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runningfrom2am · 4 months

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cold nights // part four

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is your reminder to reblog and comment on fics you like!! it helps us writers out a TON the girlies who get it get it. thanks!!

series masterlist // playlist

"I just have to ask you a few questions... is that okay?" Coriolanus asks, sitting across from you at the small table you find yourself chained to.

"Please." You nod, grinning at him. You were so tired, the bags under your eyes were evidence enough of that. Screw getting you food- Coryo is worried if you don't sleep you'll be all but useless in the games, even if all he needs you to do is run and hide.

"It's just so people can get to know you a bit better. Okay, so..." He looks down at the sheet in front of him, tapping the pencil against the table as he tries to focus on reading. "First, nice and easy, what is your full name?"

"Y/N M/N L/N."

"Great... Okay, and where are you from?"

"District Twelve, born and raised."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next week." You smile.

"Oh, really?" He asks, pausing mid-sentence as he starts writing it down.

"Yeah." You smile. "Hopefully I'll live to see the day."

"You will." He tries to be reassuring as he scribbles the finished answer on his sheet. God, you got unlucky. Not that his eighteenth was a big celebration like some of his classmates, but Tigris made him a cake with ingredients she'd been saving up for and she refit his school uniform for him. You wouldn't even have that- you would be spending the day fighting for your life, if you even made it that long.

"And who is in your family unit?" He reads directly from the slip as he forces himself to move on.

"Well, there's me, my brother, he's fifteen, and then my ma and pa." You nod. "Well, my pa isn't home much. Lots of work in the mines; usually has sixteen-hour days. I hardly ever see him." You admit, sadness laced into your tone. "Saw him, I mean."

"My father died in Twelve." Coryo says, catching you off guard. He doesn't even fully understand why he felt the need to tell you this. "About ten years ago, it was rebels."

"I remember that." You reply quietly, recalling the lockdown placed on the District after the murder of a peacekeeper general. "He was the general. Crassus Snow, I assume?"

"Yes."

Everyone was forced into their homes at gunpoint, and in search of the responsible parties everyone you knew had their home destroyed by peacekeepers. Yourself included. Your bed was torn apart, and your mattress shredded for any hidden weapons or plans. Since then, you have shared a bed with your brother. A new mattress was hard to make, and your ma never got the free time or materials again.

Up until this week, that was the scariest day of your life. Just before the peacekeepers kicked in your door, your mother had grabbed the two of you and shoved you into an opening under the floorboards- a crawlspace made from a faulty foundation. You were in there for what felt like hours, listening to shouting and your home being ruined as you held onto each other with a hand pressed over your brother's mouth to keep him from crying too loud. Your mother's cries that day never seemed to end.

"It's a small world." You say after a solid few moments of silence, and Coryo can see it in the way you're staring at his paper that you're not reading it. You're zoned out completely. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It must have been scary."

"The war was hard on all of us." He responds. "What... what do you remember?" He had never heard anything about it besides the bare bones of what happened, he had never considered that the people of Twelve would remember it as well. And judging by the look on your face, it wasn't a good memory.

"I was about six, maybe seven, and I was playing with my brother, and I didn't hear anything but my ma must have because she grabbed us and hid us under the floorboards so fast I could have got whiplash. Peacekeepers came into our home, tore the whole thing to shreds, hurt my ma, then took off. Onto the next house. I didn't find out until a while later that rebels killed the peacekeeper general, they were looking for any evidence of conspiracy, I guess. The people who did it."

"Sounds like it was scarier for you than for me."

"But I want you to know," You speak so quickly you almost cut him off. "My parents had nothing to do with it. My pa is an honest, good man. All he ever wanted was to keep us safe. We're not rebels, I promise you that."

Coriolanus almost wishes you were, so he wouldn't be so hurt by what his people were putting you through. "I know. I wouldn't blame you for that."

"Thank you." You whisper, picking at your nails now as you look down at your shaky hands.

Coryo clears his throat, forcing himself to look away from you. "Uh..." He chuckles at the next question, making you look up at him again. "Are you married?"

"No." You reply, having almost completely forgotten about the worksheet in front of him. "I'm not."

"It's just... I just, I have to ask." He says, clearing his throat as he writes it down.

"Of course." You nod in understanding.

"Boyfriend?" He asks, and as you squint at the sheet you can see it's not there, and he quickly covers the next lines with his palm, cheeks flushing pink.

"Yes." You giggle as he snaps his head up to look at you.

"You do?" He asks, voice catching as his curls fall back onto his forehead from the sudden movement.

"Yes, what is so wrong in that?" You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh.

"No, no, I mean, of course you do, you're beautiful, I just, you never mentioned-"

"Relax, Coriolanus. I'm kidding." You smile at the panic in his tone. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, right. Thanks, it's just for, yeah..." He mumbles, pretending to write something down behind his cupped hand so you couldn't see.

You shake your head at him while he's not paying attention, smiling to yourself.

"So, uh, do you have a job?"

"Not formally, but my ma is a seamstress. I help her lots with that. Fixing people's work clothes, stuff like that." You answer, getting back on topic.

"Did you make your dress?" He asks.

"Now I know that question's not on that form of yours." You laugh. "But yes, my ma made it for me when I was five. It's been my favourite ever since."

He looked the parts of it over that he could see above the table. It was well worn down, but well cared for. Similar to a lot of his own clothing.

"It used to be this big, flowing thing. Too big for a five year old- I would step on the bottom of it, just tore it right up." You recall. "So we trimmed the bottom, and as I grew, it grew right with me. I stitched up the bottom when I was old enough to enter the reaping, so now it's got shorts instead. But I still love it, lots of good memories held in the pockets of this old thing."

Shorts instead. So it's easier to run in. The thought haunts Coryo for a moment. The idea that you, at twelve years old, decided this is what you would want to run in, to die in, and took the liberty of sewing up the crotch in it yourself. Every stitch possibly sealing your fate.

"It's nice. I like it." He responds.

"Thank you." You smile, nodding proudly to yourself as you look down at the fabric. "It's real comfy, too."

"It looks it. Not very... restricting." He chooses his words wisely. No wonder you had kept it so many years. It still fit, so why not? Especially when it looked so good on you. The typically plain, neutral tone of the fabric complimented your skin tone so well. Even in bad lighting, it seemed as though you were glowing where the cloth met your skin. Glowing everywhere, now that he thought about it. Maybe you just lit up every room you walked into. Maybe it wasn't the clothing that was made just for you and hugged your form so flawlessly, maybe it was just you.

"Yes, it is not." You agree. "Now, our time is limited. Next question." You interrupt his thoughts, gesturing to the sheet of paper in between you.

"Yes, sorry." Coryo chuckles, shaking the distraction from his head. "Any hobbies?

"Reading."

"I did know that." He smiles to himself. "Anything else?"

"Well..." You think about it for a moment, chewing your lip. "I have a cat, and I like to play with him and take care of him, does that count?"

"I'll count it." He nods, quickly jotting it down. "What's your cat's name?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

"Tybalt." You giggle.

"Tybalt?" Coryo tilts his head at you and you nod, bottom lip drawn between your teeth.

He nods slightly, prompting you to explain. "He's named after a character from Romeo and Juliet."

"That's your favourite, I remember."

"Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives." You quote. "Mercutio calls Tybalt the king of the cats, so I named him after that."

"That's clever. Very funny."

"Thank you. I thought so." You smile proudly, watching him write down your cats name in his notes. "What is this for, if I can ask?"

"Uh, there's going to be an interview you'll have to do the night before the games. It'll be aired live on Capitol television, and people will be able to send in donations so I can send you things in the arena. Just like I told you." Coryo explains.

"An interview?" You ask. "What does that entail?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet." He answers honestly. "But we'll pass this sheet onto the host, Lucky, if you remember him, and he can ask you questions about your family, your life, any of this stuff. I think really whatever we want, though, so if there's anything in particular you want to say or talk about I can write that down for you."

"Oh, I'm really not sure." You reply. "Nothing in particular, but if you need me to talk I can talk about books for hours on end." You smile.

"Could you do a monologue?" He suggests. He had discussed this with Tigris before, and he was hoping you would, but knowing you, you would be dropping quotes in your interview anyway so you might as well commit to it and display how smart you are with something well-planned.

"Maybe, if you could find me a copy of Romeo and Juliet." You smile. "I think I know it, but it would be nice to have a refresher. Just to make sure I get it right. Would be awfully embarrassing if I made a mistake."

Coryo nods, quickly writing that down in the margins of the page. Considering he had never even heard of this book, it may be hard, but he would certainly try for you. "That would be great. Your goodbye was very moving, although quite confusing for most, but it had people talking about you and that's what we want."

"Okay. I'll practice."

"Thank you." Coryo smiles. "And I just have one more question on here to fill out... Do you have any special skills that you think will be helpful in the games?"

Your smile fades slightly and you just shake your head.

"That's okay. We'll figure it out."

That night, Coryo came to see you again. You were curled up with his blanket, draped half over yourself and half over Jessup as he lay next to you. It was a small blanket, obviously meant for a child, but it helped anyway. Maybe it was just a placebo, but for you, that was more than enough.

As you got up, hearing him call your name in a familiar tone, you draped the blanket more fully over Jessup before making your way over to the bars of the enclosure. "Good evening, Coryo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I brought you some things." He whispers, digging in his bag.

"How kind." You smile, watching as he pulls things out, handing you a napkin with some bread wrapped inside and tucking whatever else he brought under his arm to give to you after you've eaten. "Can you sit for a few minutes?"

"Of course." He nods, sitting down with you as you cross your legs and unfold the fabric carefully as not to drop what's inside. "I was hoping to talk to you anyway."

"Let's talk; it is not day." You smile, leaning toward him more.

"Should I be asking what that's from?" He jokes, but is surprised when you shrug.

"You could, but I wouldn't want to bore you." You giggle, shaking your head. "Take a guess, though. I believe you'd know it."

He smiles, watching as you take a bite out of the bread. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes." You nod in confirmation, covering your mouth while you speak. "You're a real fan, now, aren't you?"

"I guess so." He chuckles. "The fact that I've never read it is unimportant."

"Completely irrelevant." You agree with a quiet laugh. His smile fades as his eyes land on something behind you, and you turn to follow his gaze over your shoulder. "What are you looking at?" You whisper, looking back at him again.

"Are you sharing everything I bring you with Jessup?" He asks, voice stern as his brow furrows at the question.

"I try to." You nod, taking another bite. "He's not well. I think something bit him the first night we were here."

"You can't." Coryo insists. Of course, he wants you to win, and you handing over every bit of sustenance or help you receive is only lessening your odds. Making Jessup stronger and you only weaker. "I know you're a good person, but once you get in that arena you won't have any friends. Not even him." Coryo explains, strategically skipping over the part where it makes him ill to see you sleeping with your head on the boy's shoulder and sharing the blanket that he gifted to you.

"Oh..." You say, so quietly he can hardly hear. "But-"

"Y/N." He cuts you off, a serious look on his face. "If you keep feeding him, keep helping him, and it comes down to you and him in the end, who do you think will win in that fight? If you had all the same nutrients and sleep, who do you think will win?"

"I- well..." You stutter, looking back at your friend. "It won't come to that. I think we both know that."

"We have to assume it will." He pleads, eyes now locked on yours. "Don't make it easier for him."

"Coryo, he's got a family, siblings, his ma to get home to. They need him." You protest, leaning closer so no one else could properly hear.

"So do you." He reminds you. The look of guilt that crosses your face indicates to him that even though you had your own family, something about Jessup makes you willing to give that up for him to get home. "What about Tybalt? He'll never know what happened to his own mother. Or your brother losing his sister. Y/N, please..."

Your eyes widen at the mention of your cat and your brother in particular. Clearly, Coryo is so desperate for you to listen that he's pulling strings he shouldn't. To make you hurt. To make you pay attention.

Tears fill your eyes as you speak. "I know." Your voice cracks, and the pit in Coryo's stomach tells him he's gone too far. "I'm sorry, I just- I don't want to be afraid anymore. It's selfish of me, I know, but I won't last long and I know that so I just want to get it over with." You cry quietly, reaching up to wipe your eyes on your wrist. You hadn't been so candid with him before, he almost doesn't recognize you without a smile on your face.

"Hey, no, don't be sorry. It's not selfish." He whispers, without hesitation reaching through the bars and resting his hand on your knee. Your skin is cold to the touch, even for him after he had just walked all the way here in the same air. "But it'll be over soon, and I'll get you home. I'll do everything I can."

You sniff and nod, hesitating before placing your hand over his. "I promise I'll do my best in the interview. I want you to win your prize."

Coryo's mouth gets dry at the insinuation. You didn't think you could win, you won't even consider it even with all the encouragement he tries to feed you every day, but you want him to win. "That's not important." He says, shocking himself with the sentiment. The Plinth Prize is his only hope at a viable future, at saving his family. But right now, he doesn't even care.

You don't respond right away, just sliding your hand under his to hold it. His skin on yours feels warm, comforting, the same way it did when he held it when you were first dumped in the zoo. You don't know if it's more comforting to you or him.

"I'm sorry to cry at you, I just sometimes realize what's going to happen to me and spiral over the possibilities and no matter how hard I try to accept it..." You shake your head, looking down at your hands. "I'm still fearful." Your voice drops below a whisper.

"Then don't accept it." Coryo grasps your hand tighter, leaning closer to you and looking at you through the bars. "Fight. Try to win."

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if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

#tbosas fic #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg series #thg #thg fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coryo snow #snow x reader #snow lands on top

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

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We've seen Jason and Danny relationships where Danny tries to drag the other to a doctor or befriends him or tries to flirt with him, ect.

But please consider: a territory struggle.

Think about it. Red Hood shows up in Amity and Danny forcible throws him out each time he enters. Like, he just got rid of Vlad and now another evil halfa appears to bug him? Nope. (I know Hoods not evil but Danny does not)

On a counter point Danny landing in Gotham and hood immediately feels murderous and has no idea why.

Or Danny lands in Gotham and gets chased aroud/ chases someone around but stops dead or does a u-turn once he gets too close to Crime Alley and the bats take note.

Or Danny, either as Fenton or Phantom, presents Hood with a gift basket (preferably bathbombs and skincare) as tribute in return for and I quote "not disembowling me" as is the Ghost Zone custom. The tribute in general not bathbombs specifically but that would be funny. You can even add a floating duck candle or two :3

Jason accepts the gift and immediately starts looking for this kid and wants to figure out wtf is going on...

Aka ghosts are like beta fish. Discuss.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #jason todd #red hood #territorial ghosts #i want the batfam comenting on Jasons new collection of bathbombs

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serenewrote · 1 month

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"I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you" - Aegon Targaryen II x Cousin! reader

Synopsis: After the events of the disagreement of Driftmark's succession, such as the "unfortunate" death of Vaemond Valeryon, the family indulges in a nice dinner where you give your cousin an offer he shouldn't refuse.

Rating: PG-13

Warning(s): attempted manipulation (my girl almost had him fr).

You are seated at your father's left side, patiently waiting. You and your father, Daemon, glance at each other. He looks at you in discontent and you give him a look, he knows you won't let up.

King Viserys stands, well more like leans on the table, and speaks, "How good it is... to see you all tonight... together."

"Prayer before we begin?"

"Yes."

The Queen Alicent begins to pray, "May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long."

You rolled your eyes. What does she thinks she's doing?

"And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."

You snicker at the last remark, may the gods give him hell. Vaemond was out of his mind.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes... and their betrothed."

You smile, proud of your sisters and how they've grown. "Hear, hear!"

Aegon leans over to whisper to Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

Baela takes a drink and looks at him in annoyance. She then turns to look at you. You make eye contact. Do not worry, dear sister. He'll get his due.

You take a look at your cousin. How pathetic? Your women will chew him up and spit him out. Not before you have your turn, of course.

"Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides.

"Hear, hear."

Aegon leans over to Jace, once again.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that."

"Let it be, cousin."

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

Aegon hums in fake agreeance. You zone out halfway, coming back seeing Jace take Helaena to dance. You see your father nod in your peripheral. You move to Jace's seat and lean to whisper in Aegon's ear.

"Dearest cousin, I heard of the little situation with a servant girl this morning."

Aegon looks at you. Why the hell are you talking to him?

"What of it, cousin."

"I- It must feel so restricting. Not being able to do what you truly want, having to marry someone you feel no love for."

"Well, I don't see a man at your side, cousin. Did you scare them off."

"Quite the contrary, Aegon. Unlike all these other ladies of the court, I don't need a man at my side to have power. I'm free to bed whoever I want, whenever I want."

Aegon grits his teeth at your clear mocking, "How lucky you are, Y/n."

You smirk internally. Hook, Line, and Sinker. "I could help you, of course. The women of Dorne love men like you, cousin. Princely, Silver-haired, Targaryen. Personally, I like my men: pathetic... and good for one thing."

You lean closer. Your lips grazing his ear, "I could take you away from here. To Dorne. You'd be away from all of this. Away from your mother, who seems to only care about image. You'd be free, Aegon."

He looks at you, his eyes growing desperate. He's actually considering it.

Just then, a servant sets a roasted pig down. Lucerys chuckles. Aemond hits the table, anger evident. He stands, goblet in hand.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... hm.... strong."

"Aemond."

"Come... let us drain our cups to these three... Strong boys."

Jace gets in Aemond's face, "I dare you say that again."

"Why? Was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?"

Jace punches Aemond as Luke gets up and Aegon slams his head on the table. You look the boys in disgust. One normal night. Just one, please?

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?"

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

Rhaenyra turns to Jace, Luke, and your sisters, "Go to your quarters. All of you go, now."

Your father looks at you expectantly. You whisper in Aegon's ear one last time, "Seems as though you are happy here, cousin. Being a nuisance. Forever at the beck and call of your mother and grandsire."

You leave him, walking over to your father and Rhaenyra, "Goodnight, Father, Rhaenyra." You retreat to your chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Aegon stands in front of the people, having been crowned King, he thinks back to your words. The offer sounding so convincing. If only he hadn't acted out, then maybe the sound of your voice and your sweet words wouldn't haunt him.

fin.

Oh. My. God. I don't know if I love or hate this because I straight pulled this out of my ass.

Also for further context, you are Daemon's oldest daughter. Your mother is one of the eldest children of Qoren Martell and the reason why you aren't married is because you really don't need a husband. Your mother has a twin brother and so you will rule alongside your cousin as it is not known which one of them came first.

#house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #team black #gaslight gatekeep girlboss

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shehulksworld · 1 year

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Youtube Thumbnail for The Owl house Twelve tribute part 4 Finale premieres today at 6:45 pm local time zone GMT-0400 see you there

https://youtu.be/atGOf8y3baI

#Youtube Thumbnail for The Owl house Twelve tribute part 4 Finale premieres today at 6:45 pm local time zone GMT-0400 see you there #https://youtu.be/atGOf8y3baI

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jahayla-parker · 3 months

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Made For : Finnick Odair x Reader

(Finnick Odair x Victor!Reader / Finnick Odair x Tribute!Reader / Finnick Odair x District4!Reader / Finnick Odair x Gf!Reader / Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Descr: 5k wc, set to the time of What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish, Y/n finds herself questioning her worth and what she was made for when she finds herself in the same situation as her boyfriend Finnick Odair has been in since he won his games when his body began to be sold or given as gifts to those in the Capitol; Finnick seeks to help her through it. Hurt-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Support, Healing, Etc.

Warnings: Hunger Games type warnings, mentions of Snow’s sex trafficking of victors (aka rape, but NOTHING explicit, everything post events), violence, trauma, bruising and injuries, crying, self-blame, and related. Please let me know if I missed anything!

I used to float, now I just fall down

I used to know but I'm not sure now

What I was made for

What was I made for?

Takin' a drive, I was an ideal

Looked so alive, turns out I'm not real

Just something you paid for

What was I made for?

Was this all there was? That seemed to be the case lately at least. To be fair, as a former victor, what else was there now? What was she made for outside of this? This had become not just a part of her life but her story, her identity. Was she really made for this? Could she be made for more? Would the Capitol even allow that?

These thoughts were on constant repeat in y/n’s head as she walked back to her house in the victor’s village. This was a routine occurrence as of late. So much so she actually debated if it made more sense to simply move to the Capitol rather than walking to the train and back every time she had a client to attend to. It would certainly save time and energy. But then again, her time was expendable and her energy was practically non existent by now. Besides, the train ride back to District 4 offered her solitude; something she had learned to equate to safety. The solitude that came with the train ride also provided her the chance to zone out, something she often resorted to after the events of the her visits to the Capitol. She also utilized the walk home from the train station as a way to try to compose herself before she returned to her boyfriend. Finnick knew what she was going through, far better than he should, given he was in the same position himself. But, that’s precisely why y/n wanted to make the most of the time they had together by not having to deal with the traumas imposed on them by Snow. She also needed the physical separation from the ever present carelessness and cruelty that was the literal foundation of the Capitol. Lastly, but by far the most important factor in her decision to not simply move to the Capitol, y/n wouldn’t live somewhere where Finnick wasn’t.

I'm sad again, don't tell my boyfriend

It's not what he's made for

What was I made for?

“Oh! Fin,” Y/n gasped, frantically wiping at her damp cheeks. Finnick had left a note saying he had some things to do in town, so she wasn’t expecting him home already. She hadn’t known he would be back from his errands so soon. If she had, she’d not have let herself break down this much.

Finnick frowned as he took in the state of his girlfriend. “Honey, what’s happened?” He asked, quickly making his way over to her. When she mumbled a quiet “nothing” in response, he sighed sympathetically. “Okay,” he nodded, cautiously taking y/n’s hands in his. “You don’t have to say anything honey, just know I’m here for you, okay?” He proposed, squeezing her hands as he scanned her tearful eyes.

“You’re allowed to cry,” Finnick commented lovingly when y/n seemed to whisper an apology before taking her hands back to resume drying her face.

“No,” y/n argued vaguely. She kept her eyes on the wood floor under her feet as she pulled the collar of her shirt up to dry her tears faster. He didn’t need to deal with this.

Finnick’s worried frown deepened. “Why not?”

“Because I should be used to this,” y/n answered, her tone laced with self-deprecating judgment.

Finnick’s chest caved in painfully as he came to understand what was troubling y/n. It wasn’t that he was truly surprised. While she was at the Capitol, he’d gone to the market to try to find some y/f/d for her for when she got home. It wasn’t much, but he was hoping it would help cheer her up slightly since he knew she’d unexpectedly had to leave two days in a row so far this week. He’d also been sure to tidy up and get some extra cozy blankets out of their closet for her. He had intended on being home by the time she got back, but the typical place he went to was out of y/f/d so he’d had tried to search for awhile. If he’d known y/n was already home, he’d have rushed back earlier.

As painful as it was to know what y/n was going through, and knowing he was powerless to stop it, this was almost worse. Finnick hated that she felt she had to become immune to the pain that came with having to attend to clients at the Capitol. She’d never expected him to do that, so why did she think she needed to? Finnick shook his head and took her hands in his once again, “no, you shouldn’t. This isn’t acceptable”.

Y/n mindlessly shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, if you ask Snow,” she commented, having actually done that herself not too long ago. “I.., this is what I was made for,” she concluded with a defeated sad smile.

Finnick felt his anger flare and he clenched his jaw to keep the tension in his face and not his hands that held y/n’s. “That’s such bullshi-”, he began but paused and sighed. His anger wasn’t going to help the situation, especially if there was a chance she might misinterpret it as being directed towards her. “Y/n,” he cooed in a much softer tone, “that’s not true”.

Y/n huffed lightly. She slowly lifted her gaze up from Finnick’s shoes until her eyes reached his troubled face. “Then what was I made for, Fin?” She asked timidly.

Finnick offered y/n a sad smile. He released one of her hands so he could use his now-free one to cup her cheek. “You were made to be you,” he said, his smile warmer now, “that’s all you ever have to be”.

“This is me,” y/n pointed out as she stared into Finnick’s attentive eyes.

Finnick’s brows scrunched together. “No”. He shook his head slowly. “This is something being forced upon you,” he reminded y/n delicately. “This is a chapter of your life, albeit a painful and traumatic one. But, you are not what is, or was, done to you”. When he noticed she was about to argue, he tapped her cheek tenderly. “Do you think this is who I am?” He asked, knowing full well despite them being in the same position, she was seeing herself through a much harsher lens than she would ever dare to see him.

Y/n rapidly shook her head worriedly. Of course that’s not what she meant! Seeing the way Finnick’s eyes and expression communicated the fact he already knew she didn’t see him that way calmed her. She slowly understood why he’d asked that question if he already knew her answer. He was right, it was ironic and hypocritical. But, she could see so many purposes Finnick had outside of this ordeal. The same couldn’t be said about herself.

Finnick silently gasped as he watched y/n close her eyes and begin to break down in tears. “Can I…” he trailed off, wanting to make sure he conveyed the message that it was her choice and he’d understand either way. “A-are you okay with me holding you right now?” Finnick questioned softly.

Finnick smiled faintly to himself when y/n gave him a silent nod in response. He made sure to give her enough time to change her mind if physical contact was understandably too much for her right now as he moved to he pull her to him. “Let it out love,” he encouraged, “you don’t need to keep this bottled up inside”. Finnick carefully let them to the couch, watching her to see if the action would be too triggering for her right now.

Y/n sat in silence in Finnick’s loving embrace for an unknown amount of time. Just listening to his whispered sweet nothings as she let his warm hands release her tension as he delicately rubbed her back. After a moment of contemplation, she leaned back to look up at her steadfast boyfriend. “How do you do it?” She asked quietly.

“What?” Finnick questioned, tilting his head down to see y/n more clearly.

“Live like this,” y/n explained. “I mean! I know you don’t have a choice either!” she corrected, cupping Finnick’s face apologetically. “But,” she sniffled. “You’re so much better at dealing with all of this,” y/n croaked.

Finnick pouted and sighed. That wasn’t something she should be trying to meet. He knew what she was seeking, the ability to get by without feeling the burden of all of this. But it shouldn’t be something anyone should have to seek. Much less something she should be ashamed for not having been able to do yet. “I’ve had a few extra years, honey,” Finnick reminded her solemnly.

Y/n smiled sadly and nodded minimally. “So,” she sniffled, tracing imaginary shapes on Finnick’s shirt. “I’ll get better at it?” She asked, her eyes moving up to meet his.

Finnick let out a long sigh. “I want to say no…” he admitted. “Because you shouldn’t have to. This shouldn’t be something you experience, let alone get used to.” He grit his teeth as he thought about the things he wished he could do to Snow for making y/n have to deal with any of this. “But, yeah…,” Finnick nodded sadly, “time will make it less noticeable. I’ll be here to help you with this too”.

Tears sprung into y/n’s still watery eyes again. She silently clung onto Finnick tightly. She knew her shaky sobs were making his shirt wet and was appreciative that he didn’t seem to be annoyed by it. “You know you don’t have to, right?” Y/n questioned in a hushed voice.

Finnick’s face furrowed slightly as he replayed y/n’s muffled voice, trying to see if “hearing” it a second time would allow him to understand what she’d said. Her face was buried in his chest, her lips pressed against the fabric of his shirt, making whatever she’d tried to say incomprehensible. “What’s that, darling?” Finnick asked tenderly as he brushed some of her hair away from her face.

Y/n slowly pulled herself off of Finnick’s chest in order to repeat herself. She needed him to hear her clearly. It was important that he knew this. “I want you to know that while I do appreciate everything, you don’t have to do all of this,” y/n told him breathily. “I know it’s a lot, and I’m needy, and I-“.

“Shhhh, honey,” Finnick whined, his face contorted with worry.

Y/n smiled faintly at her endearing boyfriend. “No it’s okay,” she promised, “I know I am, but I just…” She swallowed thickly and moved her arms away from Finnick’s torso, up to his face instead. “My worry isn’t about that. My worry is that I want to be sure that you know you don’t have to exert yourself to this extent.” Y/n once again offered him a tiny smile despite the turmoil in her mind. “You’re already going through a lot yourself, you don’t need to take me on as a burden too,” she assured him.

“You’re not a burden, my love,” Finnick argued with a soft shake of his head.

Y/n let out an airy half-laugh. “Regardless, Fin, I’m serious, you’d still be the best boyfriend, and the love of my life, without taking this on too. I need you to know that you don’t need to do this,” she explained fully.

Finnick smiled warmly as he continued to gaze down at y/n. “I do”. He leaned his head into her hand on his jaw. “I do know that, honey”.

“Good,” y/n breathed out in relief. “I don’t ever want to pressure you to do anything, even small, that-“ she began to ramble.

“I know,” Finnick nodded in understanding, his pointer finger trailing down her jaw. “I feel the same, angel,” he pointed out softly. “I want this. I want us. And, I want to be there for you, to lighten this darkness as much as I can for you since I can’t stop it.”

Y/n let out a choppy cry before she dove back into Finnick’s embrace. She held onto him tightly. “I love you so much, sweetheart,” she whimpered against his shoulder as her arms snaked around his back.

“I love you too, honey,” Finnick cooed, his own arms tight around y/n. “I love you too.” He closed his eyes and breathed in her familiarly comforting scent. “We’re going to get through this.”

'Cause I, 'cause I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday I might

Someday I might

Y/n gasped as the bathroom door opened unexpectedly. She’d been staring at her bruises through the mirror for hours. Or so she suspected. She’d dissociated and lost track of time. As such, when the door opened, she had just been standing there alone in her and Finnick’s bathroom in only her bra and panties as she continued to take in her appearance.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Finnick guiltily rushed out, stepping back into the hall and quickly pulling the door shut. “I didn’t know you were home, I’m sorry,” he whispered. His brows were scrunched as he tried to keep his anger at bay over having seen the marks on her body. Whoever her body had been sold to today hadn’t followed the contractual restrictions of not marking her up. The limitation was one of Snow’s rules for the acts one could commit against the victors he sold to the residents of the Capitol. It was not for the protection or sake of the victors themselves, but rather because it decreased their worth until the marks healed; Snow didn’t take discounts, meaning injuries risked a victor being out of commission for some time.

“‘s okay, Fin,” y/n whispered. She wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. She felt bad for the way her gasp made him feel like he was in the wrong for simply opening the door to his own bathroom. But, there was a more prevailing sense of blame that she felt right now regarding what he just experienced because of her. “Sorry, you didn’t need to see that… to see… me… like….” She rambled.

Finnick rested his head on his side of the closed bathroom door. “Honey, no, please don’t apologize,” he frowned. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, but he found himself needing to ask it nevertheless.

“Y-yeah,” y/n’s voice trembled through the door.

Finnick winced and pursed his lips. “Y/n,” he whispered knowingly.

“I can’t…. I…” y/n huffed. “It’s just…, I don’t know how to cover them,” she choked out. “Snow’s…. Snow is going to blame me”. Despite being on the other side of the door, her worry was evident in her tone.

Finnick squeezed his eyes shut. She shouldn’t be worried about this. She shouldn’t be dealing with any of this. She was meant for far more than this. “It’s not on you,” he reminded her gently.

“It was…,” y/n began, but paused, not wanting to burden Finnick by informing him of the name of her client. It was something they both often protected the other from. Since they would have to run into previous clients at mandatory Capitol parties, knowing who they were would only cause them to be constantly be mad at those specific attendees after knowing what they had been capable of doing to their unwilling partner. It was a morbid resolution, but one the couple had settled on in order to survive.

Y/n shook her head as she stared into the bathroom mirror. She watched herself as she poked at the bruising on her side. She flinched at pain and stifled a hiss. “He…,” she paused and took a deep breath, “he’s too close to Snow”. While she wouldn’t bother Finnick with who he was tonight, she knew her boyfriend was set on understanding why she was worried about being blamed for this when it was the one thing that usually fell on the clients. “It’ll be pinned on me for not having stopped him, that I should’ve-,” y/n sighed.

“That’s not your responsibility,” Finnick quickly pointed out. Y/n needed to know that. None of this was her fault nor responsibility. She was merely trying to survive. Something that shouldn’t be this difficult. “That’s not even something you are allowed to do, don’t let them trick you into blaming yourself by pretending that you suddenly had the privilege to stop him. None of this is by choice. None of this is your fault,” he reminded her. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Regardless of what you have to do or not do, none of this is your fault. No matter what you did or didn’t do, do or don’t do. Okay?” Finnick practically pleaded softly.

“Okay,” y/n agreed. She stood in silence as she stared at the purplish stains on her skin. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she confessed after another moment of contemplation.

Finnick bit his lip. “We’ll worry about that later,” he promised. “For now, do you need medical attention?” He asked worriedly. He’d only seen y/n’s injuries briefly before quickly shutting the door so she could regain some privacy.

Y/n chuckled darkly. “Like that would ever be an option,” she scoffed. The sold victors, even when covered in injuries despite their clients being told not to cause any, weren’t allowed to seek medical services or treatment. No matter how small or severe. It was clear Snow feared that the victors doing so would potentially expose the villainous was he was running a sex trade for the Capitol’s most prized residents. Not that anyone would likely do anything even if they did.

“It is,” Finnick corrected, his worry increasing as he wondered if y/n had gone without help for injuries before tonight. “We might not be able to go seek it out,” he acknowledged. “But, I’ve got a kit.” Finnick bit the inside of his cheek as he prepared to hear her answer to his next question. “Do you need anything?”

Y/n sniffled. “There’s nothing you can do for bruises,” she sighed.

Finnick’s fists balled at his side as he heard y/n’s shaky breathing and sniffling. “I… there’s a… a uhhh..” he rambled, his mind spinning. “A balm in the bottom drawer, to the left of the sink, it helps with pain,” he offered. He leaned against the doorframe, his ear pinned to the door as he waited to see if there was anything he could do for y/n.

After a few moments of silence, Finnick finally heard y/n’s small voice call out his name. His head perked up against the door. “Yeah, honey?” He asked. “I’m still here, what’s happening?”

“I, uhhh…” y/n frowned, burdened with guilt. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I can’t… I can’t reach it.”

“The balm?” Finnick questioned. He tried to visualize where it was and what severity or type of injuries might be preventing y/n from being able to reach it.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to answer without sounding weak and worrying Finnick further. “No, the… the handprint on my back,” she choked out.

Finnick winced, his fists clenching together and eyes screwing shut tightly. “Do you want some help?” He asked once he’d regained some of his composure.

“Do you mind?” Y/n whispered.

Finnick opened his eyes and frowned as he stepped back slightly from the door. “No, ‘course not, honey,” he promised. “Let me know when you’re okay with me coming in, alright?” Finnick instructed tenderly.

“Uhh yeah..,” y/n agreed slowly. She gazed at her exposed body in disgust. “How much… uhmmm. How much do you want me to cover up?”

“What do you mean, love?” Finnick wondered.

“I…,” y/n sighed. “How much should I cover up? Like… just leave my back exposed?” She asked as she eyed her discarded pile of tainted clothes in the corner of the bathroom.

Finnick frowned at y/n’s worry. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, love,” he advised gently. “As much as you need.” Finnick quickly tried to find a better response, knowing that a direct answer would help her since she was feeling sorta out of it right now. “If you prefer, I can blindly apply it to your back under your top,” he offered.

“Okay so you want me fully dressed?” Y/n asked rhetorically as her slow mind thought through her next steps. “One moment,” she agreed, turning to her pile of abandoned clothing.

Finnick’s brows furrowed. “It’s not about what I want, honey.” He sighed silently to himself. He hated how much she was worrying about him right now when she was the one needing help. “I just want you to be comfortable… as much as you can,” Finnick explained.

“So, I…” y/n began as she made her way back to the bathroom entrance. She cracked the door open lightly. She held it in place, forming just enough of an opening to stick only her head out of it, the edge of the door pressed into her neck. This way she wasn’t exposing Finnick to the sight of her injuries just yet. Y/n hesitantly looked up and met his patient eyes. “You’re okay with me not putting my shirt back on yet?” She clarified.

Finnick nodded, “I’m fine either way”. “This is about you, y/n”.

“Okay,” y/n said with a weak nod since her head was pinned. She offered Finnick a small smile, “thanks”. “‘Cause the fabric hurts right now,” y/n confessed.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Finnick reminded y/n lovingly.

Y/n pulled her head back in through the slightly opened door. “I know, it’s just, I know how ugly my body looks right now,” she explained as she slowly opened the door for Finnick.

“Hey, hey, don’t say that,” Finnick scolded softly. “You’re beautifully breathtaking, honey, always,” he promised. “Of course I don’t want to see you like this, but that’s not because it changes your beauty, only because I hate that you’re in pain, that someone hurt you,… I mean, I know it always hurts… I don’t like that either… I just meant.. right now with it being… more than…” he rambled.

Y/n nodded in understanding. She grabbed Finnick’s hand tightly. The warmth from his palm helped soothe her some. A shiver went through her as her body began to release some of the tension she was holding in.

Finnick stared intently into y/n’s eyes. “You’re in charge here, okay? You control where I look or touch, okay?”

When Finnick finished his scan of y/n’s body for any more injuries to attend to, he sighed with the tiniest bit of relief. “I promise you,” he said as he stood before her and took her hands in his. “I’m going to see to it that we find a way to make this end, to take our lives back, because you’re made for much more than to be used for Snow’s cruel plans”.

“We,” y/n corrected lovingly. She smiled softly at him, temporarily forgetting about the painful bruises that had led them to this tender moment.

Finnick smiled back. “Yeah.” He stepped closer to y/n, never breaking eye contact. “We are made for much more than to be his pawns. And I vow, one day it won’t even be something we have to worry about ever again”.

Y/n stared deeply into Finnick’s calming and beautiful eyes. “Maybe I was made for loving you, Fin,” she commented dazedly.

“Wh-…What?” Finnick stumbled breathily. “What, honey?” He asked. He couldn’t have possibly heard her correctly.

Y/n smiled tenderly at Finnick. She pulled his hands towards her, pleased when his feet followed and brought the rest of him with. “I said, ‘maybe I was made for loving you, Fin’,” y/n happily repeated.

“I.. I don’t…,” Finnick gasped with a timid shake of his head.

Y/n smiled up at Finnick as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s never even been a choice,” she admitted admiringly, “although if it were, it’d have been the easiest decision in all of Panem history”. “It’s just so easy and comfortable to love you, Finnick. It’s just so right”. She shook her head lovingly as she continued to peer into his sea-green eyes that felt like home.

Finnick knew he was undoubtedly a blushing mess. But he didn’t care. “Well,” he mumbled and cleared throat. “If that’s something one can be made for, then I was made for loving you, my dear,” he hummed. Finnick smiled lovingly at y/n before bowing his head to kiss her forehead.

“One day everyone will know that’s all we’ll ever have been made for,” y/n hummed, returning Finnick’s encouraging sentiment from earlier. She leaned into his kiss and cuddled up in his arms.

Finnick was careful in his positioning due to y/n’s bruises, but he nevertheless returned her embrace. He cautiously held her to him with a soft sigh. “One day, honey, one day”.

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made for

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