#DURING ANGST ARENA HOURS

[axiina]

PLSSS soft corio comforting reader after they get he saves her(or them idm) from the arena after she tried to say a proper goodbye to her tribute (kinda like sejanus) but maybe she gets hurt and super traumatized but hes there for her idk

If I Killed Someone for You

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x capitol!reader (gender neutral)

Summary: It wasn't supposed to end this way. You just wanted to say goodbye to your tribute, Lamina. Luckily, your boyfriend was there and made sure you didn't get hurt. Just why do you look at him differently now?

Words: 1.5k

Themes: hurt with comfort, a bit of fluff but also angst

Warnings: slight spoilers to movie and book, small changes to canon, Pup isn't Lamina's mentor, character's death, murder, a bit of trauma, blood, comforting, a bit of argument, death, overthinking, reader feels guilty about situation, referring reader as 'you'

Author's note: Lamina deserved better so you are her mentor, fuck this idiot Pup.

It was supposed to be fluff, but it came out a bit sad and traumatic. We got a soft Coriolanus, leaving aside the fact that he killed someone in the process. Enjoy!!

It was a pure act of desperation.

You just wanted to tell Lamina what you hadn't managed to do before. You had grown close to the young girl, who was horrified by what was happening. The very fact that she was in the arena, alone, without any support was driving you crazy.

She didn't deserve what happened to her. You hoped that maybe Lamina would be able to win and would be able to return home to the family she missed so much.

With each hour of the Hunger Games, her chances seemed to get smaller and smaller. For those few days, you sat like you were on pins and needles staring at the big screen at the Academy. After a while, the helplessness returned and you had to try not to cry in front of the cameras.

Lamina did not deserve it. None of the tributes deserved it. You did everything you could to make Lamina feel as comfortable as possible during the meetings and her stay at the Capitol. In the arena, you tried your best to make sure she wasn't hungry or thirsty. You didn't want her to get hurt. That, however, was not enough. Seeing a boy from her district, Treetch, joining another group made you feel anxious.

"What if they kill her? What if he betrays her…" This thought ran through your head repeatedly like a mantra.

She became weaker and weaker every day.

Your last meeting was too short. You didn't have time to say goodbye to her properly. You wanted her to know that even though you were physically somewhere else, your heart and thoughts were with her, at the arena. You had to say goodbye to her. You wouldn't forgive yourself if Lamina died without hearing a proper goodbye.

That's why you decided to see her one last time. Under cover of darkness, you crept into the arena in disguise and quietly snuck under the beam where Lamina was. Perhaps foolish and reckless, but you didn't think about the consequences. Ever since the girl got to the arena you couldn't find a place. You slept only short naps and didn't even want to meet Coriolanus, who was getting more and more worried about you.

While you were at the arena, every now and then you looked nervously around to the sides to see if anyone was coming. Lamina was surprised when you showed up. It was all surreal and you felt as if you were detached from reality. As soon as you saw Lamina you started crying. You both cried. Now the knowledge of how dangerous the arena was came to you like a powerful punch. She can't die. You don't remember what exactly you told her. You don't know if you said anything that made sense to her at all. The adrenaline made your mind kind of foggy. However, you know that it lifted her spirits. She knew you were with her and supporting her. You don't know exactly how much you were in the arena.

Everything happened so fast when Coriolanus grabbed your arm. Your brain didn't even register the fact that the boy appeared there practically out of nowhere. He looked terrified. He spoke quickly and incoherently. You only understood as he begged you to run away from there, because at any moment someone might come out of the tunnels and kill you. You were frozen with panic when it came to you. They hate the Capitol. They hate you too, and they certainly wouldn't think twice before killing you. Your fear was increased when Lamina's eyes widened in horror and only one word came out of her mouth.

Run.

Tributes began to leave the tunnels. As soon as they noticed that there were two mentors in the arena they started running towards you. Because of the adrenaline in your veins, you don't remember much of what happened next. You and Coriolanus ran as fast as you could when Coral, Mizzen, Tanner and Bobbin chased you while holding objects in their hands that could be the cause of your upcoming death.

The next scene that stuck in your mind was when your boyfriend hit one of the tributes on the head with a wooden plank. The boy fell down, and Coriolanus, without thinking much, hit him a second time. Then another and another. You looked at the body of Bobbin lying lifeless and Snow standing over him, unable to get a single word out. Your heart was raging and your head was spinning, feeling fear. You were terrified.

You couldn't tell what was the reason. The fact that you had just nearly died in the arena, or…. no, it couldn't have been that. He was merely trying to defend you. Yes, that was definitely the reason. Coriolanus is not a murderer, he was just…. he was terrified and acted emotionally. Bobbin would have killed him if Coryo hadn't done it first. Then you would have been next in line. Yes, that's what would have happened.

Both of you were injured, but at that moment it didn't even cross your mind to ask him how he was feeling. The Peace Keepers almost carried you out of there. Your parents were as terrified as you were. By the time you were sitting in your room wrapped in a blanket as your mother hugged you crying something finally hit you. You could have died. Your family would have been devastated. Your friends and…Coriolanus. Well, exactly, Coriolanus. He almost died because of your fault. Your stupidity and recklessness. Now he is injured and probably suffering, and you are not there with him. After what happened you didn't even say a stupid thank you to him.

"What were you even thinking! You could have died there! Did you even think about your loved ones? About me? What would have happened to me if you had died there? If I didn't get there in time!" Coriolanus repeated walking in circles around the empty classroom, the next morning. You had your head bent down, and tears were running down your cheeks. How could you do something like that?

Coriolanus sighed and sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell like that. You're probably still terrified. I was just…scared. I was scared that I would lose you."

It seemed to you that his voice cracked as the boy pressed his cheek against your head.

"Don't do that again. Don't scare me like that. If you had died I wouldn't have forgiven myself. I wouldn't be able to live normally." He whispered in your ear with a trembling voice.

"I'm here, love. I will always be until you have had enough of me. Although, most likely, even then I won't give you a break." A quiet, slightly trembling chuckle left his lips, at which you also smiled involuntarily.

"Enough of you? Never." you replied in an amused voice gently pulling away, but still remaining in his embrace. "I'm sorry, Coryo…I'm so terribly sorry for you. I just wanted to say goodbye to Lamina. I don't want anything bad to happen to her. I don't want her-"

"Shhh, it's okay." Coriolanus rested his forehead against yours and took your face in his hands gently stroking your cheeks. "It is past. The most important thing is that we came out of it alive. Lamina is also alive and relatively well, excluding the circumstances."

"Thank you, Coryo. Thank you for everything. For saving me that night and that you do not resent me for it." You whispered, trying not to cry. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm and placed a gentle kiss on it.

Coriolanus' face moved closer to yours and he gently brushed your lips with his own as if he was afraid he would frighten you.

"I am angry at you. Earlier even furious, but I love you too much to stay mad at you." Coryo gently rubbed his nose against yours and looked into your eyes.

His beautiful blue eyes. Cold, but at the same time it makes you feel at home. Eyes that yesterday were raging and at one point…full of hatred.

Your smile slowly disappeared as you remembered what happened to Bobbin.

"Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday-" you started uncertainly, but Coriolanus cut you off.

"No." His voice seemed cold and in a moment you were embarrassed and your heart beat faster. You were the reason he had to do it, and now you're reminding him of it. Maybe he thinks you are blaming it on him.

Your thoughts, however, were interrupted by your boyfriend's voice. Softer this time.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't want to do it, but it was stronger than me…Please don't hate me. I love you and I did it for you too."

His eyes were glassy and he seemed panicked. You shook your head in denial and took his hand in yours bringing it close to your lips and kissed his knuckles.

"No, you're a good person, Coryo. Nothing has changed. I continue to love you, and you only proved me during the night that I couldn't find a better one."

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

"You know you don't have to…you don't have to be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt you. Never."

You froze for a brief moment. It was as if he was reading your mind. How could you think that about him? He saved you. If not for him, you would be dead.

It was stronger than that. When he approached you this morning your heart was beating faster and a chill went through your body.

"It's because I love him. Typical reaction" You repeated to yourself in your mind.

Every time you felt his hands stroking your hair while you were hugging, you thought about how tightly he gripped that wooden plank with which he cracked the head of the boy in the arena. How the blood spurted onto his snow white shirt from his school uniform. And those eyes. The eyes that always made you feel butterflies in your stomach, and then they seemed so unfamiliar. You thought about how later after the situation at the arena, he tried to approach you, and you took a step back with your eyes wide open in horror.

Of course, he knew. You don't need to read minds to know that. And he was intelligent. He knew right away.

"I know, I know, Coryo. It's just…" you knew that if you continued your voice would break. Besides, you didn't know what to say. You snuggled into his neck hugging him more tightly at the waist. You don't want to hurt him with such thoughts, but they are so intrusive. You can't get them out of your head despite his reassurances, affectionate words and gentle touch. "I'm sorry, I should be there for you, and I'm making everything worse."

You whispered soaking the collar of his shirt with your tears.

His hand went to your hair gently stroking it.

"Stop, it's not your fault."

You stayed like that in each other's embrace, in silence. Words are not important now. What is important is that you are together and nothing will change that.

He will not hurt you. Yes, he won't hurt you.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus x you #thg x reader #hunger games x reader #character x reader #x you #x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fic

[ichorai]

stitch ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; and he clearly wasn’t thinking straight, because his feet didn’t bring him back to his own filthy, dirty, rat-infested home. he brought himself to your winged estate, gardened and manicured and polished to perfection.

words ; 8.7k

themes ; angst, action, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, foul language, lucky being lucky, a lot of kisses, coryo's paranoia, he's much more toxic this chapter someone pls save reader (aka doomed by the narrative), i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; thank you for all the support on this series so far! if i've planned this out right, there will be two more parts coming after this one!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Considering you survived numerous explosions and a metal-pipe lodged in your abdomen, you weren’t looking all that bad. Though you were still badly aching, the injuries you had sustained during the bombings strayed away from your face, save for a few small cuts and bruises that would heal in no time. It made it easy for you to pretend like everything was okay as you donned a crisp, ironed, academy uniform. A new one, that wasn’t stained with your blood and the arena’s dust.

All the doctors had advised you to stay at the hospital to rest and recover. But with the games starting in mere hours… you couldn’t leave Wovey alone. You made a promise, and you intended to keep it.

After surprisingly little begging, your mother caved and signed the release forms for you, on the condition that you’d stay on a wheelchair for the entire duration of the games—or until you were fully healed. Whichever came first. 

Coriolanus came early that morning, looking more tired than the last time you saw him, and promised your mother that he’d take care of you with a charming smile. He kissed your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw, before wheeling you off to the academy. The warm, fresh wind was refreshing against your face, billowing your hair to and fro.

“I gave her rat poison,” Coriolanus said as he pushed you along. 

The suddenness of his words startled you into a flabbergasted silence. You stared straight ahead for a few moments, lips screwing to the side, trying your best to remain calm. Then, you gritted out, “What in Panem made you think that was a good idea? If Highbottom finds out… it’ll be over for you, Coryo. That’ll be grounds for worse than expulsion.”

“Lucy Gray has to win. She can’t—on her own. I had to give her something.” Coriolanus’ hands flexed on the handles of the wheelchair. 

“I can’t cover for you forever, Coryo,” you whispered, words almost lost to the wind. But he heard.

He narrowed his pale eyes at the back of your head. “You won’t tell, will you?” There was a biting edge to his tone.

“You’re an idiot if you think I would.” You pressed a hand over your bandaged abdomen, obscured by the vibrant red fabric. “Besides—if you go down, I’d go down with you. With enough secrets of yours I bite down on… that makes me an accomplice, too.”

Lucky Flickerman’s eyes were wide as saucers when you showed up to the academy in a wheelchair. He fluttered over to you with a reporter following close behind him, shoving a camera into your face. You loved him, truly, but it was hard to tell apart the Lucky that appeared in front of cameras and the real Lucky your mother was best friends with. A myriad of questions fell from the mustached man’s mouth, and you only managed to answer one and a half of them before Sejanus appeared, and Lucky turned to him to ask him questions about his missing tribute.

With a roll of his eyes, Coriolanus pushed you down a ramp (one that hadn’t been there until just a few hours ago, when they heard news of you coming in a wheelchair), and settled you in front of a monitor with your name on it, in the middle of the rows of seats. His was by the very edge, much to both of your dismay.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he told you, enveloping one of your hands in both of his. He kneeled down in front of you so he’d be at eye-level.

You nodded, but pursed your lips. “Why did you tell me? About the…” You trailed off, worried someone would overhear. But he knew what you were talking about—the rat poison.

He tried his best to give you a genuine smile, nudging his knuckles beneath your chin. They felt cold against your skin—a stark contrast to what the wind outside had felt like. “It’s like you said, isn’t it? Enough secrets of mine you hoard, the more you’re tethered to me.”

You couldn’t quite tell if he was joking. Your lips parted, but no words left your tongue.

Dipping forward, he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Let’s hope this is over quickly.”

Let’s hope they all die quick, he might as well have said.

“Mmh,” you told him, sparing something akin to a smile. Though, it might’ve looked more like a grimace. Coriolanus’ head was far too preoccupied to notice. You felt sick, and glanced around at all the other students who were taking their seats. Lucky was making his way to the front to get some final touch-ups, flashing you an encouraging wink.

A minute later, he waved away the makeup artists and brandished a microphone from thin air. You almost rolled your eyes—his amateur magic tricks were certainly getting better and better.

“Okay, everyone, places! We’re about to go live! Just because we’re not hosting doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Help me out here, alright? Don’t get lost behind your screens. No yawning, no gum-chewing—keep your chins down, heads up, shoulders back, people! And—do remember to smile. It’s why we have teeth.”

Lucky began grinning from ear-to-ear as a demonstration. 

His teeth are far too white for his face, Coriolanus thought as he settled into his seat. A shade brighter and I’d surely go blind.

With a hand raised, Lucky began counting down with his fingers. He announced himself with his usual charming flair—and when the music started thrumming, low and ominous, he began wishing everyone a happy Hunger Games, before rushing off to stand behind all the students. 

The large screen in the center of the theater lit up with a shot of the tributes walking into the arena. Several dozens of smaller screens surrounding it gave the students a wide plethora of different angles. 

Your throat went dry upon seeing Wovey and Lucy Gray emerge from the entrance tunnel holding hands. They smiled at each other—one of the smaller cameras managed to catch it just perfectly—all soft and encouraging. Peacekeepers pushed the two onward with the barrels of their guns and they were forced to separate. 

“Stand on your marks or you will be shot,” the announcement system buzzed.

Some of the tributes sobbed. Some of them hardened with determination.

The cameras panned around—until one of them landed on a hanging body, strung up by bloody ropes. Your eyes widened when you recognized him as Sejanus’ tribute.

Was he dead?

His chest gave a hunkering breath, though shallow and wheezy, and you dreaded to think about how much pain he must’ve been in. 

“Guess we can all sleep better now knowing he’s off the streets,” Lucky said into the microphone. The audience of students behind you burst into sporadic cheers and bouts of laughter.

This must’ve been the last straw for Sejanus, as he got up from his desk and just about chucked the entire monitor across the theater. It fell against the stage with several clutters and thunks. Many of the students nearby flinched. 

“YOU’RE MONSTERS!” he screamed, face wrought with anguish. “ALL OF YOU!”

With that, he stormed out. Perhaps if you weren’t confined to your wheelchair or in a great amount of pain you would’ve followed him, you thought. But maybe you were just making excuses for yourself.

Sejanus was a brave man with a rash head. You were neither brave nor rash.

Lucky began to count down again. And just as he reached one, a loud, buzzer-like sound rang through the arena. Echoed into the theater from the monitors.

The tributes began running every which way. You had your eyes fixed on Wovey. At first, she seemed to jaggedly step towards the center, where a selection of weapons were laid out. But she thought better of it once she saw all the commotion and scuttled back to the rows of seats as fast as she could. She climbed and climbed, and your chest was heavy with the idea of her falling, or of someone following her. Nobody did, thankfully.

There you go, sweetheart. Hide.

The last you saw of Wovey was the top of her small head before she disappeared behind the dusty seats. Good.

Then, you turned your attention to Lucy Gray, running around and screaming for Jessup. You briefly glanced back at Coriolanus, who was looking incredibly tense. His entire face seemed to be set into a deep frown.

What is she doing? he mouthed, mostly to himself. Run!

Immediately, buzzes rang out through the theater as tributes were slowly eliminated and disappointed students got up from their seats. You tried your best to avert your eyes from all the blood and gore. The screams, however, you couldn’t escape. A girl three seats away from you puked all over the floor, much to Lucky’s irritation.

To your relief, Lucy Gray managed to find Jessup amidst the chaos, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the hole in the ground—into the tunnels. A few angry tributes were following after them at a worryingly quick pace. Lucky made a rather smug comment about the gamemakers being prepared enough to have security cameras installed in every nook and cranny, even after the bombing “disruption”. 

You let out a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding in when Lucy Gray managed to crawl into a room through a flap in the door, Jessup hot on her heels. The tributes cursed and yelled, but no one dared follow in after the two in fear of getting hurt while trying to get in.

“Thirteen tributes remain,” announced Lucky. He looked to you and gave you a wink. “Reaper still looming large on top of the charts while Coral and her pack try to make a play. Little Wovey has done an excellent job of scaling the broken columns and hiding beneath what’s left of the seats. Let’s hope we see her soon.”

You glanced at your monitor. There were options to send her food or water if need be. But not yet. You had to be resourceful with the donations you had.

“Six tributes gone in minutes. If they keep it up at this pace… we’re going to be out of here in no time.”

Many hours passed. It was incredibly quiet for a long time—save for Lucky moving off to the side to do some reporting of the weather. Some students even fell asleep by their monitors. 

You were growing tired too, lids heavy with exhaustion and head bobbing up and down a few times. You tried to keep yourself awake, paranoid that something could happen to Wovey if you were to accidentally doze off. To your relief, you snapped awake when a hand rested on your shoulder and Coriolanus kneeled down beside you, offering a bottle of water. It felt wrong to be drinking at your leisure when the tributes were probably parched right now. 

You took the bottle with a grateful mutter of thanks and took a hefty swig.

“How are you feeling? Your wounds okay?” His hand moved up to gently smooth over the back of your head.

“I think so,” you replied, before grimacing. “I don’t like watching this, Coryo. I never have.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I can take you back, if you want. To the hospital.”

“No. I have to stay,” you protested. He seemed relieved at this, not keen on leaving any time soon. 

With a curt nod, he gestured back to his own seat. “Just—let me know if you need anything.”

“You should focus on your tribute, Coriolanus,” you told him, brushing the back of your fingers along his jaw.

“My tribute didn’t have a metal pipe sticking out of her a day ago,” he whispered. “You’re priority number one. You always will be.”

“Well, I’m fine. Lucy Gray, however, is much more at risk,” you replied airily. “If my Wovey can’t win… I’d really rather see her alive.”

Those pale eyes of his searched yours.

“I love you,” he said. It was abrupt and sounded as if someone was strangling it out of him.

“I love you, too. Get back to your seat before Highbottom finds a way to get mad at you,” you told him. With a pointed jerk back to his seat, you heavily emphasized, “Again.”

With a squeeze of your shoulder (you tried your best not to grimace, since he pressed right against a large bruise on your collarbone), he rose back to full height and headed back to his monitor. 

The arena was still silent, even an hour later. Just as you were beginning to seriously consider taking a nap, there came a rustling from the rubble. Lamina, the other district two tribute, rose from behind a large stone slab, and approached the hanging Marcus.

His blood from all the exposed wounds he’d acquired had slowly dripped down his body and formed a frighteningly sizable, semi-dried puddle down below. It was a wonder how he hadn’t already succumbed to his wounds. 

Lamina climbed up the broken stone columns to make her way to him. There were several dried tear tracks on her face, and her nose was very red. Lamina stroked Marcus’ head, and he seemed to jerk alive with her touch. His chest rose and fell in a broken, staggering motion. 

“Please…” he croaked. “Please…” 

He dissolved into gentle sobs.

When Lamina raised her hatchet, you tore your eyes away and looked downward. There came a sick squelch as she struck him and the audience gasped. Lamina cut at his bonds and watched his body crumple down to the ground. Donations for Lamina began to steadily climb higher.

Pup Harrington, Lamina’s mentor, decided to take it upon himself to be the first one to send his tribute a drone with water. Dread settled the pit of your stomach when the drone buzzed in through the broken rooftop of the arena—but it didn’t seem to slow down. No, it only accelerated faster and faster the closer it got. Lamina gave a little shriek and ducked just in time—the drone crashed into the stone column and exploded into a thousand metal parts. The glass water bottle fell down below and shattered by Marcus’ now-dead body.

How were you supposed to send Wovey water now? Perhaps you’d send her food instead—that way, it wouldn’t shatter and go to waste if it hit anything. You scrolled through the options on your monitor. Apples would be a good choice. Plenty of water in them. But you held back—Wovey might’ve been asleep underneath those seats.

A few more hours passed by, slipping well into nightfall. You took a vial of prescribed morphling from your bag and downed it in one go. You could feel it buzzing through your system almost immediately, numbing the sting of your still-healing wounds. It just so happened that Highbottom swept down the steps then, eyeing you behind those spectacles of his. You shuddered and leaned your head down onto the table. The drugs were making you incredibly sleepy.

Highbottom stopped just behind Coriolanus. “You can’t save her by watching,” he murmured to his most loathsome student. “What do you want from that girl?”

“Nothing,” the blonde gritted out. “I want her to live.”

“Mmh. And the Plinth Prize would be a happy coincidence, I suppose.”

Coriolanus’ eyes squinted at nothing in particular. “I believe I’d be entitled to it.”

“Of course you do,” Highbottom retorted, tone heavy with condescension. “And who do you think makes the final decision for the prize you so covet, Mr. Snow? Wake up. Even if Lucy Gray Baird somehow wins it all, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you don’t see a single dime. So… ask yourself this: how much do you care if she lives now?”

Coriolanus was gripping his hands into fists so tight that they turned a ghostly-white.

“And I know… if the young and talented Y/N wins that prize… it’ll go straight to you. Isn’t that right?” Highbottom’s lips twitched in amusement when Coriolanus stiffened. “So it seems that neither of you will be seeing that prize, Mr. Snow.”

His jaw twitched, and he snapped his head to the scowling dean. “You can’t punish them because of me. That’s not fair. Y/N doesn’t deserve that.”

Highbottom let out a gruff laugh, quiet enough for nobody to notice. Mostly everyone had gone home or was asleep, anyway. “It’s not like Y/N would have won anyway—not with that quiet little runt. Kid was doomed from the very start. Take a good look in front of you, boy. Take a look at those tributes—and then you come and tell me what’s fair.”

The very last word was practically spat at him. The dean turned on his heel and marched off. 

Still, hours passed by silently. Lucky was clearly growing agitated with the fact that things were moving so slowly. He’d already had to cancel two dinner appointments.

When Volumnia Gaul stepped into the academy, a dark cloak draped over her shoulders, you were already half-awake. She stood beside you menacingly, and you startled into full alert with a small noise of surprise, the bright blue of one of her eyes boring right into you. She said your name then, all low and elongated. You could barely suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. Still groggy, your blurry peripheral vision told you that practically every one had retired for the night. Save for a few straggler students and, of course, Coryo. You noticed, with muted interest, that every single screen was frozen on an image of the Panem crest, rather than the security camera footage inside the arena.

“I can smell the morphling on you,” she muttered, brows raised. “You should go home. Get some rest. Change those bandages of yours.”

You glanced down at your abdomen—a grimace made its way onto your face when you noticed that your uniform (new, mind you), was stained with a fresh bout of blood. You’d bled through your bandages. With a frown, you uneasily swallowed. It didn’t seem like Dr. Gaul was going to accept no for an answer.

“I, uh—” She noticed the way you began to angle yourself to Coriolanus. He’d fallen asleep by his monitor, in a similar fashion to you.

Her mouth pursed in mock-sympathy. “Coriolanus wants to stay. Watch over his songbird. I suggest you find someone else to wheel you back home.”

Your lips parted in surprise. A part of you wanted to protest, but you were far too tired to argue. “I can get myself home,” you told her. “Good night, Dr. Gaul.”

A creaky, amused titter fell from her throat. “Your little one is good at hiding. A shame she’s not going to make it.”

A wave of nausea rolled over you. You determinedly fixed your gaze on the ground and began to push yourself out of the academy. Volumnia watched you go with narrowed eyes. Once she was sure you were gone, she made her way to Coriolanus. 

The boy had a job to do.

Bobbin’s blood was still all over his hands. Dried, now. Dark with time. Dr. Gaul stitched up the gash on his left shoulder blade—he wondered if you had been in this much pain when you woke up in the hospital. But it was different, because he was slashed by a little boy, and you fell onto a metal pipe. Coriolanus wasn’t sure which one was better. 

Not that it was a competition. It was all Sejanus’ fault anyway, he concluded.

He had wanted to sprinkle bread crumbs on his dead tribute’s body. What a waste.

Once Dr. Gaul had sent him off back home with his wound tightly bound, he staggered out with a heavy chest and tear-stained cheeks.

And he clearly wasn’t thinking straight, because his feet didn’t bring him back to his own filthy, dirty, rat-infested home. He brought himself to your winged estate, gardened and manicured and polished to perfection. 

This should be mine, he thought. I should have this. I deserve this.

And then, another irrational thought crossed his mind as he rang the doorbell. 

It will be mine.

The doors swung open—which mildly surprised him, considering it was very late at night—and your mother peeked her head out. She eyed him with part confusion, part surprise. Then, she caught sight of the blood on his hands. The door widened to let him through. 

Almost immediately when he stepped in, your mother roped him into a warm embrace. He inhaled and choked on air. And then, he dissolved into a fit of wracking sobs. She crooned and stroked her hand along the back of his head.

“What’s this, Coriolanus? Whose blood is this?”

He hiccuped and drew in a staggered breath. “It’s… mine. I got into a fight with a classmate about the Games. It got violent and bloody—Dr. Gaul fixed me up.” He emphasized a wince and gestured to the wound on his shoulder. He let your mother fuss over him, demanding to take a look at the gash. Reluctant, he unbuttoned his uniform again to let her see.

It seemed the commotion was enough to wake you up, because you had limped to the top of the grand staircase with sleepy eyes and messy hair. 

Once your mother caught sight of you out of bed, she pulled away from Coriolanus to chastise you, but her words fell on deaf ears. You mumbled out your boyfriend’s name in confusion, before leaning heavily against the bannister to slowly step down, wincing with the movement. 

Coriolanus was quick to move upstairs, meeting you near the top, as you had only managed to descend a handful while he jogged to you. He cupped your face first, smoothing his thumbs over your jaw the way he always did. And when you spread your arms, he just about fell into you, his nose dropping down to the junction between your neck and your shoulder. His entire form trembled with his cries, muffled into your skin. 

It was as if he’d been reduced to a child all over again. Eating paste, salty with his tears of hunger. 

“Coryo,” you whispered, gripping at his waist. “Coryo, please tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me.”

He hesitantly withdrew his damp face away from your neck. “Can we… talk privately?”

With pursed lips, you looked down to your mother at the bottom of the staircase.

She cleared her throat tiredly. “I’ll leave you two be. But no funny business, understand? Y/N needs to recover.”

With a serious stare in Coriolanus’ direction, she turned and marched off to the Northern wing.

“Come on,” you told him. “Let’s go to my room.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing the space between his brows. His arm wrapped over your waist to help you up the few steps. “It’s so late, and I just barged in and interrupted your sleep—”

“Coryo, you’re covered in blood. Sleep is the last thing on my mind.”

Once in your room, you shut the door and leaned against it. Coriolanus made his way to your bed and sat on it, face buried into his hands.

“Does this have something to do with Dr. Gaul?” you asked, watching him with keen eyes. 

His head snapped up and he regarded you curiously. “How’d you know?” 

“She told me to leave. And all the screens were… frozen.” With slow steps, you limped across your room to sit right beside him. “Whose blood is that?”

Coriolanus was silent for a long while. So long that you wondered if he even heard your question at all.

“Don’t—don’t hate me. I need you.”

“I won’t hate you. I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Stop it, Coryo. You don’t get to decide whether I l—”

“It was Bobbin.” He effectively cut you off, rendering you speechless. “I killed him.”

You stared at him as if he’d grown another head. “The… the district eight boy?” With each passing second, your eyes grew larger and—wetter. Coriolanus had to turn away. “You were in the arena? Dr. Gaul made you… oh, Coryo.”

“Sejanus went in to see his friend.” The last word was sneered out in a rather demeaning manner. “The tributes started attacking us. I… I hit Bobbin with a rock.”

He left out the gorey details. How he kept bashing Bobbin’s head in even after his body stopped twitching. How it felt… powerful. 

“It was self defense, then,” you murmured, drawing closer to brush your lips against his shoulder, just above his sutures.

It was, at first. And then it… wasn’t. Coriolanus pursed his lips. 

“Bobbin… he was Wovey’s friend, I think.” Your voice wavered, and you blinked away the tears that welled up in your eyes. “I hope she’s okay.”

Coriolanus said nothing as he frowned. He didn’t like how much you cared for her, no matter how much of a hypocrite that made him. It was like Highbottom said… the kid was doomed from the very beginning.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, voice as soft as silk.

“I don’t…”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I’ll be here for you.”

“You’re too good,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re always just so… good. How do you do it?”

There was a considerable silence before you reached over to take his chin between your fingers and force him to look at you. “I’m just trying my best. And you are, too. Don’t discredit yourself, Coriolanus. You’re good for me. You always will be.”

His pale eyes flickered. Then, he kissed you. Slow and soft, begging for more but—you pulled away with a hum before he could press further against you. 

A distinct coldness fell over his expression. “You can’t tell anyone what I told you. About Bobbin.”

You studied him for a few seconds. Watched the way he folded into himself with such caution. Compartmentalize and shield the most ugly parts of himself away from you. It was a defense mechanism of sorts. You knew it all too well, and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why do you always think that I’ll go about and tell the world everything you say to me? Do you not trust me?”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I do. I do, of course I do. You just—you know everything there is to know. You can destroy me completely, and it’ll be my fault because I let you in—because I let myself fall in love with you.”

Your features twisted into one of shock. “Is that what you think? That I’m seeking to destroy you? Bring you down? What—Coriolanus, why would I do that? Do you hear yourself? How many times do I have to say that I love you until you realize that I mean it?” 

“You can love me and still betray me. They’re not mutually exclusive.” There was a terse silence that stretched thick between the two of you like taffy. His brows furrowed together and he stared angrily down at the ground as he frustratedly worked his jaw. “I’m not saying you will betray me. I’m saying you could. And that… that terrifies me.”

“I won’t. You said it yourself, remember? I’m tethered to you. I’m an accomplice—I know too much,” you said, exasperated. “But there is nothing I want to take from you. I gain nothing from stabbing you in the back. I just—I want for us to be a normal fucking couple!”

Coriolanus hung his head. With another sharp breath, he nodded several times, as if he was snapping himself out of his own thoughts. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I trust you. I’m sorry.”

When your countenance softened inexplicably, Coriolanus let himself slowly tear his walls of paranoia back down. His hands returned to you then, far more hesitantly cradling your face, gripping your hips, squeezing your thighs as he kissed you. It was familiar and comforting, yet simultaneously all too much.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” you panted into the kiss, trying to break away as your lungs screamed for air. “I miss you. It’s been so long since we just… existed alone together.”

He nodded—because how could he say no to you?—and helped you settle back onto the bed. Let you hold onto him, let you trace mindless shapes into his arm. Watched as your eyes fluttered shut and you fell back into what looked like a restful sleep. Envy curled within the confines of his chest. Sleep graced you so easily. Why did everything come to you so easily?

Nonetheless, he dipped forward to brush his lips against your temple, before gingerly pulling away. You stirred with the jostling, but stayed deep asleep. With that, Coriolanus made his way out of your room, clicking the door shut as softly as he could, and descended down the stairs. He left your house with a heavy chest and a throbbing shoulder.

Early the next morning, your mother came to the academy with you to watch the end of the Hunger Games—and to be there for moral support, she’d told you. She wheeled you in with a bright smile, greeting all the staring students with a friendly confidence. Once she brought you in front of the very same monitor as yesterday, she kissed the top of your head before flitting away to speak with Lucky, who was all smiles and charm. You overheard him saying that he was confident the games would come to a close soon. Your mother said something in reply, but their voices were drowned out by the swell of students entering the theater.

Coriolanus walked in only a few minutes after you, Tigris on his arm. The two of them made their way to you—Coryo was stone-faced, looking more tired than ever. Tigris appeared more worried than anything, but she was just about glowing in her new pink dress, all sharp angles and pristine fabric.

“You look beautiful,” you told her genuinely once she drew closer to you and took both your hands in hers. “I love your outfit. The color suits you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, flushing a pleased rouge hue. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been impaled by a metal pipe,” you told her with a slight grimace. “But, you know… no better way to fix that than to watch children kill themselves through a screen.”

The two cousins laughed dryly at your sarcasm. Tigris then enthusiastically told you that the dress she was making for you was ready—and you grinned and told her you were incredibly excited to come see it. With that, she nodded and left to take her seat amongst the stands, wishing the two of you good luck. 

Once she was gone, Coriolanus reached out to grasp your shoulder. Your talk with him last night plagued him for hours and hours when he should’ve been asleep. 

“Did you sleep well?” you asked him, leaning into his touch when he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “You look tired, Coryo.”

A wry smile. “Slept like a baby.”

It was a lie, and you knew it. You frown-smiled at him nonetheless.

He bent at the waist, tilted your face up to meet his, and kissed you square on the lips. Some of the students in the stand wolf-whistled, and it felt distinctly like Coriolanus was putting on a show for them, and for the cameras. And you were, well—you were an unwilling actor.

When he pulled away, he smiled at you and gestured to his seat in the corner. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Likewise.”

Coriolanus found himself wondering if you were hiding something from him. Why did it feel like you were drawing yourself away? Were you planning on sabotaging him?

Before he could dwell on it anymore, you gently nudged him off, as Lucky was beginning his opening remarks once again. He talked about the mystery behind Bobbin’s death (sending a cold tremor up Coriolanus’ spine), but moved on rather quickly to the stats board. 

The few remaining mentors settled down and the rest of the students in the stands quieted to watch the games continue. 

Not fifteen minutes later, commotion started brewing between Jessup and Lucy Gray. It was hisses and twitches from the boy at first, but then grew into explosive anger and panicked aggressiveness. Frightened, Lucy Gray began to doggedly run away from her friend, crawling out of the rubble-strewn tunnels and back into the main arena. 

“Something’s wrong,” Lysistrata, Jesssup’s mentor, said. “He wouldn’t turn on her like this.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hazy screen. There seemed to be foam collecting at the corners of Jessup’s mouth as he chased after Lucy Gray, demanding to know what she’s done to him. The hazy memory of Lucy Gray at the zoo mentioning a bat bite resurfaced into your mind.

“It’s rabies,” you told the two. “The foam in his mouth. He’s got rabies—the bat bite in the train, remember?”

Coriolanus and Lysistrata’s eyes both widened. 

“The same district folding in on itself!” Lucky announced into the microphone, and began rattling off some more unnecessary commentary.

“Send him water!” Coryo demanded Lyssie. 

“What?” she asked, watching in horror as her tribute tried to make a grab for Lucy Gray, but she ducked away just in time.

Impatient, Coriolanus stood up and leaned over her desk with gritted teeth. “Remember the posters in the war? Rabies—it makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone!”

Lyssie’s mouth opened and closed. “That’ll scare him!”

“Yes,” he said, tapping on her monitor. “It’ll get him away from her. Jessup is done. And you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

With a tight frown, Lysistrata reached forward to order a water drone. Lucky was preening with all the action.

“Thank you,” Coriolanus breathed out once her order processed through. 

“Nothing to be proud of,” she said, scowling at the screen.

Lucy Gray was begging for her friend to snap out of it as she climbed up a fallen stone pillar, and screamed when a water drone came whizzing right past her ear, crashing into Jessup. Glass went flying every which way. The water had done its job scaring him—Jessup yelled and tittered with the sudden force. He fell backward and toppled right off the pillar. His body made a sickening crack as it came in contact with the ground. The audience exploded into cheers. 

Horrified, Lucy Gray slid down the pillar after her barely-alive friend, hands shaking. A terrible sense of guilt washed over you.

“Jessup?” she asked, shaking his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You watched over me, now I’m watching over you. Sleep now, Jessup. Sleep.”

Jessup’s death was slow and painful. Lyssie sent a bitter glance towards Coriolanus, before storming off. 

But the horrors weren’t yet over for Lucy Gray—Coral and her pack appeared from behind a large pile of rubble, cornering her like coyotes would a lamb. They sneered and jeered at her.

You turned to look at Coriolanus, seeing his face crumple with desperation. His eyes flickered to you for a brief moment.

“Use your donations!” you called over. “She won’t fight, Coryo. You know that!”

With a frantic nod, Coriolanus snapped his gaze back to his monitor, and hurriedly pressed down on eight drones of water for his tribute. 

“Mentors allying together in such troubling times!” Lucky exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Will it be enough to save the songbird?”

The little machines whirred into the arena at alarming high speeds, and crashed into the unassuming tributes surrounding Lucy Gray. She ducked and covered her head with shaking hands as water and glass and metal parts flew every which way. 

“Hey!” one of the mentors exclaimed. “You can’t attack the tributes!”

“I’m just sending water,” Coriolanus retorted back, looking extremely relieved. Then, he looked back at you, and mouthed, thank you.

Taking advantage of the knocked down tributes, Lucy Gray rushed forward, grabbed a glass of water that remained miraculously unshattered, and ran off to hide behind another fallen pillar. You remembered that Coriolanus had given her rat poison—a part of you wanted her to use it to survive, and the other part of you hoped she wouldn’t ever touch it in fear of people finding out about Coriolanus cheating. That would spell the end of him.

Coral and her pack roused with groans and aches. They moaned about losing Lucy Gray, before setting their sights on Lamina and pursuing after her. It was a shame to watch her go, you thought, remembering the kindness she did for Marcus. She was stabbed in the abdomen (reminding you of your own bound bandages), and fell into a crumpled heap beside her district-mate.

While they were all busy going after her, one of the smaller screens caught Lucy Gray appearing back from behind the rubble, placing the full water bottle back on the ground. She hurriedly reached over to dump water out of any of the other bottles that hadn’t broken. 

Lucy Gray managed to escape Coral just as she began to notice what she was doing, darting up some broken stairs and into a duct, latching it shut so they wouldn’t be able to follow her in. Lucky made a sullen comment about how there were no cameras set up inside there.

Coral and the pack retreated back down to survey all the water Lucy Gray had dumped out, save for the one single bottle. You wondered if said bottle was filled with rat poison, by any chance. 

Since you had your gaze focused on one of the smaller screens, you hadn’t even noticed little Wovey emerging from a row of seats not too far away from where Lucy Gray was hiding inside the duct. 

Your eyes frantically turned to the main screen when one of the pack members exclaimed, “It’s Wovey!”

“No, no…” you muttered, leaning forward in your wheelchair, ignoring the painful sting in your side. Wovey was quick to disappear back under the seats, scampering between rows and small gaps under fallen rocks so that they couldn’t follow after her. Twisted relief clawed at your chest and you heaved for breath when they muttered defeat and decided to go back down to the ground. The group began to dissolve into an argument, which thankfully kept them otherwise occupied from going back to hunt after other tributes. To none of your surprise, Coral ended up stabbing Mizzen right in the chest. 

“And who do we have here?” said Lucky when the main screen changed to show a coughing girl emerging from her hiding place. “Ah! It’s Ill Dill. Tuberculosis on legs.”

Dill staggered towards the water bottle. Uncapped it and drank a few small mouthfuls. She coughed and wheezed. Lied down slowly, chest still rattling with coughs. It had to be poisoned, you concluded. To die right after taking that drink… it was far too much of a coincidence. Lucy Gray must have used the poison. You didn’t dare chance a glance back at Coriolanus, afraid you’d see cruel victory in his eyes.

Reaper ran out a minute later, calling out for Dill as he rushed to her. “Dill? Hey, what happened? Dill! Dill, wake up!” 

And when he realized his district-mate was dead… Reaper let out a guttural scream. It echoed and ricocheted around the arena for everyone to hear. You frowned and tucked your arms closer to your sides.

To your surprise, Reaper began to move the dead tributes’ bodies to where Marcus and Lamina were. He laid each of them carefully beside one another. Fixed their positions and brushed the dirt away from their face. Dill first, then Mizzen. Then Bobbin by the entrance—to which none of the other mentors knew who killed except Coriolanus and… you. 

Reaper tore down the long Panem flag hanging from the arena’s wall. The students burst into boos and derogatory yells. He dragged it over to the makeshift morgue and draped the dusty fabric over the corpses. 

There was a lump in your throat as you watched him stand over the bodies he had so meticulously arranged. He gave the tributes one last shred of dignity when the Capitol—you included—had so monstrously stripped every bit of it away. You twisted in your chair to look at your mother in the stands. She had a hand over her mouth as she watched on, looking every bit as choked up as you.

Reaper gazed straight into one of the cameras and spread his arms. “Are you gonna punish me now?” he asked. “ARE YOU GOING TO PUNISH ME N—”

His yells were suddenly cut off by a breaking news announcement. They still echoed about the theater, and you still could hear Reaper’s strong voice in your head. 

Volumnia Gaul sat stiff and menacing on the large screen, her single, beady blue eye seemingly ablaze with a cold fury.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss. One that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president, has this morning succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.” The screen changed to display a horrifyingly graphic image of Felix’s dead body covered in bruises and unhealed gashes. This was met with gasps and cries from the crowd. “Out there in the districts… they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games!”

Scandalized murmurs spread throughout the theater. 

Your lips parted with shock. What was the point in having the Hunger Games without a victor? You turned to look at Coriolanus, who was looking every bit as distraught as you. 

A rainbow of destruction, Gaul had said. He knew exactly what that meant. With a tight expression, he sat up and ran out of the theater. You watched him go with utter confusion, calling out his name, but your voice was drowned out over the sea of upset students.

Where was he going? To plea his case with Dr. Gaul or Highbottom? Or… no, he’d told you about the snake muttations Gaul had in her lab—while you were drowsy and delirious with pain, but you could remember it faintly—how they were rainbow in color, fast as lightning as they struck down Clemmie. Did that mean those snakes were going to be set loose in the arena? 

Your heart skipped a beat. Wovey could hide from the other tributes, sure, but small, fast, and most likely deadly snakes? She wouldn’t stand a chance. 

And what of Lucy Gray? What was Coriolanus planning on doing for her?

Fifteen minutes later, Coriolanus came running back in, sweaty and breathless. Just in time, because Coral and her pack were beginning to close in on Lucy Gray, stabbing spears through the vent flap. One of the boys down below the ducts began to cough and sputter, not in an unsimilar fashion to Dill, before collapsing down to the ground with a shudder, blood pouring out of his nose. 

Rat poison. You were sure of it. 

They stabbed at the duct some more until it buckled and broke under her weight, and she came crashing down. Hurriedly, Lucy Gray stumbled up to her feet, climbed over the dead body, and ran as fast as she could away from Coral. They were hot on her tail. Everyone watched with bated breath.

And then—the loud whirring of a carrier came descending down the center of the arena. A large, blackened cylindrical tank was being lowered into the center through the broken rooftop. You let out a shaky breath of petrification. Inside must’ve been the snake muttations Coriolanus told you about. 

The few remaining tributes stared at the tank with wide eyes, too stunned to move. 

“I’d wager that that is going to be no good.” Lucky smiled as he stared at the screen. “But wouldn’t it be fun if it was candy?”

Both the arena and the theater lapsed into utter silence. 

Until—until little Wovey peered her head up from the seats. She’s so frail, was your first thought. Slowly, she began to climb out of the rows and hopped down broken pieces of stone to get back to the ground. 

“Wovey—” you found yourself saying aloud. Many eyes drew to you. “No, no, no…”

You watched as the little girl walked towards the large black tank with wide eyes. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her grimy hand. Reaper was warning Wovey to keep away, but the little girl was still moving closer.

“Is it over?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Can we go home? Please…”

“Fuck! Fu—shit, fuck! No, Wovey!” you frantically yelled as if she could hear you. Desperate to get her to stop going towards the tank, you looked down at your monitor.

Not many donations… 

But enough to send a drone.

Maybe if you sent food—it’d distract her. Keep her away.

And so you began placing an order for a food drone, much to Lucky’s commentary delight. With shaking hands, you pressed confirm.

But there was one thing you hadn’t considered. 

You hadn’t considered the drone coming in from directly in front of Wovey—with the tank right in its way. A whizz, a blur of silver metal, and murmurs of shock from the crowd. The machine drove itself against the glass tank and broke apart into a thousand pieces. Small red apples went flying every which way. Wovey stopped in her tracks for a moment. 

It was a temporary relief.

A crack formed in the tank. And then—another splinter within the glass. And another, and another, and another. They formed a terrible sort of spider web. 

“No,” you whispered, lips quivering. It was all your fault. “Oh, no.”

With that, the glass gave way to its fractures, and burst apart in a cascade of glittering shards. The snakes came tumbling out just as Dr. Gaul had said: a rainbow of destruction. They took down Wovey first as she screamed, slithering over her small body until you saw no part of her left. You had fallen silent, but your entire body ached as you violently shut your eyes, eliciting a hot tear to streak down your cheek. 

“Not candy! Down goes Wovey!” Lucky announced, though he winced with an apologetic glance in your direction. “Sorry, Y/N.” 

The rest of the snakes were quick to pick off Coral’s pack, and then Coral herself, who cried out that all those lives she took… they couldn’t have been for nothing.

They slithered around Reaper, who sat strongly by the pile of bodies he had arranged. He died alongside them as the serpents closed around his throat.

And that just left Lucy Gray.

“All colors lead to Gray!” Lucky announced, overly pleased with his wording.

Coriolanus smiled, victorious. “She’s—she’s won. It’s over. She’s won! Let her out!”

“Afraid that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow,” said Lucky. He pointed over to Dr. Gaul, who was watching from the theater’s stands with crossed arms. 

The students all murmured and gasped. Coriolanus looked around helplessly.

“Dr. Gaul, she’s won!” he asserted. “It’s over, let her out!”

Volumnia stared at the blonde boy with narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

And then… Lucy Gray began to sing as the snakes slithered their way to her. They coiled over her ankles and into the ruffles of her dress. Over her arms and around her stomach. Along her back and draped on her shoulders. She sang and sang, her voice strong despite the itchy dryness in her throat.

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” Festus Creed demanded. 

Coriolanus set his jaw. “Must be the singing. It’s calming them.”

“She can’t sing forever,” he replied with an upturned nose.

Everyone in the audience watched, enraptured, as Lucy Gray sang her heart out, wrapped in iridescent snakes. You let out a shaky exhale, and another tear slipped down your face. Watching Wovey go was one thing—you didn’t want to watch Lucy Gray die, as well.

Anger rose in your throat. 

You turned your wheelchair away from the screen—away from your damned monitor. It was your fault Wovey was dead. You wouldn’t watch Lucy Gray die, too.

“LET HER OUT!” you screamed at Dr. Gaul. Coriolanus flinched and stared at you with wonder, along with the rest of the student body. You bared your teeth in a pained snarl, and you let the tears freely fall. They were scalding against your skin, along with the multiple cameras that had turned right to you. “She won. Who’s going to donate to your Games next year if they know you’ll just kill their victor off? Let her out, Gaul!”

“Dr. Gaul, please,” Coriolanus pleaded, nodding at your words. “Let her out.”

“Get her out!” Tigris chimed along. Your mother voiced the same sentiment a second later, her face shining at you with pride. 

One by one, students began yelling at Dr. Gaul to get Lucy Gray out of the arena until practically everyone was chanting along.

“Nobody’s going to watch your Games without a victor!” Snow told her over the swell of voices. 

With a sharp scowl, she raised her hand. Almost immediately, the crowd fell into silence. 

“Get her out,” she quietly grumbled to one of her assistants.

Lucky clapped and announced excitedly, “She’s won! Lucy Gray has won! Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the 10th annual Hunger Games!”

Victory music began playing throughout the theater—trumpets and drums and bells echoing into his ears as the students rushed down from their seats to congratulate him. Shaking his hand, slapping at his back, ruffling his hair. Tigris was at the front of it all, smiling at him so wide it was a wonder her face didn’t split into two. She wrapped him into a warm hug and he held her tight, laughing into her shoulder as the weight of realization fell against him.

He’d won.

Once he pulled away from his cousin, he pushed through the packed crowd to get to you. You were on your feet already, though your weight was leaning heavily against one of the handles of your wheelchair. You were positively overwhelmed by all the commotion around you. 

He held your face with both his hands and kissed you in front of everyone. The cheers grew louder and louder, and Snow pulled away smiling wider than he ever remembered smiling before.

But when he looked at you again—truly looked at you—there were still tears spilling from your eyes. They didn’t look quite like tears of joy, either.

“She was thirteen,” you sobbed, curling against him. “Coryo, she was thirteen. It was my fault. My fault.”

Caught up in his own victory, he’d very nearly forgotten who you were talking about. It took him another second to realize that you were crying over Wovey. Irritation clawed at his chest and he frowned at you. You should’ve been congratulating him—not thinking about your silly dead tribute. What were you expecting? Hadn’t you known this was coming?

Nonetheless, he held you to his chest with empty words of comfort murmured into your ears, rubbing a palm up and down your back in a placating manner. He kissed your forehead and the crowd swooned with the romance of it all. 

You jerked away from Coriolanus when you felt a distinct pain shoot up your stomach. You looked down, noting the darker red blotch in your uniform. 

It seemed like you’d bled through your bandages again.

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut

[flowence-writing]

hi! could you write a Johanna x fem!reader fic where the reader is a tribute from district 11? She won the 69th games when she was 12-14, and during her game, she became very close friends with an older tribute from District 5 (they were like Rue and Katniss). the older tribute died for reader.

Johanna and reader know each other from the few years where they had been dragged to the capitol to "mentor" for the games. they became very close.

when reader was also reaped for the quarter quell, johanna was there to comfort her as soon as she could.

johanna and reader protect each other in the arena, and reader gets captured by the capitol instead of johanna.

afraid to love you - j.m.

pairings: johanna mason x reader (romantic), platonic katniss everdeen x reader, platonic finnick odair x reader, platonic peeta mellark x reader

summary: Johanna Mason loved you, she loved how passionate you are and how kind and caring you are. When you got dragged to the capital to mentor the tributes a few times, at first you hated Johanna, but then you grew to love her. What happens when in the quarter quell of the 75th hunger games you’re captured by the capital and Johanna is left alone in District 13?

a/n: i changed some things ^^

warnings: graphic volence, graphic torture, angst, some fluff

You hated this, hated the unknown of it all. A part of you was glad that it had been you and not Johanna. At least you were semi liked by the capital so they would not kill you at least. You sighed, you’ve been unable to close your eyes ever since you woke up here, in this disgustingly bright white room.

“Are you Y/N L/N?” A man in a white coat and a badge asked, walking into the room with an air of confidence. You scowled at the man. You didn’t answer his question.

“It would be better for you to answer my questions. Are you Y/N L/N?” He repeated the previous question. You grit your teeth, still not saying a word.

“Alright then, you’ll learn to talk eventually.” He said, his hand hovering over the plethora of tools in front of him. You looked at him in silent horror, a plea in your eyes but nonetheless that did not stop the man from picking up tweezers and placing them under your first finger nail.

CRACK!

You closed your eyes tightly, biting your lip to stifle your scream. The man chuckled at you. Muttering something about how you’ll start screaming soon.

He went to your other finger nail. Ripping the nail out of its nailbed, you groaned but the scream was muffled back down your throat again.

You started to lose track of time, the hours seemingly endless and the torture nonstop. He’d ask the same questions, while taking each nail he could.

“Are you Y/N L/N?”

“Where are the rebels hiding?”

“Were you in on the plan?”

“Who is the leader of the rebels?”

Over and over and over again.

You don’t know when you started screaming or when your voice became hoarse. The lights beginning to truly make your eyes hurt.

The man decided eventually to move onto another type of torture. He put a rag over your head, and then came the water.

You weren’t expecting this, you weren’t expecting to be waterboarded. The water seems to be endless, soaking into your nostrils, your mouth, and your eyes. You gagged, choking on the water and coughing but having no break with it. Water getting into your lungs causing your chest to heave painfully.

You don’t know when you passed out or if you ever did. Time became nothing more than torturous. Tick tock, the clock would go, you supposed the clock is there to make you feel insane.

When that wasn’t enough they’d inject something into your veins, it made you scream and writhe in your bounds. It felt like your bones were on fire, like your stomach acid is burning through your fat, skin, and muscle.

Sometimes you would get a hallucinogen. You’d see Johanna, but it wasn’t her. She’d come to save you, hold you, and then you would wake crying.

“Oh my god…” You heard her, you heard Johanna. Unsure if this is just a trick or hallucination you cracked your eyelids open. When did you get here? It wasn’t as bright, it definitely was not the capital.

You wriggled a bit, bringing your hand to your face. You gazed unsurely at your own hand, unsure if this is real. Your eyes shifted to Johanna’s figure, you didn’t feel anything, not relief, not happiness. You’ve been through this too many times to get hopeful only to have everything ripped away the next second.

“You’re not real. You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real.” You chanted over and over again, shaking your head you refused to believe this was real. Too many times you had the hope, had Johanna, ripped away from your grasp.

“Dove?” You shook your head again, tears stinging at your eyes.

“It’s me, I.. I’m real. I swear.” This was different, the hallucinations never demanded that they were real. A spark of hope fired into your chest.

“Jo?” You replied tearfully, hopefully even. You sounded so unsure that it broke Johanna’s heart. You then spotted Katniss and Finnick behind Johanna. A sob broke through your pale cracked lips.

You were muttering incomprehensible words to yourself, rocking back and forth.

“It’s me, they can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.” Johanna murmured, stepping to your bedside. You looked up, tears streaming down your cheeks, raw emotion in your eyes. You tentatively reached out to her, to Johanna.

Johanna took the hand that had shakenly been moving towards her. She brought your hand to her lips kissing it.

“This is real…” You muttered in disbelief. Jo finally let a few tears fall.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry… I tried to get you three back sooner. I am so sorry.” Katniss said, her voice cracking. You looked up at the woman, a woman so brave for someone who’s just a kid.

“It’s ok. They didn’t break me.” You said, albeit emotionally but you’re not hundred percent ok right not and that’s fine.

The five of you huddled into a hug. Peeta somehow snuck into the hug as well. and you all laughed, you were all together again. You might never be the same but at least you were alive and had everything you needed.

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair #katniss everdeen #jena malone

[coconutdays]

drunk

s. my attempt at a mutual pining ??? slowburn??? with the Honored One, Gojo. obviously there will be other parts hehe

w.c. 3.4k

w. fem! reader , gojo! x reader , fluff! , angst! , slowburn! , ( I think the slowburn is lowk angsty in my opinion) I also didn't really proofread this, did this as my day went. also y/n’a cursed technique is basically like Wanda from marvels abilities, thought it would be cool

You're restless.

The soft bedsheets encircling you do nothing to soothe your itchy skin. there's pillows thrown everywhere across your room in hopes that less pillows mean more sleep. Your legs and arms have been sprawled in different angles and directions to try and cater to your sleep, but it's all useless--your head won't let you get a wink of rest.

Your heart rate rises the moment you feel any sort of sleep try to overcome you. It beats furiously to take away your breath and forces you to jump up for relief before your eyes close for those oh so peaceful hours you yearn for.

It's annoying,

Like satoru gojo.

And there you feel that annoying flutter in your heart again.

This was not how he was supposed to keep you up at night.

no, what--

fuck fuck fuck fuck

You flip onto your stomach, fisting at the bedsheets and screaming into the mattress, your body movement similar to that of a fish out of water.

it came out of nowhere one day, that itch for him.

He had popped up during one of your missions, mid-battle, might you add. He was seated in a tree, watching you do your work, adding witty commentary on the fight every now and then while he mostly talked about his plans for dinner. Whether feta cheese would be healthier than greek yogurt or if squid really tasted different than octopus.

It was offensive to your opponent--a quite special grade curse--that Gojo never deemed it necessary to enter the confines of your shared arena and even further when you started responding back to your white haired friend.

"Why don't you just leave that up to your chef, Satoru."

Unbeknownst to you, you were listening to him not looking, he smirked when the sentence left your mouth.

"Yeah, but I feel like making the decisions over my palette today. Feeling frisky, y'know?"

He always says stuff like that, it's been one of his trademarks for as long as you've known him, but for some reason it had your face heating up as you pulverized your special grade out of existence with one closing of your fist.

You had turned around after the fact, trying your best in those milliseconds to get rid of that random feverish symptoms before he popped up behind you.

Lo and behold, he's right next to you before you can speak again.

He's wearing his uniform, along with his ever so interesting choice of headwear, his blindfold. He towers over you, effortlessly, with his hands in his pockets and that stupid light lipped smile he always has.

You almost want to take a step back when those mere details cause your heart to race. It's extremely off-putting to you when it happens.

"Or should I just tell my chef to go ahead and make that wagyu steak he set aside for me yesterday? It's supposed to taste divine with some wine." He cocks his head to side, smile growing a bit wider.

You give him half-assed eye roll, resorting to flicking his forehead when you respond, "Completely up to you Chosen On-."

He had grabbed you by the wrist of the arm you used to poke at him, lifting up over your head and towards him, pulling you a little to him in the aftermath of the action.

"But that's why I'm asking you." He fake sighs, "I'm asking my friend for advice."

You in return, actually sigh, "If you let go of me, I'll tell you what to eat."

You should've told him to eat-

stop.

why why why why why why why why why

You've known him for so long without this feeling grabbing and pulling at you. It's so bothersome when you're alone, the temptation to reach out to him and send him a text for a singular smidge of interaction with him is debilitating.

And it's a whole other beast when you can interact with him.

The god-strength you pull off to act as if you don't want to hold hands with him and listen to him talk all day is exhausting.

Because it has to fade away soon right?

When you get up after failing to get a satisfactory amount of sleep that morning, there's a text from your anti-melatonin on your phone.

Satoru

you want some croissants?

And before you can even think of a response, your doorbell rings.

Classic.

You run to the door as you hastily put on your robe, the pajamas underneath are not something you'd want him to see you in.

One peek through the peephole and you see his silky white hair standing up, it makes you open the door without hesitance.

"Oh, " He smirks, a brown fancy bag in hand, "who kept you up?"

Gojo is wearing at the moment one of his slutty long sleeves, the ones where his collarbones and shoulders make an appearance, along with those shaded in glasses of his.

This time you actually do give him a good roll of your eyes and chuck the bag out of his grasp, "Nobody. I just didn't sleep well."

He follows behind you as you walk into your apartment and to your dining table.

"That'll explain the eyes. Then why the skimpy pjs?"

You jump up a little, rushing to flatten your robe near your ass.

"How did you see?!"

"I didn't, just a little guess is all."

The urge to kick him in the shins seems more appealing than your everlasting urge to kiss him the moment he blabbers that.

You siphon two plates from your cupboards with a small movement of your hand and set them on the table, all with an annoyed look on your face.

"You can start eating, I'm going to change so my privacy isn't invaded by you again." You huff, stomping all the way to your bedroom.

"Won't start without ya." Satoru chides, leaning back in the chair he was in.

He did, in fact, see your ass peeking out from your robe, the little twirl you did after you took the bag from him lifted the skirt of it up a little. It was just enough to see a bit of lace clinging to your skin. It was a pretty color on you.

But he wanted to save you the embarrassment and stray away from the acknowledgment between the both of you that he's seen you like that, even if it was a smidge of-

You were naked.

Not directly in front of him, no, you'd never do that.

Your door was slightly ajar, but even though it was behind him, the mirror across from him and within his line of sight was all exposing of you.

You were topless, your back completely bare to him as you hauled up your jeans and buttoned them up.

He stopped breathing and felt something get stuck in his throat.

The entirety of skin felt like it was on fire, from his scalp to the pads of his toes. You should have completely closed your door. he can't help but stare until he drags his eyes away from the sight.

He won't even allow himself to touch the thoughts or feelings again, forcing himself to look out the window instead of through the mirror while he waits for you to change.

"What kind of croissants did you get?"

You're walking across the room and starting towards the seat next to him.

"Chocolate and pistachio." He exhales through a smile, as if he'd been thinking of something else before you asked him.

"But you like almond better." You cock your head to the side in curiosity as you start to open the bag. Chocolate and pistachio were only your favorites, and although he could eat them, you knew he loved his almond croissants.

"What can I say, I felt like switching it up today." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and laying his head on them before he took the croissant you were offering him.

You gulped down the bite you had just taken and proceeded to ask him another question.

"So what brought you to be near my place?"

You wish you could see beyond his glasses when he turns his head to you and shrugs, "Looking for buildings with adequate cursed spirits for my students. Thought I'd pass by and get breakfast with you on my way."

"Yeah thanks for the heads up." You grumble a little, a little smile and a shake of your head following up.

"Wanna come with?" He speaks through a mouthful of croissant

You start to snark a little, "Do my job without any pay? Sounds like-"

"I'll get you lunch from the onigiri place you said was only for special occasions and then dinner at the restaurant you said had entrees pricier than your electricity bill." He smiled

You blinked up at him, it being cute to him a fact that he chose to brush over by waving his card in front of you, "Being the Chosen One has its benefits."

Which is why you found yourself walking through Tokyo with Satoru the entire day.

You'll admit, you wanted to say yes even if there were no financial benefits to it. He was a benefit enough, time with him was, but it wasn't within your best interest of hiding your feelings to say yes without missing a beat.

On the other hand, it hurt a little, to know you'd be spending the entire day with someone who makes your heart flutter and your eyes unable of holding eye contact. It hurt more that you knew the time together with him would strengthen the feelings your heart held for him.

Fuck it though. At least you get to be with him today.

He let you walk a bit in front of him the moment the both of you left the apartment. It was his best bet of keeping his eyes on you, knowing you were there with him in the swarm of people as opposed to the alternative of receiving that reassurance through the warmth of your hand on his. His six eyes do prevent any mishaps either way, but the domesticity of it was calming for him.

But your back was to him.

It gave him flashback thoughts to this morning, your body practically bare to him, the underwear you had on leaving little to the imagination.

He had to force his heart to beat normally.

"Hey Satoru, that building over there has loads of cursed energy. Wanna check it out."

"Yeah." He smiles nonchalantly, making sure his eyes only look at the top of your head and nothing else.

Both of you don't even need to enter the building when you get in front of it. A simple lift of Satoru's shades and he smiles knowingly.

"Now that one's gonna be fun for Makki."

"Yea?"

"Absolutely." He confirms confidently, placing the frames over his eyes again.

After marking down the address of the building, the two of you proceeded to look around for more spots within the city. And not that either of you two knew, but Satoru was scaring off every male within a 20 feet radius during the time spent looking. His eyes were hidden by the specs perched on his nose, but the animosity of an aura he held towards any ogling eyes at you were enough to frighten them off.

He wasn't aware of it, if it weren't any obvious to him after doing it countless other times while hanging out with you. Had he been self aware, he would've muted that part of his feelings too. If any, it gave him more peace. He didn't know it gave him peace, but what he was sure of was that the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up if a guy came up to you.

You, on the other hand, couldn't really notice when you only cared about the guy walking right behind you. All other eyes were white noise to you.

To the eyes of those around you, the both of you looked like any other couple walking around Tokyo together. Satoru was never a step too far behind you and followed you as you walked without never looking back, as if you knew he'd never leave your side as you guided the path.

But you weren't a couple, you were just friends.

The former statement needing a reminder when dinner came around.

Your waiter had just taken down both of your orders at the dimly lit restaurant Satoru had mentioned in the morning. It was on the top floor of a skyscraper and the sun had just set, setting a slightly tense ambience for you--and Satoru, but he couldn't confront that thought for himself. Satoru was very good at remaining neutral for his own benefit.

"Ah and what wine will you and the missus be enjoying tonight?"

Oh

"Giacomo Conterno Monfortino please." Gojo smiled politely as he closed his menu and picked up yours to hand it to the waiter.

Right.

It was a simple mistake of an assumption from the waiter, it didn't need the attention of either of you. You had to tell yourself that.

"You like this place so far?" Satoru asks with a cocky smile, leaning forward and resting his head on his palm.

"It's beautiful." You say stifling a small smile, "worth all my hard work today."

For a second, Gojo takes a small second too long to respond to you. He seems stuck in a thought during that time before he acts like he normally does.

"Definitely. I could tell you were about to break out in a sweat when you checked if Zara had any cursed spirits in their clothes after my eyes said otherwise."

"Sometimes flukes happen. I thought you knew that." You raised your hands up in defense, winking at him in the process.

His breath hitched milliseconds within you doing that and he started to say something when-

"And here is your Giacomo Conterno Monfortino."

Your waiter had come around with the wine Gojo ordered, serving it in both of your glasses before leaving the bottle there for the both of you to serve yourselves again if necessary.

You took a sip immediately after the waiter left and gestured the glass at Satoru, "You should take a sip, it's really good. But what were you going to say?"

Satoru leaned back in his seat, making it look as classy as possible considering the status of the restaurant you were in, and cradled the glass to his chest.

"Nothing really. Just banter."

After taking two sips, Gojo didn't care to drink anymore. He called for a glass of water when your dishes came around. It was nothing new to you, he wasn't much of a drinker. Being the strongest meant never saving space for vulnerability and the inhibitions of the drink would subdue his abilities to being low quality.

You, however, had already been two glasses in by the time you had finished your small bowl of soup and started cutting your steak into bite sized pieces.

"Someone's hungry." A teasing voice poked at you

You looked up from your chewing on the steak while cutting up another piece to eat and made eye contact with bright blue irises, lips curving upwards beneath them.

"And drunk."

You sat up straight in your seat, having accidentally been hunched over to devour your food. Unfortunately the quick movement cause your head to spin a little.

You couldn't say you weren't drunk, when in fact you were.

"I didn't think it through when I served myself that second glass." You lightly groaned, looking at the ceiling because looking at the former would make the wine further bring you down. Satoru's eyes would make the dizziness worse and get rid of all your inhibitions.

You had to calm yourself down.

"Why didn't you stop me?" You tried to deadpan at him when you gathered enough courage to face him again.

Tried.

You did deadpan at him, but it felt as if someone dipped your face in flames the moment he kept the eye contact with you.

"I wasn't going to tell you what to do." He shrugged, haughtily putting a bite of his chicken into his mouth.

"Ass." You murmur as you sadly take another bite of your steak.

It didn't take much longer for that second glass of wine to hit you even further. Satoru had asked the waiter for some water for you too after expressing your distress for him not stopping you any sooner, so you weren't going to get any worse--too much. Both of you had been quiet, more so you, the alcohol had made you oddly focus on finishing your dinner, until the waiter brought around the dessert.

It was a shared bowl of some fancy peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream, two spoons on either sides for either of you to take.

"This is huge Toru."

"What?"

"This is huge. I don't know if I'll be able to even eat half. You were right about the steak being too much earlier." You pouted, gathering a spoonful of peach cobbler and ice cream to feed yourself before you looked at Satoru with the biggest doe eyes he's seen from you.

He stares at you while getting his own spoonful.

"I'll help you. And even if we don't finish we could probably ask to take it to go, they probably have small coolers for something like this."

"Yea and then they'll think we're dating or married or something. Like a couple saving it to eat together later."

"Come again?"

You were slouched in your seat, trying your best to keep eating. The alcohol obviously lowering your guard both physically and mentally.

"When the waiter called me missus." Your lips curving downwards

"It doesn't matter if they think we're dating." He reassures, concentrated on swirling around his piece of peach and ice cream too much "It's just to go."

There were no worries in finishing the peach cobbler and ice cream you soon found out. Gojo, although not drunk, ate the dessert as if he was intoxicated. You stared at him throughout all of it, admiring how cute he looked even though he shared the same appearance you did when you stress ate.

The only worry that existed after, was the walk to your apartment. You two were obviously safe, more so you, it was Satoru Gojo walking you home after all, but it didn't mean that the space between you two was.

You hugged his arm to you the moment you felt a slight gust of wind. An action you didn't overanalyze because you weren't really thinking much at all. You knew you had feelings for him, but he didn't and clinging onto his arm because you were cold wouldn't let him know that. At least drunk you was simple enough to think that way. Had sober you been here, she would have flung you away from him.

He hadn't done or said anything to let you know it bothered him the entire walk to your place. He was oddly calm, not to say that he never was, he was always calm, but witty about it. He wasn't being witty right now. He only really spoke to tell you to watch your step when needed and to answer your question on how much time there was left to get to your place.

When you got to your apartment, you easily swiped your key card on the door and unlocked it.

"Thank you, Satoru." You gave him a close lipped smile with sleepy eyes.

"It's what I'm here for." He answers without a thought, shrugging like its second nature to be this nonchalant.

"Yeah?"

The second Satoru looks back to you after letting his eyes wander to your lips, your eyes look different.

"What." He breathes.

You keep looking at him, as if you hadn't heard him. Your only response being your breathing.

He steps forward without knowing, subconsciously trying to close the space between you. It's when he's about to lean into you that you speak up again, taking a step back.

"I think it's time for me to sleep." You bite your lip awkwardly, looking between the wall behind him and his eyes because the thought of enduring his gaze on you for more than two seconds was agonizing.

"Right." He straightens up

"I'll see you later." Your eyes get watery from holding back a small yawn, "Have a good night Satoru."

"Sleep well y/n"

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo slowburn #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo satoru x reader

[sweetbans29]

Hey You - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x reader

Summary: You and Caitlin have a history - from growing up together to dating in high school. You both decided that it would be best to end things before going to college and that's what you did. Little did you know that seeing each other nearly four years later would have you both admitting things should have been different.

Warnings: You are looking at some angst, some suggestive themes and some fluff, nothing too crazy ;) mentions of head injury

Word Count: 6.0k

Hey You PART 2

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hi and welcome! This is my first writing and would love any feedback or ideas! I hope you enjoy!

You were sitting in the backseat of your friend's car rubbing your hands on your jeans. Your friend Jamie was driving you and two other friends to the women's NCAA basketball game in Cleveland. All of you attended a university in Pittsburgh and thought it would be a fun girls' day to go watch the championship game. It was going to be iconic and deep down, you knew you wouldn't miss it for the world. You had been following the teams closely this year despite the squeeze to your heart that came with seeing her name. Looking out the window you continue to rub your hands on your pants.

Your friends all knew Iowa was home for you and that you played basketball growing up. They knew you had friends who ended up playing college ball but an injury you suffered junior year of high school caused you to shift gears when it came to college. They also knew that you and Caitlin Clark had played high school ball together - but that was all they knew on the subject. They didn't know you had grown up together and had been best friends since the first day of sixth grade or that she held your heart in high school and may or may not hold it today.

As you look out the window your mind begins to wander back to when you were young...

It was the first day of sixth grade and your family had just moved to Des Moines, IA for your dad's job. Starting at a new school at the start of junior high was not ideal but you were determined to make the best of it. As you entered homeroom - you took a seat next to another girl who wasn't completely dolled up due to it being the first day. You didn't say anything as you sat down and pulled out a notebook that was completely covered in NBA stickers. The girl next to you perked up when she looked over and saw several familiar faces, even some of her favorites.

She leans over and points to one of the players and says, "That is one of my favorites." I look up at her with a huge smile and reply, "He is great but not as great as Kobe." She nods in agreement and we continue talking about other players who made their spotlight on your Fivestar notebook.

Fast forward to freshman year of high school - you and Caitlin are at pre-season training. Both of you had a single goal in mind which was making varsity. You knew she would make it no problem, but for you, it was going to take a little more. The two of you put in the work, when you weren't at training you were either at a park practicing or at her house training. When you found out you both made varsity after all those hours of hard work you went out to get froyo to celebrate. The night ended with a sleepover at yours that included a movie marathon and many many snacks.

When you snap back to being present with your friends, you realize you are already at the arena. You take a deep breath and get out of the car with your friends to brave the lines to enter the stadium. It was amazing to see the attention women's college basketball has gotten during March Madness this year. The spotlight on all the teams in the Sweet Sixteen, then the Elite Eight to the Final Four all leading to today had brought a lot of attention to the sport and the players. Not only the spotlight on the teams but the spotlight put on Caitlin was something that never really surprised you as you knew how incredible she was and is. Seeing how much she had blown up made you proud of the player she had become but also rattled the box you had put her in that lived in the deepest part of your heart. As you are standing in line to get in, your mind takes you back again...

It was the summer before junior year and your mom and dad just surprised you with your own car. You freaked out and couldn't stop thanking them. Of course, it was their pleasure as you were almost the perfect child. Caitlin was already on her way over as you had plans to go out to get food before having a lazy day. The two of you always worked hard but on the other side of that, you both had major lazy days throughout your friendship. These lazy days consisted of movie marathons, pillow forts, naps, and all the snacks you could ever imagine. The beginning of these days stemmed from making plans one day but you were both so tired you ended up napping on the floor in Caitlin's living room, never seeing the light of day.

Caitlin pulls in and you come running out pointing at the car in the driveway. She jumps out of her car and you both freak out and jump right in. After grabbing food you headed back to yours and settled into the pillow fort you had set up before she got there. You throw on Princess Diaries and you both are knocked out within the first 20 minutes.

When you feel yourself come back to consciousness, you notice the only light in the room is coming from the TV screen. You also felt extremely hot. As you begin to move you feel a squeeze around your torso. Looking down, a smile appears on your face as you realize Caitlin is cuddled into your side and hugging you as if you were a teddy bear. Your arm is draped around her back as her head is nestled into your neck. Her breath is steady - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It was slightly comedic as she has a solid few inches on you but when she was curled up into your side she looked like a little girl. You slowly start to rub her back and you hear her groan and bury herself deeper into you and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

This wasn't the first time that you both had ended up cuddling next to each other on a lazy day. It had become more common over the last few months than it had been before. You noticed it was typically Caitlin who ended up cuddled into your side but every blue moon you ended up in her arms. Once one of you woke up, you would usually break apart almost immediately - secretly both wishing it would last longer. It all felt so natural that neither of you questioned it. Due to how dedicated you both were to your sport neither of you really had time for boys or relationships so you both just leaned into each other.

You continue to rub her back until you feel her fingers play with the backside of your shirt - this is your signal that she is no longer asleep. Neither of you made a move to untangle yourselves from the other and that was when you knew that the feelings you were pushing down for your best friend might be reciprocated and that alone was enough to hold her even tighter.

Later that night you took your new car and went to get ice cream. You both sat there for hours talking and laughing. That night held your first kiss with Caitlin. It was in the parking lot of your local grocery store, a pint of ice cream in the center console. It was nothing crazy but as you drove back home with her hand in your hand, neither of you could wipe the smile off of your face.

You are brought back to reality when your friend nudged you for the tickets as you were next to get them scanned. While you didn't have to worry about the drive, you were tasked with getting the tickets. Grabbing your phone, you open up your tickets for the guy to scan. As you all pass through security at Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse, you make your way to your seats before braving the sea of spectators to grab yourself some food and a drink (there was no way you were getting through this whole event without a drink by your side).

The usher directed you to where your seats were and you were insanely grateful that you were the one to choose where you all sat. You choose the same section you always supported Caitlin in your senior year of high school...

It was the championship game junior year of high school and you were in the starting lineup. The game was going to be a tough one but you had no doubt in your mind that it wasn't yours for the taking. Everything was perfect. You were already talking to a couple schools to play in college. Caitlin and you had been dating for a few months and you were going to ask her to be your girlfriend your next lazy day which so happened to be tomorrow. Everything seemed it was going your way.

The seconds were counting down in the second quarter and the score was 38-38. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you were not going into halftime tied. You were passed the ball as the seconds ticked away. The other team had just scored, which gave your team possession with just enough time to make something happen. As you made your way down the court you scoped out the scene in front of you. The other team was doing everything in their power to avoid yours from scoring.

Your first vision played out was getting the ball to Caitlin, knowing she could make it happen but the girl defending her was doing a damn good job of keeping her just out of reach. You then scanned to my other teammate Jada who you knew was great at getting the ball where it needed to go in the nick of time. As you were about to pass it her way you took one final look at the clock and realized that time was just about out. You made the decision to take it up the middle, faking the defender that was covering you and going for a quick layup on the left side. As your last foot left the ground, before you knew it you were back against the ground with a pulsing head and pain shooting everywhere.

You don't dare move, you have no idea what just happened. There is a ringing in both of your ears and your vision is blurry and the pain - the pain has your body shutting down to protect itself. Your eyes start to close slowly as you faintly feel someone grab your arm as someone appears in your sight. It takes you a second to realize it is Caitlin - you give a small smile. Then everything goes black.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. That is the first thing you hear as you start to regain consciousness. Confusion hits almost immediately as the last thing you remember is getting ready to play the championship game. You begin to wiggle your fingers and they feel sore, now that you start to feel more - everything is sore.

Before you decide to open your eyes you try to take a deep breath. Yet another thing that is painful to do. You decide you need to open your eyes to figure out where you are and what has happened. As your eyes open, it takes a few blinks to get a clear picture of what is in front of you. You are in the hospital, in a hospital bed. The sun is shining in through the window and you start to look around to see if you can find any clues as to what has happened. There are no casts or bandages that you can see but when you make a minor move in the bed it felt like you got hit by a truck.

Your mom was in the room reading a book. When you began to move, you let out a groan which caused her to look up and quickly make her way to your side. As she gets to your bedside, your dad makes his way through the doorway.

"Baby girl, oh baby girl," your mom begins as she gives you a hug which really only causes more pain to shoot around your body but you weren't going to push her away. Your dad comes and sits on your other side and takes hold of your hand.

"Hi sweetie," your dad says. You look up at him and with your eyes try and get him to explain what had happened, knowing your mom wasn't in a state to do so.

"You were taken out seconds before the halftime buzzer went off," he began. Your eyes lay intently on him. He takes a moment before continuing. "You were going for a layup to put your team ahead going into halftime and a girl from the other team misjudged your movement and body slammed you causing you to go head-first into the ground."

It then all started coming back to you, the pain that shot straight to your head and trying to not pass out. You let go of his hand and start to feel around your head. It had a wrap around it which you didn't even think about when you were making your first assessment of what had happened. Your dad continued.

"You were rushed to the hospital due to your ears bleeding and you not waking up. The doctors determined you had a skull fracture and took you to an emergency surgery. Everything went smoothly and you are recovering well," your father says with sad eyes. If there is anything you know about your dad it is that he shares your dream of going to a D1 school to play basketball in college. The way he was looking at you right now, you immediately knew that even though the surgery went well, everything you had hoped and dreamed about was all about to change.

You continued to listen to how your parents were so happy you were alive and okay and that you should make a full recovery - even though you knew deep down that it truly wouldn't be full. You had learned that it has been almost 2 days since the game. Your parents step out of the room to give you some time to rest - even though you couldn't look at a screen that just left you sitting there with life-changing news. You looked around to see if you could find your phone to text or call Caitlin when she made her way through the door.

She looks just as beat up as you feel. As she walks up to you, she avoids eye contact which you so desperately wanted. Without saying a word, she comes up to your bedside and slowly makes her way into the hospital bed with you. You lift your arm and allow her to curl up by your side. A deep breath finally escapes your body and as you exhale you can feel her body release silent sobs.

All you can do is rub her back. Lying there with her has jogged your memory that she was the last face you saw before you blacked out on the court. Knowing her, these past two days were probably a living hell. You muster up all the strength you have to lean down and kiss the top of her head.

Not many people knew about your relationship. It was really only family and your coaches. Being on the same team, you both decided it would be best to keep your relationship between the two of you. It was a challenge at times but everyone knew the two of you were best friends so there were a lot of things that you did that people wouldn't look twice at.

One thing about Caitlin was that certain things were enhanced when you two started dating. Most of the things didn't affect your day-to-day like the amount of sweatshirts she stole doubled (which didn't bother you as you would just steal hers to replace the ones she had taken, it got to the point where it started a playful argument over a sweatshirt that she swore was here but was actually originally yours). Another that affected her more than either of us really realized was how protective she had become.

You first realized this when you got fouled at practice and Caitlin got all up into her space yelling at her. You had to grab her and pull her away which then led your coach to call for everyone to do suicide sprints. You don't even want to think about the girl who fouled you in the game and caused you to be hospitalized.

"Hey you," you say as it had sort of become your way of saying 'hey babe' without the world knowing. You feel her shift in your arms as she brings her hand up to wipe away her tears.

"You scared me," is all she says before letting out a few more silent sobs. You continue to rub her back and give her shoulder a little squeeze.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," you respond with a laugh. The laugh hurts but decide to keep quite about your pain, only quiet to Caitlin, never your doctors.

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled up on the hospital bed. When the sun starts to go down you tell Caitlin she should head home to get some rest. She protests, of course, but ultimately folds to your request. She comes over and gives you a quick pack which leaves you unsatisfied. You grab her hand and pull her back to give her a proper kiss. As your lips part you mumble a breathy 'I love you'. It was the first time it had been said between the two of you in a manner that wasn't referring to your friendship. The smile that spread across her face lifted your soul.

"I love you," she replies as she leans down pressing her lips against yours. "Well not I REALLY don't want to go," she says with a laugh.

"One night won't hurt anyone - also you need a shower," you say making a face to try and sell the fact that you just called your girlfriend smelly. She scoffs and waves you off.

Following getting out of the hospital, it was a hard reality to face that you weren't going to be able to play ball for a long while. The journey ahead was a long one and you couldn't be more thankful that Caitlin was right by your side.

Two of your friends were coming back with beers when you snapped back to where you were. It was just about time for the athletes to come out and begin their warm-ups. Your heart began to race as you heard the announcer call the teams out.

As both teams make their way onto the floor, your eyes scan for her. As much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help yourself. It took about a whole 5 seconds to find her. Your heart stops and it feels like time slows as you see her running out and making her way to warm up. The first thing you notice is how even after four years, she starts warming up from the same spot. She is on the opposite side of the court facing where you are sitting getting ready to start her pregame ritual. You then notice, how her upper body has filled out a little more as she has matured and increased her strength training. Her hair is in a neatly pulled-back pony with a headband to catch her flyaways. She was as cool as a cucumber.

There were so many things that amazed you about Caitlin but one of the biggest ones was how calm she was before a game. Especially a game like today.

She was completely mesmerizing. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that she was living her dream. You watched her as she continued to warm up and couldn't wait to cheer her on.

The seats you had chosen were right across from Iowa's bench. every game you watched your senior year of high school was from this exact location.

As the warm-ups come to an end and they are just about to announce the starting lineup, your heartbeat begins to quicken...

Going into senior year, your relationship with Caitlin was better than ever. It was a tough journey to come to face the fact that you weren't going to play ball your senior year but you put all that extra energy into loving and supporting Caitlin. You still went to practice and your coach sort of brought you on as an assistant coach. It was great still being a part of the team.

You decided to play the role of the supportive girlfriend during games rather than sitting on the bench with the other players and coaches. It wasn't that you couldn't sit on the bench, rather it came from knowing how competitive Caitlin gets. She didn't need another person telling her how things could have been different or better, she needed someone who was going to cheer her on no matter what and get her out of her head when she got tunnel vision. She was the hardest person on herself.

Before every game when they called her name in the lineup as starting point guard and she made her way down the line of girls she got to the end and pointed to you with a smile. Then at the end of every game, you would wait down the hall of the girls' locker room and greet her when the team got out of their post-game meeting. It became your guys' things.

You weren't expecting it. It didn't even occur to you but when they announce her name and she makes her way down the court and at the end of the line she points directly in your direction and smiles. Your heart stops and she stops in her tracks, her smile dropping immediately. She does a double-take and just stares at you for a second. A small smile starts to creep onto your face and her eyes are on yours. You give her a little nod and she finally breaks away shaking her head with a smile growing on her face. She joins her team for their first huddle of the game.

Your heart feels like it is beating out of its chest. You had imagined it a thousand times since your friends mentioned wanting to go to the championship game. It was the reason you chose these seats. Even in all of the fantasizing about seeing her - you didn't imagine it to actually happen. There were thousands of people in this arena and her eyes found yours.

As the team is in their huddle, she stands up and looks back over at you. A smile now playing on her lips in full view as she can't stop glancing over to the familiar spot.

You want to go down to her and tell her to focus on her coach. Her head needs to be in this game and not turning to look up at you. Although the frequency of her looks brings butterflies to your stomach with every glance.

Once they break, the game begins and you can see Caitlin lock into the game. You cheer with all the other fans as the final game of her college career is underway.

The game is a complete nail-biter. There were times when Caitlin absolutely was killing the game, shooting her signature threes and playmaking. At other times, she let the ball slip and you knew that she would hold onto that but never let anyone see how much it truly affected her. She was really good at shaking off her mistakes in the eyes of others but you knew her too well.

As the game begins to come to an end and you can see the victory slip away from Iowa, your eyes focus on your girl. She is staying composed but you know she is feeling it. In the final minute of the game, Caitlin makes her way to the bench, hugging each one of her coaches then takes a seat with a blank stare.

Your eyes try to stay away from her but she naturally draws your attention. In the final seconds of the game, as South Carolina begins to celebrate Caitlin's eyes make their way to yours. You only hold them for a second but that was all you needed to know she was hurting.

The game ends and you see the team head into the locker rooms. Your friends decide to head to the floor to see if they can talk to any of the players (more like the player's brothers), You use this time to sneak away and try to find the Iowa locker room. You know there is no way they would let you in but you start sweet-talking the security guard. In less than 2 minutes, you were pacing in the same spot you would always wait for Caitlin after a game. As you wait for her, your nerves pick up as your mind continues to take you down memory lane...

You and Caitlin had just graduated high school and you were celebrating in your favorite fashion, with her curled up in your side. The plans the two of you had for the summer were laid out on the floor next to you. It was going to be the best summer and indeed it was until it wasn't.

It was a few days before Caitlin needed to head off for off-season training at the University of Iowa. You were hanging out at her house in her gym. You both had been avoiding the elephant in the room.

It was a conversation you both knew you needed but didn't want to have. You knew that Caitlin's only commitment was to play D1 ball which was once your dream too. You also know to do that, she couldn't have anything holding her back.

The two of you finish some conditioning which leaves you both panting and sitting on the floor.

"As much as I love you, I hate doing cardio," you say in between breaths.

"Ya well, my favorite form of cardio involves a lot less running and a lot more of you..." she says with a smile. "Caitlin!" You gasp and push her over as she bursts out laughing.

You let out a few laughs yourself but then hear her quiet down. Looking over at her, you see her whole mood shifts. She comes in and hugs your torso, burying her face in you. You scoot closer to hold her, knowing what is about to come next. It feels like hours pass before you decide to speak.

"Caitlin, you know I love you. And I want the world for you. You are and will always be my best friend," you say rubbing her back. She squeezes you even more. "We both know where your head needs to be when you head to training. You will always be my person but in this next season you need to be your teams' person."

Silence fills the space again. Your eyes begin to fill with tears and you swallow the sobs that taunt your lips. Then she finally speaks.

"You are my person," she says just above a whisper, you almost miss it.

"This doesn't mean I will stop being your person. Like I said, I will always be your person. We both knew this was coming and we have done a really good job of putting it off," you try to lighten the mood. She doesn't budge.

She lets go of you and sits up. You wipe away her tears. They just keep falling.

"I just don't like the idea of losing you," she says as she starts playing with a piece of your hair. "You aren't losing me, babe," you reply but both of you knew that wasn't true.

"This was always the plan," you start. "And I will always be cheering you on," you say with the best smile you could muster. No matter how much it would hurt you would support her until your last breath.

"So that means you will be at the championship game when I take Iowa to the NCAA championship?" her question lightening the mood.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," you say as you give her one last kiss.

You are pulled back to reality when you hear some of the players head out. Caitlin was typically the last one out of the lockers and with the way you knew she was feeling it was going to be a minute.

It is about another 15 minutes of you pacing in the hallway for the door to open again. Your head whips around to see her coming out. She looks completely defeated. She would never show this side of her to the press.

As you turn to face her, she looks up. You say the only thing that felt right.

"Hey, you."

She immediately makes her way to you. Your arms wrap around her as her head buries its way into your neck. Despite her being taller, Caitlin loved to be held as if she was the shorter one. Your heels were definitely helping.

"I really wanted that," she mumbles into you after a few moments. You rub her back like you always used to. "I know...I know."

"Your legacy is so much more than that one game and I am so beyond proud of everything you have accomplished," you begin. "And with that, I know this was one of your dreams." Caitlin stays quiet and sinks into being held by you.

The two of you finally break apart, her hand doesn't leave your arm and you can't complain. You missed her touch so much. You missed her. She keeps rubbing your arm and you feel like you will melt.

"I have to head into a press meeting, but can we catch up later? Are you staying in town?" Caitlin asks.

"I came into town with some friends, we are staying at a hotel a few blocks away. Call me when you are done with press?" You reply hopeful.

"I'll call you the second I am out," she ways with a smile. Oh how you missed that smile.

You head back to the hotel you are staying at to change into something a little more casual. Your friends checked in and told you they were going out to a bar and wanted you to meet up with them. You let them know you were catching up with an old friend and that they shouldn't wait up for you. You get ready to meet up with Caitlin - changing your shirt and shoes into something more comfortable, keeping the jeans you wore to the game. Right after you finish changing your phone begins to ring.

"Hey you," you answer as you begin to gather a few things in your purse.

"Hey babe," Caitlin responds causing your cheeks to blush and your stomach to fly. A smile is plastered on your face. "I am out of press and am going to head to my hotel, would you be up for meeting me there?"

"Of course, just shoot over the address and I will head that way," you say as your phone pings. She was already sending it as you asked.

"I will see you in a few," she says before you both hang up.

You make your way to her hotel which is surprisingly only a 10-minute walk. You follow her directions on how to get up to her room and knock on the door. The nerves begin to build up and you feel like you are back in high school. Your hands make their way to rub against your jeans, a familiar place for them today.

Caitlin opens the door with a huge smile on her face as she moves away to let you in. "I thought it would be better to meet here, a little more privacy," she says as she closes the door.

The two of you spend the next 4 hours catching up on life and how college has been. She talks about all the records she has broken and how she can finally start looking at what comes after college ball. She talks about her family and how much they miss you. You follow her by also mentioning how your parents are so proud of her and miss her as well. You continue by talking about how you are going full-time with the company you are working for post-graduation. You talk about all the traveling you have been able to do and she gets to pitch in with the travels that she has done. It was like no time as passed, I mean above all you were best friends.

As the conversation begins to die down you realize how close the two of you became. You are sitting on a couch with your legs hanging over her lap and her hands on your knee.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes and take in the moment. You feel her hand begin to make its way to your thigh.

"Seeing you in the crowd today was something else," Caitlin begins. You cut her off, "Well I made a promise once to be there if a certain someone that if they made it to the championship, I would be there."

"If???" Caitlin yells with a fake offended tone and slaps your knee. You let out a little yelp, "Okay, okay, when." Your eyes roll as she starts to draw patterns on your leg.

After another long pause, Caitlin speaks again.

"I think we made a mistake," she says not daring to look you in the eye.

If you were going to be honest, you never wanted to end things when you went to college but you weren't going to make things harder than they had to be. Long distance wouldn't have worked for the two of you. You would have managed but with her schedule and yours, it would have done more damage than good. So you didn't fight her but there were numerous times that you wish would would have fought for her on ending things.

"I think I made a mistake," she continues as she finally looks up at you. You take her hands in yours and reply, "It was the right decision at the time. We didn't know better, we were young."

You continue. "But that was then and here we are now," touching her arm and giving it a little squeeze. After seeing her and how she has filled out, you have been waiting to get your hands on her arms. "And we are both about to graduate and my plan was to come back to Iowa..."

"There is no one like you," she says as she leans closer to you. You let out a little laugh.

"No Caitlin, there is no one like you," you say as your hand comes up to cup her face. You both smile as your lips meet. It is like no time has passed, her lips are still so familiar.

After a few more kisses, you both moved to the bed. She curled up into your side and your arms made their around her. You are her home and she is yours.

"I love you," you whispered as you kissed her head.

"And I love you," she responds as you both drift to sleep, more at peace than either of you have felt over the past four years.

AN: TADA! Let me know your thoughts! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

Now go check out PART 2!

#caitlin clark #cc #caitlin clark x reader #iowa hawkeyes #caitlin clark imagine #iowa wbb

[blondedmuse]

OUT OF THE WOODS

finnick odair x reader

synopsis. ꩜ you and finnick get separated during the quarter-quell, but you always manage to find your way back to each other.

author's note. ∿  i've wanted to write for finnick for like ever so. also angst and fluff

word count. ⨾ 1.9k

The sky was a grim obsidian, your muscles were aching, and your eyelids were listless, ready to close for good at any given moment. You, Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta had been trekking the jungle terrain of the arena for hours and it proved itself to be nothing less than grueling. You'd been on edge ever since the moment you stepped on the podium and even more once the countdown had ended and the game had begun. It hadn't helped your fear when Peeta had almost died, twice, before nightfall—it was a wonder he was still alive.

Now, hours later, you're still on edge and waiting for what the game makers were ready to throw at you. The group had just been gifted a spile for water and settled somewhere to sleep for the night, but you were still wide awake. Even though the water had pacified your thirst, nothing could pacify your fear.

"I think you should get some rest," Finnick said, coming up from behind and sitting on a rock next to you. You only shook your head at his suggestion and you saw his expression soften. It wasn’t easy, but he could read you like a book. It didn’t have to slap him in the face to know you were more than exhausted. You were afraid, angry, but above all else you were sad.

Finnick hated seeing you like this, especially because being your mentor, he knew the effect your first game had on you—and it felt like he was watching it happen all over again.

"Y/N."

"Finnick," You replied.

"Rest," He said seriously, but his voice was gentle. You looked into his eyes and they were begging for you to give into his request.

"Fine," You sighed. "Just...be alert, please."

He nodded his head with a sympathetic smile. "Always."

You got up from the rock and Finnick's sweet, saccharine smile lingered on his lips while you laid yourself down on a large leaf to sleep on, covering the ground.

You kept yourself close to the group, but just distanced enough where you could sleep undisturbed. It didn't take much for you to drift off, despite the pounding sound throughout the arena. You acknowledged it and heard Katniss mumble something about twelve, but after that your mind went blank, falling asleep.

Only an hour or two later were you woken up a second time by the sounds of screams—Katniss' screams. Your body jolted awake and the next thing you know you were on your feet and grabbing your harpoon, running from the poisonous fog swiftly heading your way.

The cloud had slithered its way between you and the rest of the group, who you were now losing sight of. You heard Finnick call your name and you were about to call out back to him, but you were cut off by your own scream caused by searing pain.

Finnick heard your cries and urgently called your name again but Katniss continued to usher him and Peeta in the other direction before they too could be consumed by the cloud.

The fog had only reached the heel of your foot and yet the burn was almost unbearable. It sent you stumbling forward, rolling on the ground, landing by a small creek. It didn't take much for the fog to catch up to you, consuming the lower half of your body. The agony kicked your senses into high gear and you knew you had to keep moving. You did what you could, dragging yourself towards the stream.

When your skin touched the water it was almost as if you were going up in flames. The pain heightened tenfold and all you could do was close your eyes and scream in anguish. But it only lasted for so long until you noticed its disappearance.

Once your eyes flickered open you saw the water clearing your wounds and an invisible forcefield that redirected the cloud around you. You were still alive. You were still in the game. The moment the cannon went off you could only pray that Finnick and the others were too.

Finnick's heart sank. "That couldn't have been her," He mumbled, his voice wavering and Peeta looked at him nervously.

"I mean I don't know." He shrugged. "We saw her and then we didn't."

"It could've been another tribute," Finnick reasoned while the sharp pain in his throat anticipated the welling of tears in his eyes. He really does believe the cannon signaled the death of another tribute, that you wouldn't give up so easily—not without a fight. But he also didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, because then he wouldn't know whether or not he'd be able to keep going.

"It had to be a coincide-" Finnick started again, only to be cut off by Katniss.

"Finnick, grab your trident slowly," She said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes shifting between Finnick and the monkey mutation stalking behind him.

You'd been laying in the creek for about what you thought was around a little less than an hour, resting your body and catching your breath. It was pure luck a tribute hadn't stumbled over you and you weren't going to let it happen now.

You hauled yourself up from the ground, grabbed your harpoon, and continued moving through the arena. If something hadn't killed you while you were motionless on the ground, then the game makers were going to send something your way to try and make sure you wouldn't be alive for much longer. And they did.

Seconds after you grabbed your harpoon, you noticed an animal in the distance blocking your way to the beach—and it was heading your way. You started traveling parallel to the shore, running as fast as you could but you only got so far until your feet came to a halt, another one in your way. You could see now that it wasn't just an animal but a monkey. A big, monstrous, mutated, monkey.

You were quick to stab it right through the heart, its body collapsing to the ground. However, that was only the first of many. The monkeys began appearing left and right, and while it was easy, you could only kill so many before they would start to fight back. One clawed at your side and you felt your flesh split open, your side warming with the blood of an open wound. You needed to run.

Your means of escape to the beach were gone so you kept moving parallel to shore once you cleared a way for yourself. While running you tried to recall what exactly Katniss said. "I counted 12...like midnight?"

It didn't take you long before you put the pieces together. The arena was like a clock, or at least followed a measured unit of time. You remembered the sound of loud thuds, pangs, similar to a clock when the hour hand strikes twelve. The fog was about an hour and you had been lying on the ground for maybe forty-five minutes after that. All you were sure of was that if you were right, this sudden wave of monkeys couldn't last for much longer.

With a hand on your wound, you ran until your legs grew tired, and then you ran some more. They eventually stopped chasing after you and stopped appearing altogether. You'd admit it was strange, but it didn't matter now that they were gone. Still, you kept running. You kept running because you heard a voice. Finnick's voice.

"Katniss!" Finnick yelled, chasing after the frantic girl on fire. "Katniss?"

She ran steadfast into the jungle, chasing the voice of her sister, Prim. She repeated her name over and over again as if she would be able to find her in the arena, but all she saw were squawking birds. She furrowed her brows. Jabberjays.

"Katniss, are you okay?" Finnick asked, finally catching up to her.

"Yeah, I just...thought I heard my sister," she explained and Finnick nodded, slightly distracted.

"Do you hear that?" He asked. "It sounds like...Y/N?"

Katniss' eyes widened and Finnick was already on the move, sprinting towards what he thought was your voice.

"Finnick! No! They're just-"

Jabberjays.

You hadn't heard Finnick's voice at all, only the mocking voice of mutated birds. Birds that were swarming you overhead, garbling your name in his voice and mimicking his cries. The sound of his pained voice was tormenting on its own, but it was even worse when the birds started swooping towards you.

You tried to run but you hit an invisible forcefield, not to your convenience this time. You didn't know what to do so you covered your ears and dropped to the jungle floor. You could still hear his cries, cutting deep into your heart. And you could only wait until the torture was over.

Eventually, enough time had passed and the harrowing voices of the birds subsided. Despite your body's objection, you got up from the ground and stood on your feet. You were depleted of any energy and emotion, and with every cannon that went of you grew a little sicker at the fact that it might've been Finnick. Still, you were determined to reach the beach. If you hadn't found your allies by then, you'd at least hope to catch some fish.

You trudged your way through the shrubs and trees of the terrain, holding your wound tighter as the pain became more prevalent. Regardless, you were still on edge. You had to be. Every rustle, every noise made you ask yourself, Am I in the clear? The answer never unwavered as no until you locked eyes with the man you'd been longing to find. He's with Katniss, Peeta, and a few other tributes you're friendly with, but they couldn't have mattered less at the moment.

"Y/N," Finnick rasped and rushed towards you, your bodies crashing into one another as he pulled you into his embrace.

"Thank god you're alive," He whispered while his tears soaked your shoulder and relief coasted through you like a wave crashing into the shore. You may not've been safe, but he made the monsters feel like trees.

"I'm okay," You murmured and he hugged you harder, his arms enveloping your waist.

"Didn't think I'd die on you, did you?" You joked as he pulled his head back for a moment admiring the face of his lover in front of him. It was as if he was trying to memorize you by detail, every scar, every beauty mark, and the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled at him because the fear of losing you at any given moment had become a reality. And that fear increased once he felt your blood on his hands.

He furrowed his brows. "You're bleeding."

"I know."

"Can I?" He asked and you nodded, knowing exactly what his intentions were. He ripped off one of your sleeves, tying it around your waist and you winced quietly, but of course, he heard it.

"I know," He whispered, consoling you as he pulled the sleeve tight. He wiped the grimace off your face with a kiss, one that carried a volume of passion that transcended the work of the greatest poets combined.

"Never do that again," He mumbled and his tone was lighthearted but you know he meant it.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He smiled. "Now let's get out of the woods."

#finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #the hunger games #catching fire #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

6: The Peacekeeper (series masterlist)

summary: Coriolanus Snow is sent of to District Twelve to become a peacekeeper and memories of you and him come up too often in his daily life there, not to mention the news he finds out about you.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: mentions of cheating, fluff, angst, suicidal thoughts, death, hanging, gun shooting, wrongful executions, drinking, implied sex, coriolanus is a manipulator, heavy screaming, backstabbing, uses of Y/N, italics are flashbacks/memories, bold italics are coriolanus’ thoughts (let me know if i missed any.)

word count: 6.9k

a/n: so, almost 7k words is insane for one chapter, but i wanted coriolanus as a peacekeeper to be completely done in one because the main focus for this was definitely being at the Capitol. the next chapter is reader’s POV during this time

Coriolanus Snow was caught cheating by Dean Highbottom. Of course, there were repercussions.

Coriolanus Snow was sent as a Peacekeeper for the Districts. It didn’t matter which District he was sent to, as long as he managed to claw his way to the top of the rankings to get back to the Capitol as soon as possible. He left his family behind with nothing. He lost his favorite person by violating your trust. He lost the opportunity to give the Snow name a meaning again.

He lost everything.

From celebrating the winnings to getting sent to District Twelve played a dangerous shift to his emotions, and it didn’t help that the silver necklace hidden underneath his layer shirts felt hot and heavy.

“Stop fidgeting.” Coriolanus wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple. “It’s not going to make it any better.”

You huff, dropping your hand from your necklace, and tilt your head to face him. “Coryo, this is the only class I don’t feel confident in. I need to study.”

“You’ve studied for over three hours straight.” He took a seat in the chair next to you. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“I would be if you were here to help me study.” You look back at your textbook then your notes, tapping your pen onto your hand. “You were supposed to meet me here.”

“I know, but Demigloss had questions about the report I turned in.” He set his hand over yours, stopping the taps. “You’ll be fine.”

A beat passes.

“Quiz me.” You hand him the notes, taking him by surprise. “If I can get all the questions you ask me correctly, I’ll stop studying.”

“Fine.” He shuffled through your index cards. “What type of government did Panem have before the First Rebellion occurred, resulting in the change of government?”

You stared at him and creased your brows, “We learned that in the eighth grade. I’m pretty sure those aren’t even in my—“

“Answer the question.” Coriolanus cut you off.

“Totalitarian dictatorship.” You tangle your fingers into your necklace again, confused at his question. “Alright, give me one of the cards.”

“Sorry, that was all the questions.” He tucked the index card into the inside pocket of his jacket and gave you a smile. One that you did not return. He stood from his seat and left his hand out for you to take. “Let’s go.”

“Coryo.” You deadpan. “I have to study.”

Coriolanus leaned down, pecking your lips. “You answered the questions I asked you correctly.”

You roll your eyes with zero malice, biting back a smile at your boyfriend’s actions. “You are horrible, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached one hand up to stop your fidgeting and the other to your chin. “I’m bad news.”

A voice behind Coriolanus interrupted his thoughts, making him stand at the familiar one. “You know, I thought I might find you here sitting all by yourself.”

Coriolanus gave him a surprised look, “Sejanus, what are you doing—?”

“What do you think? For what I did in the arena?” Sejanus shoved his bag down into a seat. “My father had to buy the Academy a brand new gym just so I could get my diploma.”

Coriolanus watched him make his way over to where he currently resided, watching with piqued interest.

“They begged me to stay, but once I found out where they were sending you,” He blew out a small chuckle, crossing over to the seat across from the blond. “I couldn’t get out fast enough. Barely made the train because of this stupid knee, but it’s okay.” Sejanus rubbed his knee as he took a seat, glancing outside the window. “They gave me morphine for the pain.”

Coriolanus looked at him with astonishment, albeit confused at the willingness of the boy. “You volunteered for this.” He replied, almost sounding like a question.

“Figured I get through basic, then maybe I become a medic. Make a real difference out here. Just like you said.” Sejanus gave a weak smile before regarding the bigger issue at hand. “They never told us what you did.”

“I cheated.” He shifted his gaze from the window toward the Plinth, subconsciously reaching out for the necklace but quickly stopped. “I had to save Lucy Gray from the snakes to win.”

Sejanus nodded solemnly, “I’m assuming you told your family and Y/N what happened? Why you’re being sent off to the Districts?”

Coriolanus frowned at the mention of you, clearing his throat. “I told Tigris, and Y/N knew. She uh,” He placed his thumb on his wrist. “Her and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Really? Because you got sent out as a peacekeeper?”

He shifted in his seat, annoyance spreading through his chest. “No, she just thought it was for the best. After all, I did cheat.”

“Coryo…” He shook his head, watching the landscape change.

“You know when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.” Coriolanus looked down at his hands. The gesture he had done for you to calm down wasn’t the same for him.

Sejanus looked back at the young Snow, “When we were about to be free? When the girl you risked everything for might be waiting for you when you get back?”

This time, Coriolanus scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in twenty years. She’ll be married off to someone else by then.”

Upon their arrival to District Twelve, Coriolanus watched the grime and coal dust stick to the train as he and Sejanus stepped off. There were people dressed in the same uniforms covered in black soot, crossing the station with trolleys.

Coriolanus held back a scoff as he followed Sejanus, along with the other peacekeeper recruits, to their ride taking them to the barracks. Of course, he was sent to the worst District, and as far away from the Capitol as possible. The place was filled with those who thought lowly of the Capitol elites, and here he was among them, one of the District locals.

With you out of the picture and his family at home, the best thing he had for comfort was your necklace, still hidden underneath his layers. It sat high on his collarbone, the weight reminding him of what he had done to be here in the Districts.

“Welcome to Twelve.” Commander Hoff spoke toward the lined-up peacekeepers. “We are proud to have every one of you serving your country out here. For the next twenty years, brothers and sisters in your immediate squad will become your family. You will train together, sleep together, eat together. You will rise together, and you will fall together.” His voice echoed across the vast room, each recruited peacekeeper stoic. “You will be our eyes and ears out here on my base, as well as off of it. And it will be your duty to report anything suspicious you see because if you do not, you are as good as a rebel yourself.”

A few days passed for Coriolanus’s first days of peacekeeping, and there was already a hanging to be done to a man named Arlo Chance.

“Last month, a peacekeeper and two mine bosses were shot dead in the pits.” Commander Hoff shouted over the formed crowd of District Twelve people. “We retrieved the murder weapon. We swabbed it for DNA. And the results…“

Coriolanus focused on his breathing and adjusted his hold to his rifle, blocking out the rest of his Commander’s words. He glanced toward Sejanus, watching his face contort into discomfort before screaming could be heard coming from the crowd, causing both their heads to snap up at the sound.

“He’s innocent! He’s innocent!”A woman screamed from the top of her lungs, others immediately coming over to pull her back.

The man being hung stared in horror, screaming for her to leave. “Run, Lil, run!”

Coriolanus looked back at the man when another peacekeeper pulled the lever, hanging Arlo Chance before he could get any other word out. He flinched as the body dropped and how the jabber jays repeated the last words.

Quickly, peacekeepers came to pull the woman away, causing Sejanus to step forward. Coriolanus pulled him back and stared in disbelief before staring up at the jabber jays once more, taking heavy breaths.

As the day progressed, Coriolanus knew something was wrong with Sejanus, especially the way he would stand and listen to the yelling coming from the cell the woman was kept in.

“What were you thinking back there?” Coriolanus spoke calmly, holding onto his own helmet.

“She didn’t do anything, Coryo. What is she guilty of?”

“Being directly associated with rebels.” He shook his head, looking at the Plinth. “What more do they need?”

“If she had gotten through that crowd… I don’t think I would have been able to shoot her.” Sejanus stayed staring at the brick wall. “Would you?”

Coriolanus creased his brows at him, “You need to find a way to make peace with our life here now. Or have your father buy you a discharge and do something else.”

“You haven’t made peace with your life here.” Sejanus finally looked over, meeting Coriolanus’ icy stare. “Every night at our lockers, I see you mess with Y/N’s necklace.”

“Sejanus—“

“You think I don't realize the small things, but I do.” Sejanus looked up, shutting his eyes for a split second. “I know you miss her, Coryo.”

“Hey! Hoff’s given us all leave passes for the weekend.” A peacekeeper shouted from the side, waving the paper at them. “Boost morale.”

“Boost morale.” Sejanus raised his brows, stepping away from Coriolanus.

The blond watched him leave before looking back at the cell and reaching to grab the necklace hidden underneath his peacekeeper suit.

Coriolanus and Sejanus were at the front of their group of peacekeepers, now changed out of their service uniforms into a more lenient uniform. They were heading to the Hob as the live music echoed from the place, loads of people packed inside with drinks.

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna go get a drink.” Sejanus moves past Coriolanus, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He simply hummed, leaning against a brick wall near the entrance. He shifted his gaze around the room, looking at the different people inside the Hob, not realizing who was about to go on stage.

“Is it hot in here?” A young girl spoke loudly into the microphone, getting a unanimous reply from the crowd. “‘Cause we’re plannin’ on heating it up a set more!”

Coriolanus chuckles at the young girl’s stage presence before she announces the special guest.

“The one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!” She points her hands over to stage right, her cousin twirling onto the stage with a guitar.

“Well, hey there, District Twelve, did you miss me?” The crowd roars with an answer, making Lucy Gray’s smile widen. “I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And, let me tell you, that goes both ways. But I am back. I sure am back!”

Without fail, Coriolanus reached for the necklace under his dog tags, twirling the silver charm between his pointer and thumb as Lucy Gray started her song after a swig of alcohol to clear her throat.

“Can’t take my past…”

While she sang, Coriolanus flickered his eyes down to the charm, clutching it in his palm.

“That’s enough for you.” Coriolanus pulled the flask of posca away from you, taking a swig himself. “You’re drinking this like it’s water, baby.”

You hum at the name, yet shift from your spot on your bed, pressing yourself closer to him. “It’s only our second bottle.”

“Of posca, my love.” He kisses the top of your head before taking another drink.

“I want some.” You whine, reaching across his body for the glass bottle. “Coryo—“

“Sh, here.” He gave you the bottle, laughing a bit. “Don’t be too loud.”

“I thought you liked it—“

Coriolanus took hold of your thigh and squeezed, “Not the same thing.”

You take a sip — by sip, you swallow almost half of the bottle — of the burning alcohol before pouting at him. “It’s not?”

He smiled at you, kissing the corner of your lips. “No, two different things.”

“Oh.” You furrow your brows, hand finding the necklace.

Coriolanus pulled you by the hips, sliding you closer, and reached over to drink from the posca, hands restless over your skin.

“Wanna know something, Coryo?” You rest your chin on his shoulder blade, watching his head tilt down to meet your eyes.”

“What is it?” He mumbled, pulling you much closer to the point where your legs were tangled together and you were practically on top of him.

You let out a small hum at his action, still resting your head on his shoulder. “My mother used to sing me a song whenever I had to go to bed and I was too loud.”

“Really?” His glassy eyes looked around your face, hands trailing up and down your hip and abdomen. “What song might that be?”

You took one last swig and passed the bottle to Coriolanus who finished it off, placing it on your bedside table. Coriolanus placed a soft kiss on your lips, tasting the alcohol.

“I don’t know what it’s called, but if I had to give it a title, it would be called Invisible String.” You smile into the kiss, feeling one of his hands travel up to your neck.

He hummed, twirling the rose charm. “You have to sing it for me one day, beautiful.”

“Maybe.” You giggle, peppering his jaw in drunk kisses.

Coriolanus shakes his head at the memory, tucking the necklace back underneath his white shirt. That night ended with the both of you throwing up in your bathroom, with horrid hangovers in the morning.

He had a plan for his future. Many of which included you by his side. So having his head rerun a memory of you was not his idea of boosting morale, especially when Lucy Gray reminded him so much of what he had done to lose you.

The music suddenly came to a stop, pulling Coriolanus out of his head. He watched as a man came closer to Lucy Gray, tugging at her skirt.

Coriolanus weighed his options of getting caught in a fight or staying out, sadly, it was cut short when Sejanus came over to punch the guy harassing Lucy Gray.

“Shit.” He pushed past the people, pulling Sejanus away from the man. “Sejanus, stop!”

“No, Coryo, let go!” Sejanus tries leaving his hold. Lucy Gray watched Coriolanus pull his friend away, tilting her head at the brunet.

“What are you, crazy?” Coriolanus asks over the loud noises, pushing Sejanus toward the exit. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

“Coryo, you can’t just let her go through that after everything she’s been through!” Sejanus inhales sharply, spitting and grabbing his jaw. “Fuck.”

“Twice now that I’ve had to save your ass.” Coriolanus chuckles, patting his back.

Sejanus lets out a tired laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going?” Coriolanus let his eyes linger on his friend as he tried stepping away from him. “We’re supposed to ask around about the fight last night.”

“I know, but I just—“ He cut himself off, listening to the strumming of a guitar. “I just want to ask if Lucy Gray is alright.”

The blond raised a brow, “You want to make sure she’s alright?”

“Is that wrong?”

Coriolanus held the urge to roll his eyes, dropping his hand. “Whatever, just be quick. David and Moore will be doing rounds soon.”

He thought that Sejanus had gone insane. Hell, he thought he was insane ever since he met him, but it just seemed worse because he was placed in a District that wasn’t his home. Coriolanus’ eyes followed Sejanus as he trudged down the grassy hill. Coriolanus really didn’t get why Sejanus cared so much about a District girl who ruined his life. His life that he tried so hard to protect and build up. It didn’t matter much as he was called by one of the other peacekeepers in his group, saying he received a letter from someone.

Coriolanus thanked them and sat down outside the mailing station, peeling open the cream envelope.

‘Dear Coriolanus Snow,

I hope you’re doing well out in the Districts. Don’t worry too much about Grandma’am and I, we’re doing as well as we can. I’ve gotten a promotion at my job to make up for the rest of the rent for the month, but it might not be enough until you get back. Please take care of yourself out there and don’t do anything reckless for my sake, I want you back in one piece. I won’t make this long, but make sure to eat right over there and get enough sleep. Please write back soon!

From your favorite cousin,

Tigris Snow’

He let out a quiet chuckle, running his thumb across the cursive writing. He’d be back before his family could worry too much about him.

Coriolanus would make sure snow would land on top this time. No loose ends and no regrets.

Coriolanus held his own envelope as he made his way around District Twelve. He had forgotten about Sejanus and his antics with Lucy Gray until he saw him speaking with Billy Taupe, the man who harassed Lucy Gray at the Hob.

He watched as Billy and another man murmured words to Sejanus, taking their leave when they saw Coriolanus approaching.

“Hey—!”

“You’re back.” Coriolanus interrupted, tapping the envelope in his hands. “I figured you’d be a while.”

“What’s that in your hands—?”

The blond cut him off again, “Why were you with Billy Taupe? And who’s that other guy with him?”

“I remember that from the Academy. Watching you watch everyone. Carefully choosing when to weigh in.” Sejanus says with a calm demeanor.

“Are you trying to help these people?”

“Don’t you think they need help?”

“They lost the war, Sejanus.” Coriolanus shakes his head in disbelief, tucking the letter inside his uniform and reaching for the silver charm for the nth time since being drafted. “A war they started that made your family rich. I am not about to throw away any chance I might have of getting home someday and being with her just because you feel a bit guilty.”

Sejanus squints his eyes, jaw ticking. “Fine.”

Coriolanus didn’t have it in him to argue with Sejanus any longer, taking long strides to deliver his letter toward the mailing station.

“Coryo!” You call for your boyfriend from the bathroom, huffing in frustration. “Can you come here? I need help!”

Coriolanus sets down a book from your bookshelf, shuffling into your extensive closet connecting to your extensive bathroom. “What is it?”

You smile as he comes into view from your mirror, “Can you zip me? I can’t reach it.”

“Of course.” He runs his hand over your waist to the silver zipper, tugging it up with ease. “Happy?”

“Very.” You turn and bite your bottom lip, tugging him down by his black tie. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, tugging you close by your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “You look beautiful as always.”

You smile, twirling your finger around his tie. “Do we really have to go to Ravinstill’s gala?”

“Beautiful, I just zipped you up.” He chuckled at what you were insinuating, rubbing a thumb on your bottom lip as you pouted jokingly. “Plus, I think we should make an appearance. After all, it is the President’s son.”

“That’s too bad.” You sigh, letting go of him to check yourself in the mirror one last time, running your hands across your stomach and then down the back of your legs, checking for any imperfections in the dress that hugged you perfectly in all the right places. “We’re good to go, yes?”

Coriolanus gazed in places he shouldn’t have been staring at before snapping his eyes up to your teasing eyes through the mirror. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” You frown, your voice laced with amusement as you tilted your head. “I’m just fixing myself.”

He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other slid up your arm toward your jaw, turning it toward him. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” You scan his face then peering at his lips. “Maybe I don’t. I haven’t gotten what I wanted yet—“

Coriolanus pulled you into a fast, rough kiss, sliding his tongue inside as you let out a surprised noise. You simply returned the gesture, not wanting to ruin his hair or his perfectly pressed suit. He tapped your waist as a warning before pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

“Coryo—“ You pull away for a bit, staring up at him before he starts to kiss you again, cutting you off. You finally push away, holding his face in your hands. “Okay! I get it! Let’s go.”

“You’re fucking spoiled.” He kissed your temple. “Next time, wear a dress that doesn’t show everything.”

“Got it, wear a dress that shows everything.” You link your hands with him, watching him roll his eyes. “What? You love it.”

“I do.” He pulls you toward your vanity in your room, pulling the makeup wipes to wipe the lipstick smearing across and around his lips then pulling one out for you. “Open.”

You obliged, letting him wipe your lipstick off your lips and carefully around the side, not wanting to ruin the rest of it. “You’re lucky my father’s out on a business trip, or you wouldn’t be able to act like this at all.”

“I wouldn’t be allowed to step foot into the house, my love.” He took the lipstick from the set and carefully applied it to your lips. “Done.”

“Perfect.” You grin and grab your clutch. “I was thinking—“

“Don’t think you're getting off so easily from the antics you just pulled.” Coriolanus interrupted, making you raise a brow. “Just wait.”

You shook your head as you exited your room, not thinking much about his words until you were completely bent over the Ravinstill’s guest bathroom a few hours later, body flush against Coriolanus with his hand over your mouth, silencing any loud noises coming from you. The repeated shaking of your necklace was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Coriolanus blinked at the sudden memory, adjusting his uniform as he walked through District Twelve’s peacekeeper vicinity, nodding at the peacekeepers at the metal gate before getting stopped by them.

“Private Snow? Come with us.” A pair of peacekeepers pushed him around, making him confused at the sudden action.

As soon as Coriolanus learned where they were taking him, he walked at a steady pace, posture perfect as he entered Commander Hoff’s office. He saluted before he was given the command to be at ease, feet spread and back straight.

“Snow.” Hoff shuffled the papers on his desk, looking at the young male. “I received the results from your aptitude tests this morning. Looked over your training records too. Your performance is exemplary.”

Coriolanus gave a small grin without showing too much pride, looking around the commander’s desk. “Well, half the other recruits can’t read, sir.”

“You’re General Crassus Snow’s boy.” He clasped his hands together. “What did you do to end up here?”

I ruined a relationship. “I made an enemy, sir. In the Capitol.”

“I’ve made a career out of ruining my enemies’ plans. I’m gonna reassign you to officer training in District Two. You’ll earn a real wage. Maybe even another shot at the Capitol one day.” Hoff’s gravel voice echoed through his office. “Train leaves in ten days. Keep a clean record, you’ll never see anyone from District Twelve again. This is an honor, Private. Not an option.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Coriolanus collects the papers and cards from Commander Hoff, doing his best to hold back a smile.

Coriolanus left his commander’s office, heading toward the telephone booths to call Tigris about the promotion.

“Coryo?” Coriolanus heard through the static, messing with the dials.

“Tigris?” He leaned in, looking at the screen with his cousin slowly coming into focus.

“Coryo!” She smiled brightly, scanning his features.

Coriolanus let out a small, tired laugh, “Tigris.”

“Your curls!” She laughed softly, eyes squinting with glee.

“Yeah, I know.” He reached up to touch his buzz cut, laughing with her. “Where are you?”

“Coryo, we’re fine—“

“Tigris, where are you?” He tried peeking at her background.

She sighed, looking around before speaking again. “We had to move out. We’re renting this place just for right now.”

“They evicted you?” Coriolanus murmured, frowning at the words his cousin spoke.

“Listen, I’m fine. Grandma’am is fine. I really don’t want you to worry, okay?” She whispered, watching his emotions through the screen.

“I think I found a way out of here. I just have to make it through Officer Training in Two. And then I can make my way back to the Capitol. I will fix this.” He shook his head, doing his best to stay positive for her.

“Okay.” She smiled, opening her mouth to say something before another voice slowly came around from the kitchen, making Coriolanus flinch.

“Tigris? I need your help with something. I don’t think I made this the right way.” You frown at the mixing bowl in your arms, showing the older girl. Your eyes flickered up at her when she didn’t respond, catching her on the phone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—“

“It’s just Coryo.” Tigris did her best to cover both the screen and your body, knowing about the breakup between you two.

“I’m gonna be home soon. I promise.” Coriolanus held the charm in his finger for the umpteenth time, smile turned down at the sound of your voice.

Tigris let herself smile again, “Don’t give me hope.”

Just as she finished, the phone glitched and the screen became static, losing all connection with the Capitol. Coriolanus slammed his palm into the metal contraption, shoving the telephone into its slot.

Coriolanus, Sejanus, and the rest of their unit were assigned to recollect and check over the Jabberjays, then place them into a train car that would take them to the Capitol. However, Coriolanus thought it would be best to confront Sejanus about what he’s been doing while on his outings with Lucy Gray and conversations with those in jail cells.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, you need to stop it.”

“What are you—“

“Don’t.” Coriolanus shook his head, hands fisted on top of the table. “I saw you talking to that woman in the jail. If I don’t report you now…”

“You don’t know anything to report.” Sejanus lowers his voice, slowly setting down his clipboard.

“They know we’re friends, Sejanus. You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“You told me I could do something. You told me I could make a difference.”

Coriolanus pursed his lips together, looking away from Sejanus. He shook his head as he continued to speak, Sejanus’ voice getting louder by the second.

“Don’t. Stop Talking.” Coriolanus got closer but Sejanus kept him away. “I can’t hear this—!”

“Listen to me.” Sejanus pushed Coriolanus back to his side, watching a peacekeeper walk by before continuing.

He continued to talk about this ‘plan’ that Coriolanus had no intention of understanding. All Coriolanus knew was that he could get murdered for associating himself with someone working with rebels. Just to be safe, he took the remote for one of the jabber jays and hit record, finally putting Sejanus’ plan onto a database.

“I was just trying to save you the first time you did something stupid enough to ruin my life.” Coriolanus returned with some anger toward the Hunger Games. “What if they catch you bringing this woman off base?”

“It’s worth the risk to do the right thing.”

“For you.” He let his shoulders drop in frustration. “Your father will just buy your way out of it like he always does, while I’ll be hung just for knowing you. Please. Don’t make me rescue you again.” He let his hand drop toward the remote again and switched it to ‘stop.’

“I don’t need you to rescue me, Coryo.” Sejanus grabbed his two cages of Jabberjays. “And instead of worrying about me, ask yourself how Y/N feels nowadays. I hope you know it’s not good.”

Coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek, watching Sejanus walk away like he didn’t just drop a bomb on him. Of course, Coriolanus was wondering how you were. The last he heard of you was from the phone call the other day, and it’s not like he actually saw you. All he heard was you asking Tigris something. It was torture not knowing how you were. He knew that he broke you, but he also knew that your father wouldn’t be kind to the traveling news of him being drafted as a peacekeeper.

As Coriolanus put his jabber jays onto the train, his thoughts were moving one hundred miles per hour just thinking about how you were.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your temple as you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking up the sun as you strolled through the park. “I can practically hear your thoughts, beautiful.” He murmured against your head, pressing one last kiss before glancing down at you. “What’s on your mind?”

You sigh but softly smile at his gestures, squeezing his hand that was intertwined with yours. “I don’t know, mainly the future.”

He hummed, taking a sip from his coffee before pushing for more. “What about the future?”

Shrugging, you look across the Capitol park, watching families walk around with their children. “Just in general, and what it would look like later in life… What I would do or where I would live.”

Receiving silence from Coriolanus, you continue to speak, occasionally receiving hums and nods to know he is listening.

“I also figured that I would probably still love you.” You whisper, earning an eyebrow raise at the sudden switch in topic and voice level. “I mean, I don’t think I could see myself in the future without you.”

“Probably?” Coriolanus squinted his eyes at you. “You mean you will, right?”

You roll your eyes at the question, “Yes, Coryo. I will still love you. We’ll be fine.”

He playfully pinched your hip, earning a small squeal from you. “What made you think about the future, beautiful?”

Your smile faltered at the question, looking toward the gravel and dirt instead. Coriolanus frowned at your reaction, pulling you closer to him.

“My father,” You quietly say, reaching up to grab your necklace. “He… I don’t know. He keeps asking me to pick someone else to be with instead of you and stop hanging out with Tigris. I mean, I like being with Clemensia and Livia, but I love spending time with you and Tigris. I can’t just break up with you and get with some stupid prick.”

“Hey,” Coriolanus stops you from walking any further. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. If your father hates me, what’s he going to do about it? I love you. So much. I’m secure with you, and I know whatever happens between us will be okay in the future. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Even if you do marry a stupid prick.”

Your eyes welled with tears, burying your head in his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He put a hand on the back of your head, kissing the top. “Thank you for telling me.”

Coriolanus already knew the mess Sejanus got himself into when he told him what those in District Twelve were planning to do, so it was no shock that both Billy Taupe and Mayfair Lipp, the Mayor’s daughter, were shot and killed the night Lucy Gray performed a song about Snow.

Coriolanus had already told Spruce to get rid of the guns used to shoot Billy and Mayfair, but Sejanus’ crying and sputtering were enough to make him yell at the Plinth.

“For once, shut up!” Coriolanus directed his anger toward Sejanus, his dog tags clanging on your necklace. “All of this is your fault! It’s only gonna get worse if you don’t pull yourself together. If you breathe a word now, both of us, we’re finished. So we go back there and act like nothing is wrong.”

“I don’t know…” Sejanus choked out a sob, eyes glassy as he shook his head.

“Hey.” Coriolanus took long steps to Sejanus, grabbing the back of his neck and face. “Hey, look at me. You have to pull yourself together. You have to pull it together. You came here for me, right? We’re brothers?”

“Brothers,” Sejanus whispered out, taking deep breaths.

“So whatever you’ve done, I swear I will keep you safe. Those guns were the only loose end beside the four of us. So we’re gonna be okay. Okay? Not a word.” Coriolanus patted him, blatantly spewing more lies to him. “Okay?”

He nodded, mumbling out a response. Coriolanus patted him again, guiding him outside toward the open area of the Hob.

Eventually, the peacekeepers had to turn in for the night, but Coriolanus could tell Sejanus was struggling internally with what happened earlier. He just shook his head as he undressed from the issued uniform, tucking your necklace underneath his white shirt.

“Three years… I fought for the Capitol during the war. I’ve been angry. But this was the first time I felt ashamed. Get the other up here!” Commander Hoff pointed toward the crowd.

Murmurs went around as Coriolanus looked toward his right, hoping that Sejanus wasn’t the one being brought. He took deep breaths as the crowd parted, revealing Sejanus Plinth being pulled toward the hanging tree. Coriolanus’ cover faltered at how battered Sejanus was, his eyes widening at the boy.

“Coryo.” Sejanus watched him, tripping over his own feet. “Coryo—“

“The Capitol has received word via jabber jay that these two men conspired to break into our base’s jail and flee north to release this terrorist from captivity.” Commander Hoff pointed toward Sejanus this time, other peacekeepers putting the noose around his neck. “I’d expect this of a rebel but not from one of our own. This is treason, plain and simple. Play the recording!”

Coriolanus bit down on his tongue as the recording played, shifting his hold on his gun. He did what he had to survive, and if it meant losing Sejanus Plinth, then so be it.

“No, Coryo. Coryo, help!” Sejanus screamed from his ‘friend,’ wriggling in his constraints.

The hatch slammed down, executing all three people, including Sejanus. Coriolanus flinched at the noise, looking up at the jabber jays that were repeating Sejanus’ last words.

Everyone watched the bodies hang, slowly leaving with the thought of remorse for the young boy. As soon as the crowd cleared, Hoff dismissed his peacekeepers which allowed Coriolanus to take a breather.

He slammed down his protective gear on his thin mattress, drawing shapes on his wrist. He needed to calm down, but how could he? He just lost another person in his life, and it was all his fault. He wiped a singular tear before sighing, moving over to look through Sejanus’ belongings.

Coriolanus’ eyes immediately went to the photo card above a stack of letters. He flipped it over, realizing it was the photo taken seconds before the Tenth Annual Hunger Games began. He held back a sob at the two people in his life that have been there for him, both gone, but one truly lost.

Taking a deep breath, he took the letters from underneath and inspected them. It all came from one person. Coriolanus assumed it was Sejanus’ mother until he recognized the seal on the letter.

The Lovett seal.

Immediately, Coriolanus opened the first letter on the top, scanning the cursive words you had written. The sudden guilt and repentance Coriolanus felt for Sejanus was gone as he read further down the letter. How come he received letters? How come you sent letters to Sejanus?

He felt the weight of your necklace as he read the last few sentences. What the fuck?

Coriolanus shoved the letters back into Sejanus’ belongings, along with the photo. He was leaving for District Two tomorrow and didn’t need the distraction of both you and Sejanus when you weren’t even here.

For the next 24 hours, all Coriolanus could think about was leaving the hell hole called District Twelve. When he was training in the early mornings? He wanted to pack and leave. When sorting out the mess of jabber jays? He wanted to get on the train to Two. It was early the next morning when Coriolanus realized he could leave the mess he made behind.

After fulfilling his final tasks as a peacekeeper in Twelve, he filled his baggage with his personal items that he brought with him, along with Sejanus’ certificate of graduation and the tin box containing small shots of liquid Dean Highbottom would consume and the many letters you sent to Sejanus.

He wanted to burn them, he really did, but he had better plans for everything Sejanus owned.

“Sir.” Coriolanus saluted Commander Hoff, body itching to get on the train and leave.

“There’s been a change of plan, Private Snow.”

“Congratulations, Mister Snow.” Coriolanus heard Dr. Gaul as he approached her, holding onto his peacekeeper hat. “I’ve asked President Ravinstill to grant you a full pardon, effective immediately. I also told him that you are too promising to waste in the military. So you’ll be studying under me now at the Capitol University.”

He watched her as she fed meat to whatever was swimming in the pool in front of him, not wanting to meet her eyes. “I can’t afford University.”

“A certain Mr. Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you’re there. All for being such a good friend to his Sejanus. He doesn’t know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording.”

Coriolanus held his breath and stood up straight, Dr. Gaul earned his full attention.

Dr. Gaul tossed another piece of meat into the pool, “Quite impressive, how you sent your only friend to the noose just to get my attention.”

“That’s not what I did.” Coriolanus denied.

“Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all.” He loosened his shoulders, slightly tilting his head at her words. “The President has agreed to another year of the Games. People watched. And I have you to thank for that.”

She placed the tongs onto the metal tray beside her, clasping her hands in front of herself. “Not to mention your dear flower. She obviously played an important role, so thank her for that.”

Coriolanus clenched his jaw but said nothing.

“But before I take you under my wing, after everything you’ve seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time.” Dr. Gaul watched his gaze shift toward the eels. “What are the Hunger Games for?”

“I used to think that the Hunger Games were punishment for the districts. Then I thought they served as a warning to us here in the Capitol about the threat the districts posed.” He let out a sharp breath, remembering all that he’s done and what you’ve said. “Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games. Every year. To remind us all who we truly are.”

“And who are you, do you determine?” She grinned wickedly.

Coriolanus chuckled, the necklace worn underneath rustling. “The victor.”

“Welcome home, Mister Snow.”

“I’m going on a run.” Coriolanus knocked on Tigris’ door frame, watching her stick up a thumb.

He shook his head at her and left. It was hard to break a habit he was already used to, so his daily runs in the morning would have to be done until University starts again in September. Coriolanus meant to come by your manor multiple times because your birthday was coming up, but somehow, all forces were against him, pulling him away from it with other jobs Dr. Gaul, his family, or the Plinths presented him. He wasn’t planning on visiting you today, but the world seemed to hate him.

Stopping at the cafe, he ordered a hot coffee for himself and tea for Tigris and Grandma’am. He wasn’t going to come back home empty-handed of course. The barista took his order and went to make it, letting Coriolanus breathe for a while.

It wasn’t until he saw you dressed in a black dress, assuming you were mourning over the loss of Sejanus, did he lose his breath again. You were sipping on your hot chocolate with a planner and book in front, not realizing that a certain blond was to your far left.

“Snow.” The barista called out in the shop, causing both you and Coriolanus to snap your heads up.

He caught your gaze, eyes slowly flitting down to your left hand which adorned a precious rock.

So it was true. Coriolanus thought back to your many letters to Sejanus, watching as you tucked away your left hand and focused back on your work.

Y/N Lovett was engaged.

taglist 1: @peterparkerluvvbot @nathaslosthershit @springholland @psychicpuppyarcade @whodis-26 @coconut-dreamz @cowgirllharry @slytherinholland @lacysversion @perks-of-being-jojo @itzmeme @noodlesketchbook @upsidedownjill @mizuki80 @unclecrunkle @tiaamberxx @bxtchopolis @starrynightstory @namelesslosers @lugiastark @dangelnleif @aemondsb1tch @witchsbitchestime @ace-spades-1 @ordinarylokix @kookie29 @secretsicanthideanymore @angelscrime @ms-longbeach @rosieleej @alpha-mommy69 @loklaufeysonssgodess @aoi-targaryen @imaginebeingmentallystable @sighsophiia @innercreationflower @cascadingbliss @edb954 @castellandiangelo @nowitsmissing @lookclosernow @bambi-horror @httpfandxms @goobitagoobre @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @captainbabybear @becauseseaotters @mvdhvtterxx @moonisu @boredperson120 (comment to be added)

—

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow drabble #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow headcanon #coriolanus snow oneshot #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow blurb #august’s srfs ❄️ #august’s works 🫧 #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x you

[indieyuugure]

Hi Indiee!!

I luv ur art sososososo much and I was wondering if you have any messy sketches laying around, whether it’s future events for Tms or Indie Tmnt :D (The indie leo angst from the invasion/farmhouse arc is slowly taking control of my body… uh oh)

Pls take your time and drink lots of water!

Aw righty, let’s see what I’ve got.

Uh, let’s see,

Some newer test designs for The Shredder’s and Karai’s battle armor. I went for more traditional samurai armor.

Me re-working how the Kraang tech works, getting an idea, and then spending like 3+ hours on a drawing 😅

The afterwards of this comic

The pre-cursor to Raph meeting Mrs. Morrison (I have more sketches of it but most of them are just outlines of text)

I decided to add a Battle Nexus arc in which Renet teleports them to a dimension, but then the Dimension Scepter dies so they’re stuck there for who knows how long. The turtles get arrested, but then a very professional woman interested in making dealy-doos (that she will most likely change the terms of at the last second) pays them out on the condition that they fight in her Battle Nexus Arena. The boys meet a whole bunch of people from other dimensions(Usagi) and even some from their own(Traximus). The specific picture I gave is designs for Usagi. Leo has not had enough time to recover from his fight with Shredder mentally and, during is fight with Usagi, breaks down in an episode and goes psycho.

The Banned for Life posters on the bulletin boards at April’s school. The boys will live on through that school’s history as those random Japanese boys straight out of a J-pop band that wreaked havoc on the school for all of 20 minutes then disappeared, never to be seen again.

Lol, hope you like these ^v^ just some random doodles I had.

#tmnt #q&a #indie’s turtles #indie tmnt #ninja turtles #the mutation situation #Indie tmnt karai #Indie tmnt shredder #indie tmnt leo #indie tmnt raph #indie tmnt donnie #indie tmnt mikey #Indie tmnt usagi #Remind me to never add this many tags to a post again #little doodles

[ama0310]

The President's Daughter

Character: Finnick Odair

Requested: No

Type: Angst/Fluff

Summary: Arianna Flemings-Snow, the adopted daughter of Coriolanus Snow, bravely volunteers for the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Yet, her courage comes at the cost of confronting not only the repercussions of re-entering the deadly arena but also the profound challenge of sharing it with the man she passionately loves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Finnick Odair, right?” 

Haymitch nods points towards the screen, “ Yes, he won his games at fourteen. Youngest ever. Extremely humble.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He looked like the most narcissistic show off known to man. His stance. His waves. His stupid smirk. He looked as if he were happy to be returning. 

“Yes I’m kidding. He’s a...” Haymitch dramatically flips his hair” …peacock. A total preener but he’s the Capitol darling. They love him here. Charming , smart, and very skilled at combat—especially in water.”

Peta leans forward glancing at the screen, “What about weaknesses?” 

“Well two. First Mags.” A frail looking wrinkly woman pops on the screen. “ She volunteered for Annie. Mags was his mentor and basically raised him. If he’s trying to protect her in any way it exposes him.” 

Katniss stares at the screen seeing the women bravely volunteer for the young girl in hysterics, “A guy like that has to know she’s not going to make it. I bet when it really comes down to it, he won’t protect her. 

Sadness flashes through Haymitch’s eyes, “Well Katniss,  I just hope when she goes…she goes quickly. She’s actually a wonderful lady.” 

The silence fills the room before Peta asks, “And his other weakness?” 

Haymitch lightly smirks before passing  to the next district when a beautiful girl with hair as white as snow comes up. “ District 5. Arianna Flemings. Mostly known as...”

“President Snow’s daughter?” Katniss snaps her head to Haymitch. Eyes widened. 

He tilts his head a bit. “Adopted. She won her games at fifteen. Everyone and I mean everyone fell in love with her. She was the purest of the pure. The cutest of the cute. And the most dangerous of the danger. After one of the tributes killed her district partner all hell broke loose and she murdered the last seven remaining tributes within two hours with one. singular. knife.”

Peta shook his head in disbelief, “If he adopted her then that means he has to have some sort of heart. And he’s letting her go back to the games?” 

Haymitch holds out his hand signaling for the kid to stop talking, “Well, there were rumors about Snow not really adding Arianna’s name into the reaping; however, when her childhood friend was reaped she immediately volunteered. Flabbergasted everyone.” The video shows Arianna immediately protesting and volunteering the moment her friend’s name dropped. The horror on everyone’s face was telling how much the district loved her. 

He cleared his throat and continued, “ I imagined Snow wasn't really happy about that. That’s what he gets for adopting a victor when he’s the leader of these games." He shrugs. "Arianna is very captivating. Even Snow’s heart had to have melt for that young girl. Took her right under his wing. Obviously she was treated like a victor but most importantly she was treated like a Capitol.” 

“If his daughter is that important wouldn’t he know that during the games people will be targeting his daughter. Who wouldn’t if his daughter means that much to him.” 

That’s when Haymtich shook his head, “ Because my dear little Katniss… A) he calls the shots. If you haven’t realized everything in the games are controlled by him and people that love her. He’ll be hovering over you all the entire time. B) She’s a skilled competitor. Again seven tributes dead in two hours by the hands of a 110 pound fifteen year old, hello people keep up. Since then she’s never eased on her training. Obviously she’s bound to have enemies because of her father so she never stopped. Really good using her resources, excellent with knives, basically insanely dangerous. C) Finnick Odair. Both basically spent the last nine years together. Everyone thinks they’re together, but are keeping it hidden because of her father. I’m sure the President feels a lot better having Finnick with her knowing that he would risk his entire life for her. However don’t think it’ll make it easy to kill them. While you two are faking it. They—“ He points to the screen. “Are real. You hurt her and not only will you have Snow on your asses, but a trident in your chest. You hurt him and you’d have knives shoved up every hole in your body. They’re each other’s weaknesses but also strengths. They are who you want to be allies with. I’m serious Katniss don’t mess this up.” 

~~~~~~~

Arianna couldn’t breathe in her dress. It’s not that it’s too tight (which it actually is), but more-so that she’s again back to where she was those many years ago. 

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe” She lightly whispers under her breath while entering to where all the other Victors were.  She was wearing a beautiful white gown with red lace at the top. Her red make-up contrasting her snow-white features. 

“Isn’t it Snow’s precious girl. Miss Flemings never thought I would have to see you back in the games.” She turns around and sees Gloss from Tribute 1. 

“You and me both. Don’t you look as charming as ever.” She smiles graciously wrapping her arms around her friend. “Where’s Cash?” 

He smiles and points behind him, “Getting the gang back together. Should we be expecting you to join us?” 

Her eyes immediately try to find the one person she truly wanted to ally with. “Gloss I would love to, but I have to check with Finnick. You know wherever he goes I go.”

He nods understanding completely, “And I admire your loyalty. Please try to get him on our side. We really don’t want to have to go against either of you.” 

She nods smiling softly at the man, “Speaking of Finnick do you know where he might be. He wasn’t with Mags.” 

The guy pointed behind her making her turn, “I guess he’s already trying to get the Girl on Fire on his side…without telling you?” 

Arianna lightly hit him, “Glossy I love you, but I hope you weren’t trying to turn me against Finnick. Like you said before I am extremely loyal.” 

He chuckles before backing away, “ Didn’t hurt to try. Now go to lover boy, but please remember what I said.” 

She watches him go back to the Career pack and lightly waves at them before heading towards the duo. 

“Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?” If only she knew the truth. 

She sees him lean forward, making the Girl on Fire look uncomfortable  “With secrets” 

Arianna thought it was the perfect time to break the tension especially since she wanted to talk to the golden boy before they had to parade themselves. “Nicky, we went over this so many times, you should never try to get with an engaged woman. Very inappropriate.” She wraps her arm his waist looking up at him. His smirk turned into a genuine smile. 

He immediately looked down at the young girl smirking, “Arianna, you know I’d never try to get with anyone else but you.” 

She lightly smacks his chest before looking over the girl staring curiously at the duo, “ Arianna Flemings.” She sticks her hand out smiling as Katniss took it. “ My niece absolutely loves you. She always wanted to meet you, my father never really introduced us, but you know how he is. You look absolutely beautiful by the way.”  

Katniss couldn’t help but like the girl in front of her. Though the fact that she is someone that Snow cares about keeps nagging at her, the girl alone seems genuine. “I’m Katniss. I saw your games. Very impressive.” Her curt response made Arianna look at Finnick then back at the girl.

“Thank you and your game was also very impressive.” She smiles and then turns her attention to the man next to her. “Nicky, can I talk to you over there please?” 

His gaze went to his angel and then to the girl who’s staring at them, “I’ll be there in a second need to wrap up my introduction to the Girl on Fire.” 

Arianna rolled her eyes playfully before turning to Katniss, “It was really nice to meet you.”

The two stared as Arianna glides away elegantly. Finnick leans towards the girl with a smile, “She is off limits. You hurt her and I’ll gladly pay back the favor with your fiancé while you watch and die an agonizing death. Got that? ” Before she can answer he backs away going to find his girl. 

He finally sees her talking to her district partner and then shoos him away. "Nicky? Did you really had to use that name? "

Her gaze filled with mischief yet care had him wrapped around her finger, "There's Nick, Nickey, Finnley, Finnerson, Fin-"

"Okay we get it, but there's only one name I like hearing you call me." He leans closer.

"Mon amour" She smirks before lightly pushing him back. "That's only reserved when we aren't about to dive head first into our deaths."

His smile drops, " You are not dying. Snow will not allow it and neither will I."

She caresses his face, "Finnick these are how the games are. Though my father cares for me he wants to destroy the girl even more."

He lightly glares at the girl, gripping her waist a bit tighter. " Why did you have to volunteer dammit. Everything was going to be fine, but you just had to volunteer. Why on earth did you even do that?"

She glances around noticing that people are getting on their carriage to start the parade. " I had to, love. But it's okay. I promise you, it will be okay."

The sincerity in her eyes truly made him believe it was all going to be fine even though his heart knew it wasn't.

They finally break eye contact when her partner tells her that the parade is about to start. "Better get on your carriage Snow White looks like Prince Charming needs you."

She kisses him on the cheek, "I'm not into Princes, I prefer fishermen" winking and getting on her carriage.

They both know that no matter what happens in the ring. Capitol be dam. Districts be dam. Both their goal is to protect one another no matter what the cost is.

#president snow #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #the hunger games #capitol #coriolanus snow #finnick odair imagine

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Getcha Back

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning(s): General angst

Woah what’s this?? New content??

—————————————

The tenth time in a week. The tenth time.

“A Romantic Night In Anaheim”

Trevor Zegras spotted out with blonde model. Certainly not his girlfriend, but maybe more his type?

“I’m so fucking sick!” Trevor hadn’t cheated on me. We already clarified that with one another, but I couldn’t don’t do it any more. I was so sick of hearing people talking about Trevor and other girls. I was supposed to be his girl. Not every blonde bimbo that hung off of him in every photo he took.

My heart was physically pained by the decision to leave, but I knew it was going to help me in the end. It would be far more beneficial than sticking around.

“It’s not my fault!”

“I don’t care, Trevor!” I was exhausted. Completely exhausted with my situation. “I don’t care that it’s not your fault! I don’t care that you’re not to blame! I don’t care! What I care about, is constantly being compared to people! Constantly feeling like I have to fight for you! To compete for you! With girls that you don’t even fucking know!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave! You can’t just leave!” Trevor was helpless. We were both helpless. He was crying, I was sobbing. We didn’t know how to handle our situation, and in stead of figuring it out together, I simply chose to leave. I chose to take the easy way out.

“I can, Trevor. I can. And I am.”

——————

It had been weeks. I couldn’t exactly avoid Trevor, seeing as I worked at the arena in one of the offices, but I also had a lock on the door that I found beneficial. Despite the fact that at times, guys would stop in and see me after getting out of other meetings.

I was restless for the first week without Trevor. I could barely sleep, I cried through the days and often felt numb in the evenings. Then I’d fall asleep during my lunch hours at work and occasionally when I didn’t have much work to be done during my time at the arena.

Nobody talked to me about Trevor. I didn’t know how he was doing, but I could only assume he was as miserable as I was. Or maybe he’d already moved on.

Certain players would ask how I was doing or what I was up to. Jamie stopped in one day to ask if I was seeing anybody. I didn’t question his motive before answering. It was Jamie after all.

Perhaps I should have questioned his motive. Because if I knew he was asking for Trevor, I wouldn’t have been sitting at my desk with a huge bouquet of flowers in front of my computer. And a sweetly written note on them about how much Trevor missed me.

“Ooh la la,” a sing song voice called from my doorway. My head snapped up to look at the secretary, Gen, as she stepped into my office. “Who’s sending you flowers?”

I was swift to pull the tag off the vase, tucking it under my thigh.

“Nobody important. Just someone trying to get into my pants.” I lied with a shrug. I slowly moved the vase aside.

“Must be some extensive lengths they’re going to. You’re all the rage in Anaheim.”

“I wish,” I scoffed out. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so hung up on Trevor still.

I loved him. I feared I always would. Leaving him had been hard, and working in the same building was even harder. But still being in love with him after everything was the worst.

“You should see it through. The guy might be looking for more than just what’s in your pants.” She suggested, smiling from ear to ear. “I just came in to let you know we’re getting off early today. Supposed to be severe thunder storms.” I was quick to nod at her words before she left. I stuffed the tag in a bottom drawer of my desk and left it. I assumed it would be the only one.

It certainly wasn’t.

Less than three days later, I had a box of chocolates on my desk with another tag. Another apology from Trevor that I knew was meaningless. I’m sure Trevor meant it when he said sorry, but he had nothing to say sorry for. I simply couldn’t handle all of the bad publicity on social media. I was sick of it. If anybody should have been apologizing, it was me. But I couldn’t give him an inch, because he’d run with it and end up taking a mile. I needed to be disinterested. I needed to convince him and myself, that I was disinterested.

So I took that tag and tossed it into my desk too. I did eat the chocolate though. It was another week before I heard from Trevor. In the form of Jamie.

He waltzed into my office with a bright smile and two left feet, stumbling right into the leg of the couch I had in my office- hurting himself in the process.

He flushed when I laughed at him, but he was swift to distract me from his own clumsiness.

“Trevor sent me up here to talk to you?”

“Uh uh.” I shook my head, my interest immediately dying. I looked back at my laptop.

“Please?”

“We broke up, Jamie.” I found Trevor’s persistence endearing and frustrating at the same time. I was hurting myself more by denying myself the luxury of him.

I looked down at my computer, continuing my work while Jamie stood there. I assumed he’d leave. I hoped he’d leave. When he didn’t. I looked back up at him.

“Trevor and I broke up, Jamie.” I repeated much more slowly.

“I know but-“

“Close my door on the way out, Drysdale.”

He flinched at the use of his last name, but he left nonetheless.

I was hopeful that I had finally stopped Trevor in his tracks. Hopeful that I could start moving on without being harassed. Until I got a message from one of the secretaries one night. An SOS message, calling me into the office for a piece of missing paperwork I had to send her. I was swift to throw on a sweatshirt and leggings in hopes of looking somewhat decent before I left.

When I got to the arena, I slipped in one of the back doors, and almost had a heart attack when I spotted a figure standing by the elevator in the dark. I jumped and gasped.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Trevor turned on his phone flashlight, shining it on the floor to light up the area. There were very few lights on. Other than a few over the ice and some in the locker room halls.

“Trevor, oh my god.” I breathed out. Of all people, I never would have expected myself to be relieved to see him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized as he walked closer. I took notice of his abnormal height, and when I looked down I spotted his skates.

“What are you doing here?” I looked back up. Trevor’s hair was a hot mess, and even in the dark, I could see the circles beneath his eyes.

“I was waiting for you.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“I asked Gen to text you.. the secretary. I thought you wouldn’t come if I asked.” Trevor’s soft words made me want to rip my own heart out and stomp on it.

I wanted to scream at him. To remind him we broke up. To remind him I wasn’t strong enough to see him. Instead, I nodded slowly.

“What did you need me for?” I couldn’t turn him down. Who knew? It might have been an emergency.

“Can you come skate with me?”

Not an emergency.

“Trevor I didn’t even bring my skates.” I mumbled, somewhat annoyed by this whole situation. Annoyed by my feelings. Annoyed by the fact that my heart was beating obnoxiously fast.

“You left them at our place when you left. I brought them with me.”

I frowned. I couldn’t just tell him no. I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t.

“Trevor. I don’t know.” I stared down at the skates, afraid if I looked up at him, I’d give in.

“Please? I’m tired. You know I’m clumsy when I’m tired.”

Impulsively, I looked up at him with a suspicious glare. It was my breaking point.

“A quick skate. A quick one.”

That was against my initial plan. I was supposed to ignore his existence. Forget about him. Stop crying about him. This was the opposite of so many plans I had.

I followed Trevor down the hall and into the locker room, where I found his old book bag that held my skates inside.

“Do you need help?”

“I can manage. I’ll meet you out on the ice.”

I could tell Trevor was anxious about leaving my side, especially when he lingered near the tunnel, looking on the verge of speaking. Eventually though, he left the room.

We were both alone again. And after that small bit of contact, it felt like I was back at square one. Choked up and miserable over losing someone I loved so much.

I pulled the skates out and slipped them on as my vision grew bleary with tears. I tightened the laces, stopping only momentarily to consider leaving.

When did I get to this point? The point of questioning whether or not I wanted to be with Trevor? The question of whether he was worth it or not?

When had I decided he wasn’t worth it? The struggle, tension, sadness?

I finished tying my skates and pulled the guards off before I made my way down the tunnel and out to the ice. The arena was dimly lit, but Trevor still looked good whether it was under a million spotlights or a few low lights.

I stood by the open door, watching Trevor skate lazy circles while he surfed through an app on his phone. It was only when I cleared my throat that he looked up to spot me. He skidded to a stop and waited.

I stepped out onto the ice, finding myself meeting him somewhere near the center. Trevor nervously reached for my hand. I gave him a warning look but I slipped my hand into his own nonetheless. He led me to the edge of the ice to skate along the wall, side by side.

“Did you get my flowers?”

Shit.

“Yeah. They smelled nice.”

“And the chocolates?”

Double shit.

“Yes, Trevor.”

“Did you get my Jamie-gram?” I had to stifle a laugh at that.

“I told him to leave my office,” I admitted guiltily.

“Oh.” I looked up at Trevor, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Trevor, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” If I started, I feared I might never stop.

“Yeah.. I know.” He lifted his head, but he still didn’t look at me.

“Please understand it wasn’t my intention. But everybody was constantly talking about the girls you took pictures with. And these girls- god..” I paused. “When I’m out with you? And they just completely ignore my existence?” I shook my head. “I’m not asking for recognition. That’s not what I want. I just wanted people to respect me.”

Trevor’s head finally turned in my direction.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fix that.” I shook my head at his words. It was never his fault. I never expected an apology.

“Don’t apologize, T. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you for something you couldn’t have fixed. I should have been harder on myself for letting it get between us.”

Our conversation felt messy and misguided. We were both dancing around a subject we didn’t know how to address.

“It doesn’t have to be between us.” Our eyes met. Could it be that simple? If I just took a step back from everything and stopped listening so much. Maybe it could be fixed.

“After everything I did? After how I walked out?” Trevor cut in front of me, and I bumped right into his body. He reached out to hold me upright.

“Just promise me you’ll open up next time instead of blowing up. Promise me you won’t just walk out.”

The first would take some work, but the second promise I could make with certainty.

I missed Trevor. Every single part of him. Even the parts that annoyed me.

“Trevor, I don’t think I could ever stand the guilt of leaving you that way again.” I spoke softly, my hands slowly resting on his chest before I slid them up to clasp around his shoulders.

“So we’ve solved that problem?” Trevor asked quietly, but hopefully. I nodded, flashing a nervous smile.

“You trust me?” I asked.

“I do. I’ve always trusted you.” I nodded once again at his response.

“Can I kiss you then?” His question made my heart melt.

“Thought you’d never ask, Trev.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader

[meshlasolus]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, but the good kind. The Hunger Games are a bitch. Finnick should be a warning tbh... mild bullying but nothing wild.

Chapter Summary: After saying goodbye to your family, you and your tribute counterpart will board the train, meeting two mentors who may help you survive the bloodbath of the arena. Of course, one of them is Finnick Odair, so maybe the bloodbath will start before you even reach the capitol.

Word Count: 3.5k

It's only gonna get worse from here, guys... (and by that I mean it gets so much better as far as drama goes)

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication.  “Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He was the last winner from district four. A fourteen year old boy reaped during a year without career volunteers. A determined young man, hardened by the sting of the Capitol’s arena. Whispers through four were that it would be the same this year. No career tributes, only what has been reaped. 

Finnick does not think badly of this, quite the opposite, actually. Careers, though mostly prepared for what the games will hold, are almost always the most arrogant tributes. They think the training they have received is enough to prepare them for what it's like to be hunted, and to hunt down and kill others just like them. No amount of sparring rounds, or hours of weapons training can prepare you for that. Not mentally, at least.

He’s made up his mind about this year. He’s tired of watching kids go into that arena and not come out of it. He’s tired of seeing new faces every year, trying to help them only to realize they were never going to win in the first place. He knows it sounds twisted, and he knows what it will cost, but he’s promised himself a victor this year. Whoever is pulled from those bowls today, he knows that he won’t rest until one of them has a house across from his and Mags. He knows that no matter the age, gender, or lack of skills, one of them is going to win. 

He is so determined not to lose two more tributes. He’s so focused on making it his reality, he doesn’t even think about what he might have to do. He just knows that he’s willing to do it, when the time comes. 

Standing in the victor’s circle at the reaping is far better than standing amongst the gender separated crowds, but it still isn’t comforting. His hands are sweaty as he fiddles with them behind his back, waiting on the Capitol escort, Arbin, to finish his practiced lines. 

The first boy is a volunteer. Non career, but built just the same as one. Already, Finnick breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes the initial first pick would not have to go. This boy looked eighteen, seventeen at least, and was strong and handsome. A perfect tribute in all aspects. 

As Arbin made another unhumorous joke, teetering on his toes towards the girl’s bowl, Finnick somehow felt guilty. He’d already assumed the boy would be his victor, and he hadn’t even given the unpicked girl a chance. He hoped, now, that perhaps it was someone less than capable. The thought in and of itself was awful, but he didn’t want to be the one feeling guilty when one tribute left the arena and the other stayed as a permanent addition.

“Mercedes Blythe.”

An unknown name, like most of the others. The face that matched it was sullen… but damn, she was as good a tribute in any comparison to her counterpart. Eighteen, tall, strong looking, and beautiful. The sadness in her eyes reflected that of those she knew, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was that his promise to himself would come at a great cost, whichever way it went. 

-

Arbin was kind, as you’d learned immediately after leaving the stage. He seemed to understand the weight of this event, despite seeming so joyful about it only minutes ago. He’d explained that you were on your way to the district’s processing center, where you would meet with your families one more time before getting on a train to the Capitol. You hadn’t spoken since the reaping. You knew that anything that came out of your mouth would only be unpleasant to hear anyway, and so far, Lukas had done a good enough job of asking all the questions you had on your mind. 

The room you met your family in was small, but it felt too large as soon as you stepped into it. The high ceiling must have played tricks on you. 

Your mother was hysterical, as you felt she must have been since the calling of your name. 

“M-mama, I’m sor-ry,” you sputtered out, reaching for her as she did. Once she had you in her arms she clung as tightly as she possibly could. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s not your fault,” she shook her head, backing away only to look at your face. She had hoped this day would never come, but here you stood, tears on your cheeks and only a minute between now and a long train ride. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen to you once you left her sight. She just wanted to hold you for as long as she could. 

You saw your father standing behind her, holding the baby tightly as if trying to console himself apart from being able to hug you as well. He wouldn’t dare tell his wife to let go, not when he knows she may never see you again, but he wants to give you one last thing that he’s sorry he didn’t give you sooner. 

His gratitude. 

For putting your name in the bowl to eat, instead of taking the rations he needed in order to heal when he’d been so sick. That was the reason you were in this mess. He got sick, and his bones became so frail he broke his arm in a rigging accident… and you paid the price of his healing. If anyone should apologize it's him, but he knows you’ll just struggle to tell him not to. Still, as you leave the arms of your mother and look to him, he has to try. 

“I’m so sorry, little bear,” he tried not to show how much the emotion built up within him, but it boiled over without him even realizing it had. You leaned into him, an arm around your baby brother who may never remember you even existed. In three weeks there would be a victor, and you were almost certain it would not be you.

“I-it’s alright, papa. Y-you take c-care of mama for m-me, okay?” you asked, the nod of his head the best response he could muster and he leaned into you the best he could while holding the baby. He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent and trying to commit it to memory, that his daughter’s hair had smelled like fresh spring water from the center of the district. 

“I know I haven’t said it much, but you gotta know we’ve always been so proud of you. And it doesn’t matter what you do in that arena, if you have to do some bad things in order to come home, we will still be proud of you.”

You couldn’t have cried any harder after that, and feeling the arms of your mother once again coming around you, locking you together with your father and brother, you felt the last bit of peace you thought you would ever know. 

The peacekeepers were the ones to break apart the family moment, ushering you away to meet Lukas in the hall. 

-

Arbin pushed you both onto the train hurriedly, knowing that ‘wanting to see the shoreline from here, one last time,’ was only a way that Lukas could stall leaving the district. No one ever leaves their districts, so being made to not only leave, but basically being forced to go and die, made you both nervous to step aboard the transport that would take you there.

“Allow me to introduce your mentors,” Arbin stood by them, kind smiles on both their faces when they first saw you up close. “Mags Flanagan, 11th victor… and Finnick Odair, 65th victor.”

Mags didn’t say anything, but gave a warm handshake to you both, her opposite hand coming overtop of yours when she did each time. Finnick nodded to you both, a bit colder of a greeting, but probably to keep a necessary distance. His games were six years ago, they’re probably still fresh, and he doesn’t like getting close to the tributes. You can understand that. 

“I’m Lukas, this is Merce-” 

“We know. We were at the reaping,” Finnick stopped him short of his sentence, and you couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed at it. Surely, he was not so cold that he would forgo a simple introduction?

“Alright.” Lukas dropped his smile, which he’d forced onto his face originally, and replaced it with a look of irritation. He had his opinion on all of this, obviously, and wanted to know more than just these mentor’s names. “So, what now?”

Arbin seemed shocked at the seemingly polite boy’s lack of decorum for proper conversation. 

“Do we just sit here and wait until they shove us in that arena? Or are you meant to help us?” 

He wasn’t playing around, and his tone along with his words made Finnick smile. 

“Excellent question. See, I’m not much one for pleasantries, but this I can work with,” he turned around when he finished talking, waving his hand for you both to follow him. 

The car on the train you’d been led to was glorious. All the food you could possibly eat, the softest seats you’d ever imagined could be on a transport, and oh, the view was something to take in. The crested and sun topped mountains were unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You weren’t even out of district four, technically, but you’d never been away from the water a day in your life… ironic as it sounds. 

“First things first. Tell me something about yourselves that you think is captivating.”

Captivating? What did that have anything to do with fighting to the death in the hunger games? You hadn’t barely watched them before, too afraid of what it might have meant if you were reaped, but you were certain it wasn’t that kind of show. 

“I can swim a mile in twenty minutes,” Lukas answered first, something easy off the top of his head. 

“That’s not gonna work. You’re from four, half the boys your age or under can do the same. It has to be something personal, intimate. Something that gives insight to you as a tribute.”

“I c-collect rare cockle sh-shells,” you piped up. Finnick turned to you with raised brows, unexpecting the answer you gave, but not because of the words.

He had to blink a few times, and shake his head to get out of his thoughts in order to respond. 

“Yeah, that’s uh-” he cleared his throat, finally able to get it out. “That’s good.”

There’s the catch. Two perfect tributes, except one has a severe stutter.

The conversation continued, but after his reaction, you spoke only when you thought it was absolutely necessary. 

It was sad, the way he looked at you, nearly shocked at first before his eyes fell with a feeling unknown, something akin to pity, but worse. Something that not only felt sorry for you, but wanted to not have to deal with it. Pity, mixed with a kind of annoyance, that was not only evident but outstanding. 

Later in the evening, you were both shown to your rooms, exact copies of one another, separated by a train car in between, where the victor's rooms were. 

The victors, Mags and Finnick, but only one of them seemed really keen on giving his input. The other was just too kind and too gentle, willing herself more to give over her sympathies and compassion. You understood her. She wasn’t violent by nature, and you felt that even though his exterior was cocky and arrogant, Finnick had more beneath his rough and tumble outer layers as well. 

Mags spoke through sign language, and though you weren’t fluent, you could well figure out what she was saying to you. You were not quick to reply each time, but you much preferred the slow movements of your hands to a stuttering word. 

She’d been the one to lead you into the car one over, opening your door for you and allowing you to settle in. It had been a hard day, and she knew that there was nothing worse than having to be thrust into these circumstances. Even in her old age, she remembers it well, remembers her arena and the people who died beside her. She remembers their faces, frozen faces stuck with horror that would forever remain in their lifeless eyes. She remembers her victory tour, and how big of a deal it was. She was the first to experience a new era of the hunger games, something more vile and twisted than before. It was not just a symbol anymore, it was a show, complete pageantry being put on before the eyes of the Capitol, where the children taken must pretend like they are happy about their fate. Where they must smile and wave and endorse the ways of the Capitol before being pushed into an arena to die. 

She sees herself in you. Strong, brave hearted, but still afraid to die. She’s seen herself in many female tributes over the years, having not raised a victor in any thus far. It saddens her to think you will be just another one of the many, with an end just the same. Cold and dead eyes looking to the sky of the arena, stuck to the ground by another tribute you’ll encounter. She hates to think of it, but having lost every one of them, it plagues her. 

You thanked her for helping you, not just for leading you to your room, but for looking out for you. You knew there was only so much she would be able to do, but you appreciated the way she willingly did it, even when Finnick insisted on taking the lead with the preparations this year.

She nodded with a smile before leaving you to rest. The day ahead would be much more intimidating, and she knew how vital it was to be prepared for the culture shock of entering the Capitol.

-

Abrin droned on, listing the great commodities that you were going to have accessible. Coming from a wealthier district, it wasn’t terribly different, but being in the lower class of four, you would take the time to appreciate some things. The promise of constantly hot running water sounds phenomenal. 

All the while he’d been speaking, you opted to simply listen and not join in under any circumstances. It was now your greatest mission to avoid speaking in front of Finnick Odair at any cost. It just so happened that sitting in the main car of the train, there was a dessert cart set up before you, so you didn’t really need to bite your tongue all that much.

“Will we have access to training facilities that mimic the arena?” Lukas’ voice broke the long ramble of the excited Capitol member, and leaned forward in wait for the answer. He felt that it was far more important to have something practical in his favor. What good were any of the other commodities if you didn’t live long enough to use them?

“Not quite anything that mimics the arena. The games are all about the entertainment factor, that’s why everything is kept a secret until they call showtime,” Finnick interjected, a less than favorable look on his face when he mentions a few specific words. “Training facilities are provided but won’t give you any hints, trust me. They will open it to the tributes a day before evaluation, so you’ll have to be wise with the time spent.”

“If we’re unsure of what the arena contains, how will we know what to focus on?” 

You were so grateful for Lukas at this moment. He voiced all of the things you knew you would have a hard time trying to say, and did it in half the time. A swift and simple conversation, and by observing it, you would learn everything you needed to know, 

“Most of the careers will stick with what they’re best at. They test their limits and see how far their strengths can go… it always impresses the game-makers, and often is the deciding factor in what weapons will be available in the cornucopia.”

There was something strange about the way he phrased it. He said it was what most careers did, but you weren’t technically a career, and neither was Lukas, though he volunteered like one.

“W-what do you s-suggest?” You felt embarrassed at the way he looked at you when you asked the question. He was so full of pity. Though you often felt bad for yourself and the way you sounded to others, you didn’t like being looked at like an injured animal. You were just trying to ask a question.

Still he looked intrigued. You didn’t seem very keen on surviving, and yet here you were, inquiring about his personal advice.

“I suggest working on your weaknesses. The arena is completely unpredictable, but it becomes easier when you’ve covered your bases,” he paused, tilting his head around. “Still spend time on testing your strengths. Like I said, this is a show, and people aren’t watching to see you learn a new skill.”

You looked to Lukas, and he almost read your mind. You didn’t want to ask about it, but knew he could bring it up easier, without the hassle of forming the wrong words and them sounded uncertain altogether. 

“There’s always sources of water in the arena... Are there any pools to practice in?” 

Finnick laughed and nodded, looking at Lukas with a face of confusion. 

“There are some… but I hardly think either of you would need to spend time there.”

You lowered your head, continuing to pick at the small foods on the little rolling cart before you. You had been pretty silent this whole time, surely he wouldn’t read it as strange right now. 

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication. 

“Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He shook his head laughing, hoping - no, praying - that this was a joke. That you both were messing with him to see how he would react. Perhaps it was even a strange attempt at trying to bond with a mentor through humor, but the longer he stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to Lukas every few seconds, it made clear the dilemma he had in front of him. 

“I can’t believe it…” he scoffed, his earlier laughter now turning into irritation and disgust. He’d promised himself a victor this year, but here stood an incapable pair. 

He sat back into his seat and raked a hand over his face, the heat of the moment making him feel completely and utterly helpless. What could he even do about it?

“I’m a strong swimmer, I can help her if it comes down to it-”

“And what if you’re dead? The second that countdown reaches zero, and you start running, there’s a good chance someone’s gonna beat you to the weapon of their choice. If you die, and she’s depending on you, what then?” 

“I c-can learn,” you tried to interject, but it only made his anger worse. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t. The only hope you’ll have is in convincing the other tributes you’re as good in the water as anyone else in four.” 

His sarcasm wasn’t helping anything, but this was purely unheard of. 

“She’s stronger than she looks, I can teach her the basics,” Lukas again intervenes, trying his best to defend your honor, which if you’re being honest, there isn’t much to defend anymore. You’re a fraud. They called the women of four mermaids, and you couldn’t even step past the shoreline’s sand.

“I don’t need you telling me what can and can’t be done. She’s a tribute from four who can’t swim… it’s bad enough I have to sell a stutter to the Capitol without adding to my plate,” he spoke too hastily and irrationally, his stress overtaking what he would normally even think to say. 

Lukas looked to him in shock, then immediately to you. There were tears welling in your eyes. How could someone who has gone through the games sit here and say things like that? He knows firsthand that nobody even wants to be here, but to make matters worse, he’s pulling the cards from everyone who has ever made you feel inferior from the time you could talk. 

You stood up in a rush, thighs accidentally hitting the edge of the food cart, before walking away quickly towards the room quarters of the train. 

-

Tags (open)

#finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin

[mixtape-racha]

jealousy, jealousy | bang chan

your boyfriend got a bit in his head when he saw your co-worker turn up for your tour rehearsals... but he had no reason to worry, did he?

words: 2.05k // warnings: a sprinkle of angst, jealous/slightly possessive chan, insecure!chan, idol!reader, actress!reader, idol!chan, overall fluff | based on this ask sent in by anon!

after the success of your latest drama, your company thought it would be the perfect time for you to embark on a world tour - fans were at an all time high and interest in your career, both in korea and globally, was soaring. you were of course elated at this - the idea of seeing so many of your fans across the world was mind-blowing and an opportunity you couldn’t turn down.

of course, that meant many late nights powering through songwriting, producing, choreographing and discussing visuals for how you wanted your concert to look. finishing a drama, releasing an album and embarking on a tour in the span of a few months was more tiring than you’d ever know your job to be.

sadly, that meant a lot less time with your boyfriend, chan, too. between your chaotic schedule, and stray kids preparing for a comeback, you barely saw your partner. the most you’d been in the same space in the last month was a few fleeting hours after he’d gone to bed and before you’d woken up.

while chan was almost completely nocturnal, you were undeniably an early riser. you’d always been more productive in the early morning, opting to finish your tasks as early as you could, as to enjoy the rest of the day. it was a strange combination, but it worked wonderfully. you balanced each other out in the best way.

so whenever you could, you invited chan to come and watch you rehearse. you also did the same with many of your friends, enjoying the fleeting time you got to spend in the same place at the moment, but chan was alway top of your list. some friends liked to turn up and surprise you too, appearing in the practice room or the venue you were rehearsing at to shower you with support and gifts.

just like today.

in your recent drama, you had played a florist who never believed in real love, being swept up into the world of a handsome model with whom she inevitably fell for. you were beyond lucky to feature in such a star-studded cast in such a respected and well-received drama, and even luckier to have someone like nct’s jaehyun playing your romantic counterpart.

the two of you had become increasingly close during filming, and you both walked away from set having gained a true friend for life. jaehyun was like a brother to you - worryingly because of all the fans of your drama that shipped you off-screen, and because of how awkward it made filming kiss scenes.

sometimes the enthusiasm of the fans wanting you to date got a bit much - you and chan were very open about your relationship, and you had made it very clear both publicly and privately that you and jaehyun were strictly friends. but that didn’t stop people from taking a sweet, platonic moment and running with it.

thats why you were kind of glad no one saw jaehyun entering the kbs arena, where you were currently rehearsing for your opening concert the next week.

jaehyun had walked in with a bunch of flowers and a smile while you were taking a break,and you were ecstatic to see him. it had been too long, in your opinion. placing down your water bottle, you jogged over to him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“jae! what are you doing here?”

he shrugged, offering you the flowers - which you gratefully took. “can’t be in the gangseo district without coming to see my favorite florist rehearsing, can i?”

mood and energy skyrocketing, you and jaehyun sat down, digging into the lunch provided by your company’s staff, catching up on anything and everything worth gossiping about since you last saw each other.

unbeknownst to you, however, chan had also arrived just after jaehyun approached you, hoping to catch you on your lunch break and have a chance to eat with you. upon seeing you with jaehyun, however, he hesitated.

he knew that you and your co-star had become very close friends during the grueling months of filming, and he was more than understanding of it. after all, he had grown up with twice and was undeniably close to the 9 girls under the same company as him. so, he didn’t understand why his stomach flipped and his chest tightened at the sight of you laughing with another man.

you and chris had a very solid relationship. you had sat down and created boundaries and expectations before you even entered into your relationship 2 years ago, and you never had any reason to distrust each other. he also knew how much you had missed your friend in the months you had been so busy, and completely understood why you were so excited to see him.

so, he stood back and chatted with your staff, letting you have some time with jaehyun before approaching you. he was willing to wait, fighting to ignore the worming thoughts of anxiety in the back of his head. he wasn’t that kind of boyfriend, he told himself, so he had no reason to get upset.

laughing loudly to a story jaehyun had told you, you caught a glimpse of familiar blonde curls across the dining hall, heart jumping when you focused and realized it was your beloved boyfriend.

“channie! hi, baby! come here!” you called, unable to fight off a grin and blush when chan smiled and walked over to you and jaehyun.

“hi, babygirl.” he chuckled at your enthusiastic state, kissing the top of your head as he took a seat next  to you.

he was quickly dragged into your ongoing conversation, catching up himself with jaehyun and enjoying having some time with you. on the other hand, you noticed that chan was being a lot more clingy than usual - having a hand on your waist or thigh the entire time, and constantly leaning in to plant kisses across your cheek and head.

not that you were complaining in the slightest. it had been too long since you got to feel chan’s presence this close to you, and your heart was soaring at the mere idea of it. just having him so close made you decide to ask for a couple of days rest, and spend it wrapped up in his arms in your shared apartment. he truly was the love of your life, and you had missed him more than words could describe recently.

but something was definitely off with him. you and chan were known to be a very touchy couple, pda being right up your street for two people whose love language was physical touch - but this was different. this was like he was trying to prove a point. but, why would he-...... oh.

the realization that chris was jealous that you were spending time with jaehyun, while unnecessary, was actually very cute. you knew deep down the incessant shipping of you and you co-worker by fans got under his skin sometimes, but regardless you had a very solid relationship. so, in some strange way, you found it endearing that he would still get jealous.

after about an hour, jaehyun announced that he’d have to take his leave - he had a schedule with his group and needed to head back to his company - leaving you and chris to bask in each other for a bit longer.

climbing onto his lap, you curled up in your boyfriend’s arms, hands instinctively reaching to fuss with his hair. “i’ve missed you, honey,” you sighed. “been too long since i got to see you properly.”

“missed you too, baby. just glad i caught you when you weren’t too busy.” the smile on his face was soft, but there was a slight bit to his voice that he was sure you would miss - he wasn’t even intending for it to come out.

your eyebrows furrowed slightly, leaning back to look at his face, quickly noticing the sour expression on his face. something was clearly bothering him, between the touchiness and snappy attitude, but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

shifting your position so you were straddling his lap, you cupped his face in your palms. sighing softly, you stroked the frustration wrinkles out of his skin, concern showing on your face.

“wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, bubs?”

“its nothing, angel,” chan huffed, hands sitting on your waist. “just being silly and overthinking again.”

you wholeheartedly disbelieved that was the case, knowing chan better than he knew himself sometimes. racking your brain, you begged yourself to pick something out that could be the cause of his current despair. until it hit you.

“this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain coworker of mine, would it?”

when chris couldn’t hide the way his eyes rolled and ears flushed scarlet, you knew you had hit the jackpot. clearly something with jaehyun had upset chris, or even just slightly annoyed him - he was never any good at hiding his emotions.

“tell me what’s up, channie. i can’t help fix it if i don’t know what’s wrong.” you gently pushed, hoping he would cave under your proximity and allow you to share the burden of what was affecting him.

he was silent for a few moments, eyes screwed shut and his grip on your waist tightening slightly. then he blew out a breath, his grip loosening once again as he looked up at you with those big, brown eyes you adored.

“i just- sometimes i think the fans that ship you two are right. you get along so well, and seeing him surprise you here today just… kinda made me think maybe you would work better than us. and the thought hurt. i wanna be the one who makes you smile like that when i surprise you.”

chan’s confession made your heart drop. was he really that jealous of jaehyun and your friendship? had you done something to make him feel this way?

“love… you know you have no reason to be jealous, or upset, or worried? jaehyun is just a friend, and just a coworker. and you know i tolerate the shipping less than you do.”

you prayed that your reassurance would help, but when he simply shrugged you knew it was too much. sometimes chan’s anxiety got the better of him, and in those times it was hard to get through to him. even if he knew you were telling the truth, something in the back of his head told him that maybe he wasn’t good enough.

but you persisted.

“no one could ever compare to you, my love. you’re my hope, my light. and no matter who comes along, they could never make me feel as much love and appreciation as you.”

a small smile tugged at his lips, and you breathed a sigh of relief that your words were getting through to him.

“i know,” chris mumbled through his ambivalent expression. “i know, and i have no reason to feel like this. i’m sorry, baby, i didn’t mean to worry you, i just get scared one day you’ll realize you could do better.”

you both let out a little chuckle, amused by the way you were both talking like the end of the world was beginning. you softly kissed his full lips, with one last promise of forever in your throat.

“chris, baby. i get it. you don’t have to apologize. just remember that i got paid to kiss him as a character, while in character,” you jabbed him in the chest lightly to emphasize your point. “but you - not him, nor anyone else - you are the one i come home to at the end of the day.”

his face was flushed with emotion, shining through his eyes and into the way his dimples creased his skin as he looked at you with so much love you thought you would burst into a heap of fluff.

“i chose you, chris. i choose you everyday, and i always will.”

ears flushed slightly red, overwhelmed with your confession, chan held his hand out, pinky pointed towards you.

“we’ll always choose each other, yeah? forever. pinky promise?”

wrapping your pinky finger around his, you kissed his cheek gently, reveling in the way he smelt like home.

“pinky promise.”

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @downtherabbithole01 @amara-mars @demetrisscarf

#mixtape-racha fic #chan drabbles #chan x reader #anon asks #chan fluff #bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff

[writersblockiskillingme]

District 7 | Johanna Mason

Pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader (victor!reader)

Summary: Johanna and you seek some peace in District 7 after the rebellion.

Waning/s: angst and fluff, nightmares, talks about the games, tears, panic, curse words?, talks about Johanna's torture, rebellion, war, weapons (Johanna's ax), short fic, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I agree with you, dear anon. Lumberjack!johanna has me like 🙇‍♀️🧎‍♀️🤰 Also, I tried my best, hope you enjoy!

Request -> Hi :) Can I request a Johanna x fem!reader that takes place after all the events of the mockingjay? The reader is also a victor of her games and is now living in district 7 with Johanna. I want to see what their life is like after the games and rebellion. What they’re like taking care of each other after nightmares and triggering situations. Also because happy times good, what is domestic life like for them now (Like lumberjack!johanna oof 😮‍💨). Give me all the angst, all the sadness, all the domestic feels, and all the fluff!

You felt like the war will truly never end. It was suffocating from the very start. Especially during the quarter quell and after. Since the moment Katniss shot that arrow into the whole of the force field that destroyed the arena and the power knocked you unconscious, you had a bad feeling. The moment you woke up and Finnick told you that the Capitol captured Johanna and Peeta you felt like you couldn't breathe.

The physical and mental torture that your lover had suffered during her time in the Capitol undet Snow's clutches and the mental torture that you had to fight with in the safety of District 13 didn't make your time there any earlier.

You were quite literally lost without her by your side. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day that you spent worrying about her, whether she was being killed, whether she was in unbearable pain, whether she was even alive made your head spin from just remembering it. But the moment that Johanna was back in your eyes everything felt so much easier. Since she was finally rescheduled, for the first time ever, you felt like you could actually make it through this rebellion. But you didn't allow yourself to be filled with hope too much, yet.

At Snow's execution you were quite literally freezing while standing between Johanna and Haymitch, your eyes never leaving Snow that was placed a few feet in front of you as you tried to pull your jacket a little bit tighter around your body.

The air was still thick with loss caused by the death of Johanna's and yours mutual friend Finnick and every other person that you have lost throughout the many years of Snow's tortures ruling of the Panem.

Shock ruled over your entire body as you watched Katniss fire the arrow that nested itself inside of Coin's heart. As she fell down, people all around you stepped forward to kill Snow. Both of the rulers were dead. At last there will be peace in the whole Panem.

The peace that you decided to chase with the love of your life. Her hand tightly placed into yours as you said your goodbyes to the rest of the poor, tortured souls that somehow survived against all odds.

The first step onto the train that would send you both to District 7 felt like freedom. The silent breeze that cherished your cheeks and hair as you walked towards Johanna's house, hand in hand with her, the smell of the lumber in the air was a sign that you could perhaps find peace with the one you fought so hard for.

District 7 was good for you. It was different from your old home, for sure, but it was a good change. A change that your hears, soul and your spirit in general needed to live. During the day, when your therapists didn't visit or when you didn't have to visit them in the Capitol, Johanna and you would take calming strolls along the woods of her District, the smell of lumber became familiar. A sent without which you would probably, quite literally die, felt like peace. The word that both Johanna and you continued to chase endlessly.

But it wasn't easy.

The nightmares were overwhelming most of the time. Both of you would wake up in a cold sweat, practically screaming yourselves awake. Tears and panic was endless, but the presence of each other brought a great comfort to both of you.

One time you were laying in Johanna's and yours bed, molded into the sheets and pillows that were practically drowning you, hiding you from the world, as you tried to chase the sleep that you didn't get last night because of Johanna's nightmare. It didn't matter, though. As long as she was safe nothing else to you mattered. Just as you fell asleep, the nightmares from your own games started to drag you in.

The cold sweat covered your skin as you screamed yourself awake. Your breathing was heavy, you couldn't control it. Your hand reached over to Johanna's side of the bed feeling the cold grace your fingertips and you felt like someone spilled a bucket of freezing cold water over your head.

"Johanna!" A scream broke free from your throat as you dashed out of the bed in a lightning speed, trying to reach the door of the house to go outside.

You were forcefully put into a panicked frenzy as you practically broke down the door of the house, your head turning around in every possible direction. You were trying to find her.

And there she was. An ax in the hand, standing a few feet away from the house as she chopped the wood, the pile of lumber growing bigger and bigger with each swing. Her arms flexing as she was lightly covered in sweat from the hard work. Her eyebrows frowned in concentration. Her gorgeous pair of crystals looked at you in confusion and light concern as she watched your panicked expression.

"You good, dummy?" She asked you as she struck her ax into the wood before whipping away the sweat that glued her freshly grown bangs against her forehead.

"I just..." You sighed in relief once again as you watched her. "I just had a nightmare and you weren't there when I woke up, but it's okay."

Johanna quickly brought you into her arms, wrapping you up in their safety as she whispered sweet nothings into your ear in a desperate attempt to calm you down.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm okay."

"You're okay." You breathed out once more following her lead.

She separated herself from you for a moment before she brought you in for a delicate kiss that was oh so her.

"We're okay. We will be." She whispered against your lips, her arms never leaving once she wrapped them around your neck.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@caroline-books @thecrowdedstreetin1944

#imagine #fic #the hunger games #thg #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games fic #the hunger games books #the hunger games movie #the hunger games johanna #johanna mason #johanna mason x you #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x fem!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #jenna malone #jenna malone x reader #lesbian #bisexual #light angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #catching fire #the mockingjay #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay part 2 #finnick odair x reader

[zqmbiescorpse]

GLADIATOR, PART 3

johanna mason x female reader

a/n: i feel like they part is really wordy lololololol, also everytime i try to proof read i get very bored, so i will do it eventually (probably)

summary: after winning the 72nd hunger games, quite a name had been made for you in the capitol - quickly becoming a favourite across panem. because of this, naturally, you find yourself thrown back into the horror of the games due to the 3rd quarter quell, representing district 5 one last time. though, not all is lost, fellow tribute and close friend, johanna mason of district 7, finds herself in the same position.

tags: graphic depictions of violence (sometimes), johanna mason, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason x female reader, catching fire, mockingjay part 1, mockingjay part 2, 72nd hunger games, 75th hunger games, gore, eye gore, detailed descriptions of eyeball squishing, disabled reader, female reader, reader is missing an eye, reader is missing limbs, missing fingers, traumatic events, blood, choking, johanna mason needs a hug, rebellion, slow burn, mutual pining, scared of feelings, fluff, angst, making out, kissing, confessions, peeta has his prosthetic leg, maybe smut idk, tension, awkwardness, wlw, i love johanna so much

warnings for this part: making out, kissing, some angst

word count: 3.5k

(part 4) (masterlist)

The tribute parade was definitely something. Experiencing it for the first time, three years ago, it hadn't seemed so bad at the time - possibly due to the overwhelming anxiety and fear that kept you from processing any other emotion. However, going through it again made you realise how ridiculous the whole thing was. You hated everything about it. Sure that it was a humiliation tactic provided by the Capitol for entertainment, you had observed each of the various tribute outfits and were unable to detect anything that looked decent. Aside from the dazzling black material, which caught aflame, worn by Katniss and Peeta, everybody looked as stupid as they felt. How were your stylists allowed to do that to you?

In all honesty, it was a major struggle to keep a straight face, at that point you were just completely over it and couldn't take it seriously, eventually accepting the fact that you were dressed disgustingly. During the parade you found yourself distracted, fortunately, concerned with one thing. Johanna. Especially after the previous night, she remained prominent in your mind throughout the entire day and you were quite desperate to see her again.

You'd caught a few glimpses of her, each time you did you fought with yourself to stifle a laugh, although, to her credit, she managed to pull off the outfit in an odd way. Maybe it was because you found her extremely attractive, but even dressed as a tree, Johanna looked exceptional.

You were waiting in the lobby of the apartments with your stylist, mentor, and the male victor of your district, Gus. He was about 20 years older than you, the greys scattered in his hair growing more obvious with each day. The two of you weren't close and you hadn't discussed alliances with one another, assuming that in the arena you would be going your separate ways, which you were fine with, you didn't mind Gus at all, he was a nice guy.

"Ah! You both did so well today! Y/N, Gus, you looked amazing!" Your stylist, whose name you hadn't bothered to retain, announced delightedly, clearly very pleased with her work. She clasped her hands together and smiled widely before suggesting all of you return to the District 5 apartments for a meal, to celebrate.

Politely, you declined. You feigned exhaustion, excusing yourself and going on ahead with the intention of hiding away by yourself for a few hours. You said you were tired because of the hard work you'd done today, playing it up massively, yet, your mentor bought it and let you go.

You approached an elevator at the far end of the corridor, failing to see the victors from District 12 and their mentor enter it. About to step in, you finally noticed that you wouldn't be alone, becoming hesitant at the presence of Katniss and Peeta. Haymitch caught your eye with a look of reassurance, he was encouraging you to join them.

"Y/N Armstrong, District 5." While the idea of leaving them be and getting on the next elevator sounded a lot more appealing to you, Haymitch didn't give you the opportunity to decide for yourself, loudly declaring your arrival before you had the chance to back away.

"There's my favourite warrior," he joked as you nervously made your way, standing by his side to create some distance between yourself and the other victors.

"Hello, Haymitch," you spoke with an easily detectable awkwardness, causing your cheeks to heat up slightly at how strange you thought you'd sounded.

Similarly to most winners of the Hunger Games, you'd been given a nickname relevant to your triumph, branded by the Capitol for all of eternity. To them, you were known as the warrior, or, more commonly, the gladiator. Someone who was a ferocious fighter and absolutely brutal during a battle of life and death. Unfortunately, it was an accurate description considering the circumstances of your victory, but you found it funny how gladiators were usually slaves, trained and forced to fight, and weren't predicted to live long lives. The latter half you found you related to more.

Normally, hearing people call you that made you uneasy, cringing each time you were addressed as such, yet, when Haymitch called you that you knew it was him poking fun at the Capitol - mocking them, not you so you didn't mind it at all. Besides, you were close enough that you found some humour in his methods too.

Not much more was said, the atmosphere was uncomfortable and it didn't help that you could feel both Katniss' and Peeta's eyes constantly on you, both of them staring at your injuries.

"I'm not a fan of prosthetics," you blurted, brushing off any insecurity you had, faking confidence while you smiled at them. You sensed the comment had broken some of the suspense, since the elephant in the room had been acknowledged. Sometimes you walked around without even an eyepatch covering your socket, shortly after the tribute parade you removed the one given to you, discarding it. Consequently, you were feeling quite exposed standing there with people, who were pretty much strangers, the old wound on display for them to see.

"If I didn't need it to walk, I wouldn't either," Peeta spoke up, a welcoming warmth to his voice. You appreciated his response, the both of you were able to relate to each other, him wearing a prosthetic leg due to an infection that made him need to amputate. At least you could say that you and Peeta were somewhat friendly. You knew that Haymitch was probably pleased, happy that you were taking the plan of rebellion seriously by attempting to connect with the District 12 tributes.

"Why don't you wear them? If anything, you're just putting yourself at a huge disadvantage." That was the first time Katniss had ever said a word to you, her tone harsh, communicating suspicion and uncertainty perfectly. For some reason, you were getting the feeling that she wasn't very fond of you. Then again, untrusting and closed off was a large part of who Katniss was, understandably, so you didn't take it to heart.

"I like how it makes them uncomfortable." You were totally honest, having your injuries on show often satisfied you in a weird way, refusing to let the Capitol disguise what they did to you.

You could tell Katniss was a fan of your response, something in her face changing, it relaxed a little as suspicion morphed into respect. Imprinting a positive impression, the air felt a lot clearer than before and you felt you could breathe better, any anxieties about the situation disappearing.

Little conversation continued but you still felt that you'd managed to make a good amount of progress today regarding alliances. Then, the elevator doors slid open, allowing Johanna to saunter through them, that frustratedly amused expression, which she commonly wore, present. She briefly acknowledged you, enough to make the blood start rushing. You could tell that she was up to something, intrigued and glad to see her, you watched on intently.

"My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber…trees. Ugh, I'd love to put my axe in her face." She rambled on, anger seeping through her words while she let her crimson hair flow free and removed any extravagant jewellery inconveniencing her.

The image of Johanna axing someone in the face. No matter how hard you tried to not be attracted to the idea of her doing that, you couldn't stop thinking about it. You too hated your stylist for what she made you wear, consequently seeing no issue with what the fired-up redhead was saying. God, just the thought of it made you feel…something.

Seemingly lost, drifting away in the daydream, you'd missed the part where Johanna got undressed and was now completely naked in front of the four of you, flashing everyone standing in the elevator. You'd heard that earlier on in the day, Finnick had approached Katniss in the same playful manner, more subtly since he didn't strip off. It was a way of lightly intimidating her, observing how she would react in an uncomfortable situation; having some fun at her expense yet seeing whether the person they were risking their lives to protect was worth it.

Haymitch and Peeta were clearly enjoying themselves, shamelessly taking in everything Johanna had to offer. On the other hand, you struggled to not stare at her stunning body, her bare chest perfectly in line with your sight if you were to look ahead like a normal person. Your eyes fixated on every spot around your area that wasn't the person in front of you, you were a flustered mess, blushing all over, now feeling rather warm.

Although what she was doing was not aimed towards you, Johanna took notice of every reaction you were having, relishing in how nervous she made you feel, every smidge of red splattered on your cheeks was because of her, and she was proud.

You could almost smell the disgust radiating from Katniss, unimpressed by Johanna's stunt, she tried seeking support from you as together you'd discovered a newfound respect for one another. She expected you to be equally repulsed, only to find that you were trying so desperately to not pass out because of Johanna. Katniss bit her tongue, rolled her eyes and came to the conclusion that you were into Johanna, though, at least you were being more respectful about it. Haymitch and Peeta gawked while you had the decency to look away, even if it was because you felt awfully tense and awkward due to the attraction and feelings you had for her.

With the rise of a perfect brow, the fierce woman gave one last glance at everyone, winking at Haymitch, the pair exchanging knowing looks. Sensing her departure, you quietly let out a sigh of relief, having been holding your breath, allowing your heart rate to regulate. Regaining confidence, your vision altered itself from a top corner of the elevator to what you expected to be an empty space ahead of you. To your surprise, Johanna remained unmoving, her dangerously mischievous eyes already on yours.

You had no chance to inquire, her hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, her grip firm, practically dragging you away with her - a delighted cheek plastered to her face.

"Thanks! Let's do it again sometime!" marvelled the domineering woman, her voice getting lost to Peeta and Katniss while she made her way into the hallway, a very confused, uneasy you trailing behind, sort of against your will?

"I was supposed to get off ages ago, this isn't my floor," the sudden realisation hitting you, displaying stupidity since this was unmistakably not your floor.

"No, it's my floor, and you got off at the right time, with me. We're going to my apartment," Johanna informed you, leaving no room for protest.

At that moment, she spun around to face you after leading on in front, finally releasing the hold she had on your reddening wrist. However, she made sure to run her thumb gently over the mark, sparking jolts of an electric sensation down your left arm, then she dropped your hand.

"Why?" Your voice was laced with bewilderment. There was an additional something you were meaning to vocalise, but any recollection of what it was disappeared once you were faced with the naked woman again.

"Johanna, I can't believe you're wandering around without any clothes, shouldn't you, yknow, put something on?" Fumbling your words here and there, a cloud of scarlet dust crept its way back up your neck.

"Well why do you think we're heading back to my room?" She mocked, inching closer to you, whispering, “What is it, baby? Do you not like my body?”

You froze, slightly wide-eyed, a feeling of dread at the lack of ability to think of something to say. Johanna just laughed.

“Okay…whatever, let’s hurry up then. I mean, what if someone sees you?” You finally responded, purposefully ignoring some parts of what she’d said, apparently more embarrassed than she was.

“You’ve already seen my plenty,” She smirked, her pointer finger jabbing into your shoulder, “So has Katniss, so has Haymitch, so has Peeta. It doesn’t bother me, I’ve been seen in worse states anyway, crying, shaking, covered in the blood of others, right? And the whole of Panem saw that.” The seductive expression never left her face while she was talking, a huge contrast to the words coming out of her mouth, the sinister undertones lacing them.

Johanna witnessed a change in you. She was enjoying the teasing and seeing you tense up every time she took a step closer to you, until getting any closer wouldn't leave room to breathe. Although it was doubtful that she would ever confess it, she disliked seeing you sad, and you were looking pretty dejected after she reminded you of the world you were living in, having been immersed in whatever was occurring between you both.

Eventually, you had gotten back to her apartment and Johanna wasted no time getting dressed into a more casual attire, disappearing into her closet. Her room appeared identical to yours: same rectangular shape, same double bed with the same luxuriously styled sheets, same window, and even the same bedside table.

"Is everything alright, Johanna?" You asked, growing ever more curious as to why she brought you all the way here.

"Mhm, yeah, why'd you ask?" She called back, still out of sight.

"Because…is there a reason why you wanted me here?" You could only imagine how timid you sounded, glad that she couldn't see you fidgeting about.

"Was you expecting something? I bet you thought you were gonna get lucky," Johanna almost howled, reappearing suddenly.

"What? No… we're friends… I don't know, maybe I thought you needed something…" Your voice trailed off, each word getting harder and harder to hear, almost a fearful whisper as you awkwardly laughed your way through your speech.

The unique effect Johanna caused whenever she was around you was extraordinary - a tense thrill that you could never want to dispose of. It was humiliating how you seemed to melt into a goopy, uncoordinated puddle on the floor each time she gave you the time of day. Considering the less-than-ideal world you lived in, not many things brought joy to your life, hence your strong attachment to the short-tempered tribute from District 7, thus, it would be a total lie to pretend that you weren't expecting anything to happen.

Seeing her on the opposite side of the space, you were caught in her cheery gaze, provoking a smile to form on your lips. This seemed to satisfy her ever-growing playful mood.

"Well maybe I do need something, baby…" Johanna suggested, a nonchalant grin gracing her alluring features.

It was aggravatingly slow. She wasn't even that far from you. Yet, Johanna took her sweet, sweet time moseying over, each step she took closing the gap keeping you apart.

"Whatever it is, I can try my best to help. I'm always here for you and stuff…" You claimed, the nerves rapidly ramping up. Fully aware that advice and a conversation weren't what the enticing woman before you desired.

An approving hum tickled your ears, Johanna was now so near to you that you could feel her warm breath on your lips, mere centimetres apart from hers. You were desperate to close the gap but couldn't bring yourself to do it, something was stopping you from finally putting an end to all the agonising tension. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn't possibly fathom the idea of someone as beautiful as Johanna expressing a romantic interest in you. Maybe her bringing you back to her room, backing you into a corner, was just another teasing gesture that in a few moments would be over and everything would die down the moment things started to feel serious between you and her.

"What is it, pretty girl? What are you thinking?" Johanna almost whispered against your lips, a whole new wave of red coating your cheeks.

Lacking a response, the beautiful woman took it upon herself to cup your face in her soft hand, feeling the heat radiating off your skin, while she gently tilted your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. You observed an odd mix of emotions, her eyes suggesting seduction, lust, desperation, longing, yet, there was also uncertainty and fear.

"Johanna…please…"

As much as she was giving in to your pleas, Johanna was giving into herself, she'd been craving your affections and couldn't hold herself back any longer, though there was an isolated nervousness to her that was hidden excellently, you didn't notice a thing, too excited and wide-eyed her lips meeting yours.

It was barely a brush, a soft press, sudden feelings of hesitancy present again and the kiss did not last long. You felt quite satisfied, having managed to feel her lips against yours, even though it was short - yearning for more. Sparks ignited your entire bodies because of the tender moment, spurring Johanna on.

Her mouth soon connected back to yours, crashing into it hungrily, her tongue swiping across your lips, which you parted, accidentally whimpering into her mouth. This kiss continued to deepen, becoming bruising, you couldn't help but feel like she was being a little rough, not that you minded, triggering a similar amount of passion from you.

The past three years have brought a strange relationship into your life through the likes of Johanna, it had been very gradual, for starters, not seeing her as much as you had wanted caused your friendship to build at an excruciatingly slow pace, the romantic feelings that came later were danced around for far too long - tensions constantly high, the desire for one another ever-growing

Her hands roamed your body, fingers trailing around your hips, she grasped at your clothes and guided you backward pushing you flush up against the wall in her apartment. Clearly the more dominant out of the two of you, Johanna seemed to be in control, leading the kisses and the occasional touches over each other's aroused bodies.

Breaths were few and far between, more concerned with keeping the movement of your lips entwined; like your mouths were glued together, impossible to part, the simplicity of inhaling and exhaling became their least significant thing. But you did part, eventually, not wanting to lose the closeness, your hands remained tangled in her dark hair and Johanna left a series of pecks around your lips, regaining air every other second.

The erratic atmosphere came to a halt, presenting an opportunity to calm down. Faint pants could be heard, but that was all. A grin stretched across your face, wide and hopeful, never breaking eye contact with a content Johanna. She wasn't smug, amused, or teasing, appearing genuinely pleased. It was a moment you could bask in for hours, a golden glow basking you both, in her arms, playing with her luscious locks, reshaping the spikes that added so much to her personality without fail.

And then, she pulled away.

Immediately, you could sense something was wrong. The previously loved-filled eyes looking down at you in a memorised trance turned sinister, the happiness washing away and being swiftly replaced by…regret?

You could feel a shake against your waist, her smooth palms let go and she retreated back into herself. A distance had been put between you, physically and emotionally.

"Johanna, what is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?" Whereas the words would usually come tumbling out of your mouth due to nervousness caused by a silly, awkward crush, here, you were stumbling and stammering because you could see the cogs turning in Johanna's mind - caught up in her own dreadful thoughts, a painful expression flashing her features.

She didn't respond. Growing worried by the second, you tried to move nearer, consequently, Johanna became infuriated, the intense anger she would aim towards everyone in the Capitol, a side of her you hadn't witnessed directly.

"You need to leave, go, I don't want you here!" She yelled, repeating it until her throat went sore and her eyes started to water from frustration.

Initially, you stood there, perfectly still. To understand would take a while. It was obvious how scared she was and that frightened you, you struggled to comprehend the abrupt change occurring so drastically, your world crashing down around you. The sweet bliss and sheer joy you had felt were rare, the last time you had felt so happy was hard to recall, however, your naive heart was being crushed by the one who had made it beat so freely.

Your stomach turned, nausea corrupting your senses, the shouts for you to leave never ending, and getting through to Johanna was impossible. Tears flowing, streaming down your cheeks, you made haste, slamming the door as you left - consumed by sorrow and bewilderment.

That night, you didn't get much sleep.

#johanna mason x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #finnick odair #katniss everdeen #lqbtqa #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games #catching fire

[laceswan]

The Spirit of Fate

The Smiling Princess, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5

Finnick Odair x fem!dancer!reader

What if the equivalent of a Disney Princess was thrown into the Hunger Games? Sylke is optimistic and has an affinity for all that is gentle and sweet. What happens when she is placed in an arena and forced to kill or be killed?

Fluff and angst, strangers to lovers, T/W: canon-typical violence

Epilogue is out!

Finnick woke up with a startled gasp. With eyes wide open he was now incredibly aware of all that was touching his body. He could feel the suit from the arena clinging to his body, the cold air and the mask on his face, and a bandage on his arm. Looking around, he saw the inside of a jet much like the one had taken to get to the arena. Beetee and Katniss were in a similar position, lying on mats on the floor with bandages and wires monitoring them. Behind a frosted glass door he heard voices. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to the door. Inside, he found Haymitch and Plutarch sitting by a table and talking.

“You’re up.”

“I am. Where are the others?”

Plutarch stepped closer. There was sadness in his expression, but Finnick had half a mind not to trust it.

“Snow got to them before we could, there wasn’t any time.”

Finnick leaned against the table, his head hung low and defeated.

“Alright… what about Sylke, where’s she? Are we headed to the house or-“

This time it was Haymitch that spoke. He placed a hesitant hand on Finnick's shoulder.

“Finnick, I’m really sorry.”

Terror painted across Finnick’s face.

“We sent some people, but by the time they got there…”

Haymitch trailed off as Finnick sunk into his body. He let his body fall onto a chair, but had it not been there he would have just ended up on the floor. He assumed the worst. His hands flew to cover his mouth and muffle the little cries that came out. He’d already suffered her death once before, why again?

“Do we at least have her body? I want… I wanna give her a proper burial.”

His voice was shaky, but this was what needed to be done. He needed at least to say goodbye.

Haymitch looked to him with utmost pity.

“Son, she’s alive. They got her.”

And suddenly her death felt like a blessing. Burning emotion seized his body. It wasn’t even rage, nor terror, just pure anguish.

“No, no! You told me-you promised! You promised we would get her out!”

Haymitch sighed.

“I made a lot of promises. We’ll send a rescue team when the dust settles.”

Finnick nodded. His whole body was still stricken and trembling with agony, but he wasn’t one to throw a tantrum; especially not when he knew firsthand the nuances of covert operation in the capitol. Katniss, however, was a different sorry. When she heard about Peeta she did everything Finnick’s impulse had urged him to do. She screamed and shouted, even attacked Haymitch. She clawed and batted at him like a desperate animal, repeating that he made a promise, that he was a liar. Finnick could only watch, for once feeling pity, as well as understanding. Ten years ago, he would have done exactly the same.

When they landed in District Thirteen, Finnick, Katniss, and Beetee were sent to the infirmary. The lightning strike had presented some complications to Finnick’s health, so they dressed him in a white gown and admitted him to a small room with a thick glass door until he recovered. The room was probably white too, clinical and pristine, probably cleaned by the hour. But right now, it looked like it was coated in mustard gas. The lights buzzed with a sort of iodine yellow hue, washing the room in an ominously warm colour.

During his recovery, they allowed him few personal items-not that he had many to begin with. He was however, able to get some rope. When he was awake his mind would race. There was nothing to do, nothing to keep him distracted, his only task was apparently to recover. He could at least keep his hands busy, tying and untying the same couple ropes until there were blisters on his hands. It helped to move his hands, but not enough. Every second, his head was flooded with thoughts of her. Perhaps he had brought this on himself, refusing to think about her for so long in the arena, simply because there wasn’t time. Now, he had all the time in the world, and it felt wrong not to think of her at every moment. They were keeping her alive, he was sure of that much. They wouldn’t give up their leverage so easily. Was she in a similar room, white and cold with a similarly racing mind? We’re they hurting her? Or was she still just some pretty thing in a cage? Was she able to dance? A bittersweet smile came to Finnick’s face when he pictured her dancing. He saw her in a room just like his, in a gown just like his, dancing barefoot around the room with her eyes closed. It brought him comfort, the idea that she could perhaps maintain at least a little joy. But of course, thoughts of her dancing were followed by a much more somber and unfortunately likely possibility. In his mind, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if they were restraining her. He saw her strapped fo a bed much like the one he had in the infirmary, struggling and begging to be given even a moment of freedom to move. He at least had that privilege. He could pace, sit on the floor, even dance if her wanted to. What if she couldn’t? Such questions plagued him mind. The span of morbid possibilities refused to be ignored, and so he listened to that dangerous voice. He fell into a spiraling rabbit-hole of ways she might have been hurting, only further enabled by his present utter inability to help her.

It affected his health too. The doctors called it a parasympathetic stress response, but all he understood was that it felt like shit. He was always tired but only sometimes able to sleep, he experienced phantom pain in random places, and everything took longer to heal. The time he spent in the infirmary was miserable. It was miserable for Katniss too. She had a nightmare once and came into his room. That night was perhaps his lowest point. It was when death looked so welcoming, so lovely a fate to experience, if only it would come sooner. The only thing that kept him alive was knowing the capitol wouldn’t let her die. He refused to die if she was still alive and hurting.

Katniss somehow recovered much faster. Finnick was a little jealous, that she was able to keep living her life even when Peeta was in the capitol. She was discharged, and not long after, Coin called everyone to hear a speech, which included those admitted in the infirmary. Finnick stood with the doctors and other patients, making a little patch of white in a sea of grey. Coin announced that Katniss was to be the face of the rebellion, and that in exchange for that, there were some “concessions”. Specifically the extraction the the victors held hostage in the capitol. The crowd began to clamor at the mention of Peeta’s name. They shouted and exclaimed, rejecting Peeta’s rescue. Katniss made her way over as Johanna’s name was announced.

“Finnick, I made the deal for Sylke too.”

Coin’s voice boomed through the hall.

“…and Sylke Fairinan”

Their was utter silence at her name. Some people looked a little confused. Finnick was just a little shocked himself as well. He never quite thought of Sylke as a victor. Hearing her name, her full name, announced like that to a crowd made her feel like a public figure, a celebrity, someone with an image and a life they hide from the world. But to him she was just Sylke, that’s what she’d always been. He hadn’t even heard her last name in ten years. She was always just Sylke, the angel that occupied eternal space in his mind and heart.

“Once freed, they will be granted pardon for any and all crimes committed against the rebel cause.”

The crowd once again resulted into vocal dissent and anger. A worries look quickly came to Katniss’ face. Finnick tried to console her, knowing the two of them were the only ones with loved ones hostage in the capitol.

“Good.”

She looked to him, concerned and clearly unsure of herself.

“That’s good, Katniss.”

For the first time in a long time, there was a small smile on his face. There was hope again, however small.

“If Katniss Everdeen fails to fulfill her duties, the deal will be off.”

That look of fear and heartache returned to both of their faces as the people filed out of the hall. It occurred to Finnick as he made his way back to the infirmary that his spirits were rather fragile now. That night, when he was alone, words couldn’t help but escape his lips. Even with Coin’s speech, hope was hard to hold onto. Finnick sat on the floor of his room, leaning against the bed with his head hung low.

“Angel, how do you do it? How do you stay smiling? I’m trying, I promise.”

His voice was quiet, speaking words meant only for him and someone miles away.

“I’m so tired.”

He cried quietly to himself, though did eventually drift to sleep there on the floor.

Finnick recovered slowly. While Katniss was filming propos and being the Mockingjay, he was in the infirmary. He wallowed, but with every day came a little more hope. Katniss and Beetee sometimes came to see him, bringing news of the rebellion’s plans. Smiling got easier, as did picturing Sylke dancing. The idea that she would be alright seemed more and more true. When the phantom pains and memories of Sylke finally became manageable, he traded in his white gown for a grey jumpsuit.

The whole of thirteen gathered one night to watch Katniss’ new propo. He was horrified by the bombing, he was angry with Snow for uncountable reasons, what he was not was triumphant. At the end, the symbol of the mockingjay came onto the screen accompanied by a message. Join the fight. The crowd chanted their celebration like they won a war. That sort of victory song always felt misplaced to Finnick. Blaring horns and happy voices when people lie dead on the battlefield. People showering him with gifts and congratulations just after someone died in his arms. But that was what the propos were meant to do. He looked to Katniss beside him, and she had a similar look of confusion and discomfort.

“You don’t like hearing a fight song at a funeral, huh?”

She turned her head to look at him. He continued, reminding her and himself of what they needed to remember.

“The more people on our side, the closer we are to Sylke and Peeta.”

She nodded. No matter how icky it felt, this was what needed to be done.

The days passed with incredible monotony. Every day was exactly the same, the same schedule, the same people. The only variety came in the form of news, speeches, broadcasts. One night, Finnick visited Katniss in her room and they watched Peeta’s interview. He was crying, and he looked terrified. Finnick in a way envied her, for she able to see Peeta’s face and know that he was at least physically healthy. But he also knew that the pain of seeing him say everything they couldn’t believe in was a whole different world of pain and confusion. In the short time he knew Peeta, the subject of rebellion or even government never really came into conversation. It was the same with Sylke. Perhaps that was the worst part; that what Peeta was asking of Katniss and the rebels seemed entirely possible. From where he was standing, he just wanted the violence to stop. He was most certainly being fed information, being manipulated by the capitol, but the root of his argument was something understandable. It was almost reminiscent of Sylke’s words in her interview so long ago. She was never one for violence or combat. Ever since the beginning, she favoured diplomacy, kindness, and compromise. Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if Peeta’s words were even that treacherous. They were currently entrenched in desperate times, and thus desperate measures were called for. But later, they would need people like Peeta, like Sylke, to remind them of the value of compassion. Finnick made a small promise to himself, that he would try to be one of those people, at least when the fighting was over. If they managed to win, he was going to try to be like her. To be kind, to have mercy, and to offer grace.

The next day, he went with Katniss to hunt above ground. It was calming for both of them, getting to move and use the skills they had honed for years. That familiar feeling of a trident sinking into flesh, the thwip of an arrow as it flies through the air, it brought them comfort. They did eventually sit down too.

“I’m glad we were able to come out today. I think you needed this after last night.”

She nodded.

“I don’t like watching those broadcasts, but I can’t look away. He’s so different already. What are they doing to him?”

Finnick was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know. I think that’s the worst part.”

“It is. They could be telling him to say all that stuff and threatening to kill him, or maybe they’re actually convincing him it’s true. I don’t know what’s better.”

“I don’t think there is a better. It’s all bad when it comes to Snow.”

She murmured agreement. They were quiet again, listening to the birds and the rustling trees. Nature has such an ability to soothe, with her ambient noise and dappled light. It made them feel safe enough to talk.

“Is it bad that I just want this to be over? Sometimes I think he’s right, that we should just give up. At least then I could see him again.”

“I don’t think that’s bad, Katniss. I think it’s human.”

She looked unsure of herself.

“You miss him. And you want to be with him, so you can know he’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Do you want it to be over?”

“Of course. I just want to know she’s safe. That safety could come with a ceasefire, or with victory.”

“Yeah. But a ceasefire means she goes back to that mansion.”

Finnick clicked his tongue and tilted his head in agreement.

“And that’s why I’m here. If we win, we wouldn’t just be safe, we’d be happy. I want her to be happy.”

Katniss smiled.

“I think I could be happy with him.”

They spent a few more hours talking in the forest, confiding in each other as the only other people who could relate, who knew this special sort of pain. Their afternoon in the forest was a nice respite, but they did eventually need to return to the concrete rooms under the earth.

After the attack on the dam, another interview was broadcast. Peeta called it inhuman, begged her to stop. He looked so genuinely terrified. But what he was scared of was unclear. There was something just behind the camera, something that instilled and powerful fear in him.

“They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in District Thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-“

The broadcast was cut off as he was dragged away. Sirens began to blare, people filed out to level forty. If there was panic in the air it was hard to detect. People were calm and orderly as they rushed down the stairs, perfectly trained soldiers. That is, until water rained from above and the lights went out. People screamed, ran, let go of order in favour of getting to the bunker. People would scream each time a blast hit. When the night grew quieter, no one slept. They just kept waiting for the cracks in the ceiling to widen, for the walls to cave in and for death to arrive. Finnick sat in one of the beds, fiddling with the gold bangle instead of rope, which he had given to Katniss during the bombing. She had looked like she needed it more than him. In the quiet of night, Katniss walked over and sat beside him.

“He’s taunting me, using Peeta to punish me. I didn’t understand until just now, watching that stupid cat.”

“Yeah. That’s why he took Sylke too.”

Finnick sighed before continuing.

“After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act. We all expected you’d continue that strategy. But it wasn’t until Peeta’s heart stopped and he almost died that…"

He looked at Katniss directly, hoping to convey just how sincere and vulnerable this conversation was for him. This sort of openness wasn't exactly natural to him, but it needed to be said, and right now, she needed to hear it.

"I misjudged you. You love him. Anyone paying attention can see it.”

“How do you live with it?”

“I’ve been doing it for ten years. For five of them I thought she was gone. I did the whole self-pity thing the first time around. I had nightmares-I still do. But you learn not to give in to it. It gets easier.”

She listened, nodding her head ever so slightly.

“But then it happened again. And it takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart, you saw how long I was in the infirmary. But if Sylke taught me anything it’s that little joys can keep you alive. They kept her sane in that house, and they’ve kept me going down here.”

Katniss didn’t say anything. They sat in silence for a while, and once Finnick started nodding off, she went back to her sister and mother.

In the morning, she was gone and thirteen was buzzing with action. Finnick was sitting, anxiously waiting for something he could do to help. Beetee was working through the capitol’s electronic system or something, there was a rescue team setting up, and all Finnick could do was watch. He had signed up to be on the team, but as a refugee and not a soldier, they informed him that he couldn’t. By nightfall they finally had a job for him. He was going to be a distraction broadcast so they could jam the whole system, and the team could safely get it. He stood on a pile of rubble and white roses, with stagelights warming his skin.

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games. I’m coming to you from District 13, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the capitol. But I’m not here to give you recent news. Instead, I’m here to tell you the truth. The truth about the capitol.”

He continued for what felt like forever, indulging in his whole story, the one he only ever told Sylke. The story of how after he turned sixteen, he was sold like a commodity to socialites in the capitol. That he wasn’t the only one, and if you refused, your loved ones were killed. That there was one girl who was dead to the rest of the world, but Snow brought her back just to sell her.

“Remember Sylke Fairinan? She was your princess. You dressed her up in fancy gowns and gold tiaras before she went into the arena. I felt her die in my arms. And then they started her heart back up and sold to the highest bidder. Lycan Indigo. He kept her like a doll, locked in a mansion for ten years. She’s alive. You kept your princess in a gilded cage. And what's worse, after ten years in that place, after slowly learning to find happiness there, you've taken her from it again. President Snow is holding her hostage, to taunt me. He is not the kind man he shows himself to be.”

Finnick kept going. He revealed Snow’s history of poison and assignation, the reason behind his heavy perfume, the bloody sores in his mouth, every secret he knew was a secret no longer. As he spoke, one or the people behind the camera spoke up.

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, it looks like they’re broadcasting Katniss now.”

Finnick nodded, unsure of what was going on. They went back down to find everyone looking incredibly distraught. He and Katniss sat in a room, silent, waiting for news. He once again had the rope in his hands, tying and untying knots to keep his hands busy. He had to think she was safe. He had to. Cause if he considered for even a moment that she wasn’t, he’d fall apart again. When Haymitch opened the door, their eyes show up.

“They’re back.”

All that needed to be said for them to get up and sprint to the landing area. Johanna was the first one they saw. She was gaunt, her head shaved, but a smirk was still on her face. And then he heard it.

“Finnick? Finnick!”

That voice he hadn’t stopped hearing for ages, but only ever in his head. Her name fell from his mouth involuntarily, quietly questioning if it was real as he ran towards the source of her voice. Later, people would tell him that they said each other’s names perhaps a thousand times in that single exchange. He would notice later that she looked weak, her hair was longer and had lost some of it’s shine, and that despite all that her spirit had in no way dimmed. Her eyes had lit up when she saw him walk in the room. And suddenly, it was as if there was no one in the world but the two do them, crashing through space to reach each other. They collided and lost balance, slamming against a wall, but they stayed there, clinging into one being. Indivisible. He whispered like he didn’t believe it.

“You’re safe…”

She pulled her head out from his embrace to look at him, nodding with a smile. Whether they were smiling or laughing or crying, even they didn’t know. Words fail to describe the joy, the relief, the wonder of being back together. When heart rates slowed and the dust settled, they finally spoke. Finnick had a smile the magnitude of which hadn’t touched his face in far too long.

“Hi.”

“Hi. It’s been a minute.”

As though they were one being, they burst into simultaneous and gentle laughter.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m okay. They beat me up a little, but I’ll be alright.”

“They what?”

Finnick’s voice was hoarse, breathy. He knew that they would do that, and yet in that moment he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to hurt her. Not even Mr. Indigo did that. But her smile clearly wasn’t gone. With a voice laced with affection, she put a hand against his cheek and reassured him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You guys got me out before they started my ‘treatment’. I’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“We should get you to the infirmary.”

“Okay.”

Still refusing to stop touching her, Finnick scooped her into his arms and carried her himself to the infirmary. On the way there, her head was nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

“I was right, you know.”

“Hmm? How?”

“I knew you’d come back to me. You didn’t win, but you didn’t have to. I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did. You were right to hope.”

She laughed to herself, closing her eyes. Even with her sunny disposition, her body was clearly exhausted.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As her body melted further into his and her breathing slowed, he continued walking. They didn’t put her in a room, apparently her condition wasn’t that bad, so she would only need a bed for a few days. Mostly bruises, a couple of open wounds, but nothing bad.

When she woke up, she found herself in a cold room devoid of colour. For a moment, she wondered if it was a dream. Sitting up, she looked around. Finnick wasn’t there, and neither was anyone else. The curtains were drawn. Had they moved her to a new place? We’re they starting her treatment? She hastily removed the IV from her arm, leaving the patch with the needle and luer connector, but no tubing. Whatever they were pumping into her needed to stop there.

“Johanna? Peeta?”

Silence. She heard faint chatter from just outside, doctors or scientists getting ready. Hesitant feet touched the ground. Her fingers brushed against the thin fabric of the curtain. Fear kept her from grasping it. What would she see on the other side? There was hope in her still that she was safe, that she wasn’t in the capitol anymore, but what if she was wrong? What if she was still there, destined to be Syren Indigo? What if she was wrong to hope?

“Hello?”

She heard footsteps. Fearing the scolding that might come should they find her out of bed, she laid back down and put the IV back against the luer connector, though not actually placing it inside. Hopefully she’d be able to fool them. The footsteps got louder. It wasn’t necessary, but she wasn’t ready to face them yet, so she relaxed her body and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She heard metal rings scraping against a pole as the curtain was opened.

“Sylke?”

That was his voice. She wanted to open her eyes, see him, but what if it was a lie? What if this was the start of her treatment? She heard how it started with Peeta. They played him altered clips and all sorts of things. What if this was one of those?

“Oh. You’re still asleep.”

A chair was pulled up, and someone sat down. A warm hand smoothed out her hair. She took a long inhale. No perfume. The hand then gently rested on hers. She knew that touch, and it made her flinch. But still terrified, she kept her eyes closed. The technology of the capitol could do anything.

“Sylke? Are you awake?”

That was his voice. He sounded so real. Even if it wasn’t him, couldn’t she take a look? Even if it was fake, couldn’t she see his face again? That voice of temptation was so loud. What would be the worst that could happen? They were going to wake her up anyway. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. And there he was. With those lovely green eyes staring right back at her.

“Hey, Angel. How are you feeling?”

She frantically searched his eyes, before looking to everything else around her. His eyes looked right. His face too. He was in a grey jumpsuit. Everything else was grey too. Behind him was what the curtain used to cover. It looked like a hospital. It was quiet, but not deadly silent. It didn’t look the same. The walls weren’t pristine white, they were concrete. The lights would flicker every now and then, nothing seemed quite perfect like it was before.

“Angel? Is everything alright?”

She looked back at him with terror in her eyes.

“Are you real? Are you really here?”

He moved closer to her, with nothing but love and affection in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m real. We’re safe. We’re in thirteen, remember?”

“We are?”

“Mhmm. You’re in the infirmary right now, but they said you can be discharged in a day or two.”

He looked at the IV lying unconnected at her arm, and plugged it back in with a chuckle.

“That is, if you actually listen to the doctors and take the meds they give you.”

She smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile.

“How come you unplugged it?”

“I… I thought I was in the capitol. I thought they had moved me to start my treatment.”

“You said that earlier too. What treatment?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I didn’t hear all of it. But Mr. Indigo… when he visited me-“

“He came to see you?”

“Yeah. Almost every day for maybe an hour, he’d come in and talk to me, make sure they were treating me well, he even snuck in a couple things for me once. More recently he started mentioning the treatment. Said he talked to the doctors and convinced them to let me get the help I needed, so I wouldn’t be starting fires in my room anymore. And he said it would make me a real Indigo if I wasn’t already. I remember the words.

‘Syren Indigo. Got a nice ring to it, don’t it?’

I heard what they were doing to Peeta. I figured they’d do something similar to me. He wanted me to be his daughter.”

“Oh Sylke…”

The words to be said evaded him and he was left with only actions. He stood up and walked over to the bed, gesturing that she move over. She did, and he crawled under the covers, holding her close in his arms. His embrace was warm, comforting, familiar.

“Finnick. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want to forget.”

He held her even tighter, placing a kiss on her head.

“You won’t, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. You remember how to waltz?”

She looked at him with a grin.

“Of course.”

“Then get up.”

He got out of the bed and offered his hand. The moment she took it, he placed a hand on her waist, pulling her close. With his other hand, he grabbed the pole on wheels from which a bag of saline fluid hung. Sylke rested her hand by his neck and with the other room Finnick’s hand, holding the pole as well.

“Do you remember?”

“I couldn’t possibly let myself forget. Not when I still owed you a dance.”

And with that, they swayed about the section of the room she had been allotted. It was just like she taught him that night, all those years ago. One, two, three, brush, one, two, three, brush. Swept up in the music they heard in their heads, the dance continued. He spun her around, lifted her off the floor, and always right on the downbeat. It ended when they let go of the pole and it rolled too far away. Sylke felt a sharp tug at her arm and the imaginary music stopped.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just maybe we should be more careful."

“Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

Sylke laughed, wrapping her arms up by his neck.

“We both did. Once I’m out of here, we’ll get to dance properly.”

Finnick nodded.

“Soon.”

Finnick did eventually have to leave and resume his schedule. Sylke went back to sleep, clutching a pillow in his stead. Slowly but surely, a new world faded in. Her limbs were blocky, solid, and utterly incapable of movement. All that she had control over was her eyes, glancing around. In her periphery, she was able to figure out what exactly she was. She was a marionette, strung up on a stage. In the audience, right there in the front row, we’re the cold, wolf-like eyes of Mr. Indigo. He was watching her, with a hideous, inhuman grin. And then the music started. It was plucky, out of tune, like a harpsichord left untouched for ages. And she began to dance. Her arms and legs flailed about, and her torso was yanked up and down. She couldn’t open her mouth or even breathe, and yet somehow she kept moving. This dancing cage of hers moved without life or spirit. It had no bones, no muscle, only string that extended up into the vague darkness above.

Sylke didn’t wake up screaming or yelling. Her eyes merely flew open, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling and quietly sobbing, she sat up and clutched the pillow in her arms. Johanna, from the neighboring bed, spoke up. Her tone was harsh, unsympathetic.

“What are you crying about?”

“I-I just had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Mr. Indigo. He was looking at me, and I just…”

Words dissolved into sniffles. Johanna just laughed. There was venom in her voice when she spoke.

“Your scared of him? Seriously? That man visited you almost every day. He was so good to you-“

Heartache emerged from her throat.

“He loved you!”

A whimper escaped from Sylke and she clutched the pillow even tighter.

“But he…”

“He what? I heard him talk about you, he had nothing but love for you.”

"Please don't say that..."

She kept going, words flowing like a river from her mouth, with no hesitation or tact.

“Are you really that ungrateful? Everything he did was for you…”

She paused for a moment, a devilish smile growing on her face.

“… for his little Syren.”

“Please, just stop…”

Sylke took a shaky breath, shifting to look at Johanna straight on.

“I never asked for his love. I know he’s the reason I’m still alive, I know that it could have been worse. But that man took my life and made it his.”

The shaking stopped. Sylke regained her composure. She stood up and walked to Johanna’s bed, sitting down next to her. Their time in the capitol made them quite familiar with one another’s hardships. Sylke knew exactly where these words were coming from. She knew why Johanna was hurting, she knew that when one has no one, even unwanted love seems desirable. And so she spoke gently, hoping her empathy would be understood as such, rather than pity.

“Mr. Indigo didn’t love me as a person. He didn’t care if I was happy, so long as I provided entertainment. That’s not how you’re supposed to love someone.”

Johanna nodded, saying nothing. She knew she overstepped, she knew her words were impulsive. And now suddenly she felt a little guilty. Sylke had appealed to her humanity with just a few sentences.

“I know. It just hurts, you know?”

“I know.”

Sylke murmured more validation, placing her head on Johanna’s shoulder. She wanted to say that Johanna had friends here, people who loved her, but decided to let it be quiet. She’d say it some other time.

Sylke’s wounds took very little time in healing. She only needed to stay in the infirmary until the larger wounds had closed up, which didn’t take long. Really, they only worried about the cut on her side. She remembered when it was made. The blade was jagged and dull, dragging across her skin at a snail’s pace, over and over again. They asked her with every stroke what she knew. Of course Finnick hadn’t told her about the plan, she barely even knew he was a rebel. But they kept going. First there was a raised line of red, where the skin was raw and irritated. The blade tore further into her skin, but drew no blood. They grabbed her arms with and iron grip and threw her back into her cell, earning her a couple bruises. Once there was a film of yellow scabbing, they took her back out. Slowly, and again with the questions, they peeled it. With the layer of platelets gone, blood dribbled out of the wound. The flesh beneath was tender, and they took advantage of that. She answered each question honestly, but they didn’t like what she said. And with each answer they didn’t like, she received another swipe against her side with the jagged blade. Eventually, they gave up on trying to get information out of her. Sometimes they would try again, but never to that degree.

Now, she had a bandage wrapped around that area, gently changed and cleaned every couple of hours. The doctors were kind here, always making sure it was alright to touch her and asking if the bandage was too tight. Under their care, the wound closed up in no time. By then, all of her smaller cuts and bruises left only fading scars. Soon, she was given a drab grey jumpsuit and assigned to new quarters. It was a small room not unlike the infirmary in style. There were two small beds and a table between them, one bed for her and the other for a roommate. After guiding her to the room, the nurse previously assigned to her shut the door, leaving her alone in that room. She did not hear the click of a lock. Her schedule was to start tomorrow, for now she could settle in and find a place in the room for any personal items. Of course she had none, but curiosity led her to peak at her roommate’s. Everything was neat, folded, as though it was never lived in. The only signs of a human’s stay there were a couple of items on the table, seemingly the only personal items this roommate of hers had. Perhaps they were a refugee as well, with only a moment to have gathered items of sentimental value. Or perhaps residents of thirteen simply didn’t value material possessions all that much. Considering the lack of decor and personality in all parts of the place she had seen, that was in fact the case. Sylke allowed herself to fantasise for a moment about who this person might be. A coal miner from twelve? She had always wanted to see a forest, maybe they could tell her about them. A soldier from thirteen? One who had trained their whole life for combat, for revolution, and now finally had the chance to prove themselves? Or perhaps another refugee from the capitol. What if she knew them? What if one of the few people she was able to meet in the capitol had been a rebel, one who took a chance one night and ran away? They could exchange life stories, maybe become friends. But none of those turned out to be true. On the table, she found a golden bangle and a short bit of rope, neither of which told her about this person. She sat on one of the beds, hopefully the unoccupied one, and waited. She wasn’t tired, she’d slept plenty in the infirmary. So she sat, waiting for something to happen. The door slid open to reveal her roommate.

“Finnick?”

He chuckled.

“I asked them to put you in as my roommate, I didn’t know they’d actually do it. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Everything’s healing well, so I they discharged me this afternoon. I do still have to keep it bandaged, but the wound is much smaller now.”

“That’s great!”

He walked over to the bed and stood before here, a smile adorning his face.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here with me.”

She leaned into his touch as he caressed her cheek. The words “I love you” were not needed in that moment. There was a mutual understanding of affection, one that had been there for ten years. Though not entirely true, retrospect and nostalgia had a way of convincing both of them that it had always been this way, that this familiarity and affection was present since that first night they met. In some ways this was correct, there was always a connection. But the comfort in it had developed over time. Insecurity was able to fade away, they became more familiar with the other’s habits. And yet wonder was not lost. There was still a glimmer of shock, of flustered joy in moments of affection. Things between them weren’t perfect, but they were damn well close to it.

Sylke’s task in thirteen was to help in the kitchen. The food was boring, seasoned only with salt, and they often stirred in powders of vitamin supplements or something of that nature, because the people down here rarely saw the sun. She spent her days standing beside people she found to be kind, talkative in comparison to the Indigo household staff, and generally pleasant company. Life was certainly monotonous, but that was something she was used to. At least now, she wasn’t alone. During mealtimes, she would serve the food, watching everyone eat and chat from afar. On occasion, she would sneak away and sit by Finnick, but that often got her scolded by someone who cared far too much for rules. At the end of the day, the whole facility would get dimmer, and she would be back in her room with Finnick. The beds were made for one person, but they made it work for the both of them. In the mornings, she would wake up before him, needing to go and prepare breakfast. His arms held her tightly, unwilling to let go.

“Finnick, I need to go.”

His voice was deep, raspy, and barely awake.

“I don’t want you to go.”

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his jaw. His eyes were still closed, but a satisfied grin appeared on his face.

“Fine. Two minutes, and then I really have to go.”

He groaned, considering her offer, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Okay.”

Running his fingers up her body, he attempted to feel for her face, too tired to open his eyes. His touch was gentle and yet possessive, still unwilling to let go. Once he found her jaw, he pulled it closer and planted endless kisses on her face. At some point, his eyes fluttered open. He was confronted with the image of her smile, a little tired and a little exasperated, but undeniably lovely.

“You’re beautiful.”

A little colour came to her cheeks.

“You know, you can’t keep me here forever. Do you want food today or not?”

He let a sigh as she got up from the bed.

“Alright fine, I concede. Just one more kiss though.”

She laughed, leaning down to peck his forehead before leaving. Once alone, Finnick’s mind couldn’t help but fantasise about waking up with her every day, and not having to rush off somewhere.

The explicit concept of marriage had come up only once or twice in their five years of exchanging letters. Far more common was talk of a hypothetical life they would have one day. A wedding was implied, but never really stated outright. Instead, they talked about days without urgency, when they could lie in bed for hours, dance in the kitchen instead of cooking, fall asleep on the beach, and all of this simply because they wanted to. But as the danger of revolution increased, both of them began thinking about the specifics of that vague life together. It didn’t take Finnick long to understand that he wanted to marry her. He mentioned it one night when the room felt quiet and too awake.

“Hey,”

“Hmm?”

“Would you want to get married? I know we’ve talked about being together, when it’s all over, but what if we did it now?”

She looked to him with wide doe-eyes.

“Now?”

“I mean here, in thirteen. Before anything happens-before anything possibly could happen. Just in case.”

She took a moment to think, sinking into his chest. If she had been falling asleep before, she was wide awake now.

“Okay. Just in case.”

“Yeah. That way if something happens, I’ll have been married to you. Another thing to help prove to the world that you’re here, and that I’m yours.”

She lifted herself to prop her head up on her hand, smiling at him. He soon followed, staring lovingly back at her.

“I like the sound of that.”

She placed a kiss on his lips.

“But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?”

That was partially a lie. There was a reason they were doing this, a risk, and they both knew it. But after everything they’d been through, fate had to be in their favour. It would simply be wrong, to have done all of this, just to lose their happily ever after.

She reassumed her position lying on his chest after that, speaking softly to him, but also to herself.

“I used to picture my wedding, you know. When I was little, I had this image in my head of a white dress and a castle and a ballroom, like in the fairytales. I didn’t know who would be my prince or princess charming, but I knew that I’d love them. That was always the best part. I know we won’t be in a castle, but in a way it’ll be exactly like how I dreamed of as a child.”

He was falling asleep by that point. She lifted herself to look at his peaceful face. He looked calm and safe, lying next to her like he was sure, like everything in the world assured him, that this is where he was supposed to be.

“I love you, my prince.”

Plutarch explained that the wedding was going to be filmed. “To show the capitol that we’re alive and well” he said. Because of that, they were allowed all sorts of luxuries that thirteen didn’t usually permit. The hall was glowing with amber light and greenery they brought in from above. Finnick was dressed in a lighter grey than usual, with sturdy fabric that hugged his waist but got a little looser at the shoulders. He was also given something of a cape, but it only covered one shoulder. He looked somewhere between a soldier and a duke. For Sylke they made a dress fit for a princess. White of course, a colour held with some disdain in thirteen. The skirt was long and full, trailing behind her every so slightly when she walked. It was simple, no layers of tulle or golden jewelry to match, but it made her feel like herself, entirely herself, which was really all it needed to be. It felt like all of her, nothing held back or exaggerated for anyone.

She made her way alone down the aisle, smiling at the man ahead, the destination toward which she walked. He took her hands in his, this time with no iron bars between them. She looked into his green eyes, like she had so many times before, and everything felt right in the world. There was no sunlight or gentle breeze, no magnolias or birdsong, but there didn’t need to be. He was here, looking back at her with all the love in the world. When it came time for her to say her vows, she had very little prepared. She spoke truthfully, freely, saying everything that her heart told her to say in that moment.

“My darling Finnick. I’ve said to you before that I believe in fate. We were just kids when we met, and even then, I knew my story was tied to yours. I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to be by your side for the rest of happily ever after that fate allows.”

The smile on his face grew before he took a breath and said his vows.

“Sylke, my angel, you have my heart, as you always have, for all eternity. Whether together or apart, we will always be united, tied together by the strings of fate. I promise to protect you, to dance with you, and to love you until death do us part.”

They didn’t quite need to be told that they could kiss, but once prompted, they did just that. All of thirteen began to applaud, but neither Sylke nor Finnick could bring themself to care for the audience. Just as it had ten years ago, the watching eyes melted away, leaving only tenderness and love burning between the them.

The festivities began once the aisle and ceremonial decor was packed away. First was a slow waltz meant just for the newlyweds. The two of them had danced in their room many times before, but never with music. With a guiding melody, they were able to truly get lost in the movement. No longer was it necessary to count or concentrate, they could simply dance. They swayed and twirled about the room, never once breaking eye contact. When the music slowed to a halt, Sylke was securely nested in Finnick’s arms and lowered to a dip. There was once again applause as people came to join them on the dance floor. A more upbeat tune filled the hall as everyone started to dance. The sound of lively fiddles filled the room, and spirits were lifted. It seemed like everyone was having a lovely time, smiling and laughing with friends. For that night, war was but an afterthought. It was a respite from tragedy, a true celebration of all that is good and lovely, and its survival even in dark times.

It wasn’t long after the wedding that Finnick was sent away again. He and Sylke had a rather lousy honeymoon, spent mostly in their room underground or in the forest just above. Soldiers were slowly returning from the fight at the capitol, some injured, others returning for a dignified burial. Sylke was transferred to the infirmary when it got too understaffed. And then Plutarch called Finnick into a meeting. That night, Finnick sat waiting in their room until Sylke returned from her shift in the infirmary. She entered the room and gravitated to his hunched figure.

“Finnick, are you alright?”

She placed a hand to his face, suggesting that he look at her. His eyes were sad, conflicted, scared. Sylke saw his expression and quickly kissed him before anything more could be said.

“What happened?”

He shifted to make space for her on the bed; she sat down.

“Plutarch wants me in the capitol. They put together this squad for filming propos, he calls it the face of the invasion.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, such that it was hardly a question: he would be going. There was no debate about it, both of them knew that. An all too familiar feeling churned in her core. Her chest became heavy and her throat strained. She croaked out a single sentence before leaning into his embrace.

“Come back to me, okay?”

He held her tightly, the way he wanted to that night outside the mansion.

“I will. I believe in fate.”

They fell asleep there, unsure when the trembling cries faded into unconsciousness.

Finnick left in the morning. Goodbyes were cut short by the arrival of a jet full of wounded soldiers. Sylke was pulled away by the other medical staff, parting with a fleeting kiss and a smile.

The infirmary was bursting with people. New patients arrived every day from the capitol, covered in wounds and burns and horror stories from the city. They told of abandoned streets full of bombs and traps set by peacekeepers. Every moment of peace or quiet we’re impossible to trust, they were left waiting for the inevitable bloodshed as they walked through empty streets. Sylke couldn’t help but wonder the state of the mansion. Had Mr. Indigo evacuated? What did he take with him? She pictured the house empty, devoid of the usual upkeep, dusty and alone. What about the household? Had they gone as well? What would they do without their jobs? Did that even matter when the city was under attack? Her imagination took her through each room and corridor. The office she’d only been in a few times, the dining room that could seat a dozen but never saw more than two, and of course, her bedroom. Soot still on the ceiling, dance slippers tucked hastily under the bed. The soldiers mentioned bombs and fire. What if the mansion was destroyed? The image of fallen walls, a pile of rubble and ash, arrived in her mind. A bittersweet sort of pain burned in her chest as she pondered such a possibility. That mansion was her prison, her gilded cage. And yet there were happy memories there. There were times when she smiled, dancing around her room or strolling through the garden. She found joy in that wretched place and thus made it slightly less wretched. The delicate China in the sitting room was beautiful, with hand-painted birds and flowers under the faintly cracked glaze. The furniture was soft, velvet or leather or brocade, but always unreasonably comfortable. And of course the magnolias. Those fragrant blossoms could distract her from everything bad. A lovely part of being human, isn’t it? The ability to be distracted, to find small joys, even trapped in a cage. She pondered all the things she loved in that house. The drapes and the garden and smooth feeling of the banister beneath her fingers as she walked down the stairs, all things she missed now. Was it bad that she missed it? Was that terrible, to think somewhat fondly of her time in the mansion? A part of her was sure that it was simply horrible. Mr. Indigo was a dangerous, horrible man, and thus his home was the same way. But he also gave her dancing slippers. He cared for her in his twisted, infantalising way. Johanna’s words sounded in her head. Perhaps, in a strange interpretation of the word, he loved her. Sylke couldn’t bring herself to fully accept that idea. Love was the tenderness she saw in Finnick’s eyes, it was the warmth in her chest when they were close, she was entirely and unequivocally sure of that. But as time went on, she continued to wonder, her mind volleying standpoints, if Mr. Indigo’s bizarre affection was also love.

Such thoughts bounced around the back of her head as she tended to those in the infirmary. Days slowly bled into one another, all monotonous and practically identical. She would wake up alone, eat with some of the other medics, and then go to the infirmary. After a long day, she would return to her quarters and lie on her side, reaching her arm out to where Finnick would have been lying beside her. And when the foggy darkness of sleep arrived, the day would begin again.

News from the capitol came every night. The whole of thirteen would go quiet the watching broadcasts. Just a day after they deemed Peeta well enough to join the “Star Squad” in the Capitol, that infamous anthem blared from the broadcast. The faces of every member of the squad was shown. Sylke had been working when it came on the screens. All faces looked to the screen in the room, stepping away from their work for a moment. She froze when she saw Finnick’s portrait appear. She hadn’t seen his face is so long, too long, but this was not the way she wanted to see him again. He couldn’t be dead, he promised. Why, after all this time, why now? After all the trials they encountered and survive, how could it end? Something was wrong, it was simply wrong. Fate wasn’t supposed to be like this, fate couldn’t be like this.

You said you would come back to me

Her perception of the world was cloudy. The hands on her shoulder, the steps she was taking, they didn’t register. Voices were muddled, nothing felt real. All she could do was mutter his name, repeat the same phrases, praying that someone would hear her, some great puppet master who could pull the strings of fate and make them right again. Her murmurs became sobs, and when her eyes were dry, when her energy was drained, she could finally sleep.

She woke to a sharp voice and someone shaking her awake.

“Sylke, get up!”

She pulled herself up, groggy and confused. For a moment, it was just like any other morning, and she almost bolted up, afraid of being late for the start of her shift. But then her vision cleared, and reality set in. She saw the medic uniform she was still wearing and the sad look on Johanna’s face.

“What happened?”

Johanna’s tone was careful and sympathetic.

“You kinda lost it after the broadcast. Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt anyone or do anything bad, you just kinda froze. We didn’t know what else to do, so we just took you here to rest.”

Sylke nodded, not quite sure if she could bring herself to stand up and start her day, as though nothing happened.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t even know. But they’re calling all the medics right now, so…”

Sylke didn’t move.

“They’re flying you guys out to the capitol.”

She still didn’t move.

“Sylke, that means you need to go.”

“I know… I just…”

Johanna placed her hands on Sylke’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

“Look. I know you’re hurting. I know you just lost someone. It’s not the same but I lost him too. But Sylke we’re so close. And people are hurting in the capitol that don’t need to be. We need you to go out and help them.”

Sylke took a shaky inhale and nodded. With Johanna’s help, she made her way down to the hanger where medics were streaming into jets and strapping into their seats. Sylke followed suit, getting her jet assignment and sitting down on a cold metal chair.

The flight was a blur. They landed in district two and waited until the final stages of the battle to fly into the capitol to help innocent citizens. Soon, they were flown in and dropped off in the city circle. When the cries of countless people reached her ears, helping them became Sylke’s sole priority. The moment her feet touched the ground, she rushed to anyone and everyone that looked hurt.

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“Let me take a look.”

She was wrapping a splint for a woman with a broken leg when a familiar chime rang through the air. She looked up to see grey canisters on parachutes floating down from the sky. She froze again, remembering everything from years ago. She remembered the way Finnick’s eyes lit up when he saw a trident float down on an identical grey parachute. That had always been a sweet memory, but now it was laced with pain. She looked around, seeing the people stretching their arms out, welcoming the gifts. There was a flash, a boom, and then quiet.

Sylke’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She was lying on her back, on something soft and comfortable. There was quiet. A peaceful, calming sort of silence surrounded her. She noticed pain on her skin when she tried to get up. Her body was bandaged in random places, and the flesh of her arms and hands felt incredibly sensitive. Her body was sore, but she could move, albeit only slightly. She turned her head to look at her surroundings. She was in a tent, seemingly a medical tent, surrounded by equipment and kits she recognised as the portable medic kits that each person on the jet had been equipped with. Turning her head to look directly to the side, she saw someone lying in a bed like her own. They looked like him. Beneath the bandages she saw his face, sleeping peacefully with his eyes closed. She longed to believe that it was him, to enjoy that delusion and ignorance. But she knew it wasn’t. She knew he was gone. He wasn’t there, no matter how much she wanted him to be, no matter how much he should have been. Tears formed and fell quickly from her eyes. Quiet wails and sobs escaped her. She murmured his name, hoping beyond hope that it would will him back to life. The person in the bed began to rouse.

“Hmm?”

They sounded like him too, why did they have to sound like him? She curled into herself, ignoring the pain in such movement. She hid herself beneath the blanket, like a child afraid of the monsters beneath their bed.

“Hey, are you alright?”

That was his voice.

“Why do you sound like him?”

She wailed with a volume she hadn’t used in days.

“Sylke?”

“You sound just like him…”

Her whole body shook with sobs. She heard fabric rustling and quiet groans that sounded so familiar. There was a hand on the edge of the blanket.

“Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Her voice was dejected, entirely hopeless. The blanket was pulled away, revealing a face with cuts and bandages, seemingly some stitches as well, and sea green eyes holding a tender gaze.

“You look like him too.”

“Angel… I’m right here.”

“No you’re not! You died! I saw your picture, I heard the song, you died!”

“Oh sweetheart…”

The person sat down on the bed and gently lifted her to sit up as well. They then pulled her into their arms. That warmth was exactly the same.

“I’m right here, I’m alive. I got damn near dying, but I didn’t. I told you I’d come back to you, didn’t I?”

Finally, she let herself believe. Her grasp on him tightened.

“You’re alive? You’re safe?”

“I’m alive. I’m right here, Angel.”

A part of her still couldn’t believe it. Somehow, there was a shard of pessimism in her that refused to be tricked. And he could sense that. He understood all too well the spirit of self preservation that will do anything to keep itself from hurting. So he pulled away slightly to look at her.

“Hey, look at me, look at my eyes.”

She gazed up at him with scared, teary doe-eyes.

“Don’t you believe in fate?”

And with that, the last bit of denial shattered within her. A smile and then a laugh came to her face as hope returned to her spirit.

Taglist: @zulpix-blog

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x oc #finnick x reader #hungerverse #district 4 #district 1 #hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick odair x oc #fluff #angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #thg #thg fanfiction #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #johanna mason #beetee latier #plutarch heavensbee #75th hunger games #3rd quarter quell #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay part 2

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓐𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐎 .ᐟ

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ┆ 𝐛𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐨

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ charro!miguel 𝓍 fem!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  the entire village attends the charrería show. afterwards, it’s the famous party at the o’haras. you and miguel grow more closer during the party.

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  fluff, tiny angst, intimacy, swearing, pet names, spanish terms, charrería shenanigans (not elaborated), typical hispanic/latina party things

꒰ previous chapter ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ next chapter ꒱

today is charrería, the famous traditional rodeo. the entire village attends. excitement and anticipation fills the arena. traditional music plays, food and drinks provided. you and your family are seated in the fourth row. your dad and carlos munch on elotes while you enjoy a churro. you can never pass by a churro, or a concha if they sold them.

after some time of waiting and everyone settled in their seats, the show begins. the charros enter the arena, making the audience cheer and clap.

you spot the o’hara brothers, the third ones to enter the arena. the audience go berserk, lots of whistles and cheers. your eyes dilate in pure delight at the sight of miguel. oh how handsome he looks in his attire, despite the fact he wears it all the time. he just looks even more attractive when he participates in charrería, seeing him in action.

after a few moments of preparation, the show actually begins. your eyes focus on miguel during the entirety of it, sometimes gabriel as well. you root for the brothers, cheering and squealing in enthusiasm like majority of the audience were.

throughout the show, miguel would occasionally make eye contact with you. either a grin or a smirk would appear on his face, knowing you are impressed by his skills. every time you attended a show, he always show off. he adored the way your eyes widen in surprise, lips apart or curled into a smile when watching him do his stunts. the gasps you let out whenever he does a risky move.

after 2 hours, the show concludes and everyone exits the arena. you wanted to stay afterwards to see miguel, congratulate him and gabriel, but you had to leave to get ready for the party. luckily, it’s at their home so you’ll have the chance to.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

after returning home to change, you and your family head over to the o’hara ranch for la fiesta. you choose to wear an ruffled red dress and a pair of matching heels. matching red lipstick to compliment your outfit. your hair hangs down gracefully with curls. as the fashionista you are, you want to appear stylish.

the ranch is packed with fellow residents of the village. not only indoors but also the backyard, the focal point of the party. live mariachi performs on a tiny stage near the back. a group of people dance in front of them, creating a small dance floor. numerous tables spread out across the yard, people eating and conversing with each other. off to the side is the food, several tables with displays of food. some basics such as carne asada, frijoles, tamales, enchiladas, arroz con chicken, tortas, and pazole. the drinks consist of water, jamaica, horchata, and beer. as for desserts: typical flan, empanadas, and tres leches cake. the menu is absolutely delicious.

while your parents greet other people, you wander off to the backyard. you glance around the area, recognizing several faces. as you continue wandering around, multiple young men gawk at you, enthralled by your beauty in the red dress. you feel their eyes on you, making you blush at the thought. some walk past you, tipping their sombreros with a smile, presenting themselves as the gentlemen they are. of course as the kind soul you are, you return the same kindness with a smile as acknowledgment.

making his appearance, miguel steps foot into the yard. he wears a dark blue charro outfit, replacing his typical black one. as he walks, his eyes scan the area looking one special person. guests greet him as he passes by, offering them a brief smile while continuing on searching for one particular person. then, his eyes catch a glimpse of red in the sea of people. there you are, standing near the dance floor glancing around. his eyes dilate drastically, lips apart in utter astonishment. you appear like a beautiful red rose in a garden. a rose so delicate, so precious to not dare to pick. how breathtaking and gorgeous you look in red; definitely one of your best colors. it highlights your beautiful skin and hair gracefully. miguel could feel the heat in his face and chest, heart fluttering at the sight of you. is it possible to fall for someone even more than before?

completely hypnotized by your beauty, miguel finally begins moving towards your direction. he tries his best to not collide with others as he approaches you. the closer he gets, the heat in his chest increases as a sign of nervousness. he is blinded by love. you are facing the opposite direction, your back to him as miguel approaches you. instead of tapping your shoulder, he decides to be a bit sneaky just to earn a cute little reaction from you.

“te ves muy linda, señorita.” miguel whispers seductively with a grin, hands behind his back.

a shiver creeps down your spine at the sound of a very familiar baritone voice, causing you to turn around swiftly. “oh! gracias, miguel.” you blush at the compliment, softly smiling in response.

oh how handsome he looks in that dark blue suit. it compliments him better than his black one. but full honesty, miguel appears handsome in any clothing.

he got that cute reaction like he wanted, causing him to smile. “te gusta la fiesta so far, hermosa?” miguel asks, a grin gracing his lips.

you nod with a bashful smile. “sí, elegant as always.”

miguel smiles in return. his gaze quickly shifts to the dance floor then back to you. an idea pops in his mind; an opportunity he can’t miss. he extends out his left hand. “quieres a bailar conmigo?”

a surprise expression illustrates on your face, your heart skipping a beat. miguel, the most handsome man in the village, asking you for a dance? it feels like a dream. you can’t pass this opportunity.

“i would love to.” you softly answer with fluttering lashes, tenderly taking his hand.

a spark ignites between you two the moment your hands interlock with each other. the size difference is amusing yet adorable, how gigantic his hand is compared to your smaller one.

giving your hand a gentle squeeze, miguel slowly guides you to the dance floor. his eyes never leaves you. once you two settled on the dance floor before the next song plays, he wraps his right hand around your waist while his left remains interlocked with your right. your body shivers at sensation, causing you to inhale sharply. you rest your left hand on his shoulder. as the mariachi begins the next song, your bodies start swaying together in harmony. miguel leads while you follow along. it’s not that you don’t know how to dance, you’re just super nervous since you’re dancing with the man of your dreams.

the two of you continue swaying together. you struggle to maintain eye contact, considering that you’re so flustered by the proximity. this didn’t go unnoticed by miguel, which he finds it utterly adorable. him, on the other hand, is also a nervous reck. he is dancing with the woman he loves, of course he’s experiencing with these emotions and feelings. these feelings encourages him to increase the intimacy, the connection between you two.

“¿puedo ver tus ojos, hermosa?” miguel whispers, leaning down towards your ear.

you immediately look up at him, a surprise expression illustrated on your face. “¿mis ojos?”

the corner of his lips raise into a smile, happy that you granted his wish. “sí, i want to connect while we dance. make it more meaningful.”

your cheeks flushed in heat, lashes fluttering at his words. oh it’s gonna be tough to maintain eye contact with such a handsome man that you like so dearly. you try your hardest to do so, but deep down you feel so flustered. his gorgeous brown hues staring into yours. god it feels impossible yet you begin to feel the connection that he mentioned.

you and miguel keep eye contact as you continue dancing. soon, the song begins picking up the rhythm and the dancing becomes more energetic. miguel would seek opportunities to twirl you around, making you giggle shyly. the skirt part of your dress flows, revealing your legs underneath. his heart flutters as he watches your dress flow as you spin, mesmerized by the red expanding so beautifully. he also would dip you before twirling you again then continue dancing. laughter escapes your lips each twirl and dip, causing miguel to smile or do the same. the two of you having a wonderful, fulfilling each other’s fantasies of moments like this.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

after an amazing dance session, the two of you exit the dance floor and head over towards the tables. you have one arm linked around his muscular one as you two walk together. you can feel how sturdy and robust he is. god you could melt at the sensation, loving how strong miguel is. before you could snatch a table, your parents approached you both. they mirror yours and miguel’s stance.

“hola, mijos. did you two have fun?” your mom asks with a smile, holding a glass of jamaica.

“sí, señora. we had a great time.” miguel replied kindly with a nod, mirroring her smile.

your mom smiles but your dad, on the other hand, has a skeptical eye on miguel. of course all fathers are protective of their daughters, but mainly because he is aware of miguel’s popularity among the village. how much of a womanizer he is. although miguel is a gentleman, your dad is still skeptical of his intentions; especially with his daughter.

“you were careful with my daughter, verdad?” your dad asked in a slight intimidating demeanor, arching a brow in skepticism. the protectiveness kicking in.

you lightly glare at him, visibly confused as to why he would ask such a question. your mom gently nudged his side with her elbow as a sign of anger.

miguel remains professional, understanding his skepticism. “claro qué sí, señor [l/n]. i made sure your daughter was safe and having a good time.”

that skeptical look in his eyes is still intact but eases up a bit, his shoulders relaxed slightly. your dad simply nods, not uttering another word.

god you feel embarrassed yet slightly angry. he shouldn’t have questioned miguel in that manner, it was highly unnecessary.

to ease the tension, your mom steps in. “well, we will leave you two be.” she offers a smile at you both before walking away with your dad. she is definitely going to give him a hard time in private later.

the uneasy feeling in your body fades away, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. “i’m so sorry about that, it was rude of him to ask that.” you avert your eyes from his, looking down in embarrassment.

“don’t be, mi flor. i understand his concern, he’s just protective of you.” miguel reassured you so sweetly, tilting your chin up with his free hand.

you look up at him, his eyes staring into yours with sincerity and kindness. you simply nod with a little smile, knowing he’s right. maybe too protective.

the two of you heads towards the back, away from the sea of people. your arms unlink from each other as you now stand in front of each other. you fiddle with your dress, patting down any creases or folds on the red fabric. it was a bit wrinkly from the dancing.

“you look perfect, hermosita.” miguel said, noticing you fixing your dress which he finds it adorable.

you look up at him, brows furrowed in a surprised manner. “are you sure?” you sound doubtful. the last thing you want is to look messy in front of miguel.

he lowly chuckles, gingerly placing a hand on your upper arm with a loving squeeze as reassurance. “en serio, mi flor.” in his eyes, you’re perfect.

your body shivers at his touch, goosebumps forming on your skin. hints of pink stain your cheeks.

before you could utter a word, gabriel approaches you both. “ah i figured you two would be together.” a little smirk forms on his lips.

miguel shoots him a light glare, visibly irritated.

“hola, gabriel.” you softly smile at the younger o’hara, who is actually close to your age.

he returns the smile, tipping his sombrero. “wow, you look marvelous, [y/n]. muy bonita.” he gently takes your hand and plants a kiss on the back of it.

you blush at his kind words and gesture. “gracias.”

miguel internally scoffs at his brother’s flirtatious antics, even though he’s right. possible jealousy? over his damn brother? he knows gabriel is simply being nice, like he usually is with everyone. miguel brushes the thoughts aside, not allowing them to consume him. it would be ridiculous.

“i wanted to say congratulations on your performance today. you both did amazing like always.” you said sweetly, remembering your intentions from earlier.

the o’hara brothers smile at you.

“muchas gracias, [y/n]. we were happy you were there.” gabriel said with a smile as he briefly winked at his older brother when he said ‘we’ which earned him a death glare from miguel.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

after lots of chitchatting and eating delicious foods, the party comes to an end. guests start leaving, saying their goodbyes and parting ways. your family is one of the last ones to leave. they patiently wait for you by the entrance of the ranch, engaging in a conversation with miguel’s mother for time-killing.

miguel escorts you, walking slowly together through the house. just before you reach the entrance where you family awaits you, he gently grabs your wrist and guides you to a corner hidden from the public eye. he holds your hands in his larger ones, tenderly brushing his thumbs on the back of your hands. “gracias para bailar y spending time with me. tonight was the best night of my life.” a smile graces his plump lips.

your heart skips a beat at his confession. oh you are definitely a blushing mess now. you look up at with fluttering lashes. “it was the best night of my life también, i had a wonderful time.” you said bashfully.

his smile grows wider, visibly pleased to know you feel the same way. considering the proximity, the undeniable magnetic attraction between you two, miguel decides to take the opportunity to fulfill his biggest desire since the moment he met you. his gaze drop to your lips as he slowly, very slowly, leans closer, more accurately bending down due to the height difference. his eyes never leave your lips.

your lashes start fluttering like crazy as miguel leans more towards you. it’s clear what he’s doing and you can’t even believe it. oh your cheeks are definitely burning up at this point, probably red as your dress.

“[y/n]!” your mom calls from afar.

you blink out of trace and miguel backs away, both of you internally groaning at the interruption. although, you were taking forever to leave.

“i better go.” you whisper, offering an apologetic smile. just as you’re about to leave, miguel gently grabs your hand, making you stop in your tracks.

“perdóname, mi flor. before you go, i want to ask if you’d like to accompany me tomorrow? take a stroll around the village.” miguel asked.

oh god you can feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest and the butterflies in your stomach. how can you deny such a request? it’s all you ever dreamed of.

“sí, i’ll love to.” you softly smile at him.

a smile forms on his lips. “qué maravilla.” miguel rises your hand and plants a kiss on the back as a sign of goodbye, and of course affection.

your face flushes at the kind gesture. you give him one last smile before walking away to meet with your family, who’ve been waiting for a while.

tonight was a night to remember.

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  ˖ ࣪ ༘  @deputy-videogamer @freehentai

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓐𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝓟𝐑𝐎𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐎 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #fanfic series