an eyebrow, finger gently tapping on your shoulder like a reminder.
“Fair trade, honey,” he says. Like a small nostalgia of your swimming lessons, you sigh playfully.
“Ok ok… what do you want in return ?”
“A promise,” Finnick admits. Curious, your head tilts on the side.
“A promise ? Then tell me,” you nod.
“Promise me you’ll seriously consider your answer. That’s all I want. Think you can do that ?” he caresses your cheek tenderly.
“Well yes, but consider my answer of what ?” you look into his green eyes. Finnick then, with his other free hand, raises it up towards your face and slowly opens his fingers. Lies in his palm a necklace, the lace made in a kind of seaweeds tied like ropes, so beautifully in meticulous handwork. Then, a seashell. So vibrant it looks unreal. You gasp, fearing to even touch what is in front of you, as if it would break. You look back at him, a smile on your lips.
“Wow, that’s beautiful… is it why you took so long to come back ? You went to search this for me ?” you ask in awe, not believing that Finnick really did that just for you. He chuckles ô so softly, his thumb gently rubbing on the seashell. And you swear, it shines like magic at the gentle contact.
“Yes. It’s not any necklace. It’s made with a special seashell. The one of the legend,” he explains in a calmer tone. To emphasize the truth of his words. You open your eyes widely in disbelief, not quite sure that you heard right.
“What- the legend is real ?! Are you serious right now ?” you exclaim with pure shock.
“When putting it on, it allows humans to transform as mermaids. Only when it’s on, though. So, if you do put it, we could truly live our life together, free of our problems,” he confirms, and you can’t even form coherent thoughts, flabbergasted to the point of going mute. So this is true. It’s not a legend.
“Promise me you’ll consider your answer. I’m not forcing you to say yes, to commit to me, to leave everything behind. It’s your choice,” he adds with seriousness, making sure you have your claim in this.
At his words, you finally snap out of your thoughts and throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tail supports both of your weight in the water, and his face digs in the crook of your neck to relish in your closeness.
“How could I leave everything behind when it is already behind me ? The boat never came back. You’re all I have left,” you say, hugging him tighter. After all, you got used to this new life. You accepted the fact that you’ll never go back to District 4. And maybe it’s better like this. To be far away from Panem. From President Snow. Here lies your freedom, with him.
“I think, from what I saw during my trip, that the boat is already coming this way. Towards our island. It’s for that, y/n. I’m being serious about this. For you to truly consider your answer,” Finnick says. You stop dead in your train of thoughts and look at him. All your future possibilities crashing down at this news. The boat is coming this way. Your parents are. Meaning, you’ll have to leave Finnick if they do find you. Maybe to never see him again, because what if they kill him ? What if you witness Finnick being skinned alive ? Taking his eyes, his scales. Everything that you learnt to love about him, being reaped away.
Will you be forced to look at his remains being worn by fancy Capitol civilians ? To stare at his scales that you used to caress with so much love, used to decorate the coat of an old man ? To see his eyes as a necklace ? Or in a jar as a trophy ?
“I understand…” you whisper in anxiety. Your trembling hands gather around your throat, to softly take off one of the accessories you had on you since you left your District. A necklace with a symbol of a fish delicately carved on a pearl. Gently, you take it off.
“Here, take this necklace too. It doesn’t give any magical power or anything. It’s just one from my District. So you’ll have a piece of me always,” you explain while lovingly wrapping it around his own neck. He uses his free hand to roll the pearl against his fingers, staring at it with so much care. He kisses it.
“I don’t think I can live without a piece of you now,” he murmurs. You lean towards him to kiss him again, but you freeze when your eyes notice meters away something that the fog kept hidden until now. Your parents. They’re back.
“Finnick ! The boat !” you scream and make him spin around. He positions himself before you. Surely to hide you or to protect you, maybe both.
“They’re here earlier than I calculated,” he says to himself with a deep voice, characteristic of the seriousness and gravity of the situation.
“Leave the island !” you exclaim and try to push him away in panic. You don’t know what to do yourself, aside from first making sure he’s safe and sound.
“I told you y/n, I won’t !” he protests, which makes you twice anxious. Quick, you have to think of something that will both save you time.
“I’ll put the necklace then, and we both run away,” you affirm. He nods and hands you the necklace. Opening it to wrap it around your neck.
A scream of vengeance coming from the boat. Spears are thrown. It hurts his hand, making the necklace flying and falling back down, sinking in the waves.
“No !” you scream and directly turn around to catch it before it disappears or gets rocked away by the water. You manage to grab the lace, before turning around to check on your lover.
“Finnick ?!” you exclaim when you notice that the water is red, and he’s holding his side in a painting. Another spear did touch his hip. You immediately wrap the jewelry around your neck by yourself, and rush to his side.
“Quick, let’s go-” you yell, grabbing his hand and ready yourself to dive underwater. But he stops you.
“It’s broken, the seashell,” he comments with sorrow, holding it in his hand.
“What ?! Oh fuck- Fuck ! It won’t work anymore ?” you cry out in fear. Your plan is getting doomed in front of your own eyes, and in the panic you don’t know what to do anymore.
“I don’t know. Maybe, I don’t know- ugh, y/n,” he grunts in pain at the blood loss.
Voices are heard in your back, closer now, so much closer. You lost time. When you lift your head, you see a net falling down towards the two of you. Finnick is quicker, and drags you with him inside the water to the left, avoiding the attack. The net falls and sink in the depths, with no merman caught. As Finnick continues to drag you with him as fast as possible, even though he’s in strident pain, you do your best to not freeze of fear. Being chased by your own parents, taking you for a prey, is scarier than you ever thought. So is that what mermaids and mermans went through ? Felt before dying ? Raw instinct of escaping to survive ? Or fight back with dignity and vengeance until their assassination ?
Thankfully, since the two of you kissed, you still can breathe underwater. Allowing the escape to be more efficient. The necklace is shining, but the broken piece that is missing, it only sends a strange wave across your body. Everything tingles. You don’t know what is happening. You even forget to swim for a second because of the strange feeling you’re experiencing. But that is your mistake.
Another net falls, it touches you, and the technology of it immediately wraps your body and lifts you off the water as you scream of fear. Your hand extends towards the waves, where Finnick tries to do something, invoking his trident that rushes to him. He throws it towards the net, in an attempt to cut it in two. But it doesn’t work.
“Kill him !” the voice of your mother, that you never thought you would hear again, resonates behind you. Another spear, your spear, you recognize it, is aimed at his heart.
The impact is so brutal, and Finnick screams your name one last time before he sinks in a pool of blood. His green becomes dull, his shine disappears, your name are the last words on his lips. You yell in agony, crying and trying to get away like a wild animal in a cage. The net is brutally thrown on the deck of the boat, and all the sailors, including your parents, lower their weapons when they realize it’s you. Their child. Alive.
“Y/n ?” asks your father in disbelief. Everyone exclaims in surprise and happiness to see you back. But all you see is red. His red. His blood.
“What did you do ?! What did you do to him ?! You monsters ! You killed him ! You’re all but monsters !” you cry in pure rage and madness, standing back up on your feet with pain. You feel dizzy, your legs barely able to hold your weight.
What they say to you, their words, are replaced by a horrible ringing. You don’t hear anything. Hands and arms wrap around your body that tries to jump back down in the ocean, seeking your lover’s body.
“You’re all monsters ! He’s dead because of you !” you continue to yell in agony, seeing blurry all around you. Black dots cover your vision. You don’t know if it’s because of the necklace, or the brutality of what just happened in barely five minutes of pure chaos, or maybe because they use a syringe in your arm, but you soon are knocked out.
Green. The green of his eyes. Red. The red of his blood. The chant of your name. His voice lures you in the sea. You wish you could join him one last time.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
A month has passed since your parents found you on the island, and made you come back to District 4. You’ve been under medic care. Not going to work. Staying at home. Not talking. Nothing. Really, since Finnick’s death, you have refused to eat, to talk, to sleep, or to do anything other than wanting to go back to the sea. Just once. That’s all you wanted. But they didn’t let you.
The only thing that kept you sane was the necklace. The shell, placed where your heart belongs. You caressed it, recalling Finnick’s touch. His lips. His hands. His scales. His hair. Or his smile, his voice, his teasing, his charming shenanigans, his care for you, his teaching, hell, everything about him !
You wish Finnick would have never fallen in love with you. He would have been alive. Unbroken. Untouched by the spear. Your spear. It’s as if you were the one that did it. That aimed at his heart.
Finnick was the one supposed to take your soul. Not you. Not the other way around.
So, that night, when everybody is sleeping, you vanish. The necklace is making you have hallucinations of his voice, his eyes, him, somewhere close to you. You make sure that nobody hears you. The door is locked, of course. So you open the window, and manage to fully escape. A few steps, you’re in the street. It’s quiet. Your head hurts. You hear his voice at the corner of a house, but you know it’s not him. So you run.
Why is it so painful ? Why are your legs killing you ? The sand is fresh under your toes. You sigh of relief. Before you, lies the ocean. You hear its call. Luring you in. Step by step, you approach with dizziness but strong will. The foam caresses your ankles. You don’t stop. Walk, deeper and deeper in the ocean. Staring at the moon shining on the water. Your necklace is vibrating, glowing. You hear your name, his voice. It’s coming from the seashell on your skin.
You dive in the waves, swimming, like he taught you. You don’t stop. Breathless. You don’t stop. Body tiring. You don’t stop. Sinking. You don’t stop. Chasing a future you wished to have. A dream. Finnick, somewhere.
You don’t feel your legs anymore. You don’t know if you’re breathing underwater. Maybe you’re dying. But it’s the call of the sea. You can’t escape it. Maybe you’re crazy.
You drown in green. Finnick’s eyes. His lips fall on yours. His arms wrapping around your body to reunite with you again. You don’t know if he’s really here. Maybe he didn’t die. You hear your name again. Or maybe it’s a hallucination. You don’t know and don’t wish to know the truth.
“Finnick… eat my soul,” are your words. He does.
And like this, you vanish into the night, into the waves, into his heart. For all eternity. Nobody ever found you again. Only the sea knows the secret of what happened.
Hi! I’m absolutely in love with the Finnick bonus chapters of Until Panem is Free and i have a request for another one. I know you kind of touched base on it in the actual story but could you do more of Finnicks POV while you’re recovering from being hijacked? Give some insights into how he felt talking care of you once you got rescued 🥹
First of all, thank you so much!! 💕Ahah, you’re lucky because I was thinking about doing exactly that, as I thought it would be interesting to know ! I’m actually writing a Finnick merman x reader one shot right now, that is soon out. So when I’m done with it, I’ll take the time to write this new bonus and share it. I don’t know how long it will take because I started my last year of college, meaning I’ll be busy, but I’ll do my best to not take too long 💋
synopsis : you don’t know what Finnick went through back at District 13, and how he handled your kidnapping by the Capitol. In this bonus, discover it all.
words count : 13.k
warnings : mention of death, depression, violence, angst, mention of sexual assault, longing, Finnick is basically a mess without you.
Trailer of the bonus
———————————————————————————
When Finnick wakes up inside the hovercraft, the touch of a hand caressing his hair is what brings him back from the dream realm. Mags, at his side, while he is gently fluttering his eyes open. He thinks he is still dreaming. But the aching in his body is a reminder that he is alive and awake.
He’s in a state of semiconsciousness for the following minutes. Laying on a padded table, tubes in his left arm, everything to keep him alive. But the pain is so heavy that he falls back asleep and seems to wake up some time later, without the tubes. When his eyes finally adjust to the light, able to fully open his eyelids, he realizes he is in a large room with two rows of beds facing each other. Beete, laying one of them with ten different machines, hooked up to him. For Katniss, she’s still unconscious.
“Mags ?” he murmurs looking around him. Finnick’s voice is heavy, like a croak, almost unable to talk properly because of the pain. His body is covered in a hospital gown with nothing underneath, and when he sits up, he continues to analyze vaguely what is surrounding him. The last thing he remembers is telling Katniss to get away from the tree of the Arena. Before everything exploded.
The Arena, right. The Arena !
“Where is y/n ?!” he stands back up abruptly before Mags makes him sit down forcefully. Her hands crawl around his waist and bring him in a hug.
She explains to him that he needs to calm down. He learns quickly that he had the chance of being rescued by District 13. They are in their hovercraft, going back to their basement. He nods, relishing in the good information, and the feeling of the body of his mother figure against him. Something he thought he’ll never feel again.
“Mags. Answer me, please. Where is y/n ?” he asks again, anxiety eating him alive. Are you dead ? Rescued by District 13 ? Left in the Arena ? Yet, the saddened eyes of Mags show him that the worst has to come.
When she admits that you got kidnapped by the Capitol, along with Peeta, Johanna, and Enobaria, his heart stops beating and an immense rage and despair swallows him whole.
“No, no. That can’t be possible. That can’t be-,” he sucks up a breath, hands shaking, suffocating at the piece of information. “She was supposed to be with me. To be rescued, or die with me. Not… not get kidnapped by the Capitol ! We have to go back, to take her. We need to rescue her !” he exclaims as he bolts from the room, Mags unable to catch him back. The door opens, and he stumbles in the corridor of the hovercraft where he wishes he could see you. Somewhere, safe and sound. His body responds to him in a weird way. He can move, but it’s sloppy.
He turns and approaches the same door from earlier, thinking it’s another one, seeing a glimpse of someone. For a second, he thinks it’s you. That it was all a bad joke. But, when his eyes meet the unconscious body of Katniss and Mags still sitting on the bed confused, he stops. He steps back, mixed feelings swirling in his stomach. He realizes that in his panic he went back where he came from instead of the command room. It hits him like a brick that even the easiest thing, he’s completely lost without you.
When he stumbles in the command room, Plutarch and Haymitch talking, he freezes. He approaches without a care of making one of the chairs fall on the floor in a loud thud.
“We need to get back, for y/n,” he says firmly, walking menacingly towards the white haired man.
“I see that you are awake,” Plutarch nods with a smile.
“We can’t let her. If I got rescued, then she too,” he protests, hands on the table to stabilize himself. Then, he touches his face, only now realizing the healing scars and dried blood on his skin.
“We can’t go, Finnick. They already took them. We are soon arriving in District 13,” adds Haymitch as he looks at him with some sympathy. Not like Plutarch. Yet, it doesn’t ease his mind the slightest.
“She’ll get tortured, killed ! Killed for informations about the rebels ! I can’t let that slide, I can’t abandon her, I can’t, I can’t… No, they’ll keep her alive to be a bait, to torture me, like they’ll do to Peeta, but at what cost, uh ?!” he exclaims and takes his head in his hands as the agonizing realization of the situation is making him sick.
“Mags, help him calm down,” says Haymitch. At his words, Finnick realizes she is approaching from behind and makes him sit on a chair. She caresses his back softly, but doesn’t say anything because Mags knows that no words would ever reassure him at this moment.
“I’m sorry, Finnick. We can’t,” continues Plutarch in a sigh.
“Here, let’s eat while we talk about this,” proposes Haymitch as he swallows the end of his glass filled with alcohol. Orange liquid.
It’s only now that Finnick notices the plates on the table. Someone adds another one for him, and for Mags. They all sit, yet he can’t even swallow anything. He’s too nauseous for that. He listens vaguely to the conversation that explains the situation with the rebels since the Arena exploded. He learns quickly that District 12 got erased from the map, and Finnick can’t help but dread Katniss’ reaction once she’ll hear about it.
“Communications are down in Seven, Ten, and Twelve. But Eleven has control of transportation now, so there’s at least a hope of them getting some food out,” explains Plutarch.
“What if I’m sent to the Capitol ? I’ll do anything to get her back,” asks Finnick in a hoarse voice. He knows it’s impossible. The question is stupid. But at least, he wants to ask. Just to be sure.
“No, I’m sorry. There’s no way I can get you to the Capitol. But I’ve given special orders for her retrieval if possible. It’s the best I can do, Finnick,” answers Plutarch. Finnick sighs, staring at the table.
“Don’t be stupid. That’s the worst thing you could do. Get her killed for sure. As long as you’re alive, they’ll keep her alive for bait,” says Haymitch.
“A bait for me, I know,” adds Finnick bitterly. At the same time, Haymitch turns around to face an awakened Katniss, holding in her hand a syringe with the look of a killer in her eyes.
“Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart ?” says Haymitch, the annoyance clear in his voice. But as she careens forward he steps up and catches her wrists, steadying her. He looks at her hand. “So it’s you and a syringe against the Capitol ? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans. Drop it.”
Haymitch forces her to do so and makes her settle in a chair next to Finnick. He stares at her while Plutarch puts a bowl of broth in front of the girl.
“Eat,” he says in a much kinder voice than Haymitch used. Haymitch sits directly in front of her. Finnick looks at the girl worriedly, trying to focus on her rather than on you for the following minutes. Or else, he’ll go crazy.
“Katniss, I’m going to explain what happened. I don’t want you to ask any questions until I’m through. Do you understand ?” starts Haymitch as she nods numbly. He explains to her the plan, the Victors involved, the alliance, the role of each one in it. The bread, the clock, the rescue team. Meanwhile, most of the districts in Panem are in full-scale rebellion.
“You didn’t tell me,” she ends up saying with a voice as ragged as Finnick’s.
“Neither you nor Peeta were told. We couldn’t risk it,” says Plutarch. “I was even worried you might mention my indiscretion with the watch during the Games.” He pulls out his pocket watch and runs his thumb across the crystal, lighting up the mockingjay. “Of course, when I showed you this, I was merely tipping you off about the Arena. As a mentor. I thought it might be a first step toward gaining your trust. I never dreamed you’d be a tribute again.”
At Plutarch’s words, Finnick remembers when some time ago, at the party thrown by the Capitol, the night he came to talk to him about the plan. Showing as well his pocket watch. At this moment, you didn’t know a thing about it. Which led to a big argument once the Quarter Quell got announced.
“I still don’t understand why Peeta and I weren’t let in on the plan,” adds Katniss.
“Because once the force field blew, you’d be the first ones they’d try to capture, and the less you knew, the better,” says Haymitch.
“The first ones ? Why ?” she answers, trying to hang on to the train of thought.
“For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive,” says Finnick in a sigh, staring in the void then at her with much intensity.
“No, Johanna tried to kill me,” she retorts.
“Johanna knocked you out to cut the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you,” says Haymitch.
“What ?” she says confused. “I don’t know what you’re-”
“We had to save you because you’re the mockingjay, Katniss,” says Plutarch. “While you live, the revolution lives.”
“Peeta,” she whispers with so much despair in her voice, that it pains Finnick to hear it. Because she still doesn’t know. Katniss still doesn’t know that he is in the Capitol right now, along with you.
“The others kept Peeta alive because if he died, we knew there’d be no keeping you in an alliance,” says Haymitch. “And we couldn’t risk leaving you unprotected.” His words are matter-of-fact, his expression unchanged, but he can’t hide the tinge of gray that colors his face.
“Where is Peeta ?” she hisses at him. That’s when Finnick swallows his saliva, hands shaking.
“He was picked up by the Capitol along with, y/n, Johanna and Enobaria,” says Haymitch. Finnick digs his nails in his palms, and stares at Katniss that lunges at Haymitch and aiming his face with her nails like a wild animal. Then there are both screaming terrible, terrible things at each other, and Finnick is trying to drag her out by stepping in front of her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
Other hands help Finnick and she’s back on her table, body restrained, wrists tied down, so she slams her head in fury again and again against the table until a needle pokes her arm. At the same time, they force Finnick to lay back down on his own bed because his face is becoming paler. Mags is the one to force him, and caresses his forehead. But the dread, the guilt, the rage and sorrow is too overwhelming.
“Katniss. Katniss, I’m sorry,” Finnick’s voice comes from the bed next to her in a begging whisper.
“I wanted to go back for y/n, him and Johanna, but I couldn’t move,” he adds as his tears finally stream down his face for the first time since he learnt about the terrible news. It’s ugly. Mags takes him in his arms, as shaken as him, whispering that she hopes you’ll be fine, even if she knows the atrocities of the Capitol, of President Snow, and that you are everything but doing okay.
“It’s better for him than y/n and Johanna. They’ll figure out he doesn’t know anything pretty fast. And they won’t kill him if they think they can use him against you,” says Finnick after inhaling a sob.
“Like bait ?” Katnis says to the ceiling. “Like how they’ll use y/n for bait, Finnick ?”
At her words, he weeps and Mags has to by herself wipe her own tears. He imagines you getting tortured, and he can’t help but think it’s all his fault. He’s the one that wanted to go to the Arena, for the rebellion. He’s the one that admitted the rebels' plan to you. He’s the one that ended up accepting for you to come along. If he kept it a secret, if he managed to act like it until the end, you would have never been involved that deeply. Nobody would have known that the two of you were lovers. You wouldn’t have been captured. He would have simply asked Plutarch to be dropped to District 4, so he could take you with him in safety in District 13.
But then, he remembers that Mags was the one reaped, and that you volunteered as tribute. Even if you didn’t know about the rebels, you still would have protected Mags.
He doesn’t know anymore.
“I wish she was dead,” he says. “I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best.”
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When Finnick arrived in District 13, he directly got sent to the hospital. He was considered mentally disoriented, it says so right on his plastic medical bracelet. And to say the least, he became deranged. Every nightmare, every trauma, guilt, fear, paranoia, all eat him alive each passing second. The rope handled by his fingers became like a third hand, used to twist, tie, untie, mindlessly in a hope to occupy his mind and to not drown in his misery. He cries, whimpering your name in his pillow, sobbing and turning mad. So he usually ends up being knocked out by his medication. Mags tries as much as she can to take care of him. But being a very old woman, it’s not always easy for her too. She is as saddened as Finnick. Her heart already went through hell, but sometimes it’s even too much for her too.
They want to transform Finnick into a rebel leader as well, but first they’ll have to get him to stay awake for more than five minutes. Even when he is conscious, people have to say everything to him three times to get through to his brain. The doctors say it’s from the electrical shock he received in the Arena, but anyone close to him would know it’s not.
Katniss, on the other hand, won’t cooperate with the rebellion. Beetee was pulled into weapons development the minute he could sit upright. But Finnick has a hard time caring, for now.
When he is not asleep, or crying, he sits on his bed, thumb brushing against the picture of your face while Mags caresses his shoulder. Sometimes, he tries to have some activity with her. Like braiding her long grey locks of hair. It makes her smile, and seeing Mags smile brings some comfort to his poor destroyed heart.
Yet, on the other hand, sleep rarely brings him comfort. Waking up in cold sweats, either from bad memories of the past or from nightmares of seeing you getting tortured. He wakes up in a scream, guttural one, to the top of his lungs. They shoot him so he ends up knocked out again.
One night, he stands up from his bed, after restlessly turning around in his hospital sheets. He wanders mindlessly in the corridor, whispering your name like a ghost seeking for his long lost bride.
“Y/n, please, come back to me,” he whimpers before kneeling in front of the hospital night table, with the belongings he has from 4. Mags went to search for them while he was for two weeks kept inside the walls of his room. The tip of his fingers brush the small wooden box in front of the picture of your face. Fingers open it, staring at the wedding ring of his deceased mother. He kisses it softly, finding solace by imagining you wearing it with the brightest smile ever, a future that the both of you wished to have for years now.
He continues to kneel there, before standing up and hearing a medic telling him to go back to bed.
“No, let me be,” he answers, shaking his head and kneeling back.
But another medic arrives and grabs his arms, dragging him back to his bed.
“No ! Let me be with her ! I can’t leave her alone !” he yells in his delusion. Finnick, even if these past short weeks he hasn’t been physically moving much, still contains the strength that made him the killing machine that he is now. He pushes them away easily, grabbing your picture and the wedding ring against his heart. A needle pokes his arm and instantly makes him go limp, as strong arms lift him back on his bed and force him to lay down.
He cries, silently, finding the last bit of strength to softly bring the wedding ring to his lips and roll the coldness of it on his skin.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Some days have passed since the incident. After his shower time, which is earlier than the rest of the District to have a matching schedule with the hospital, Plutarch enters the room.
“Hello, Finnick. How are you feeling ?” he asks, and it’s the first time he sees the man again since the hovercraft. At the question, Finnick scoffs as he drops the knot he was tying.
“Is that a real question, Plutarch ?” he answers bitterly. It makes the man blink, before smiling and approaching.
“Good… well, how about you follow me to the Command ? We need you in here,” he directly asks. Yet Finnick is already focusing back on the wall next to him, thoughts consuming his mind once again.
“What ?” he asks genuinely as if he didn't hear. Plutarch, who heard about Finnick having small attention spawn since the Arena, asks again unbothered.
“We need you in Command. Do you think you can come ? I got the approval of the hospital.”
“I don’t think I’m the best option right now,” Finnick ends up retorting.
“It’s for Katniss, and you’ll be able to wander around as much as you want. We won’t ask much of you,” arguments the blondish white haired man.
“And Mags ?” Finnick asks.
“She’s already there,” Plutarch answers. He doesn’t need more information to follow him. They arrive at the doorway of Command, the high-tech meeting/war council room complete with computerized talking walls, electronic maps showing the troop movements in various Districts, and a giant rectangular table with control panels.
Everyone is gathered at a television screen at the far end of the room that airs the Capitol broadcast around the clock. Finnick lingers around it, before joining Mags and passing time, waiting for Katniss to arrive.
When the girl does, Plutarch, whose ample frame has been blocking the television, catches sight of her and waves urgently for her to join them. War footage. Propaganda. Replaying the bombings of District 12. An ominous message from President Snow. Until something changes when Caesar Flickerman, the eternal host of the Hunger Games, with his painted face and sparkly suit, prepares to give an interview.
The camera pulls back and everyone can see that his guest is Peeta. A sound escapes Katniss. Finnick directly approaches the screen, staring at it dumbfounded. If Peeta is here, you shouldn’t be far. Yet, he doesn’t catch a glimpse of you. So instead, he stares at the blond, trying to find the smallest bit of information. He shows no signs of agony, or torture. He looks healthy, even. Maybe it’s the same for you ?
Caesar settles himself more comfortably in the chair across from Peeta and gives him a long look. “So…Peeta…welcome back.” Peeta smiles slightly. “I bet you thought you’d done your last interview with me, Caesar.”
“I confess, I did,” says Caesar. “The night before the Quarter Quell… well, who ever thought we’d see you again ?”
Finnick mindlessly listens to the interview. But nothing catches his ears concerning your situation. He’s restless, yet worried for Katniss as well because the look she has on her face shows all the anger and confusion she is experiencing.
Shortly after, Plutarch asks him if he can comment on what he saw once Katniss left desoriented, but Finnick only says that the condition of Peeta obviously is a trap after some reflection. They surely are keeping him healthy looking for the interview, but the glint on his eye at the end of it couldn’t fool him. Then, he starts to cry when he imagines you going through the same, and they have to bring him back to the hospital.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
The next day, at lunch, the medics explained to Finnick that Coin called for a national security assembly during Reflection. The entire population, except those needed for essential jobs, is required to attend. With the other patients of the hospital, Finnick is guided outside and following the directions to the Collective, a huge room that easily holds the thousands who show up. Padding on the floor with his hospital nightgown, Finnick vaguely listens to a blond woman leading him. A certain Everdeen. It takes him some time to realize it’s the mother of Katniss. He’s dazed, in his hands holding his usual piece of thin rope. His fingers move rapidly, automatically tying and unraveling various knots as he gazes about.
Katniss arrives and greets him.“Hey, Finnick.” He doesn’t seem to notice, so she nudges him to get his attention. “Finnick ! How are you doing?”
“Katniss,” he says, gripping her hand once he realizes the girl is next to him, relieved to see a familiar face. He smiles.
“Why are we meeting here ?” he asks.
“I told Coin I’d be her Mockingjay. But I made her promise to give the other tributes immunity if the rebels won. In public, so there are plenty of witnesses,” she explains. A wave of relief washes over Finnick.
“Oh. Good. Because I worry about that with y/n. That she’ll say something that could be construed as traitorous without knowing it,” says Finnick anxiously.
“Don’t worry, I took care of it,” she nods and gives Finnick’s hand a squeeze.
Coin calls the audience to attention and tells them Katniss has consented to be the Mockingjay, provided the other victors, Peeta, Johanna, Enobaria, and you will be granted full pardon for any damage they do to the rebel cause. The president allows a few moments of unrest, and then continues in her brisk fashion.
“But in return for this unprecedented request, Soldier Everdeen has promised to devote herself to our cause. It follows that any deviance from her mission, in either motive or deed, will be viewed as a break in this agreement. The immunity would be terminated and the fate of the four victors determined by the law of District Thirteen. As would her own. Thank you.”
After this, they all are dismissed and Finnick is sent back to the hospital for his dinner. They tell him he was assigned quarters, with Mags, which surprises him. But the following days, he has so many mental relapses, he still basically lives in the hospital.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Finnick is brought back by Plutarch on a set, waiting for Katniss to be ready considering the propos they have to shoot. He wanders around, like a ghost, looking at the preparation. Once it’s done, here she stands. Finally, there’s quiet on the set. For a full five minutes she is simply considered.
Then Plutarch says, “I think that does it.” They play back the last few minutes of taping. Like this, Katniss seems different, intimidating. Her body larger in stature, more imposing. Her face smudged but sexy. Her brows black and drawn in an angle of defiance. Wisps of smoke, suggesting she has either just been extinguished or is about to burst into flames, rise from her clothes.
Finnick approaches her, comes up behind and says with a hint of his old humor, “They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”
Everyone’s so excited, so pleased with their work. It’s nearly time to break for dinner, but they insist they continue. Today they want just one slogan, just one line that they can work into a short propo to show to Coin. “People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice !” That’s the line.
Finnick sits at the table, drumming his fingers as for once he’s not using his rope, to look at the girl. He has some faith. Maybe it will work. Maybe they will be able to send troops to the Capitol and get you back.
Someone calls for quiet, the cameras start rolling, and there is a shout. “Action !” Katniss holds her bow over her head and yells “People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice !”
There’s dead silence on the set. It’s so bad that Finnick takes his face in his hand. It goes on. And on. Finally, the intercom crackles and Haymitch’s acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, “And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.”
Some minutes later, everyone gathers around the huge table in Command, including Coin and her people. Finnick wheels Beete, accompanied by Dalton, a guy from 10. Haymitch welcomes everyone, Mags holding Finnick’s arm.
The first thing Haymitch does is to show the footage they just shot. Finnick smiles at the screen, holding himself to not laugh, maybe for the first time in a long time.
“All right,” Haymitch says when it’s over. “Would anyone like to argue that this is of use to us in winning the war ?” No one does. “That saves time. So, let’s all be quiet for a minute. I want everyone to think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you. Not where you were jealous of her hairstyle, or her dress went up in flames or she made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. Not where Peeta was making you like her. I want to hear one moment where she made you feel something real.”
Everyone enumerates something, most of them. Finnick already lost track of the conversation, staring at the wall. He vaguely hears that it’s better if they put Katniss outside 13, against some protests. She is going to get sent to 8 this afternoon, there was a heavy bombing in this District in the morning. Then, before he can snap back out of his thoughts concerning you, everyone is dismissed.
“Mags, why is she sent to 8 and not me ? Shouldn’t I shoot with her propos team ?” asks Finnick restlessly. He desperately needs to do something, instead of staying in his hospital room. Even more if it would contribute to the rebellion, meaning getting closer to you. Yet Mags tells him it’s not the best idea for him to go. He’s still unstable.
Yet, that’s not what he wants to hear. So Finnick directly runs away, to catch up to the girl. He arrives at the Airbone Division, not caring that Mags was calling for him nor that medics would go after him. They try to stop him, but as fast as his trident when he throws it in the waves, he quickly catches the sight of the braided girl.
Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. “Katniss, they won’t let me go ! I told them I’m fine, but they won’t even let me ride in the hovercraft !” Katniss stares at him. His bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes.
She smacks her hand on her forehead and says, “Oh, I forgot. It’s this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He’s designed a new trident for you.”
At the word trident, it’s as if the old Finnick surfaces. “Really ? What’s it do ?”
“I don’t know. But if it’s anything like my bow and arrows, you’re going to love it,” she says. “You’ll need to train with it, though.”
“Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there,” he says as he nods and turns around.
“Finnick ?” Katniss stops him. “Maybe some pants ?”
He looks down at his legs as if noticing his outfit for the first time. Then he whips off his hospital gown, leaving him in just his underwear in a smirk.
“Why ? Do you find this…” he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose “distracting ?” he teases, his old him resurrected for this joke. Katniss can’t help laughing because it’s funny, and it’s extra funny because it makes Boggs look so uncomfortable.
“I’m only human, Odair,” are her last words before she gets in before the elevator doors close.
Finnick chuckles slightly, and goes back to the hospital to change into clothes, wearing some pants as suggested. He doesn’t listen to the rambling of the medics, sermoning him. He only answers that he needs to report to Beete in special Weaponry, wanting to bring Mags with him. They end up accepting, tired of having to run after him every time he wanders around.
When he arrives there, he is greeted by the older man in his wheel chair, presenting him with his special made trident. Mags sits next to Beete, talking a bit with him, as he explains how it works to the blond. A special button to make the weapon detracts and strikes any enemy. It can go back to his hand when he throws it. It’s revolutionary, making him excited. For the following hours Finnick is back like the old him, the one from District 4. Training with it, throwing, trying, moving around and showing it to Mags like a special show of his skills. That makes her applaud him, like she would do to a child showing off his new trick to his mother.
Finnick, a smile on his face, already imagines himself standing side by side with you, trident in hand, ready to strike any enemy that would come his way. He promises himself that if you get back in his arms, he’ll never let you go again, never make the same mistake, and protect you at all cost.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When Finnick stares at the Propaganda shot at District 8, gazing at the black screen, he’s much calmer. Then a tiny spark flickers in the center. It blossoms, spreads, silently eating up the blackness until the entire frame is ablaze with a fire. Then, the mockingjay pin emerges. Claudius Templesmith, the official announcer of the Hunger Games, says, “Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, burns on.” Then there she is, saying “I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I’m right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women, and children. There will be no survivors.”
She continues to speak, intense footage showing. Bombing. Her shooting a hovercraft. It’s all made in a way that it manages to make Finnick stare at the screen longer than he would usually do since he got rescued from the Arena.
“Fire is catching ! And if we burn, you burn with us !” Flames engulf the screen again. Superimposed on them in black, solid letters are the words : IF WE BURN YOU BURN WITH US The words catch fire and the whole screen burns to blackness. It leaves him impressed, yet Finnick can’t help but think about the chaos brought to the people of District 8, and that there was nothing to celebrate.
Shortly after it, before dinner, Plutarch arrives to greet Finnick and tells him that they decided, if he agrees, to shoot a new series of propos called We Remember. In each one, they would feature one of the dead tributes. The idea being that they could target each district with a very personal piece.
“They thought we might use you to intro and narrate the spots. If there was interest in them,” he explains. Finnick swallows the information, and, having nothing else to do for now, wanting to help the rebels in any way, he accepts.
“When will it start ?” he asks standing up.
“We want to start producing today. We can even do it now, before dinner. Do you think you can go to the Command room ?”
“Alright,” he nods.
Quickly, he arrives. They won’t start shooting today, but they’ll prepare. He sits at the table, and they brainstorm the idea as Finnick orders a coffee with tons of sugar. Doing his best to wake himself up and have the best lucid mind to talk about all the deceased tributes, many that he knew, even shortly. The following evening is spent like this.
At dinner, Finnick comes back to the hospital and he brings his tray of food to Katniss' bed, so they can watch the newest propo together on television. The rebels air the “Because you know who they are and what they do” propo that Messalla, a man Katniss mentioned, edited.
The footage is intercut with short studio clips of Gale, Boggs, and Cressida describing the incident. When the bombs rain down on the roof, Katniss buries her face in her pillow, looking up again at a brief clip of her at the end, after all the victims are dead
Finnick doesn’t applaud or act all happy when it’s done. He just says, “People should know that happened. And now they do.”
“Let’s turn it off, Finnick, before they run it again,” she urges him. But as Finnick’s hand moves toward the remote control, she cries, “Wait !”
The Capitol is introducing a special segment. Here, Caesar Flickerman with Peeta as a guest. Yet, he’s far from the boy that appeared on screen some days ago. His transformation is gone. Peeta lost at least fifteen pounds and developed a nervous tremor in his hands. They’ve still got him groomed. But underneath the paint that cannot cover the bags under his eyes, and the fine clothes that cannot conceal the pain he feels when he moves, is a person badly damaged.
The hurt Finnick feels for the poor boy is cut short as he realizes that you must be in the same physical and mental state. His nails dig in his legs, nauseous. He stops eating immediately.
“Oh, Peeta…” Katniss whispers.
Caesar and Peeta have a few empty exchanges before Caesar asks him about rumors that Katniss is taping propos for the Districts.
“They’re using her, obviously,” says Peeta. “To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really knows what’s going on in the war. What’s at stake.”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell her ?” asks Caesar
“There is,” says Peeta. He looks directly into the camera. “Don’t be a fool, Katniss. Think for yourself. They’ve turned you into a weapon that could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity. If you’ve got any real influence, use it to put the brakes on this thing. Use it to stop the war before it’s too late. Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you’re working with ? Do you really know what’s going on ? And if you don’t…find out.”
Black screen. Seal of Panem. Show over. Finnick presses the button on the remote that kills the power. He stares at the girl, biting his lower lip and trying to stay calm. Finnick knows that Plutarch or Coin won’t tell the truth to Katniss. What happened to Peeta. So, he grips her hard by the arms as footsteps are approaching.
“We didn’t see it,” he orders quickly.
“What ?” she asks.
“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it ?” he asks. She nods.
“Finish your dinner,” he adds, and forces himself to finish his to not appear suspicious, even if eating makes him sick at this moment. Instead, he talks about how well Gale came across the camera to make it seem like it was a normal exchange between the two.
When Plutarch and Fulvia enter, Katniss has a mouthful of bread and cabbage. They congratulate them on the propo. Make it clear it was so powerful, him and Katniss turned out right afterward. They look relieved. They believe them. No one mentions Peeta.
When Finnick comes back to his quarters, the one with Mags, he finally crashes out and tells her everything. His body is shaking, at the horrible images he has in mind of what you are going through right now, and went through these past weeks. It’s in a sea of tears and powerlessness that he falls asleep, wishing he could do anything to get you back to safety.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Next day, Finnick is greeted by Katniss, who tells him that her usual training session with Gale is replaced, so instead she got permission to take him with her to the woods. They wander around awhile and then ditch their communicators under a bush. When they are a safe distance away, they sit and discuss Peeta’s broadcast.
“I haven’t heard one word about it. No one’s told you anything ?” Finnick says. She shakes her head. He pauses before he asks, “Not even Gale ?”
Finnick sighs. Katniss had no one to rely on, even Gale, concerning this situation. Aside him. He looks at her like a big brother would to his little sister.
“Maybe he’s trying to find a time to tell you privately,” he tries to ease her mind.
“Maybe,” she says with not much conviction. They stay silent, Finnick and Katnkss lost in thoughts. It stretches so long that a buck wanders into range. She takes it down with an arrow. Finnick hauls it back to the fence.
When they come back, Finnick joins Fluvia and the rest of the team to shoot the propos We Remember. He knows so many of the dead tributes personally that it’s painful to talk about, hear and watch. It brings tears to the team. Cressida makes the scenes more emotional, with lightning effects, making Finnick’s face more solemn. So he talks, tells their stories, so beautifully and with so much respect that even Finnick has a hard time keeping a straight mind. Again he has to shoot himself with coffee and sugar to stay awake, the adrenaline a potent mix to make him straight on his feet.
After dinner time, he learns there is a meeting in Command. He goes, still hoping that he will learn news about you, how the situation is going. But the past weeks, aside from the interviews of Peeta, he had no piece of information. That was enough to make him go mad. He sits next to Mags who is half awake. So he slides her head on his shoulder to help her rest. After all, she takes so good care of him, she deserves it too. He vaguely exchanges with Plutarch, as he briefly tells him what the meeting is about. Katniss arrives shortly after and sits in between Finnick and Plutarch.
The screens are already up on the table, showing the regular Capitol feed. “What’s going on ? Aren’t we seeing the Twelve propos ?” she asks.
“Oh, no,” says Plutarch. “I mean, possibly. I don’t know exactly what footage Beetee plans to use.”
“Beetee thinks he’s found a way to break into the feed nationwide. So that our propos will air in the Capitol, too. He’s down working on it in Special Defense now. There’s live programming tonight. Snow’s making an appearance or something. I think it’s starting,” Finnick explains.
The Capitol seal appears, underscored by the anthem. President Snow is right there, greeting the nation. Then, the camera is backing away, and Finnick thinks he just died of shock when he sees not only Peeta by the President’s side, but you too. You’re alive, but at what cost ?
“Y/n !” he exclaims, panic rising which awakes Mags and makes the people around Finnick look at him with pity. His breath is ragged when he sees how much weight you lost. No matter how much makeup you have, the dark circles under your eyes are still very visible.
“What did he do… what did they do to her,” he greets in anger and agony, and Katniss sitting next to him, takes his hand. Because she, too, stares at a sick looking Peeta. Both of them are the only ones to know the sorrow they are equally going through.
You and Peeta are sitting in an elevated chair, Peeta’s shoes supported by a metal rung. The foot of his prosthetic leg taps out a strange irregular beat. Beads of sweat have broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. His look in his eyes angry yet unfocused, yours, similar, but with fear. As distressed as a wild animal caught in a cage, waiting for unknown destined misery.
“Katniss, I can’t stand it,” he whispers to the girl, looking at her with such rage that it’s burning his irises. The girl gives him back his look, but stops herself from saying something when Peeta begins to speak in a frustrated tone about the need for the ceasefire.
Mags shake her head, hand over her mouth when she looks at you. Right now, what she sees is the teenage girl she took under her arm years ago. Not the destroyed woman in front of her eyes.
When the camera is on you, Finnick stands up from his seat and approaches the screen. Longing, his fingers caress it as if it would telepathically give you comfort, tears streaming down his face. Then, your lips part in hesitation to speak.
“This has to stop, we are becoming monsters. I became a monster myself, I killed innocent people, and killed the man that I loved. We have to put an end to this madness,” you say as you scratch your cheek nervously, looking at the camera.
Killed the man that you loved ? Finnick blinks and steps back. Him ? Are you thinking that you killed him ? He starts to hyperventilate at the thought of what type of brainwashing they did to you, Haymitch being the one that arrives behind him and has to make him step back.
Bam ! Without warning, Katniss suddenly appears on television, standing in the rubble of a bakery, surely from District 12. The camera is back on you. You look shocked, and Peeta disturbed. You blurt out something incoherent, then Peeta tries to pick up his speech by moving on to the bombing of a water purification plant.
It all goes so fast, and Finnick manages to approach the screen again as he exclaims “Look at her ! What did they do to her ?!”
Then, something happens. Appears a clip of Finnick talking about Rue. He sees how you freeze in place, and you dig your nails in your cheeks as you gasp. Colors are drained off your face, and you shake uncontrollably.
“Finnick !” you exclaim, but attendants appear and tackle you on your chair. “Finnick ! Finnick ! Help-”.
“Y/n ! Y/n !” he screams in return, everyone looking at him as Haymitch and Boggs need to physically restrain him from going completely crazy and losing his mind.
The camera is back on a distressed Peeta, not knowing what to do anymore. You intend to scream but they dig a needle on your arm. A calmant that instantly puts you in a drowsy state.
Finnick is forced on the chair, people around him trying to calm him down. But after a whole month of not seeing a glimpse of you, torturing himself at the thought of what could be happening to you, if you were still alive or not, this simple footage is enough to completely make Finnick miserable and relapse into a loophole of insanity.
Then, the whole thing breaks down into a broadcast battle, as the Capitol tech masters try to fend off District’s 13 attack. But the Capitol is unprepared, and District 13 holds an arsenal of five- to ten-second clips to work with. It’s chaos. The Capitol seal’s back up, accompanied by a flat audio tone. This lasts about twenty seconds before Snow, you and Peeta return.
Finnick has tears streaming down his face when he sees you like this. Like a puppet, and he keeps repeating to himself that it’s all his fault.
Snow plows forward, saying that clearly the rebels are now attempting to disrupt the dissemination of information they find incriminating, but both truth and justice will reign. The full broadcast will resume when security has been reinstated. He asks Peeta if, given tonight’s demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen.
Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss… how do you think this will end ? What will be left ? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you…in Thirteen…” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air ; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning !” Off camera, Snow orders, “End it !” Screen is black.
The room’s in an uproar. Questions and demands ring out as they try to decipher Peeta’s words. But Finnick is still holding his head in madness after what he just witnessed, wishing he could just scream to the top of his lungs his grief, but he can’t.
A voice calls the others to attention. “Shut up !” Every pair of eyes falls on Haymitch. “It’s not some big mystery ! The boy’s telling us we’re about to be attacked. Here. In Thirteen.”
Other voices rise. “How would he have that information ?” “Why should we trust him ?” “How do you know ?” Haymitch gives a growl of frustration. “They’re beating him bloody while we speak. What more do you need ? Katniss, help me out here !”
“Haymitch’s right. I don’t know where Peeta got the information. Or if it’s true. But he believes it is. And they’re-” she stops her sentence.
“You don’t know him,” Haymitch says to Coin. “We do. Get your people ready.”
After this, they proceed with the Lockdown. Finnick, disoriented, is brought back to full consciousness by Mags and Boggs, ordering him to follow the instructions and snap out of it.
Boggs makes Katniss follow as well and make them walk along the hall to a doorway, and onto a wide stairway. Streams of people are converging to form a river that flows only downward. No one shrieks or tries to push ahead. Even the children don’t resist. They descend, flight after flight. Finnick doesn’t talk, he simply stares in the void while following numbly Boggs’ instructions. He helps Mags, supporting her on his back.
They are descending deeper and deeper, it’s suffocating. Groups of people begin to peel off into marked doorways and still Boggs directs them downward, until finally the stairs end at the edge of an enormous cavern. Finnick and Mags get separated from Katniss, having to go in their own letter posted on the wall that represents their quarters. Sleeping bunks everywhere, kitchen, bathrooms, a first aid station. Finnick merely looks at it.
Mags reads the bunker protocol, showing that they need to go to the Supply Station and secure one pack for each member of their Compartment and ready their Living Area. Finnick caresses the picture of your face that he always keeps on him, and takes a big breath to stay serious as he follows the instruction. Once it’s done, he has to wait with Mags for new information and orders, but it’s hard to not think about you and forget the saddening images of your face.
His thoughts are cut short when the first bomb hits. It’s so violent that Finnick’s body shake and for a second he thinks he’s going to die. He instinctively grabs Mags closer to him, maybe to protect her in death. Nothing happens aside from the lights going out and total darkness. He’s disappointed that he can’t look at your picture anymore to reassure himself, so instead he caresses the picture with his thumb.
Finnick’s ragged breath is not the only thing he can hear. Along with it, there are speechless human sounds, spontaneous shrieks, baby whimpers, some insane laughter. Then there’s a hum of a generator, and a dim wavering glow replaces the stark lighting that is the norm in 13.
Coin’s voice fills the bunker, the volume level flickering with the lights. “Apparently, Peeta Mellark’s information was sound and we owe him a great debt of gratitude. Sensors indicate the first missile was not nuclear, but very powerful. We expect more will follow. For the duration of the attack, citizens are to stay in their assigned areas unless otherwise notified.”
They are given clearance in small groups to use the bathroom and brush their teeth, although showering has been canceled for the day. Three days pass like this, and it’s pure agony for Finnick. He has no idea what is happening to you, and every time he falls asleep, his nightmares are becoming restless. Even awake, it’s as if he is stuck in a loophole of terrors. When there is a bomb, he always reaches out for Mags and the picture of you, in case death finds him. When it calms down, he simply rolls the wedding ring in his pocket against his lips. Like a reminder of the dream the two of you had.
The strict schedule is the only thing that allows him to do something mechanically without wondering about what else he has to do. Yet, it leaves enough room for his intrusive thoughts, and Finnick doesn’t know if having to repeat the exact same things in such a condition is doing any good to his already poor mental health.
At night, while everyone is asleep, he sits under the safety light in his space, knotting his rope, not even pretending to rest. Katniss arrives, tiptoeing towards him and sits at his side.
“Finnick, I just realized that… Thinking that Peeta was in his possession and being tortured for rebel information was bad. But thinking that he’s being tortured specifically to incapacitate me is unendurable,” she announces in a tortured whisper. Finnick looks at her, then down at his fingers in a sigh.
“This strategy is very old news to me, Katniss. That’s what broke me. Snow is like this. He’ll make you do whatever he wants by doing these types of things,” he explains.
“This is what they’re doing to you with y/n, isn’t it ?” she asks.
“Yes, to make me pay. It would have been the same thing around if y/n got rescued by 13 and me captured by the Capitol,” he answers, digging his nails in his palm.
“Oh, Finnick. I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“No, I’m sorry. That I didn’t warn you somehow,” he tells her.
“You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they’d use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow,” she ends up saying after some time. He sighs.
“I shouldn’t have even said that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn’t warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should’ve shut up about how Snow operates.” Finnick yanks on the end of his rope, and an intricate knot becomes a straight line again. “It’s just that I didn’t understand when I met you. After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act on your part. We all expected you’d continue that strategy. But it wasn’t until Peeta hit the force field and nearly died that I…” Finnick hesitates.
“That you what ?” Katniss asks.
“That I knew I’d misjudged you. That you do love him. I’m not saying in what way. Maybe you don’t know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him,” he says gently. At his words, Finnick and Katniss sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish.
“How do you bear it ?” she suddenly asks.
Finnick looks at her in disbelief as if she asked the dumbest question ever. “I don’t, Katniss ! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” He stops himself when he notices her expression. “Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”
She takes a deep breath so he continues. “The more you can distract yourself, the better,” he says. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine,” he proposes, more like orders as he hands her the object. She leaves him for the night. Finnick can’t sleep.
He finds some relief when Coin finally announces they can leave the bunker. Their old quarters have been destroyed by the bombings. Everyone must follow exact directions to their new compartments. As he and Mags are heading towards the door, Boggs signals for him and Gale to join him with Katniss.
“Go to rest, I’ll join you later,” he says to Mags as he kisses her forehead and steps out. They walk towards a place called Special Defense, still very deep.
Boggs ushers them into a room virtually identical to Command. Coin, Plutarch, Haymitch, Cressida, and everybody else around the table look exhausted.
“We need all four of you suited up and aboveground,” says the president. “You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that Thirteen’s military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions ?”
“Can we have a coffee ?” asks Finnick. Steaming cups are handed out. He takes a deep breath, adding as much sugar as he can. The look Katniss has when she looks at the dark liquid makes him slightly tilt. He sloshes some cream in her cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. He decides to lighten her mood.
“Want a sugar cube ?” he asks in his old seductive voice. It coaxes a smile out of her.
“Here, it improves the taste,” he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in her cup. She then turns to go suit up as the Mockingjay, but while doing so Finnick notices the weird look Gale throws at him and her. He ignores it and sips on his coffee.
After climbing a final ladder, Boggs hits a lever that opens a trapdoor. Fresh air rushes in. Finnick takes a breath of the wind after not being outside for a long time. They emerge into the woods.
“What day is it ?” asks Katniss. Boggs tells her September begins next week. That means for five, maybe six weeks that you are getting tortured at the Capitol. And Finnick being separated from you. He shakes, passing trembling fingers on his hair.
They come to their first crater being thirty yards wide. Boggs says anyone on the first ten levels would likely have been killed.
“Can you rebuild it ?” Gale asks.
“Not anytime soon. That one didn’t get much. A few backup generators and a poultry farm,” says Boggs. “We’ll just seal it off.”
They enter the area filled with rubbles and craters. Dust flies all around them. Finnick stops listening to the conversation they are having about what happened, focusing on his own breathing in an attempt to calm down. Nausea is clutching his stomach.
As they approach what used to be the grand entrance, Gale points out something and the whole party slows down. Finnick squints his eyes, smelling something sweet and then he finally notices that the ground is strewn with fresh pink and red roses.
“Don’t touch them !” Katniss yells. “They’re for me !” She starts to explain what they mean, why they are here and from whom, meaning President Snow. A crew in special suits collects them and carts them away, in case they are poisonous.
After this, Cressida gets Castor and Pollux in place, ready to start. Yet Finnick can see that Katniss is in the same distorted mental and physical state as him. She’s visibly shaking and can’t seem to catch her breath.
“So, what exactly do you need from me again ?” she asks.
“Just a few quick lines that show you’re alive and still fighting,” says Cressida. Katniss takes her position and then she’s staring into the red light for a long time in silence. Finnick realizes she surely won’t be able to do anything right now, and he obviously understands why, because himself can’t stand straight. The coffee doesn’t help.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing,” she says. Cressida walks up to her. “You feeling okay ?” Katniss nods at her question.
“How about we do the old Q-and-A thing ?”
“Yeah. That would help, I think.” She crosses her arms to hide the shaking. Glances at Finnick, who gives her a thumbs-up in an attempt to reassure her, even if they both know it’s not the case.
Cressida’s back in position now. “So, Katniss. You’ve survived the Capitol bombing of Thirteen. How did it compare with what you experienced on the ground in Eight ?”
“We were so far underground this time, there was no real danger. Thirteen’s alive and well and so am-” her voice cuts off in a dry, squeaking sound. Finnick feels even more nauseous and he anxiously stares at the girl, scratching his arm in an attempt to stop his own shaking.
“Try the line again,” says Cressida. “‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’”
Katniss takes a deep breath “Thirteen’s alive and so-”
“Katniss, just this one line and you’re done today. I promise,” says Cressida. “‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’”
She swings her arms to loosen up. When she opens her mouth, she starts crying. Finnick swallows the saliva that threatened to spill in a throw up, and softly steps closer.
“Cut,” Cressida says quietly.
“What’s wrong with her ?” Plutarch says under his breath.
“She’s figured out how Snow’s using Peeta,” says Finnick.
There’s something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before her. Then, Katniss reaches out for Haymitch and says something like his name and he’s there, holding her and patting her back. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
Finnick watches and wishes Mags was here too. Haymitch sits her on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around her while she sobs.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I know,” he says. He continues to reassure her, while Finnick walks in circles with the desperate need to calm himself down. He only ends up hearing “It’s my fault !” shooted by Katniss before she snaps and they have to knock her out with sedatives.
Once they do so, it’s the moment Finnick loses it too, falling on his knees and crossing a line into hysteria. They do the same as Katniss, and he falls in a deep slumber that knocks him out for hours on end.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
When Finnick wakes up, it’s Mags that greets him by caressing his hair.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words he blurts out. The following seconds he’s breathing so deeply it looks like he’s suffocating. Mags tells him that Haymitch called her and she can’t stay more time with him in his hospital room, so he asks to be shooted again as he can’t face reality anymore. He ends up sprawled out on his stomach, his hands twisted in his pillowcase when she leaves after hugging him, slipping back into a drowsy unconscious state.
When he wakes up again, it’s by Katniss rousing him and announcing something that makes him sit back up abruptly. They are sending a team to rescue you and Peeta. His initial agitation ebbs as he finally can breathe normally again at the realizations of what awaits them.
“Don’t you see, Katniss, this will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they’ll either be dead or with us. It’s…it’s more than we could hope for !” he exclaims. Either way, it’s maybe for the best. If you die, you’ll finally escape the claws of the Capitol. If you don’t and join him back, maybe you both will be happy again.
Katniss says that Hamytcih has a job for them, if they can pull it together. They still need post-bombing footage of 13. “If we can get it in the next few hours, Beetee can air it leading up to the rescue, and maybe keep the Capitol’s attention elsewhere.”
“Yes, a distraction,” says Finnick. “A decoy of sorts.”
As Finnick gets prepared, swallowing breakfast, he’s in another world. In between intense focus to do his job well enough for the mission, what he might say, how, and soon knowing exactly what will keep President Snow’s attention. And in between knocking his head against a wall at the agonizing thought of not knowing if the aftermath of the rescuing will be your death or you being back in his arms.
Shortly after, the television crew’s all assembled aboveground. Finnick takes a seat on the fallen marble, as Katniss is the first one to start. She asks Cressida if she could start out by asking her about Peeta.
“How did you meet Peeta ?” she asks.
“When I met Peeta, I was eleven years old, and I was almost dead,” she answers. Finnick gazes at the girl as she tells the story of a bakery, bread, saving a life. “We had never even spoken. The first time I ever talked to Peeta was on the train to the Games.”
Finnick reminds himself the day he first met you. Officially, it was when he became your mentor. Non officially, he already saw you vaguely there and there at school. He has a good memory of faces and names. He wasn’t interested in who you were. Focused on his own miserable life, his games, the aftermath of them. But then, you crept into his heart so deeply that once he realized he loved you, he was unable to ever let you go. Now, you are the love of his life. Who would have thought ? The fourteen years old Finnick wouldn’t have believed it.
“But he was already in love with you,” says Cressida.
“I guess so,” she answers in a small smile. “How are you doing with the separation ?” she asks.
“Not well. I know at any moment Snow could kill him. Especially since he warned Thirteen about the bombing. It’s a terrible thing to live with,” she starts. “But because of what they’re putting him through, I don’t have any reservations anymore. About doing whatever it takes to destroy the Capitol. I’m finally free.”
Finnick can’t help but agree with her words. He silently gives her a nod as their eyes meet.
“President Snow once admitted to me that the Capitol was fragile. At the time, I didn’t know what he meant. It was hard to see clearly because I was so afraid. Now I’m not. The Capitol’s fragile because it depends on the districts for everything. Food, energy, even the Peacekeepers that police us. If we declare our freedom, the Capitol collapses. President Snow, thanks to you, I’m officially declaring mine today.”
It’s the end of her interview. Plutarch seems thoughtful before hastily calling Finnick and Haymitch over. He walks there, followed by the older man.
“Finnick. What if you talked about what Snow made you go through ? More in detail,” proposes Plutarch seriously, hand on his hip in a thoughtful way. At his words, Finnick freezes for a solid second, not knowing if he heard well or if he hallucinated it.
“Plutarch, no,” immediately says Haymitch, unhappy about that proposition. Finnick swallows hardly his saliva, blinking a few times before connecting back to reality.
“You mean when he used to sell my body ?” he asks. Plutarch nods.
“Yes, exactly. Everything around that, and what you learnt about the president. It will shock everyone, including the people that work for him when they will watch the propo,” the white haired man adds.
“We won’t make him talk about such a traumatizing thing ?! He’s already mentally… unstable ! Finnick, don’t listen to him, you’ll talk about being a mentor, all the people you knew that went against the President-” starts to protest Haymitch with much ferocity.
“President Snow won’t listen to it. We need to make it clear that he is a snake. We have to open the eyes of the Capitol. It will surely make some of them turn against him, maybe half of them. Like this, all the attention would be on Finnick’s words, not on the rescue team,” retorts Plutarch, and Finnick stares at him pensively. He knows he’s right. It’s cruel for him to talk about it. But President Snow needs to get exposed. Like this, the mission will surely succeed.
Plutarch seems to win, Finnick’s pale but nodding his head by the end of it. As Finnick moves to take his seat before the camera, Haymitch tells him, “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. If it will help her.” Finnick balls up his rope in his hand. “I’m ready.”
He takes a big breath, stares at Cressida to show he’s going to start. He silently whispers for him only, a sentence saying that it’s for you. Hands in his pocket, he secretly caresses the wedding ring and your picture to give himself strength. He wonders if you’ll see this.
“President Snow used to…sell me…my body, that is,” Finnick begins in a flat, removed tone.
“I wasn’t the only one. If a Victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it. I wasn’t the only one, but I was the most popular,” he says. “And perhaps the most defenseless, because the people I loved were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment.” He stops, and raises his head.
“Secrets,” he says. “And this is where you’re going to want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so very many of them were about you. But let’s begin with some of the others.” Finnick begins to weave a tapestry so rich in detail, his memories of these horrible moments in life he was forced to go through flashing before his eyes. Tales of strange sexual appetites, betrayals of the heart, bottomless greed, and bloody power plays. Drunken secrets whispered over damp pillow-cases in the dead of night. Finnick was someone bought and sold. A district slave. A handsome one, certainly, but in reality, harmless.
He mentions the names, as he remembers all of them. The ones that haunted his nightmares, and the ones that’ll haunt President Snow’s nightmares. Incest, back-stabbing, blackmail, and arson produce are what he reveals.
“And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow,” says Finnick. “Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it ? One word. That’s all you really need to know. Poison.” Finnick goes back to Snow’s political ascension, and works his way up to the present, pointing out case after case of the mysterious deaths of Snow’s adversaries or, even worse, his allies who had the potential to become threats. People dropping dead at a feast or slowly, inexplicably declining into shadows over a period of months. Blamed on bad shellfish, elusive viruses, or an overlooked weakness in the aorta. Snow drinking from the poisoned cup himself to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work. They say that’s why he wears the roses that reek of perfume. They say it’s to cover the scent of blood from the mouth sores that will never heal.
When Finnick finishes, they just keep the cameras rolling until finally he has to be the one to say “Cut.” The crew hurries inside to edit the material, and Plutarch leads Finnick off for a chat.
“That was impressive what you just did back there,” he starts. Finnick has to lean against a wall to support his giddy legs.
“You made me do it,” he simply retorts.
“I know, but thanks to you, the rescue mission will surely be a success, and this is also a great help for the rebellion. Do you perhaps have more secrets ?” asks Plutarch.
“Tons of. My life basically revolved around it for a decade, aside from y/n and Mags,” Finnick answers evasively.
“Would you mind telling them ? I’ll be taking notes and sending them to Coin,” continues Plutarch, sliding a hand in his pocket to grab a blocknote and a pencil.
“I already started, so I might continue,” shrugs Finnick and starts to tell more.
A bit later, with their job done, there’s nothing left for Finnick and Katniss to do but wait.
“Where is Mags ?” he asks as he looks around him.
“She’s back resting in her quarters. It was a lot to take in for her as well,” answers Cressida that was passing by, still busy.
“Did she see my interview ?”
“I don’t think so,” she shakes her head and leaves.
It’s maybe better like that, he thinks. Katniss and him try to fill the dragging minutes in Special Defense. Tie knots. Blow things up on the shooting range. Anything to occupy their mind from the inevitable.
At 15:00, the designated hour, they stand tense and silent in the back of a room full of screens and computers and watch Beetee and his team try to dominate the airwaves. His usual fidgety distraction is replaced with a determination. Most of Katniss’s interview doesn’t make the cut, just enough to show she is still alive and still defiant. It is Finnick’s salacious and gory account of the Capitol that takes the day. Finnick stares at the screen as if he is looking at someone else.
For the next sixty minutes, the Capitol feed alternates between the standard afternoon newscast, Finnick, and attempts to black it all out. But the rebel techno team manages to override even the latter and, in a real coup, keeps control for almost the entire attack on Snow.
“Let it go !” says Beetee, throwing up his hands, relinquishing the broadcast back to the Capitol. He mops his face with a cloth. “If they’re not out of there by now, they’re all dead.” He spins in his chair to see Finnick and Katniss reacting to his words. “It was a good plan, though. Did Plutarch show it to you?”
“No, we know nothing about how it’s going,” answers Finnick. Beetee takes them to another room and shows them how the team, with the help of rebel insiders, will attempt -has attempted- to free the victors from an underground prison. Finnick leans towards the screen to look at the place you were and still are maybe locked for weeks, trying to imagine what you went through. Will he see a glimpse of your face ?
So many things are going on that he doesn’t understand much of the plan, which makes Beete happy because if they find it hard to follow then their enemies too.
Finnick and Katniss try to station themselves in Command, where surely first word of the rescue will come. They refuse to leave Special Defense and end up waiting for endless hours or minutes, they don’t know anymore, for news. Finnick makes knots, Katniss doing the same with the thin rope he offered her. They don’t talk, only concentrate on not thinking of their loved ones that might die, and instead tie the rope with raw and bloody fingers from doing it for hours. But it’s getting harder and harder for him, biting his lip, shaking, staring wildly at his hands.
Finnick finally gives up and assumes the hunched position he took in the Arena when the jabberjays attacked. But back then, he was in your arms. Now, he’s alone, limbs missing the warmth of yours.
“Did you love y/n right away, Finnick ?” suddenly asks Katniss.
“No.” A long time passes before he adds, “She crept up on me.”
He reminds himself of your eyes, your smile, the multiple nights you spent at his side, slowly breaking his walls. Your first hug, hands holding, then kiss. The first time he slept with you, raw opening his ribcage to hand you his heart, vulnerability, fears and insecurities. A silent tear rolls down his cheek, in anger for Snow that took you away. No sadness, just pure rage.
It must be midnight, it must be tomorrow when Haymitch pushes open the door. “They’re back. We’re wanted in the hospital. That’s all I know.”
Finnick freezes, body going limp and eyes seeing in a blur. It’s as if he’s lost the ability to move, so Katniss takes his hand and leads him like a small child. Through Special Defense, into the elevator, and on to the hospital wing.
Finnick simply walks, in a hazy state, wondering if it’s a dream, if he’s really going to see you, alive, well or unwell. Half dead or not.
The place is in an uproar, with doctors shouting orders and the wounded being wheeled through the halls in their beds. Finnick doesn’t even notice or recognize Johanna, a shaved head, extremely thin with flesh showing bruises and oozing scabs. Katniss rushes somewhere, calling a name. Gale, he barely registers it.
His heart is beating so loudly he can hardly hear anything else. Oh, he might faint of anxiety. He’s about to throw up when his eyes catch a glimpse of you. At this moment, times stop. He turns around, body finally responding fully and allowing him to rush towards you.
“Y/n !” he screams your name with disbelief, dropping his rope on the floor to run. He’s not dreaming. After what felt like an eternity, you’re here. Even if you are different, losing what seems like half your weight, bruises on your skin, eyes lost in the wave, it’s still you. The woman that he loves the most in the whole world.
“Y/n !” he yells again in a cry of joy, not believing his eyes that you are real and alive in front of him, pushing away nurses that are on his way so he could reach you.
In this moment, like muscle memory, something distant waking up at the back of your brain, you stand from the hospital bed that nurses used to transport for urgent care. Yet, you don’t care, and barely have the time to step twice on your weak feet that Finnick’s arms sprawl around your sick body. You collide into each other.
“Finnick !” you exclaim in a shriek. It feels real. Not an illusion. The two of you end up slamming against a wall, losing your balance and sliding down the coldness of it to reach the floor. At this moment, nothing else exists, except the two of you. He breathes in your sweet scent, reminiscing of the feeling that the Capitol stole from him. You cling to each other, morphing into one entity that desperately tries to grasp the presence of one another.
“You’re alive… you’re alive,” whispers Finnick with tears in his eyes as he takes your face and analyzes it. His heart breaks, mixed with pure anger and hatred for the Capitol, President Snow, whatever they did to you. He gives a look to the nurses, then back at you, green eyes scanning your face.
“Is it all a dream ?” you murmur, not really understanding whatever was happening right now. “Are you an illusion ? Coming to haunt me for what I did to you ?” you ask, panic starting and inhaling louder. His lips land on your cheeks, then forehead, trying to calm you down as best as he could.
“You’re here in District 13, honey. You’re safe, I’m safe too. Everything is fine,” he says as he holds your cheeks and makes you look into his eyes. Yet, you shake your head. Your breath is labored, anxiety slowly eating you alive. Finnick doesn’t understand what is wrong.
“No, no… it’s not true…” you deny and start to look around, instead of the green of his eyes. Finnick gets even more concerned with how much the Capitol made you think otherwise, resulting in horrible extents.
“Honey, it is. Believe me,” he repeats yet you weakly stand up, lose your balance, he catches you back and you shiver.
“No ! I killed you ! I killed him ! I killed Finnick ! You….” you exclaim, and nurses take the opportunity to come back to you, holding your arms. Finnick stares at them, gets closer, scared to be separated from you.
“I am alive, whatever Snow or the Capitol told you is not true-” he answers directly after he ignores the nurses and desperately attempts to catch back your eyes, yet, you refuse to look at him.
“Liar ! You liar ! Get away from me ! You’re a mutt ! What did you do to him ?! What did you do to his corpse ?!” you suddenly yell in a broken voice and try to jump towards him, maybe to hurt the man that usurped your lover’s identity. You manage to scratch his arm. Finnick looks at you surprised, nurses and other attendants put you back on the bed. You continue to scream in what seems like agony, pure hatred and fear. He gets agitated, frowning his eyebrows when they have to use back the restraints of the hospital bed. The corridor gets way too busy, attracting some injured citizens of 13 to curiously look at what was happening in the hallway.
“Don’t hurt her !” Finnick exclaims angrily, pushing a doctor that restrained him from getting closer. He throws an insult when he sees that they put a needle in your arm, making you cry in terror. He opens wider his eyes and feels like his world is crumbling all over again. They stop him from getting closer.
He hears that you are going to be transported to a hospital room so you could receive urgent treatment. It’s no sooner than 2 minutes when you fall back into a forced sleep. The doors close in front of Finnick that doesn’t want to get separated, worried sick for your wellbeing. It’s Mags, that arrives and puts her hand on his tense shoulder. He doesn’t move, his eyes kept on the small window allowing him to keep a watchful eye on you.
“I’ll wait for her to wake up,” he simply says with a restrained voice. The old woman answers that you needed time, and uses the term « hijacked » to explain your reaction when you saw him. She brings him to a bench in another corridor, almost empty and away from the other Victors and their rescuing team. He sits down, not having the strength to even check if Johanna is alright too. Because his mind is in turmoil after what you screamed at him, the look of horror in your eyes, something he could never forget.
Finnick lost you twice. And even if you are alive, he doesn’t know if the feeling is worse than if you were dead.
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Here is the new bonus ! I still don’t know if some of you are interested in more bonus regarding Finnick’s pov, since nobody sent any request. So for now, until I have a new proposition, I guess it’s the last one ?
I’ll write more fanfics of Finnick on my tumblr blog, ao3 and wattpad. Surely some one shots, and others long fics as Until Panem is Free. Follow me on these if you want the updates ! I already have some in mind :
-os au merman finnick x reader
-os au mermaid reader x finnick
-finnick’s games (basically a whole book on how I imagine Finnick’s Hunger Games, like the first Katniss’ volume or Haymitch’s book. Not the aftermath because I can’t imagine myself writing all the s/a he went through during a decade)
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ autor’s note : I come back with a bonus that I wanted to do since I started writing this fic. Hope you guys will like it. More are to come !
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When Finnick looks at the golden bangle around his wrist, a symbol of his alliance, his heart quickens. The glass doors close. He thinks of you. Are you alright ? In panic ? Scared ? Or maybe determined, to kill, to find him and Katniss. To execute the plan and never getting separated. At the same moment, the plate begins to rise. Finnick straightens his back and takes a deep breath. His green eyes adjust to the blinding light. It’s sunny. The rays are warm, maybe a bit too warm, with the mix of a breeze. It doesn’t take more than a second for Finnick to smell something familiar. It smells like District 4. It smells like the sea. It smells like home.
Waves lap at his boots. Water, all around him. He doesn’t really bother with looking at the tributes, nor the Cornucopia standing meters away before him. Finnick is focused on finding you.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin !” The voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, is loud and clear. In less than a minute, there will be the gong. Finnick squints his eyes.
A quick glance of the Arena was all he needed to know what is surely awaiting him, and where to go. The water is blue, the sky baby pink in contrast with the dazzling sun. At the center, the Cornucopia. It’s a shining gold metal horn forty yards away from him. It's on a small island with twelve strips of land radiating from the circle like the spokes on a wheel with two tributes on each side. At the horizon, a beach with a forest.
Finnick doesn’t spot you around the Cornucopia. Peeta, Beete. Not you. He frowns. He reassures himself. You’ll find Katniss, he’ll do too. There, Finnick will find you.
The gong sounds. Without an ounce of hesitation, Finnick dives in the water. Like a shark, he slides in the waves, and reaches in no time the Cornucopia. He suggests you surely are on the other side of it. The supplies are piled at the twenty-foot-high mouth. The shine of a blade illuminates his eyes. A trident. He takes it, plays with it for a second to see how he’ll manipulate it. Good.
Finnick catches something on his left. You. A reassured smile beams on his face. Safe and sound, you are grabbing a spear. He calms down and approaches you. His hand warmly touches your waist. At the same time, you spin around, ready to stab him. You stop the blade right at Finnick’s throat before you actually slice it in two. Pride feels his heart, and seeing you like this at the bridge of sending him to death, oddly excites him.
“Happy to see you back, honey,” he teases as he moves his trident to his left hand. He looks at you, glistening in salty water.
“Finnick !” you exclaim surprised and relieved as well, before directly lowering your weapon.
“Let’s find Katniss and get the hell out of here,” he continues as he beckons you to follow him. It doesn’t take long as she is the third one on the Cornucopia. She yanks free a golden bow, but gets alerted by the presence behind her. She pulls an arrow from the sheath that’s still wedged in the pile and arms her bow as she turns. Finnick smiles, yet he is ready to strike in case it goes south, muscles rigid in anticipation. He won’t let anything happen to you. Even if it means breaking the alliance that barely started. Or maybe won’t. Depending on how Katniss reacts.
Meanwhile, you shift on your side to protect Finnick’s back in case someone else arrives and tries to stab him when he isn’t looking.
“You can swim too,” he says. “How come you can when you are from District Twelve ?” you add as you glance at the girl for a second.
“We have a big bathtub,” she answers. “You must,” Finnick says. “You like the Arena ?”
“Not particularly. But you should. They must have built it especially for you two,” she says with an edge of bitterness. You scoff slightly. Finnick smiles simply, because she wasn’t entirely wrong.
For a moment you all are frozen, sizing each other up, your weapons, your skills. She eyes your spear, Finnick’s trident. He has to think fast, for your safety and for the plan. Then he suddenly grins while showing his wrist with the golden bangle. “Lucky thing we’re allies. Right ?”
Katniss doesn’t seem convinced, frowning. You lift your free hand as well where the golden bracelet is situated, showing to Katniss that you both are part of an alliance.
“My stylist thinks it’s ugly,” you comment sarcastically, because the situation is somewhat ridiculous even though any of you could die at any second. At the same moment, Finnick’s eyes catch something behind the girl on fire. The man from District 5.
“Duck !” he commands Katniss in such a powerful voice, so different from his usual seductive purr. She does. At the same time, Finnick shifts on the side to let you throw your spear towards the man from District 5. You are quicker than his trident, explaining why you silently understood that he wanted you to be the one to attack. It goes flying over Katniss’s head, digging into your target’s chest in a sickening sound. He falls on his knees and Finnick looks at you snatching the blade from his flesh.
“Don’t trust One and Two,” he says as he approaches. Katniss works the sheath of arrows free.
“Each takes one side ?” she asks. “I’ll go with you,” you instantly say as you nod to Finnick and dart with her around the pile. About four spokes apart, Enobaria and Gloss are just reaching land. Either they’re slow swimmers or they thought the water might be laced with other dangers, which it might well be. But now that they’re on the sand, they’ll be here in a matter of seconds.
Finnick goes on the other side, busy trying to find some goods. Food, objets, bags. Something for survival aside from weapons.
“Anything useful ?” Finnick shouts in hope to make himself heard. All he finds are maces, swords, bows and arrows, tridents, knives, spears, axes, etc. Yet no other supplies.
“It’s only freaking weapons !” you yell back in anger.
“Same here,” he confirms. “Grab what you want and let’s go !”
At the end of his words, Finnick hears some movements from where you are with Katniss. The sound of your spear, but arrows too. For a solid second, he thinks the worst. Did the two of you fight ? He quickly joins you to meet up at the front of the pile. You look unarmed, Katniss too. He catches Enobaria and Gloss plunging into the wave, wounded. That explains it all.
He sighs of annoyance when he notices Brutus barreling towards your squad. Finnick approaches directly, not wanting to be away from you. Trident in hand, he points at the enemy meters away.
“Do something about that, would you ?” he says to Katniss. Brutus’ belt is undone and he has it stretched between his hands as a kind of shield. She shoots at him and he manages to block the arrow with his belt before it can skewer his liver.
“He clearly doesn’t want to die,” you comment as you still are catching back your breath, Finnick staying close to you like a guard dog. Even though you both are the guard dogs of each other, and now of Katniss too. As she reloads, Brutus flattens on the ground, rolls the few feet to the water, and submerges.
“Let’s clear out,” she says. This last altercation has given Enobaria and Gloss time to reach the Cornucopia. Brutus is within shooting distance and somewhere, certainly, Cashmere is nearby too. You and Finnick spot Peeta as you notice how Katniss, in distress, is looking around for him. He is still stranded on his metal plate. She starts removing knives from her belt, preparing to swim out to reach him and somehow bring him in. Finnick drops a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll get him.”
“I can,” she insists. “Katniss, trust him. Or if you prefer, I’ll go,” you add as you look into her eyes. Finnick has dropped all his weapons to the ground, but you stop him and show him with a nod that you’ll get Peeta instead. For a solid second he wants to protest, to be the one to go, so you won’t get in danger. But danger is everywhere. In the water, or here at the Cornucopia. No matter what, it’ll be lurking.
“Better not exert yourself. Not in your condition,” he says, reaches down and pats Katniss’ abdomen where she is supposedly pregnant. You position yourself at the edge of the water, he follows you to be sure there is no danger surrounding you. A watchful eye on the surroundings.
“Finnick, I trust you to cover me,” you say to him more seriously. You peck his lips in case you won’t come back. The feeling makes him want to wrap his arms around your waist and never let you get away from him. It scares Finnick deeply. So instead he lets you step away from his mouth. Knowing all cameras are on you at this instant, and that every citizen would understand his romantic relationship with you. Finnick doesn’t care anymore. As you both agreed, hiding was useless now. He looks at you with deep nervosity, but he nods, trusting you.
You disappear with a flawless dive. Gloss, Cashmere, Enobaria, and Brutus have gathered, their pack formed already, picking over the weapons. A quick survey of the rest of the Arena shows that most of the tributes are still trapped on their plates. You swim swiftly towards Peeta. Finnick keeps an eye on you, trident in hand. In case he will have to erase any threat.
Finnick can barely notice you trying to convince Peeta to follow you. Nervousness eats him alive. All he wants is for you two to come back quick, safe and sound, and then find shelter.
Finally, Peeta goes in the water, you catch him. As you approach the sand, Finnick senses that something in the water switches. The waves are ten times stronger, and you struggle to support Peeta. Finnick curses under his breath and looks around to spot if anything is coming your way, or what could be the cause of this. A wave almost swallows you, and that’s what makes Finnick panic. He screams your name.
“Help me fetch Peeta !” you yell back as the wind gets wilder. Without any hesitations, he dives into the water, leaving Katniss to cover the three of you. The waves are getting bigger, yet he manages to swiftly reach you and Peeta. He grabs the boy to help you. But suddenly, the water moves as if he was in the middle of a storm when going fishing in District 4.
A wave knocks Peeta against you, his elbow accidentally hurting your head in the process. You yelp, before the water swallows you while Finnick is struggling to hold the blond against him and to bring him towards the shore. The moment he notices you aren’t here anymore by his side, it’s too late.
His heart drops, not really caring to throw Peeta on the sand at Katniss’ feet. He directly dives back in the waves in an attempt to save you. To find you in the depths of the water. It doesn’t work, and it’s Katniss yelling for him to come back that snaps him out of it. Realizing you surely are on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, finding you right now will almost be impossible. But he’s scared. Scared to hear the cannon, signaling your death.
Peeta is the one that grabs his arm and pulls him out of the water, though Finnick doesn’t want to. Even when he is back on his feet, he frequently looks around in a hope to find you rising from the waves. His beating heart is so loud that maybe he won’t hear the sound of the cannon. If there is one.
“Surely she won't drown. I didn’t hear the cannon,” says Katniss. Finnick looks at her, trying his best to calm down. Logically, you are still alive. And knowing you, you’ll find a way to find him back. The first step of your plan failed. The promise of not getting separated. But, as long as he is with Katniss, Finnick knows that going after you would just complicate everything. He’ll have to both wait for you to find your way back to the mockingjay, as the plan suggested, and both surely try to go after you.
“The belts. They’re flotation devices,” says Finnick. “I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they’ll keep you from drowning. Y/n is fine. She is a good swimmer, and with the belt, no water will drown her.”
That’s mostly to reassure himself. But that is the truth. Katniss suggests moving on. She hands Peeta a bow, a sheath of arrows, and a knife. Then, all of them run from the Cornucopia. Maybe he’ll find you on the beach, or in the forest. That’s a big part of what gets Finnick going.
Where the sand ends, woods begin to rise sharply. A jungle. A foreign word, something that doesn’t naturally exist in Panem. The earth is very black and spongy underfoot, often obscured by tangles of vines with colorful blossoms. While the sun’s hot and bright, the air’s warm and heavy with moisture.
Finnick is already sweating. Peeta leads. Katniss is second. Finnick behind, the most powerful. He’s hyperaware of everything that surrounds him. Paranoia at the thought of hearing your voice calling for him.
It doesn’t take long, between the steep incline and the heat, to become short of breath. The group comes to a halt, for rest. Katniss climbs a tree, Finnick sitting at the edge of it and doing his best to not get lost in thoughts. Thoughts of hating himself for not succeeding in helping you out. The sight of your eyes, looking at him one last time. Your body rocked by the waves. Hands, full of handling Peeta, instead of supporting your waist in his arms. The grit of his teeth brings him back to the present. You’re not dead. That’s the least he could be relieved of. He has to remind himself that you won’t let yourself be defeated that easily. And, maybe, you are with other allies. Beete, for example. Or Johanna. You aren’t alone. Allies are around the forest. Not all of them. Surely some suddenly changed their thoughts. But Finnick knows that he could count on Beete, Wiress and Johanna. That’s better than nothing.
After a breath, Finnick stands back up, looking at Peeta and then glancing at Katniss coming back down from the tree. At the simple sight of her face, Finnick knows. Almost like he can read her thoughts. She wants to kill him. For Peeta’s safety. He has one of his tridents raised in a casually defensive position. “What’s going on down there, Katniss ? Have they all joined hands ? Taken a vow of nonviolence ? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol ?” Finnick asks.
“No,” she says.
“No,” Finnick repeats. “Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this Arena was a victor by chance.” He eyes Peeta for a moment. “Except maybe Peeta.”
Katniss holds his gaze, weighing his speed against her own. The time it will take to send an arrow through his brain versus the time his trident will reach her body. Finnick waits for her to make the first move. If it’s the end of the plan of protecting Katniss Everdeen for the sake of the revolution, then so be it. But he won’t let himself be killed that easily. Because in the end, the only thing he really wants is to be next to you. Panem be damned. They’ll find another symbol of the rebellion.
Peeta steps deliberately between them. “So how many are dead ?” he asks and remains planted firmly between us. “Hard to say,” Katniss answers. “At least six, I think. And they’re still fighting.”
“Let’s keep moving. We need water,” he says. Finnick slightly relaxes his hold on the trident. He silently thanks Peeta. Like this, things won’t get too complicated. It would be a mess if he had to fight against his supposed allies before finding you back.
So far there’s been no sign of a freshwater stream or pond, and the saltwater’s undrinkable.
“Better find some soon,” says Finnick. “We need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight.”
The squad continues its trek upward, but with no luck. After about another mile, there is an end to the tree line, reaching the crest of the hill. “Maybe we’ll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something.”
When Peeta’s knife swings out to slash away some vines, there’s a sharp zapping sound. Peeta’s flung back from the force field, bringing Finnick to the ground.
Katniss rushes over to where he lies, motionless in a web of vines. “Peeta ?”
She calls his name again, giving him a little shake, but he’s unresponsive. Finnick takes his face in his hands, and then calms down when he realizes he’s alive. His heart is beating in his throat, but he directly analyzes the situation. Katniss presses her ear against Peeta’s chest, screams her name, shakes him harder, even resorting to slapping his face. Finnick shakes his head at her lack of awareness of what to do at this moment. He’ll die if nobody does anything. And he can’t let him die. Not according to the plan he made. The one he almost broke because of Katniss’ threat.
He pushes her out of the way.
“Let me.” His fingers touch points at Peeta’s neck, run over the bones in his ribs and spine. Then he pinches Peeta’s nostrils shut.
“No !” Katniss yells, hurling herself at Finnick, yet his hand comes up and hits her so hard, so squarely in the chest that she goes flying back into a nearby tree trunk.
Without caring how Katniss is doing, Finnick closes off Peeta’s nose again. He’s got Peeta’s mouth tilted open, and he’s blowing air into his lungs.
Then Finnick unzips the top of Peeta’s jumpsuit and begins to pump the spot over his heart with the heels of his hands. Finnick has done it before, it wasn’t the first time he had to save the life of someone. Back at District 4, or even in his own Arena when he had an ally that he needed strategically at his side, unable for the time being to let him dead.
Agonizing minutes drag past as hopes diminish. Finnick can finally relax when Peeta gives a small cough and Finnick sits back.
Katniss leaves her weapons in the dirt as she flings herself at him. “Peeta ?” she says softly. She brushes the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead. His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet hers.
“Careful,” he says weakly. “There’s a force field up ahead.” She laughs, but there are tears running down my cheeks.
“Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof,” he says. “I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.”
Finnick looks at the scene, a feeling mixed in his heart. Longing for you, to see you alive. No cannon has been heard. But the dread inside his gut is still present. Unable to go away.
“You were dead ! Your heart stopped !” Katniss bursts out. She claps her hand over her mouth because she’s starting to sob.
“Well, it seems to be working now,” Peeta says. “It’s all right, Katniss.” She nods her head but the sounds aren’t stopping. “Katniss ?”
Finnick looks at the girl, and for a second, he sees you. He snaps out of his thoughts and sighs, calming down the situation.
“It’s okay. It’s just her hormones,” says Finnick, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “From the baby.”
He’s sitting back on his knees but still panting a bit from the climb and the heat and the effort of bringing Peeta back from the dead.
“No. It’s not-” she gets out, but she’s cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing that seems only to confirm what Finnick said about the baby. He meets her eyes and she glares at him through her tears. He doesn’t look at her with equal anger, it’s neutral, but quizzical. Finnick knows. More like trying to know. The real feelings of Katniss.
Clearly, she’s not pregnant. That is obvious. But, her sobs, are they genuine for Peeta ? He, that thought their love was just a mascarade. It all crumbles. The way she is crying shows how much she loves him. Because it reminds him of how devastated you were for Finnick when he admitted his plan to go back to the Arena, to his own death.
He glances between Peeta and Katniss, trying to figure something out, then gives his head a slight shake as if to clear it. He’s sure now.
“How are you ?” he asks Peeta. “Do you think you can move on ?”
“No, he has to rest,” Katniss says.
“So you want to make camp here, then ?” Finnick asks.
“I don’t think that’s an option,” Peeta answers. “Staying here. With no water. No protection. I feel alright, really. If we could just go slowly.”
“Slowly would be better than not at all.” Finnick helps Peeta to his feet. He then stares at the girl, analyzing her because of what happened. He reminds himself of the training, and what Beete and Wiress talked about. He was there, with you and her.
“I’ll take the lead,” Katniss announces. Peeta starts to object but Finnick cuts him off. “No, let her do it.” He frowns at her. “You knew that force field was there, didn’t you ? Right at the last second ? You started to give a warning.” Katniss nods.
“How did you know ?” he asks, wanting to see if it was because of what Beete and Wiress said. He isn’t sure, and is suspicious of it. But, revealing it would be dangerous, considering that they are recorded and heard by the Gamesmaker.
“I don’t know. It’s almost as if I could hear it. Listen.” They all become still. There’s the sound of insects, birds, the breeze in the foliage.
“I don’t hear anything,” says Peeta. “Yes,” she insists, “it’s like when the fence around District Twelve is on, only much, much quieter.” Everyone listens again intently. Finnick doesn’t hear anything, and it’s his confirmation that she’s lying. Not that he minds. It’s the best, considering the Gamesmaker. They need to believe it themselves, because otherwise what happened when Katniss tried to warn Peeta wouldn't have been overlooked.
“There !” Katniss says. “Can’t you hear it ? It’s coming from right where Peeta got shocked.”
“I don’t hear it, either,” says Finnick. “But if you do, by all means, take the lead.”
“That’s weird,” Katniss mutters, turning her head side to side in a puzzled manner. “I can only hear it out of my left ear.”
“The one the doctors reconstructed ?” asks Peeta.
“Yeah,” she agrees, then gives a shrug. “Maybe they did a better job than they thought. You know, sometimes I do hear funny things on that side. Things you wouldn’t ordinarily think have a sound. Like insect wings. Or snow hitting the ground.”
Finnick smiles to himself, as he thinks that Katniss finds a good reason that would explain what she did earlier. Maybe the story about her ear is actually right, anyone would buy it. Even him.
They continue to walk, and Finnick, with his trident, is hyper alert. Katniss is the one taking the lead to make sure they don’t encounter the force field. He thinks of you. He hopes you understood too, to not approach it. If you can see it, like they explained back at the training center. He knows you won’t die that easily because of something like this. He trusts you to be smart enough to notice it and not get close.
With no water or food, it starts to be hard for the group. Finnick can’t help but continue to think about you, if you found something to drink or to put under your teeth.
“Let’s take a break,” Katniss says. “I need to get another look from above.”
She climbs a tree. Meanwhile, Finnick catches back his breath, as well as Peeta, who still has a hard time with his wooden leg. When Katniss climbs down, the look on her face screams bad news.
“The force field has us trapped in a circle. A dome, really. I don’t know how high it goes. There’s the Cornucopia, the sea, and then the jungle all around. Very exact. Very symmetrical. And not very large,” she explains. Great, Finnick thinks. He’ll just go round and round. The only positive thought is that he’ll surely end up finding you. Not like the two of you can go very far away from each other.
“Did you see any water ?” asks Finnick, tongue dry.
“Only the saltwater where we started the Games,” she answers.
“There must be some other source,” says Peeta, frowning. “Or we’ll all be dead in a matter of days.”
“Well, the foliage is thick. Maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere. At any rate, there’s no point in trying to find out what’s over the edge of this hill, because the answer is nothing,” explains Katniss.
“There must be drinkable water between the force field and the wheel,” Peeta insists. Heading back down to the Careers and the bloodshed might be a bad idea, Finnick thinks. With how Peeta can hardly fight by how weak he looks right now, that would be wrong. Instead, they decide to move down the slope a few hundred yards and continue circling. See if maybe there’s some water at that level.
By midafternoon, it’s clear Peeta can’t go on. Finnick chooses a campsite about ten yards below the force field, saying they can use it as a weapon by deflecting their enemies into it if attacked. Then he pulls blades of the sharp grass that grows in five-foothigh tufts and begins to weave them together into mats. He wishes he was with you right now. He would be doing this with you. Not alone.
Peeta collects bunches of nuts and fries them by bouncing them off the force field. He methodically peels off the shells, piling the meats on a leaf. Katniss stands guard, until she turns to him.
“Finnick, why don’t you stand guard and I’ll hunt around some more for water,” she proposes. Finnick is not thrilled to leave her alone
“Don’t worry, I won’t go far,” she promises Peeta. “I’ll go, too,” he says.
“No, I’m going to do some hunting if I can,” she tells him.
She leaves, and Finnick is left alone with Peeta. Both are too thirsty to want to talk. The tension is heavy. Minutes pass, until Peeta turns slightly towards him.
“And y/n ?” ends up asking the blond to Finnick. His attention is snapped off the forest. He turns around to face him.
“I don’t know. But she’ll survive, and find us back,” he answers, trying to hide the heavy anxiety and crushing fear he’s experiencing.
“She sacrificed herself for me. Why ?” he asks. Finnick swallows his saliva, and then looks at him in an enigmatic way.
“We’re allies, remember ?” are his words. Then he busies himself with creating a hut of sorts out of the grass mats, open on one side but with three walls, a floor, and a roof. Peeta continues with roasting the nuts.
When Katniss heads back to the camp, they all turn their faces hopefully. Yet, she shakes her head.
“No. No water. It’s out there, though. He knew where it was,” she says, hoisting the skinned rodent up for all to see. “He’d been drinking recently when I shot him out of a tree, but I couldn’t find his source. I swear, I covered every inch of ground in a thirty-yard radius.”
“Can we eat him ?” Peeta asks.
The following hour is about cooking the meat with the force field, the nuts as well and resting. But Finnick’s thirst is so intense that he refuses to simply forget about the answer the animal he was eating could give. He asks a lot of questions about the rodent, which they decide to call a tree rat. How high was it, how long did Katniss watch it before she shot, and what was it doing ?
The conversations trails off. The sun goes down at the horizon, meaning nighttime is coming. Dread fills Finnick’s heart. The moon rises. The sky brightens when the seal of the Capitol appears as if floating in space.
Will he see you ? Maybe he didn’t hear the sound of a cannon, missed one, and will discover that you are dead. He digs his nails in his palm, doing his best to not fall apart.
The man from District 5, the one you took out with your spear, is the first to appear. That means that all the tributes in 1 through 4 are alive. Finnick lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You’re safe, for now. He’ll find you first thing in the morning. He can’t go on like this without you. He’ll drag Katniss with him if he has to.
The man from District 5 is followed by the male morphling from 6, Cecelia and Woof from 8, both from 9, the woman from 10, and Seeder from 11. The Capitol seal is back with a final bit of music and then the sky goes dark except for the moon.
Finnick looks at the fake sky, sorrow at the faces he once knew, even friends, now forever gone. What are you thinking, on the other side of the jungle ? Are you relieved to see he’s alive ? Are you sad at the people you once knew ? Are you thirsty ? Hungry ? Did you find allies ? Or are you alone ? A lot of questions that are interrupted by the sound of the arrival of a silver parachute, which glides down through the foliage to land before them. No one reaches for it.
“Whose is it, do you think ?” Katniss says finally.
“No telling,” says Finnick. “Why don’t we let Peeta claim it, since he died today ?”
Peeta unties the cord and flattens out the circle of silk. On the parachute sits a small metal object.
“What is it ?” she asks. No one knows. They pass it from hand to hand, taking turns examining it. It’s a hollow metal tube, tapered slightly at one end. On the other end a small lip curves downward.
Peeta blows on one end to see if it makes a sound. It doesn’t. Finnick slides his pinkie into it, testing it out as a weapon. Useless. Finally, in frustration, Katniss throws it one end into the dirt. “I give up. Maybe if we hook up with Beetee or Wiress they can figure it out.”
Finnick sighs and lays back down, maybe waiting for something to magically happen. It’s only minutes later when Katniss exclaims “a spile !”
“What ?” asks Finnick, sitting back up.
“It’s a spile. Sort of like a faucet. You put it in a tree and sap comes out. Well, the right sort of tree.”
“Sap?” asks Finnick. That is all kind of new words to him. Surely from District 12, because in District 4, there are no such things.
“To make syrup,” says Peeta. “But there must be something else inside these trees.”
They all are on their feet at once. Finnick is the first one to do something because of how desperate for water he is. He goes to hammer the spile into the green bark of a massive tree with a rock, but Katniss stops him.
“Wait. You might damage it. We need to drill a hole first.”
Peeta and Finnick take turns opening up the hole with the awl and the knives until it can hold the spile. Katniss wedges it in carefully and they all stand back in anticipation. At first nothing happens. Then a drop of water rolls down the lip and lands in Finnick’s palm. He brings his tongue to his skin, licks it in a sigh of relief.
The group takes turns holding their mouths under the tap, wetting their parched tongues. Finnick brings over a basket, and the grass is so tightly woven it holds water. They fill the basket and pass it around, drinking from it. Then Finnick splashes water on his face, cleaning the sweat and the dirt. Then, when they all are satisfied, they can all rest for the night.
The spile confirms that there is no other way to get water. So, unless a sponsor sent one to you, it means you’re dying of thirst. That doesn’t help Finnick to rest. So instead, he offers to take the first watch.
He’s restless, scared to fall asleep and miss the sound of the cannon. Maybe yours. He bit his thumb and reaches for the leaves, using them as a kind of rope to tie and untie. Trying to not think about your possible coming death. It’s only hours later that he gets snapped out of his thoughts by the rolling of a bell. It’s loud, and Katniss jolts awake as well. Both listen attentively. The tolling stops.
“I counted twelve,” he says. Finnick wonders what was the meaning of this bell.
“Mean anything, do you think ?” asks Katniss.
“No idea,” he says. A dazzling bolt of electricity strikes a towering tree and then a lightning storm begins.
“Go to sleep, Finnick. It’s my turn to watch, anyway,” Katniss announces. Finnick hesitates, but no one can stay awake forever. He settles down at the mouth of the hut, one hand gripped around a trident, and drifts into a restless sleep of wondering where you are.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
“Run !”
Finnick snaps awake instantly at the scream of Katniss, trident in hand, straight on his feet and ready to counter an enemy. Something catches his eyes. It’s no enemy, but a wall of fog coming their way.
Peeta is on his feet but not as alert. Katniss grabs his arm and begins to propel him through the jungle after Finnick that is already running as fast as he can through the trees. “What is it ? What is it ?” he says in bewilderment.
“Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas. Hurry, Peeta !” she urges. Yet he’s slow, much slower than usual. Finnick turns around and grabs him, putting him on his back to help him run.
Yet, the mist, poisonous, caresses their feet. Droplets spring free of the body of vapor. When they land on the skin, it burns in an intense pain. The breathing is labored, throughout teeth, grunting of horror and agony at the chemical sensation.
Spams begging to shake Finnick’s arms, supporting Peeta on his back becoming harder. It targets the nerves, twitching uncontrollably. The fog has moved in on them, the body of it less than a yard away.
“I can’t hold on much longer !” yells Finnick. He has to find a way, and quickly. He is moving at a diagonal down the hill. He’s trying to keep a distance from the gas while steering the group toward the water that surrounds the Cornucopia. He thinks it will surely soothe the pain.
But the fog attacking his nerves is becoming worse. Moonlight glints on Finnick’s bronze hair as he puts the last bits of strength in his body to move forward. The green of his eyes shining in the darkness like a cat, because of the tears of pain. Then, he collapses on the ground, Peeta still on top of him. Finnick doesn’t want to die, not yet, not before seeing you again. But he can’t move, can’t save himself anymore. He groans, refusing for it to end now.
But then, like a miracle or the play of the Gamesmaker, the fog seems pressed up against a glass window and is being forced to condense. It has reached the end of its territory.
“It’s stopped,” Katniss tries to say, but only an awful croaking sound comes from her swollen mouth.
Both Peeta and Finnick turn their heads to the fog. It begins to rise upward now, as if being slowly vacuumed into the sky. When it completely disappears, Peeta rolls off Finnick, who turns over onto his back. He’s alive, Finnick is alive. He gasps for air, still twitching from the poison.
After a few minutes pass, Peeta vaguely gestures upward. “Mon-hees.” Finnick looks up and realizes it’s a monkey. An animal he saw during one of the Games. He quietly observes them, not knowing if he has to be on guard or not. They could suddenly threaten to kill him, or instead serve as food.
Then Peeta struggles to his knees and crawls down the slope. Finnick and Katniss do the same, unable to walk because of the poison still in their veins. They do so until the vines turn to a narrow strip of sandy beach and the warm water that surrounds the Cornucopia laps their faces. The pain is so intense that Finnick’s body freezes. He jerks away from the water, lying facedown on the sand, unwilling and unable to purge himself.
Katniss, who seems much better now, arrives to help him out. She scoops up shaky handfuls of water and empties them on his fists. Peeta recovers enough to help them. He cuts away Finnick’s jumpsuit. He grunts, breathing loudly. They concentrate on soaking Finnick’s arms first, badly damaged. He just lies there, eyes shut, giving an occasional moan of agony. He tries to forget the pain by imagining being in your arms, to feel your lips against his skin. Instead of the burning sensation.
Then Katniss and Peeta start to drag him into the saltwater. Just a few inches at a time. His ankles, then his mid calf, his knees, slowly
Finnick slowly begins to revive. His eyes open, focus on them, and register awareness that he’s being helped. Katniss rests his head on her lap and lets him soak about ten minutes with everything immersed from the neck down. Finnick lifts his arms above the seawater.
“There’s just your head left, Finnick. That’s the worst part, but you’ll feel much better after, if you can bear it,” Peeta says. He dreads the feeling of it. They help him to sit up and let him grip their hands as he purges his eyes and nose and mouth. His throat is still too raw to speak.
Katniss goes to take water meanwhile. Finnick begins to move slowly, just testing his limbs, and gradually begins to swim. He’s coming back to life. Finally doing what brings him comfort. Reminding him of District 4, home. Spending hours and hours in the water. He dives and surfaces, spraying water out of his mouth, rolls over and over. He dives back and stays underwater, holding his breath and allowing himself to feel.
Then, he pops up his head. Katniss looks at him with a frown, startled as if she thought he drowned.
“Don’t do that,” she says.
“What ? Come up or stay under ?” he asks in a smile.
“Either. Neither. Whatever. Just soak in the water and behave,” she answers. “Or if you feel this good, let’s go help Peeta.”
They cross the edge of the jungle. Carefully, Katniss touches Finnick’s arm and he follows her gaze upward. Scores of monkeys that weigh down the limbs of the jungle trees. It’s ominous, Katniss arms her bow with two arrows and Finnick adjusts the trident in his hand. These monkeys are clearly not here to welcome them lightly.
“Peeta,” Katniss says as calmly as possible. “I need your help with something.”
“Okay, just a minute. I think I’ve just about got it,” he says, still occupied with the tree. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile ?” he asks Katniss as Finnick stays on guard, ready to strike.
“I do. But we’ve found something you’d better take a look at,” she continues in a measured voice. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don’t startle it.”
Peeta turns to them, panting from his work on the tree. “Okay,” he says casually. He begins to move through the jungle. He’s just five yards from the beach when he senses them. His eyes only dart up for a second, but it’s as if he’s triggered a bomb. The monkeys explode into a shrieking mass of orange fur and converge on him in a savage way, like no animal ever did in the past.
“Mutts !” Katniss spits out as Finnick and her crash into the greenery. Finnick throws his trident towards them, in their throats, killing the monkeys one after one. Again another threat that goes his way before seeing you. He hopes you didn’t have to encounter the monkeys. He flings the mutts aside in a groan and flies his trident in the head of another.
Peeta, Katniss and Finnick position themselves in a triangle, a few yards apart, their backs to one another.
“Peeta ! Your arrows !” Katniss shouts when Peeta turns to see her predicament and is sliding off his sheath when it happens. A monkey lunges out of a tree for his chest
Finnick already has his weapon occupied, unable to do anything in an attempt to save Peeta’s life.
Someone, a woman, materializes from thin air. Covered in blood, lunges before Peeta, embracing the monkey as it sinks its fangs in her chest. For a solid second Finnick thought it was you, a blurry moment of fear. But she’s not. It’s the morphling from District 6.
Peeta drops the sheath and buries his knife into the monkey’s back, stabbing it again and again until it releases its jaw. He kicks the mutt away, bracing for more. Finnick is at Katniss’ back, breathing heavily. Still calming down with what he just saw, what he just thought he saw.
“Come on, then ! Come on !” shouts Peeta, panting with rage. But something has happened to the monkeys. They are withdrawing, backing up trees, fading into the jungle, as if some unheard voice calls them away.
“Get her,” Katniss says to Peeta. “We’ll cover you.”
Peeta gently lifts up the morphling and carries her the last few yards to the beach while Finnick and Katniss keep their weapons at the ready. Peeta lays the morphling on the sand. From the look of it, there is nothing they can do. She’ll die sooner or later.
“I’ll watch the trees,” Finnick says before walking away. He lets the two of them busy themselves with her. Finnick is not the best person required in this situation. He keeps thinking about the image of you, when he thought for a moment that it was your face, your chest being reaped apart. He sighs. The sacrifice of this woman is solely for keeping Peeta alive. He wonders if he will soon have to do the same.
He looks around, in an attempt to see a glimpse of you in the trees. Maybe you’re here, close, not far away. As he goes to fetch Katniss’ arrows, he tries too to find you. He glares at the dead bodies of the monkeys, but no trace of you around. Blood splatter when he yanks away the weapon of their flesh. He does it without a care. He’s annoyed. Tired. Scared. His nerves are a rack.
“Y/n,” he whispers your name with longing. Maybe you’ll hear his call. Nothing happens. His shoulders sag.
Finnick rejoins them, his fist full of arrows still wet with monkey blood. He drops them beside Katniss on the sand. “Thought you might want these.”
“Thanks,” she says and wade them into the water. When they return to the jungle, Finnick looks at the vines.
“Where did they go ?” Katniss asks.
“We don’t know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone,” says Finnick. They stare at the jungle, numb and exhausted. Finnick scratches at his damaged face, where once were the wounds from the poisonous fog.
“Don’t scratch,” Katniss warns. “You’ll only bring infection. Think it’s safe to try for the water again ?”
They do so, and go back to the beach a bit later, exhausted.
“Why don’t you two get some rest ?” Katniss says. “I’ll watch for a while.”
“No, Katniss, I’d rather,” says Finnick. He wants to be alone. He is tired of keeping up a facade. He needs to be on his own. To think. Or to drown in his sorrow.
“All right, Finnick, thanks,” she says and then lies down on the sand with Peeta, who drifts off at once.
He goes to occupy himself, fetching necessities. Two woven bowls filled with fresh water. He then goes to swim, and hunts shellfish that he puts them in a third bowl. He does his best to stop thinking too much once he sits on the sand, and cracks them open with a stone while Katniss wakes up.
“They’re better fresh,” he says, ripping a chunk of flesh from a shell and popping it into his mouth. This only reminds him of the afternoons he spent at your side, eating what he fished in the morning. On the beach, side by side, with Mags. The painful memory only makes him realize that this will never happen again. Because both of you will surely die before Katniss and Peeta get rescued from District 13.
Finnick notices, while eating, that Katniss scratched her skin raw in her sleep. “You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection,” he says.
“That’s what I’ve heard,” she answers. She then goes into the saltwater and wash off the blood. Finnick looks at her being fed up, stomping back onto the beach, turning her face upward, and snapping, “Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin.”
As quickly, a parachute appears above her, making Finnick chuckle. Inside, a dark ointment with a pungent smell. Katniss squeezes a glob of the medicine onto her palm and begins to massage it into her leg. Intrigued, Finnick stares at her. As she starts the second leg, she tosses the tub to him.
“It’s like you’re decomposing,” says Finnick. After a minute, he ends up applying the medicine on his own skin too. He sighs of relief as the itching disappears instantly. It works like magic.
“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty ?” Katniss says. That makes him smirk.
“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years ?” he asks.
“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it,” she answers.
“Not if I keep looking at you,” he retorts. That reminds him of Johanna. They way she would meanly tease him. Is she okay too ? He wonders. After their bickering, they continue to apply the ointment and help each other out.
“I’m going to wake Peeta,” Katniss announces. An idea pops in Finnick’s head. A mischievous smile stretches his lips.
“No, wait,” he says. “Let’s do it together. Put our faces right in front of his.” She agrees. They position themselves on either side of Peeta, lean over until their faces are inches from his nose, and give him a shake. “Peeta. Peeta, wake up,” Katniss says in a soft, singsong voice.
His eyelids flutter open and then he jumps like he saw one of the mutts on top of him. “Ah !” he screams.
That’s what makes Finnick and Katniss fall back in the sand and laugh their heads off. Every time they try to stop, they look at Peeta’s attempt to maintain a disdainful expression and it sets them off again.
Another parachute lands next to them with a fresh loaf of bread. Finnick stops laughing, knowing what it means. A silent message about the day and the hour District 13 will rescue them. Finnick turns the bread over in his hands, examining the crust. Analyzing from which district it’s from. Meaning the day. District 4. It’s got that green tint from seaweed. Home. Then on the fourth day it is.
“This will go well with the shellfish,” he says as he bites into one of the breads.
Finnick busies himself with cleaning the meat from the shellfish. Then they all sit around and feast on the food. While he munches and digests, he looks around, the only sound heard being the one of the jungle. Finnick is in the hope to hear your voice. Somewhere in the distance. But it gets cut short when there is the sound of a scream.
Finnick gets on his feet, hyper alert. Across from them, a wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate. An enormous wave crests high on the hill, topping the trees and roaring down the slope. It hits the existing seawater with force. A cannon fires. That makes Finnick’s blood turn cold.
He approaches, trying to see the corpse when the hovercraft appears over the area where the wave began and plucks a body from the trees. From where he is, he squints his eyes to decipher who is the unlucky person. He hopes, with all its heart, that it’s not your body. After all, you did survive a tsunami during your Games. Surely, that thing won’t be the end of your life. When he stares enough to know, he doesn’t recognize you. Finnick can finally breathe in a normal pattern.
The circle of water slowly calms down, having absorbed the giant wave. Finnick helps with rearranging their things back on the wet sand. When they are about to settle down, he thinks he is hallucinating. A scream, a name, words being yelled from the jungle meters away. He hears your voice, yes, yours. His stomach drops. In less than a second he is on his feet. He directly runs, leaving Katniss and Peeta behind. One of them tries to call for him, yet he doesn’t care. You’re here, somewhere. Alive or maybe calling for help.
Three figures, about two spokes away, stumbling onto the beach. Covered in red liquid. Beete, Johanna, Wiress. But not you. His heart quickens, holding his trident, approaching. When he sees a glimpse of your body, emerging from the jungle. Covered in that red liquid as well. His eyes widen, heart stopping before beating back at full speed, hammering like a horse.
“Y/n !” screams Finnick, voice echoing before he can register your name in his brain. Then, his face lights up at the mere sight of seeing you alive, as if all the hell he went through never happened, before running at full speed towards you.
“Finnick !” you yell as well, dashing towards him. In a second, his arms are around you and he strongly hugs you tight. You’re here, in his arms. Like a dream, or like you never left. You fumble on the sand but he keeps you straight and prevents you from falling. Without caring for the blood, he kisses your lips. All he wanted was to have you near. Being separated from you was like a nightmare, having you back was like a blessing.
“You’re alive,” the both of you say at the same time, clearly reassured. You chuckle nervously, while he greets Johanna too, happy to see his friend in one piece. You detach yourself from him, but he keeps his hand around you to support you, and too because after losing you once, he refused to let you go for a second.
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next bonus out ! ... it will be about Finnick's pov while reader got hijacked, the month he went through. If you are interested in more povs of Finnick, or other ideas of bonus you'll want to read, then let me know ! In the comment or my question box ;) I'll be very happy to know !