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nnight-dances · 2 years

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HOW TO FALL BACK IN LOVE WITH YEONJUN

pairings: yeonjun x f!reader

tropes: one-sided enemies to lovers >:-)

plotline: yeonjun loves you. you've loved him before but now you're convinced he deserves nothing but your ironic smiles. well, you're wrong. these three acts of your life uncover the truth behind your resentment and the depth of yeonjun's love. plus, an epilogue where we collectively hate on short stories because only poetry can truly capture a writer's horniness!

what to expect: a lot of rambling in parentheses but i promise it's essential to the storyline, (i have many thoughts about how i've used this feature in this story which i can share if anyone's interested.) mbti talk, some tiktok slang.

song recommendations: sweet by cigarettes after sex, moonlight by dhruv, lay all your love on me by abba

—

THE FIRST ACT: 2 THINGS YOU (MIGHT) HATE ABOUT YEONJUN

it’s not a secret that yeonjun does everything with his everything. he’s only invested in his select few interests but just the little things take up all the space in his heart. you could argue for or against his way of living, he’s more than aware it’s not the healthiest to be like this but he’s not ready to change, not while he’s still young. for now, he’s a summation of fixations and obsessions in his world. and it just so happens that one of his obsessions is you.

“what’s this? y/n’s got a new piercing?” he leans back on his heels dramatically, mouth forming an o at the sight of the newly-added butterfly stud on the helix of your ear. “and it’s only tuesday. week not going very well for you.”

you narrow your eyes at him in your typical resting-bitch-face fashion, instantly taking on an aloof demeanor, “i’m extremely uncomfortable with the fact that you’re keeping up with the number of piercings i have. can’t say i’m flattered.”

“ha! at this point, i don’t even have to try to keep count. you get a new one every other day.”

“oh, leave her alone, jun,” calls out taehyun from behind you, “she’s doing it for inspiration for her portfolio that’s due in three days.”

two ring-adorned middle fingers stick up in front of taehyun’s face, your hoarse voice following suit, “you’re a terrible friend, kang taehyun.”

“two days? and you’re not done? sorry, love, but as an ESTP, i physically cannot forgive you. i have to shame you in public.”

yeonjun laughs a little too hard for your liking at that, about to chime in with his own patronizing comment but you cut in, “oh, well, you know who else is an ESTP? donald j. trump!”

yeonjun laughs again at that, enjoying the banter between you and taehyun a lot. he joins in, “i’m an ENFP. that’s the same as katniss everdeen’s, so i’d say that explains why i’m so hot.”

you frown, “you mean you would choose peeta over gale? yeah, i can see why you have such bad taste in everything.”

taehyun howls in laughter at that and yeonjun shakes his head, “oh, ho ho ho,” he shuffles closer to you, “you don’t understand, y/n, how badly you’ve just insulted yourself.”

before you can fully comprehend the meaning of his statement, he’s gone, grabbing (stealing) a can of beer from hueningkai who’s busy forcing beomgyu to arm-wrestle him.

“whatever that means,” you huff out, massaging your temples. taehyun sighs, concealing a knowing smile, “yeah. i’ve no idea what he means.”

you rest your head against the sofa he’s sat on, stretching out your legs, “i actually hate you for betraying me like that.”

“oh god, maybe i’ll stop the day you stop talking like we’re still in the second grade and i’ve lent my eraser to the wrong person.”

“you might as well have!” you complain, not in the least petty because, “choi yeonjun did not need to know i’m behind on my portfolio. god knows what he’s gonna do with that information.”

taehyun snorts, “ah, yes, he’s probably going to plan a full-fledged assassination involving your family and kids simply based on the knowledge that you’re a helpless procrastinator.”

“you know what?” you sit up with a groan, “i think you’re the one i should be worried about sharing my secrets with. you’re the real threat here.”

your ‘friend’ simply chuckles under his breath as he watches you depart his side and hopes yeonjun’s somewhere in the crowd of the party to keep your nerves… unnerved.

yeonjun is present in the crowd, sat on the less than reassuring metal stairs of beomgyu and hueningkai’s shared apartment. his hand fidget with his phone, struggling to stop himself from going on tinder only to be disappointed because he’s just looking for another y/n and that near impossible, unless you break your oath to rely on “real life encounters and experiences” (your very own words) to find love.

he finds you then, in a group of people hanging around the balcony, cigarettes in hand. you stand a little far apart from the others, looking undoubtedly spaced-out as you swing on your heels back and forth. you’re pretty, even though yeonjun can only see one-fourth of your face, what with all the darkness and your hair in the way.

but you hate him. even if your disgusted grimaces and cold glares are all but a joke, you did seem harbor some kind of resentment toward yeonjun. he’d no idea what it was and trust him when he says he’s been putting his neck on the line just to figure out why.

so far the reasons that have him most convinced include,

one: you hate all men in general and he just happens to be a particularly irksome male presence in your life.

this is a pretty likely explanation, he thinks as he approaches you, because even as an outsider to the group you’re in, he can see that you reserve your expletives for certain men.

“…and that’s why i think everything is soup,” yuta finishes saying when yeonjun joins you. for a second there’s silence and even mark who usually can’t control his laughter maintains a poker face. then, you groan, “yuta, if i had a pencil right now, i genuinely would have stabbed you with it.”

now, this makes everyone crack up while you regard them in disbelief with a look that screams you guys know i’m serious right? because you’re dead serious.

so yeah, it’s a good bet to say that men aren’t your favorite kind of people. but still, yeonjun couldn’t shake off the feeling that your dislike for him is more personal. wishful thinking, perhaps? but then, you turn and notice yeonjun standing beside you.

your half-smile tightens into a frown, “when did you get here?”

there it was. that specific tone you use with, that was missing when you’d threatened lucas just moments ago. the grit in your teeth, the intensity of your eye-contact, even the way you say you changes. which brings him to the next and last potential reason that yeonjun has spent days, if not years, pondering.

two: yeonjun had done you wrong without knowing and ever since then, you’ve grown to absolutely despise him.

now, yeonjun knew for a fact that you’re expert at holding grudges, clear from how quick you’ve always been to bring up embarrassing things people around you, specifically taehyun, had done. and to be honest, you’re just good at remembering unusual amount of detail which you use to your advantage.

which is why yeonjun knows you’ll know he’s lying when he says, “i’ve been here for a good ten minutes, y/n. i’m so hurt you haven’t noticed.”

“stop that,” you shoot back instantly, raising a singular but intimidating index finger, “i know what you’re doing.”

yeonjun raises his eyebrow in amusement, “stop what? what am i doing?” he slightly leans in to dramatically tuck in a few stray strands of hair, “please, enlighten me.”

the low, husky voice he uses is not lost on you. despite your flaming cheeks, you scoff, “that! you’re flirting with me!” you reach up and promptly untuck the hair from behind your hair, “these are my slut strands. you’re not allowed to touch them without permission.”

“your—” yeonjun pauses, “slut... strands? right.” he swallows a chuckle, smirking instead, all while internally he’s having a breakdown over how insane you are. like in a good way. in the way that everything you say is fucking crazy but it’s so native to your logic that it drives him crazy and holy cheese, yeonjun is scaring himself right now.

he looks away momentarily to see the rest of the group’s conversation floating elsewhere. he turns back to you, “so you noticed?”

you cock up a brow, “that you’re flirting with me? no shit, yeonjun, you know i may not look street-smart but i have to live with taehyun and his witty ass so trust me, i’m not oblivious.”

“oh, i beg to differ,” he settles closer to you, leaning against the same pillar as you, shoulder flush against yours, “i didn’t think for a second that you were oblivious.”

“that’s why you ran away after telling me i was insulting myself by insulting your taste?”

yeonjun flushes, taken aback by your straightforwardness, coughing to cover up his lack of excuses at that. you breathe out a laugh at his flustered state, “hmm, so goes down the all-mighty choi yeonjun.”

“at least i wasn’t defeated by my inability to complete my creative writing portfolio due in three…” yeonjun looks down at his watch, “actually, now, two days.”

this time, you’re left without a comeback, “that’s a low blow, man.”

he laughs, “come on, isn’t this like your first time being this late?”

“once again, i remain creeped out at you knowing things like that but,” you relax noticeably next to him, “i guess i ran out of ideas this time. not sure what’s wrong.”

“and this had never happened before?”

“i thought you already knew this.” yeonjun rolls his eyes, a complete contradiction to the grin on his face. ”hm, maybe you’ve run out because you’re trying to do it the same way you’ve always done it?”

“i mean, of course i’m doing it the same way,” you mutter, “that’s like the point of having a regular writing practice. it needs to become natural.”

“yeah, but you need spice things up a little sometimes!”

“gross,” you scrunch up your nose, “you sound like you’re prescribing me a threesome right now.”

he shrugs playfully, “if that’s what rocks your boat.” you push him away at that and he laughs out, “okay, okay, but i’m serious. try something new.” you quieten down at that, probably thinking.

“what about…” you look up at him expectantly and he almost fumbles over his words, “um, what about walking around the city?”

—

THE SECOND ACT: LOVE BEGINS BEHIND CLOSED PARENTHESES

full disclosure here: yeonjun’s second reason is right. the first one isn’t completely wrong, but it’s more so the second one that finds you in the gropes of overthinking that night.

you know how at a certain point in the past, you really (really, really, really) like someone but then things don’t work because that person isn’t into you (but more because you’re too caught up in your own self-perception to do anything) so slowly that lots (and lots and lots) of like turns into a lump of resentment? yeah, that pretty much describes your relationship with yeonjun. more or less, you hate him for not liking you (”in the past!! i don’t care about him anymore!” you hastily add from behind kang taehyun who had been narrating this whole paragraph. taehyun poorly covers up an incredulous snort.)

“so now you’re going on a date with him?” taehyun asks a little too loudly, “how does that happen?”

“it doesn’t happen because nothing is happening because i’m not going on a date with him!” you half-scream, hitting the brunette on his head to try and shove some sense into it, “and please, stop being so loud or i’m going to cry.”

“y/n, we live alone. and i think you’re going to cry nevertheless, but okay. if it’s not a date, what is it?”

“it’s just a walk,” you say and when taehyun looks at you blankly, “a walk around the city, in his exact words.” more blankness. more silence. “i was going to go alone but yeonjun said he knows an obscure part of town that would help me become, you know, curious.”

“uh-huh, right, of course…” taehyun purses his lips, intrigued to see how far you’d go with your denial.

“stop looking at me like you’re so much better than me! and no—” you cut him off knowingly, “don’t say that you are better than me. you’re not. what you are is an asshole and i hate you.”

you fall into your sheets with a frustrated wail and taehyun laughs at your state for a few seconds before returning to his role as your therapist slash best friend.

“okay, y/n, i know you don’t like to think about, let alone admit it, but you’re into yeonjun. and since i can’t let what happened a year ago happen again, i’m telling you that i’m almost completely sure that he’s into you, too. so please, don’t be hostile tomorrow on your date— sorry, your ‘walk’ with him. use the opportunity or i’m sleeping over at kai’s.”

—

“i don’t know why i let you talk me into this,” you scoff as you fall into step next to yeonjun. “we’re literally at a stupid park.”

he gasps like the theatre kid he should be, “first of all, this is a huge park and you’ve no idea how much people-watching you can from here. and secondly, i bought you coffee so all you’re being right now is ungrateful.”

you stay silent, eyes scanning a group of middle-aged ladies that passes you. you hear a whiff of their conversation, something about one of them wanting to take a break by the water fountain.

“see? you’re already in the zone and i didn’t even have to shut up.”

you look back at him, awed look morphing into a scowl, “no, i think it’s just really easy for me to forget you’re here.” yeah, it’s safe to say you haven’t taken a word taehyun said to the heart.

but no matter what you say, half an hour later finds you perched on a bench, crouched over your notebook, fingers scratching quick bullet points into the paper. you look up every ten minutes or so, head moving up and then rotating slowly, and then back to writing.

it’s only when yeonjun brings you your second cup of coffee that you notice the stiffness in your shoulders. he smiles at you, brightly. brightly? no, it’s the sun that’s bright, not yeonjun. he’s… moronic.

“wanna take a break?” he asks. you stand up in answer, taking the cup he holds out for you, the words thank you leaving your lips a little too quickly. he doesn’t overreact like you expect him to, his attention on some kids a few ways away from where the two of you are.

“you wanna play frisbee?” you mean to mock, not offer, but yeonjun’s ear perk up and he’s pulling you after him before another word can be said.

“hey, kids!” he greets the children who look like they’re maybe in middle school, “could we join y’all for a bit?”

it’s a a girl in pigtails who answers excitedly, probably encouraged by yeonjun’s looks (hey, yeonjun is objectively good-looking. just because you’re stating facts about his appearance doesn’t mean you’re in love with him. because you’re not in love with him.)

“sorry, this one is a little zoned out most of the time, so just don’t aim at her face,” you hear yeonjun say as you finish convincing yourself of your lack of feelings for him. you resist the itch to flip him off and flash a polite smile to the blonde boy next to you.

he responds with an enthusiastic wave, “hello! i’m ren!” you raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to introduce himself but return with a, “hey ren, i’m y/n. nice to meet—”

you’re cut off by yeonjun’s yell as the yellow frisbee flies your way. your hands come up to shield your face but ultimately it’s yeonjun’s body crashing into yours that saves you. does it, really? you wonder as you groan from under him. the grass is damp and you’re in it and yeonjun’s on top of you. you’re not sure what makes you more annoyed.

“i fucking hate you,” you whisper as yeonjun props himself up. he’s still close enough though so he grins, looking objectively good-looking despite the twig that’s found its way into his hair. “smile, babe, i just saved your life.”

you don’t know how to respond to his outrageous use of the endearment so you’re grateful when ren exclaims, “he just called y/n noona baby!!!! ewww, they’re dating!!”

on second thought, you’re not grateful because apparently, this is enough to wreak havoc among the group of children. weren’t they already at least ten? isn’t that old enough to not be annoying? you don’t find out because next thing, yeonjun’s hand is wrapped around your wist as he helps you up.

you shoot him a glare and the loud boy next to yeonjun screams, “they’re holding hands!!!”

“gosh darn, kids, your parents never touch each other or what?”

“my mother said my father’s breath smells like beer and that’s why she won’t give him kissies like she gives me them!” the girl in pigtails answers, proud for some reason. despite everything, you crack a smile at that, leaning into yeonjun’s side who’s struggling to stifle his laughter.

“i think we’ve had enough of a break, no?” he says to you and you nod, “please, let’s go before i’m forced to write about the bad parenting in my portfolio.”

about five minutes pass in you trying to break free from the group who insist on another round. another round takes two minutes before ren takes a hit to his knee and you both take the chance to leave, with you almost sprinting back to the peace of your bench in the shade.

you fall against the tree next to the bench, yeonjun close behind. “that was…” you take a moment to catch your breath, “not bad?”

yeonjun claps his hands together, “that’s exactly what i’ve been trying to tell you! this park! those kids! me? not bad!”

and well, because you guess you can allow that the whole affair isn’t half bad, it’s already evening when you’re too tired to write anymore. you look away from your almost illegible handwriting to find yeonjun gazing at you. weirdly (longingly).

he clears his throat, “you think you have enough?”

feeling weird (love-struck), you also clear your throat, “um, i should. i hope so, my fingers feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“that’s a good sign you’ve worked hard,” he pats your head. you don’t flinch away somehow. he continues, “it’s also a good sign that we should get some food.” when you narrow your eyes at him, he rushes to add, “you know, to relax your fingers.”

the excuse is ridiculous. the premise of this entire day is ridiculous. hell, yeonjun’s entire being is ridiculous. but you’re spent, your walls aren’t as rigid in the soft light of the sunset, and yeonjun’s eyes have an unreal glow when he’s silent.

and so, ridiculously enough, you answer yeonjun, “we should get sushi.”

—

that night, you return to your place to a tipsy party (?) of taehyun, soobin, and beomgyu with hueningkai glued to his phone-screen in concentration, filming everything. “you’re back!” kai announces when he opens the door, phone still recording, and you flip the camera off, not without a careless smile.

taehyun stands up at the sight of you, “i take it you had a fruitful date?” soobin laughs, so very loudly. “lmao,” (yes, soobin has the ability to say text slang out loud irl, next question please), “get it? fruit-ful? date? dates are fruits? am i drunk already?”

you shake your head at them and simply hug taehyun, feeling unbelievably affectionate today. “oh? what’s this? y/n initiating physical contact? choi yeonjun must be a god.”

you pull away, “this has nothing to do with him,” you say, sounding unconvincing even to your own ears, “i’m just tired. good night. if you make too much noise, i will take kai hostage and—”

“oh, do that anyway!! please, i’ll pay you!!!!” beomgyu shouts enthusiastically and you leave the living room before you have to witness any more of their drunken behavior.

but even in bed, you find yourself unable to sleep, mind occupied with… thoughts (is hanging out with so many men making you slightly dull? maybe. is it making emotionally constipated? absolutely. you make a mental note to schedule a lunch date with yeji later).

to be more specific, the image of yeonjun sat across from you holding out a piece of spicy tuna roll in your direction is too stubborn to leave your head. you think about yeonjun, among other things, that night.

yeonjun is no different, his mind still reeling from the realization that he’s spent an entire day with you. a day. a date? maybe, but whatever it was, you definitely couldn’t hate him too much if you could stand to spend that much time with him. you even shared a meal with him, laughed when he pretended his chopsticks were an airplane transporting food to your mouth. you humored him. you laughed with him. was that real?

—

if you think there’s nothing worse than waking up, walking out of your room— and right into yeonjun, then you’re wrong. because the disorientation you feel comes nowhere close to compare to yeonjun’s condition when he runs into you on his way to the common bathroom. he’s not sure what he else expected but it doesn’t surprise him to see that you sleep in a ginormous graphic tee (with mona lisa’s face on it?) and shorts.

“what are you doing here?”

the sense of deja vu overwhelms yeonjun for a moment before he smiles a little because your tone is not hostile, only confused. could he take this as progress? (or are you just half-asleep?)

“i’m… i’m here for brunch?” he’s a bit out of it by the time you raise your arms to stretch, heaving a half-groan, half-sigh. and listen, yeonjun’s not a pervert but he is considerably in love with you so seeing you with your slightly droopy eyes and slumped shoulders in your perfectly in-character pajamas sets off his imagination. to all kinds of destinations. (you as a domestic cat? you as a tired soul resting in his bed after a long night? god, he’s not doing this right now.)

“i don’t? i don’t remember agreeing to brunch?” you mumble confusedly, almost petulantly.

“you know,” announces soobin, suddenly revealing himself from the shadows (he’s literally been standing beside the two of you for two minutes, waiting for you to notice him. all he gets is the heat of the sexual tension between you and yeonjun. he could cook eggs on that shit.) “yeonjun was our friend before he knew you, y/n. actually, taehyun was our friend before he was your soulmate, so a brunch is a pretty normal occasion for us.”

yeonjun nods and you simply nod your head, probably too sleepy to make any witty comments at that. he shrugs, “but you’re more than welcome to join us if you want. for brunch? i’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything since our— since last night.” why’s yeonjun flustered? he’s only invited to brunch with four other people.

“i’m—” you’re cut off by yeonjun making his way to the bathroom. when he shuts the door behind him with a less than dramatic thud, you look at soobin in confusion. “so many things are happening too early in the morning.”

but brunch becomes a thing. and you join brunch, helping yourself to taehyun’s nearly perfect breakfast spread, your plate filled with bacon, eggs, and waffles.

“i say it’s nearly perfect because all we have in this house is fucking peanut butter!” you cry out, making taehyun give you a glare because he’s heard this many times before, “i don’t know how many times i’ll have to tell you this, but jam! jam is meant to be eaten with bread, it’s the only right way, it’s the way god intended things. do i look like a gym bro to you?”

“lol no,” says soobin, high-fiving you (you’re not sure if he does that because he agrees with your point about the jam, or if he’s also not a gym bro?) “y/n has a point. there’s so much more options with jam, think of all the berries you could be eating! peanut butter is the same old, same old.”

“god, i hate it when these two are in the same room.” you don’t have time to respond to beomgyu’s exasperated comment because yeonjun shifts closer to you on the sofa, coffee kettle in hand.

“want some? i’ll pour it out for you,” he offers, eyebrows raised. you pause for a second, mouth almost hanging open at how motherly he seems, but nod in a daze and watch as he stands up, takes out a black mug (that coincidentally happens to be your self-proclaimed mug) and pours coffee into it. you’re unaware of the little smile on your face when he brings it back to you, placing the hot mug next to your plate.

you’re about to think out loud about his motherliness when beomgyu follows up on his previous comment, even more boisterous, “oh, but these two in the same room are even worse.”

you look up at that to see the other three staring at you. you make a disgusted face, “why are y’all staring at me? please stop, i feel unsafe.”

“in that case, yeonjun must be feeling really fucking unsafe from how closely you’ve been staring at him,” laughs soobin, words slightly muffled from the food in his mouth. he’s lucky he’s your favorite friend (honestly, it’s just because he looks adorable with his cheeks full but eh, his personality wasn’t that bad you suppose).

“i’ve? not? been staring?” you ignore beomgyu’s snickering, picking up the coffee, “you guys need to get lives so that you stop searching so desperately for crumbs of drama here. i’m not here to serve as a source of entertainment for yo—” you promptly, contradict your statement by spilling the top half of your drink right into your lap.

while you sit there with scalding on your bare legs, it’s only yeonjun who seems concerned (overtly so, you’d observe if you’d care to admit it) with the others laughing their hearts out, satisfied at the comedic timing of your accident.

yeonjun, meanwhile, rushes to you with a handful of tissues, lips in a pout, “what the fuck, are you stupid? how do you spill that? have you never had coffee before?” you sit there trying to get the tissues from his hand, but he swats your attempts away, swiping the coffee from your thighs.

he’s much more careful that you would’ve been, making sure none of it soaks through your grey night shorts and a hand on your knee, probably to steady himself (spoiler: his hand on your knee doesn’t steady either of you, especially not him). but he manages himself well, his worrying outweighing all else as he looks up at you, “are you okay?”

you realize you haven’t said a word, eyes raising to taehyun’s who’s now looking away but watching slyly from his peripheral vision. beomgyu and soobin are in similar positions, pretending to be decent people when really, they’re over the moon.

“yeah, i’m okay, i didn’t really feel any of that,” you mumble, patting at your thighs, “but, um, sorry i wasted so much of your coffee.” yeonjun takes one of your hands, “no, don’t worry about it, i can always make more. you can’t make more of these legs.”

“okay! that’ll do it! i can’t take it any more!” beomgyu stands up with a melodramatic groan, “you two are gross, dude! like, not even in an elementary school way, you’re just objectively gross. i hate this.”

“what was that you said about not being our source of entertainment?” jokes soobin, elbow poking yours, pointing at you and then yeonjun who’s still crouching in front of you, one hand on you, “i very much feel like i’m in a k-drama right now, so i’ve no clue what you mean.”

you can sense from the tilt of taehyun’s grin that he’s about to follow suit with an equally, if not more, obnoxious comment, so you stand up, declaring, “i’m going to my room. i have a portfolio to finish in two days!”

you retire to your room after that, deciding concentrating on your work will do you some good now that you’ve… socialized? could you even call it that? you leave it at that, plopping down on your study desk where you would’ve usually conceptualized your rough drafts like you’d done yesterday in your notebook. it doesn’t compare to the park yeonjun took you to, but there is a window to your right from where you can see the slow street in front of your apartment. people-watching through that window has given you some pretty cool ideas for your pieces. you suppose it was like a pocket-sized version of your experience at the park.

you work the afternoon away, surprised to see it getting dark outside when there’s a knock at your door. you twist in your chair and call out, “come in!”

a light-brown head of hair pokes through and squinting in the darkness of your room, you can tell that’s not taehyun. “yeonjun?”

“woah, haven’t you got electricity in here?” he asks, stepping in and you see he’s put on a cream-colored cardigan on the blue shirt from brunch.

“nah, taehyun uses the money i give him for the electricity bill and gambles it all away,” you joke, sighing with feigned sorrow.

“ah, right, i forget taehyun has a gambling addiction. i’m sorry, miss, can’t imagine what it’s like to be married to someone like that.”

you laugh at that, yeonjun joining in. he leans in against the wall across from you, finding the switch to the lights in your room and turns them on. you’re both quiet for a moment.

you, because you’re reveling in the new-ness of your relationship with yeonjun. you feel like you’ve moved on in some way, no longer feeling caught up in the bitterness that had been coloring your interactions with him so far. he’s close to you, this yeonjun right now, who really, truly looks at you. you don’t even remember the yeonjun who broke your heart. (was it him who broke your heart? you begin to wonder, or just your imagination?)

for yeonjun, he doesn’t think he could’ve said anything even if he wanted to. you look so otherworldly in the dim glow of the evening, your eyes meeting his eyes, unapologetically and most importantly, without resentment. you’re beautiful, here silently in front of him, and he thinks he might have a chance with you after all.

“um,” he’s the one to break the silence, “have you eaten since brunch?”

you shake your head, “have you?”

“nope, beomgyu roped me into watching netflix with him when i tried to study,” he admits with a shy giggle, “next thing i knew the sun was setting.”

—

THE THIRD ACT: WINE FLIES WHEN YOU'RE HAVING FUN

conversations with yeonjun always lead the most unexpected places, and this one ends up with you driving with him to the supermarket. one day, you’re taking walks and playing frisbee with yeonjun, the next you’re grocery shopping with him because he’s had a whim to cook dinner for everyone. oh, how fast the night changes.. or however that one direction song goes.

“do you like spaghetti?” he asks, approaching the shelves stacked with different types of pasta.

“think before you ask me if i like pasta again, yeonjun,” you shoot back, inspecting the packets with your hands clasped behind your back. “wow, it’s been so long since i’ve been grocery shopping. taehyun never trusts me to get stuff and that’s how we end up with only peanut butter.”

yeonjun chuckles as he scans the shelves for the kind he likes and you shuffle around a lot, making little noises at all the cute shapes in the different packings. “they have heart-shaped pasta?!” you hold up the pink package excitedly at yeonjun who closes in on you with a fond smile.

“hmm, i think i get why taehyun never lets you come grocery shopping,” he starts, “it says here this a kids’ pasta.”

you regard him with your hands on your hips, unimpressed scowl on face, “you’re saying i have to be a kid to eat heart-shaped pasta? i don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

yeonjun is in a fit of laughter but he reaches out for your wrist as you pretend to walk away anyway with a hurried, “no, no, i think we should get the heart-shaped pasta.”

the rest of your trip is you roaming around being pulled off by the obscure brands and unusual types of foods while yeonjun grabs the ingredients you’ll actually need for dinner. about fifteen minutes later, when he’s done checking off everything on his list, he finds you typing away on your phone.

he catches a glimpse of the notes app on your phone and smiles as he comes to stand in front of you, “what’s up?”

“ohh, are you done?” you look away, “i got some ideas. i’ll use them for future pieces.”

“you’re done with your portfolio?” he asks. and you nod, eyes twinkling as the two of you head to the counter, “yep, i guess your plan with the park wasn’t completely a fail. it was not bad, really not bad.”

yeonjun laughs, piling the items for the worker to bill them. you gasp at the sight of a dark purple container, “you got blueberry jam?”

(fuck, his heart skips a beat. cheesy but valid. you look like you have hearts in your eyes.) “yeah, i saw it and thought you’d like it.”

you crack a delighted smile and even though both of you are paying for the groceries, you feel like you’ve been gifted the world. “i think i love you.” (you’re only joking. …right?)

—

“taehyun!!! beomgyu!!! soobin!!!!” you holler into the house, setting up five wine glasses around the table, “dinner’s ready!”

beomgyu is the first to come out, summoned by the smell of food, gaping at the fancy set-up of the two casseroles on the table, one bigger for the spaghetti and a small dedicated to your heart pasta. “woah, this looks insane,” he comments and calls out for the other two.

yeonjun emerges from the kitchen, the bottle of red wine you’d picked out with your hands. you hadn’t been the most helpful in the conquest of the pasta ingredients but you knew a thing or two about wine. this one was one the cheaper side so you didn’t have the greatest expectations for it, but it’ll have to do.

taehyun and soobin make it to the table five minutes later, shocked at seeing a table full of homemade meal. “is this, like, you and yeonjun announcing that you’re officially a couple?” soobin asks. (he’s not joking. the way the two of you stare down at the dinner you’ve put together proudly truly has him convinced that you’re finally over the pining.)

clearly this is not the case but the sight of both of you turning as red as the spaghetti for dinner is enough to elicit a few chortles from all of them. “honestly… shut up, soobin,” yeonjun scolds and you take a seat at the table wordlessly.

the dinner is an experience. it’s been a while since any of you have had good home-cooked food like this, the past few weeks having been cluttered with take-out meals and the extent of cooking you’ve done involves frozen food.

“this is so good,” you hold up a heart pasta, waving it in the air at everyone, and then at yeonjun, “i told you this would be good. it’s so good.”

“judging from the way you’re acting like a child, i’m guessing you’re done with your portfolio?”

you glare at taehyun but nod anyway, shooting him a thumbs up, “done and dusted, sir. i even managed to proof-read it before submitting it this time.”

yeonjun has been sitting beside you, eyes round with adoration at everything you say. you can’t blame him, you’d changed into a white dress with puff-sleeves before dinner which doesn’t only fit the mood but single-handedly creates it, and it’s a rare thing to see you in a dress so casually.

taehyun smiles, “i’m proud of you. even though you’re doing the bare minimum by completing your work on time.”

you roll your eyes at his twisted way of affection, the words on the tip of your tongue dying out when yeonjun leans into you suddenly, arm reaching out for the bottle of wine beside you. he shoots you a half-smile when he meets your gaze, pouring some out for you. as he returns to his position, he says under his breath, “try not to spill this on yourself, babe.”

you hold in the giddy breath that almost escapes your throat at his words, but you can’t stop the mellow feeling that blooms in your chest, eyes following him as he pours some wine for the others, too. was it the wine that was mellow or yeonjun’s voice? (hint: it was the moment of his love for you that was mellow.)

you make it through dinner, occasionally asserting the supremity of your heart-shaped pasta for kids here and there, but overall, overwhelmed by the man by your side. when everyone’s finished eating and lazing around the sofa, beers in hand (”wine is for sissies,” beomgyu aims at you because he knows you hate it when he says that, “let’s get beer guys.”), you take to the balcony with a glass full of wine to yourself.

the night air is pleasant after the warm atmosphere inside the house and you breathe through your mouth a few times, to calm your nerves. you can feel yeonjun’s eyes on you from the living room but choose to stay still, welcoming the feeling of spacing out in solitude.

“you alright?” his voice greets your ears not two moments later. (is he really close to you right now? or is the balcony just too small for two people?)

you hum affirmatively. then, you look at him, a light laugh leaving your chest. you’re leaning into his side now, you enjoy his warmth. “i’m good.”

“didn’t know wine could make you drunk,” he breathes, heart in his throat.

you shake your head at him, “i’m not drunk.” you hesitate and then, “at best, i’m tipsy.”

“i was talking about myself. i feel drunk. ‘s never happened before.”

you frown, throwing a careless glance over your shoulder, “beer and wine? yeah, that’ll make you drunk.”

“i didn’t have any beer,” he reveals. when you narrow your eyes, he continues, “i’m not lying. i don’t like to mix the two. i’ve read it gives you headaches.”

you stay silent, holding your breath for no special reason. (…)

“besides, once i start something, i like committing to it.” if his words themselves aren’t meaningful enough, the soft look on his face is full of unmistakable love.

“you’re not just talking about wine,” at first, it’s a statement you speak, your gaze fixed. then, memories of your past hurt rush in and you finish with an uncertain, “are you?”

“i’m not,” his voice is hushed and you feel there isn’t a moment lost between when he says his words and when you hear them. you’re so close to him, in all meanings of the word. “do you still hate me?”

you’re a little stunned by the jarring question. “i didn’t hate you. really, it was… something internal. like a dilemma. a phase, almost? i don’t think i could hate you if i wanted to.”

“you think?” you can feel his words inside of yourself now, even though you doubt either of you have moved any closer to each other.

yeonjun’s heart is on fire, destructive but determined. his hand brushes back your hair. “you’re so pretty when you wear your hair down.”

you hide your face in your shoulder, away from him, flustered that his words have such an effect on you. you’ve been complimented before. with much more zest, with more elaboration. but this is different. you feel like yeonjun is holding you.

he chuckles, “are you okay?”

you pull yourself away, swallowing, but not making eye-contact with him yet. “that’s the first time you’ve called me pretty.”

“that’s the first time you’ve heard me calling you pretty,” he corrects you. his fingers are in your hair again, this time to make you look at him. “you should listen to my thoughts sometime.”

you laugh and he’s moving closer, both his hands coming to your face. your hands move from where they’ve been clasping the balcony railing for dear life and find yeonjun’s waist, silently beckoning him nearer.

when your noses touch, yeonjun hums, “i’m crazy for you, y/n.”

you want to chuckle at his silly phrasing but instead, you’re saying it back, “fuck, i’m the crazy one, yeonjun. i’ve—” you stop your words, suddenly hesitant.

but yeonjun is firm, his lips hovering over yours and his question will you kiss me? unanswered because you’re already kissing him when he asks you.

(this kiss is. . . not bad.)

—

EPILOGUE: A SELF-AWARE SLANDER OF SHORT STORIES

“so…” your voice struggles to stay stable as you prop yourself on your elbows, yeonjun’s arms never letting loose of your sides. “when you say you’re crazy, is it that you’re crazy for me or crazy because of me?”

yeonjun stops in the middle of the tantrum he’s throwing with his buried in your neck. he blows out air through his mouth and you giggle, your hands pulling him up by the hair. “answer me!”

he sighs, “i don’t know, babe. both? neither? either.”

“come on, there’s a fundamental difference between the two,” you whine, “am i a symptom of your craziness or the cause of it?” he stays motionless, lips pressing against your cheek. you add, “just so you know, there’s no right answer. i’m honored to be either.”

“god, i can’t believe you’re using your boyfriend as material that’s going to be read by your entire class. a class of pretentious, sleep-deprived kids. they’ll hate me, y/n.”

you groan, kissing yeonjun’s ear lightly, “not true! you’re a very cute boyfriend.”

“so you are using me for your creative writing class?”

you pause and yeonjun flops onto the bad, pouting and feigning a cold shoulder. “the audacity of women these days!”

“hey!” you pull him back into you, “i’ll have you know that my love language is turning people into literature.”

yeonjun’s pout is already fading when taehyun’s voice breaks into your room (you should probably re-inforce the rule about knocking now that there’s a half-naked man in your room more often than not). “that’s true. she’s already written a story about me.”

your boyfriend’s interest is piqued at this, his eyes jumping between taehyun and you. “what? really?? and you haven’t written about me?”

“i’m trying to! you’re not making it easy.”

“did you ask him all these questions when you wrote a whole story about him?” taehyun cackles in glee at yeonjun’s returning pout.

you roll your eyes, “yeonjunie, it was a short story— the most unromantic form of literature. i’m basically saying i would rather write a bunch of boring description than even think about having sex with him.”

“hmm, it seemed like a pretty enthusiastic piece to me,” taehyun supplies unhelpfully. you glare at him. if you weren’t in just your bra, you would’ve gotten up to shut the door in his face.

“babe, i’m having serious doubts—”

you quickly shut down yeonjun’s whining, “i want to write a poem about you, my love. that’s why i’m asking you so much. it takes a little more to be properly romantic! i want to be truthful.”

he hesitates and you kiss his nose to seal the deal. taehyun groans in defeat, “gross. i just came here to get your asses to brunch. hyuka’s brought mint chocolate snacks from home so we need someone to handle him, so please hurry,” he starts to close the door as he leaves, but stops when the two of you make no move to wake up, “and you’d better not start fucking now! nobody needs to hear that this early in the morning, especially not poor hyuka.”

you laugh into yeonjun’s chest as he shouts back comforting words to taehyun. his lips attach to your shoulder. “i love you, y/n. you’re the explanation for my craziness.”

you shift to look back at him, smile widening, “hm, that’s interesting. can i quickly write that down-? okay, okay, sorry, i was kidding, love, come back here!!”

—

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 1 year

Text

Ever in our favour

CHAPTER THREE

[Table of Contents]

Summary: The past finally comes to light... and the game makers think this game is taking too long Warnings: descriptions of mutated creatures Author's Note: I'm in love with this story, just so y'all know. And yes I'm keeping track of every single death in the games, I know who is still alive and not. I know no one else has shown up yet, but don't worry, they're on their way

A cannon shot fills the air. You suck in a breath and look skyward at the fading sun, then down to the cave opening next to you. It hadn’t taken you long to set the snares and other traps in the surrounding forest this morning, and from there you attempt whatever other busywork you could find. You washed the blood out of the long cloth that had been used to clean you up, then laid it out to dry on the rock outcropping above your secret cave. You took Peeta’s haphazardly made spear and attempted some fishing, but it went about as well as Peeta’s exercise reportedly had. It was beginning to get late, and you were about to go out and check your traps for game, but that was before the cannon had sounded.

You peeked inside the cave, watching Peeta rest in the same spot you had left him. You waited for your eyes to adjust, then waited a moment more to watch his chest rise and fall in breath. Assured, you back out and begin your rounds through the forest. You picked a few extra traps up, just to have some on hand in case you needed to leave in a hurry, but left a few empty ones in place in case they caught something by morning. However, you did manage to catch one rabbit and two squirrels, and even thinking about cooking these had your mouth watering. It’s been days since you’ve had food, hasn’t it?

You arrive back to the cave just as the sun is setting, the sky lit orange. You smiled at the sight and remembered back to Peeta’s favourite colour. Grabbing the cloth, thankful that it’s dry in your hands, you duck into the cave. Peeta remained sleeping yet you were half tempted to wake him just to see the sunset. It wasn’t worth it though, he needed the rest. You put the cloth away into the backpack and crawled out of the cave to begin skinning your game.

You were thankful you had the foresight to gather enough wood and tinder while it was still light out. By the time the sun had completely set you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of you. You crawled back inside with the meats to cook, then set about preparing a fire on the inside mouth of the cave. You made sure the smoke would float outside, then set about making it just large enough to cook your food.

You were halfway finished cooking when you heard a groan to your right, and you smirked, turning the stick over to begin cooking the other side of the squirrel. Looking over, you watched Peeta raise a hand to rub against his face, sit there for a moment, and then push himself up to a sitting position. You locked eyes with him finally, and a slow smile spread across his face.

“I think that smell woke me up,” Peeta mumbled, voice low and sleep-heavy, “Looks like you caught something after all.”

“Looks like I did,” You agree, taking another bite of the rabbit you had been slowly munching on before handing the rest of it over to Peeta. “You can have the rest of this, plus a squirrel. I caught two of them today.”

“Wow,” Peeta breathed out, staring hungrily at the rabbit in his hands before raising it up and taking a bite. After the first bite, he practically devoured the rest. You let him eat in silence, scooting back over to the fire to continue cooking.

“So, any new deaths?” Peeta’s voice was low and hesitant like he didn’t want to bring it up. You shrugged in response, keeping your eyes on your dinner.

“Two cannon shots went off. They haven’t shown the death count yet.” You could see Peeta nod his head from the corner of your eye, then pulled the squirrel off and offered it to Peeta. He shook his head, intending to eat the second squirrel. You shrugged, taking a bite and putting the last piece onto the fire. You went quiet after that, content to let the silence linger. Peeta eventually found his strength, crawling over closer to the fire to get some warmth. As he rubbed his hands together near the flame, his eyes kept jumping up to you time and again.

“So did you run into anybody?” You shook your head, turning the squirrel over. “Good, good.” He blew some heat into his hands, then scooted a little closer to you. “Do you have any plans for what we should do from here?”

“Not a clue,” You whispered, shaking your head. It had been on your mind this entire time. What should you do? You don’t have the benefit of the training the rest of them went through before getting here- that you remember anyway. “It’s not like any plan won’t be shot to shit immediately, though. You know how the game makers love to keep us on our toes.” Peeta agreed blandly, then scooted another little bit closer to you.

“Do you,” He began, and you looked over to see him biting his lip before continuing, “Do you happen to remember anything? Did any memory come back?” You study his posture for a moment before looking away once more, shrugging.

“I remember my name being called. That’s about it for now.”

“Well, that’s good then!” Peeta sounded excited, and you turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “That you remembered something! That just means this is temporary, you might regain your memory at some point!”

“Not soon enough,” You muttered, shrugging. “The Hunger Games don’t usually last very long, and at the rate that I’m remembering, it’s not likely I’ll remember anything useful when the time comes.” You watched Peeta deflate slightly, then felt bad. You watched his hunched posture for a moment before reaching over and placing your hand on top of his. His eyes seem to track your hands as you speak once more. “But I’d like to remember. Even if it’s not helpful, I’d like to remember you.”

Peeta turned his hand over, twinning his fingers with yours. “I wish you could remember,” He muttered petulantly, scooting over again and sitting with his entire side pressed against yours, hands interlocked. “I wish there was anything I could do.” You bit your lip as you watched his sad expression before an idea came to your head.

“Maybe if you reminded me?” His head shot up, and you finally locked eyes once more. His baby blue eyes sent a shock of calm through you again, and you felt your shoulders relax from a tenseness you hadn’t known was there.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, maybe it’d help? If you reminded me about how we were, how we acted? Maybe key memories might slot into place if I relive them?” You weren’t exactly sure what you were suggesting, but something about it felt right. Like if you could live through an experience again, and listen to him tell stories about the two of you, then maybe it would be like a light switch and flip on.

Peeta looked astonished, sitting there and just staring at you. You break eye contact, reaching up to twirl the squirrel around again.

“I don’t know, it was just a thought,” You mumbled, feeling slightly dejected yourself. Then Peeta pulled on your hand, raising his free one to place on your cheek and turn you to face him.

“No, I get it. It’s a brilliant idea. I just don’t think you know what you’re asking.” Peeta’s voice was soft, staring into your eyes with a look you couldn’t place. You wished you knew him better, that you remembered so that you could place that look. You were intensely curious about how he viewed you.

“Then help me,” You whispered back, realizing just how close the two of you were as Peeta’s eyes darted from yours to your lips and back. “Help me understand what I’m asking.”

For how close you were, Peeta’s lips touching yours was still a shock. He sat in that position for a moment as you froze, then finally melted against him and met him in the kiss. It was no wonder you felt so safe with him, that you were so curious about everything to do with him. It all made sense now, this feeling that had been building in your stomach the entire time, the feeling you couldn’t quite name until now.

As Peeta pulled away you tried to chase after him, but his hand slid from your cheek to your shoulder and gently held you back. He chuckled low in his throat, and you had to bite back a moan from the sound alone. It was like a dam had been opened, from the moment he pressed his lips to yours you knew you never wanted to stop. You didn’t remember anything else, but you didn’t need to. You knew everything you needed to now.

“That was,” Peeta huffed a laugh, opening his eyes finally and meeting yours with a smile, “Wow.” You laughed as well, looking down bashfully before noticing the squirrel still on the fire. Quickly you reach over to take it out, turning it over to inspect it. You cursed quietly, hearing Peeta laugh again.

“Sorry, it’s a little burnt,” You mumbled, looking back up into his lovely face. A smile was spread wide, and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

“That’s alright. I’m sure it’ll taste better than anything else I’ve had lately.” He took it in hand, turning it over to inspect it himself.

“Oh, I don’t know about all that. You still remember the Capital, so I’m sure you’ve had much better food.” Peeta met your eyes and raised an eyebrow before taking a large bite and moaning loudly. You sucked in a gasp at the noise, eyes widening slightly.

“Best food I’ve ever eaten,” He mumbles, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he speaks with his mouth full. You giggle involuntarily, and you watch as Peeta looked way too satisfied with himself at the sound.

“You know, I still don’t remember anything.” You look over and watch his shoulders fall slightly, swallowing his bite but not moving to take another as he listens to you. “I think that just means we should try again. You know, for science.” He barked a laugh at this, shaking his head and leaning his weight against you.

“As tempting as that is, I have a feeling you need some sleep.” You looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes and prove him right.

“I’m fine. I had plenty of rest before.”

“You were healing. That wasn’t sleep.”

“I thi-ink,” You draw the word out, trying to hold back a smile, “That what I was doing would actually be considered sleeping, yes.”

“You know what I mean,” He mumbled, turning his face toward you. You stayed facing away but could feel his breath against your neck as he leaned forward even more. “You need more rest than just your average healing dictates. You need to be ready.”

“You do too,” You mumble, turning your head slightly, with hardly any room left between the two of you. “I don’t want to sleep and miss out on any opportunity to be with you.”

You watched pain flicker briefly through Peeta’s eyes, and he leaned forward to close the remaining distance, another soft kiss pressing against your lips. You lean forward this time, turning to face him more directly. When you both finally pulled away, he was breathless but holding onto you, pulling you against him.

“If anything were to happen to you, all because you were disoriented from lack of sleep just because I was too selfish to let you go-”

“It wouldn’t be you, it’s my choice.” You let your hands fall on his shoulders, reaching up to play with the ends of his hair. “I want to remember you. I want to learn as much as I can.”

“You don’t even remember me,” Peeta whispered, pain crossing his face once more, and you pulled a hand to rest against his cheek again.

“I don’t remember us being together,” You agree, watching his eyes fall closed, “But I remember the feeling.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion and you try to explain your point. “I woke up beside that river to you fighting that other guy. And I felt genuine fear because I could see you were fighting to the death. And I was so, so worried. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was for you. I didn’t know you, but I was worried for you. I tried to save you from him. Twice.”

“I remember,” Peeta whispers, opening his eyes to lock with yous.

“As much as I wish I could remember every second I’ve ever spent with you, it’s like another part of me sort of does. I feel so strongly for you, and I tried to push it down this whole time because I didn’t think I knew you, but…” You trailed off, taking a breath and laughing humourlessly, “This sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“No, I get it.” Peeta leaned forward to place a peck against your lips, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes once more. “When you were so confused, I felt my heart plummet. I thought you wouldn’t remember me, wouldn’t like me anymore. I was-” He hesitates, biting his lip before continuing, “I was crushed. I thought I lost you.”

You pull him against you, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. The hug was comforting for the both of you, you felt Peeta’s arms wrap around your midsection and squeeze. You both remained there for a good time, just taking in the feel of each other. You sighed, pulling back eventually.

“I’ll lay down and sleep if you lay with me,” You acquiesce and then watch him huff out a laugh.

“I seem to remember saying something similar earlier. What was it that you told me?”

“Hey, I had to go hunt for food! And you were injured!” You suddenly remembered, then ticked your head to the side as you reached over to grab his shirt. You hesitated in lifting it, raising your eyes to his for permission. This caused him to laugh, taking your hand in his.

“You were perfectly fine looking at my chest before without permission, what’s making you stop now?” He grinned, lifting your hand, and his shirt along with it. You pull it higher, looking at his freshly healed ribs. Your shoulders relaxed in relief, smiling brightly up toward him. “They’re healed, I know. That hug earlier would’ve hurt a lot more if they weren’t.”

You nodded, unable to keep a smile off your face as you drop his shirt from your grasp. He doesn’t let go of your hand, however, and now you sit next to him holding both of his hands. You looked to the ground bashfully, noticing the squirrel he had set to the side.

“Not hungry?”

“Hungry for something else,” He mumbled, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “But you need to get some sleep.”

“I thought we went over this-”

“No,” Peeta interrupted gently, pulling back and placing his hands on either side of your face, “You told me why you didn’t want to. I didn’t agree. You need your sleep.” You huff out a sigh, shoulders slumping once more in defeat.

“Only if you finish your dinner.”

“Deal,” Peeta mumbles, placing another kiss on your forehead and pulling you in close for another hug. This one lasted much longer, you didn’t want to pull away and lose his warmth. Eventually, as all things end, so did this comfort. Peeta pulled away and gently brought you toward the back of the cave to lie, bringing the backpack along with him to place under your head. It was lumpy and hard in places, but a marked improvement to sleeping on the stone floor with nothing else. The last thing you remembered before succumbing to sleep was Peeta stomping out the small campfire.

You and your District partner were dressed the same for the opening ceremony, wearing long robes of brilliant yellow that draped in lines like stalks, with large crowns of wheat encircling the top of your head. Your stylist said they had gotten the inspiration for the crowns from you, from the small wreath of dead grains you had slowly dragged off your head once your name was called. The crown currently on your head, however, was bountiful yet bland, sticking up in a multitude of directions. Your entire outfit was just one colour, one tall stalk of grain. You wouldn’t make an impression, though District 9 never did.

You let your eyes roam over the other contestants. District 1, with their luxury clothing and glinting jewellery. District 4, dressed as simple fishermen and carrying long wooden poles with a metal spear tip on the end. District 12, dressed in skin-tight black clothing. That one was odd, you remarked to yourself, watching the tributes speak in hushed tones to their victor and escort. Weren’t they usually dressed as coal miners?

The male tribute began to scan the area himself before his eyes locked with yours. He tilted his head, seemingly confused about something- and while generally bashful and never maintaining eye contact with anyone, something about this boy made you feel okay. You kept your eyes locked with his, and he straightened his head once more. You were curious- so curious about this boy. Something about him screamed soft, and you couldn’t help but feel bad that he had been sucked into such a horrible competition. If he really was soft, if he was as comfortable and gentle as you thought he would be, he definitely didn’t deserve to be here.

Your name was called and you were hoisted into the chariot alongside your partner. You kept your eyes carefully away from them, not wanting to get too attached to the kid you’d never met before. That was a plus, anyway, that you had never met them before in your life. It would make it easier to do what needs to be done later on.

You rode out into the long aisle toward President Snow. You scanned the crowds around you, plastering on a smile and raising a hand to wave at them. They didn’t roar with applause or scream your name. Of course, they wouldn’t, you’re just a background character. Fodder for their games. Your eyes locked on the screen as the last of the tributes made their way into the aisle. You were beginning to enter the semi-circle around the podium where the President would speak, but your eyes were locked on the same thing everyone else in the stadium saw.

Fire, like wings, flew from the backs of District 12. You heard ‘Katniss!’ getting called out, and she raised her hands in the air to their applause. Your eyes were locked on her partner though, the man who looked amazed at the spectacle surrounding them. He even seemed surprised, himself, about the flames pouring from their backs.

Katniss was the one who volunteered. You remembered seeing the replays of all the reapings, to see whom you would fight against in the arena. District 12’s first volunteer, and for a noble cause. She was going to have all the sponsors vying for her attention. That just left him, standing there attentionless. No one would bother paying attention to him if she was right there.

No one, except you.

“Y/N!” You gasped awake, Peeta’s face directly in front of yours. “Come on, Y/N! We gotta get out of here!” You sat up quickly from his urging, looking around frantically. Nothing in the cave gave you any pause, but you could hear something happening outside. Splashing, over and over and getting more violent every time. You looked over to Peeta, watching him sling the backpack over his shoulders and clip it together in the front to secure it.

“What? What’s happening?”

“I don’t think the game makers liked us staying in one place for too long.” He began tugging on your arm, pulling you to the edge of the cave, and you stumbled along willingly.

“Didn’t like…?”

“Yeah, something’s happening out there in the river. I didn’t get too good a look, but-” He peaked his head out, then pulled back just as quickly as something was launched in his direction. Missing Peeta, the thing practically flew into the cave, landing on the floor and flopping around. It was some sort of fish- but huge. Bigger than you’d ever seen a fish be, and it began to gnaw its jaws. The fish had teeth. Long, sharp, and jagged teeth that gnawed and gnashed as it flopped around uselessly on the dry ground.

“Yeah, okay, let’s get out of here,” You mumbled, horrified as you stared at this abomination. You took the lead, taking Peeta’s hand instead of his arm as he had done to you. You rushed outside without looking, hoping speed would help you in this case. Peeta was on your heels, and you only barely slipped once on the slick stone before catching yourself and continuing to run deeper into the forest. You both stopped and turned at the loud sound of rushing water, noticing an enormous tidal wave cresting over the top of the hill from upstream. Those same pirahna-esque mutts were jumping in and out of the large rush of water.

You both lock eyes, then begin running again. You were running perpendicular to the river, though you could hear the rushing water chasing behind you as if the river was carving its own path now. You were terrified, there was no way that you and Peeta could outrun a rushing river- and if you were caught up inside of it those mutts would tear apart anything they got their teeth sunk into.

As if listening to your thoughts, you hear a high-pitched scream nearby, followed by an abrupt stop to the scream and a cannon. You pushed the sounds from your mind, tightening your hold on Peeta as you leapt over a fallen tree, pulling him along behind you as he stumbles.

“Y/N!” You turn to look behind you as you run, the rushing river getting even closer, and meet Peeta’s eyes. He looked terrified, limping and trying to keep up with you. Wait- limping? You look down and see blood pouring from his thigh, and you clench your teeth together. You pull him further up toward you, locking arms and continuing to run. He was dragging you behind, but you wouldn’t leave him. You wouldn’t.

Peeta screamed out, and you tried to push that from your mind as you kept running. Then, Peeta began trying to pull free from you.

“Stop it! Just stop it, I’m not leaving you!”

“Let me go, Y/N! You’ll survive if you run!”

“You’ll survive too, shut up!” A sharp pain scrapes across your back, and you call out before gritting your teeth and running farther. You were out of breath, but you didn’t have any other choice. You push through the forest’s edge, running through what now looked like an open field. Directly toward another river.

This one seemed calmer. Much calmer than the one rushing behind you, but also just a lot calmer than the rushing river had been before it decided to become a killing machine. But jumping into that river, with the other just behind you ready to join you, seemed like its own death sentence. You pulled Peeta sharply to the left, running downstream and trying your best to escape what seemed certain to happen. You heard the sound of water crashing against water and assumed the river was now feeding into the new one. Beside you, the once calm waves of the river became fast and rougher. You watched as a mutt jumped from the water, gnashing its teeth in your direction.

Then, it felt as if some giant had picked up Peeta and attempted to yank him from your grasp. You turn quickly, holding onto his arm tight as he began screaming, squeezing his eyes closed in pain. You looked up slowly, the water was sucking Peeta in like a standing whirlpool, but it had stopped somehow as if hitting an invisible wall right in front of you. You grunted, using both hands to try and grab Peeta’s arm, but it felt like you were doing more damage to him than good. Then, he slipped.

You lost your hold on Peeta and he disappeared into the whirling waters, and you screamed into it, searching frantically for him.

“Peeta!”

Your eyes were moving nonstop, but you felt frozen in place. Slowly, the water in front of you, sloshing against that same invisible barrier, lowered and sank into the ground and river beside it.

“Peeta!” Your voice was rough, and it hurt to scream. When he didn’t appear once the water had fully sunk away, you turned and started running alongside the river, scanning its depths for that tell-tale sign of blond hair.

“PEETA!”

#ever in our favour #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #reader #gender neutral reader #fanfiction #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #in the arena

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heavensbeehall · 3 months

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"Catching Fire", Chapter 7

Part 1: The Spark

Chapter 7: Katniss leaves clues for Gale to meet her at the Lake. She has never taken Gale to the Lake before, it was just for her and her Father. She tells Gale her tale of woe, and that she wants to run away. He says he loves her and she is caught off-guard. He turns angry when she mentions wanting Peeta and Haymitch to come. Then is excited by the prospect of an uprising. After that failed attempt, Katniss then talks to Peeta who is more open-minded but he wants to talk it over with Haymitch first... then they arrive at the main square to find a new Head Peackeeper has arrived.

Thoughts:

-- What is Mayor Undersee's job exactly? It seems he reports to the Capitol, right? And the Mayor also seems in charge of executions and public punishment? But is Mayor Undersee from the Capitol? His wife isn't. For some reason I think not. Possibly because the Peacekeepers are evacuated from 12 before the bombing but he is not. Anyway, I was just thinking about it because the Mayor in Songbirds and Snakes does feel like a small-town politician who is satisfied with the ability to push everyone else around in exchange for being a Capitol stooge. But I don't get the same vibe from Mayor Undersee. (It also annoys me that his name has conflicting meanings.)

-- Gale. IDK, guys. I try to cut him some slack because he's a teenage boy and all. Plus it's not like he doesn't suffer in this chapter. But him saying Peeta's family would probably inform on them reminds me of him being rude to Madge in book one and how he knows the Capitol tries to divide them along class lines but still can't get past it. I appreciate when he says he wants to stay and fight. He's brave. But honestly I think he could use a bit more Haymitch and Peeta, people who are more cautious and thoughtful. But those are the people he scorns most. And I can see why he would be resentful of Peeta but why Haymitch? Shouldn't he bet at least a little bit grateful that Haymitch recently helped save Katniss's life?

Quotes:

"It was my aunt's," she said. "But I think it's been in my family for a long time."

I feel like there is a story here. Whatever it is, I don't think Madge knows it fully herself.

"Gale, I can't think of anyone like that now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. And there doesn't seem to be room for anything else. If we maybe I could be different. I don't know."

I always think about Maslow's hierarchy of needs and how Katniss is very focused on survival and safety, can't move up to love before those needs are met.

You haven't hurt people--you've given them an opportunity. They just have tobe brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight, why not here? Why not everywhere?

Gale it's wrong here. And he's not wrong to want to overthrow the Capitol...

He throws Cinna's gloves at my feet. "I changed my mind. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol."

... and then he loses me because I love Cinna and I know what is going to happen to him. Cinna sacrifices more for the Rebellion than Gale. Simply being from the Capitol doesn't make him evil.

#gale hawthorne #thg reread #catching fire #peeta mellark #madge undersee #mayor undersee

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just-call-mefr1es · 1 month

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quick tbp x thg ramble so it makes sense (i had a conversation with myself while pacing my bedroom about this so i need to write about it)

cw: spoilers for the hunger games and blood/gore mention!! (i dont think its that heavy, but still)

okay, so in the actual HunGER GAMES, book and movie (well i don’t remember if this was actuallyin the book, but whatever) Johanna takes out Katniss’ tracker in the qq3 so that the capitol can’t track her when d13 saves her, and so on and so forth. also, it could also be because they didnt save peeta and johanna cause they probably didnt have their trackers romoved, therefore d13 didn’t save them. annie’s a different story but im not gonna talk about her rn (i stil love her very much tho dont get me wrong💗). even though im not 100% sure if thats the main reason for them not saving peeta n johanna (but im sure it may be A reason), since its been a hot minute since ive read/watched thg and i may have forgotten something, so yeah there.

And how does this play into my tbp x thg au? well,,,, (turns on geek mode) d13 reached out to billy first, since they thougth he was capable enough to get finney&friends™️ to d13 somewhat safely. with this, he was obviously instructed to remove their trackers, so he did as he was told. well, he tried. he told vance about the plan after he realized how kuch he was willing to sacrifice for bruce and griffin, and soon enough, the others,and since he thought he was more capable of doing the act of removing the trackers (you have to actually GET IT OUT of your arm, for those who didn’t know) than he was. Vance said sure, but removed his own tracker first. Why? cause he knew it was a painful process and billy urged him to. anygays, billy got finney’s tracker out, but he and vance had a hard time getting robin, griffin and bruce’s out cause

1. Finney would not fucking leave robin’s side, and everyone knew that he would probbalh go berserk if they even tried to touch robin, let alone CUT OUT A GASH ON HIS ARM. (btw, billy cut out finney’s arm during that same time period that johanna did for katniss in the movie and/or book if it happened at the same time (my memory is trash))

2., because vance was so hesitant to potentially harm Griffin and Bruce. Yes, he knew it was for their own good, but at the same time. He had to cut out the specific section of the arm, and he thought that if he did that, then Bruce amd Griffin would think he was kust that merciless killer the capitol made him to be. Plus, he couldn’t just *tell* them why he was gonna do what he was gonna do, cause the capitol was watching their every move. billy kept urging vance to do it when their time in the arena was nearing to the end, and vance just waved him off, saying that he will soon (spoiler alert, he didn’t.)

so yeah, that’s why bruce griff and robin got stuck in the capitol, and another reason vance blames himelf (hes not okay guys). when the rescue team set out to rescue the three, they were obviously more confident to take out their trackers (i know for sure that the capitol gave them new ones) compared to vance and did NOT hesitate ripping em out (they needed to get out of there quickly).

wowe that took a while to type. sorry not sorry @meepmoopweeeeeeeeeee

#help #silly mood #im going insaneee #the black phone #the hunger games #tbp x thg au #vance hopper #billy showalter #finney blake #robin arellano #bruce yamada #griffin stagg #angsty angst angst angst #hehe #my mind goes wonderful places when left alone #ignore typos please or im goijg to sob #im a digital yapper myself

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words-to-accomplish-something · 1 year

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Tag 9people you want to get to know better

I was tagged by @nitewrighter (thank you! 💗)

Three Ships

Percabeth: I was super into Percy Jackson in middle school and just loved their dynamic.💙 in seventh grade during our Greek Mythology unit we chose an individual god to present on, I wanted either Artemis or Athena, had my choice of the two and went with Artemis. Then in eighth grade in my world history class I did a project on the main six Greek goddesses. (because it’s either all twelve or just the dudes, what about the ladies?!)

Katniss/Peeta: We had to read the first two books in sixth grade (Hunger Games the summer before, Catching Fire during the school year) and then my mom bought Mockingjay for her and my sister while I was reading Catching Fire, and I was team Peeta the whole way through. To my interpretation, Katniss was never all that interested in Gale like that.

Padme/Anakin: I grew up watching the first six Star Wars movies but my favorite was Episode II: Attack of the Clones. I can definitely see the cringey bits now that I’m older, but back then I just enjoyed the movie. Plus Padme is one of my favorite characters of all time, and I think I would die if I ever met Natalie Portman. (Also, I think I just really like whatever the narrative ships. I want the characters to be happy and seeing their thoughts and what they chose in the story is what I end up supporting)

First Ship Ever

I mean, I always wanted characters to end up with their love interests in the Disney movies and things I would watch as a kid, but I think my first proper fandom ship was Percabeth from the Percy Jackson series.

Last Song

Can’t Hold Us sung by Pentatonix. The one before that was Hey Momma/Hit the Road Jack by them before that, I just want to hear the original version of Hey Momma. I’ve heard Hit the Road Jack plenty, but I can’t find the other one.

Last Movie

I watched The Help last night with my family

Currently Reading

The Last Bookshop in London by Madeline Martin. I got it for Christmas and I’ve been working on it since then.

Currently Watching

I don’t really watch tv, I’m just on YouTube a lot. I love Rachel Masky, Bernadette Banner, Abby Cox, and others, and the last creator I watched was Well Loved Knits as I cleaned my room. One show I want to see is Lockwood and Co.

Currently Consuming

It’s almost 9 as I type this, so all I have is water by my bedside table.

Currently Craving

Nothing really at the moment, but chocolate is always good.

Tagging: @duskholland @sunshineisdelightful @whiteraven13 @magicalbookwormprincess @fragileizy @free-laughter @spiritually-a-pinecone @eridineon @mrv3000

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fishcat480 · 2 months

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Dog in Winter

SUMMARY:

Kids from Districts 1-4 don't have to fear the reaping.

Careers always volunteer.

Until a tragic accident forces Lustre Baneswood into the Games with no hope of winning. An actor, and the daughter of a Gamemaker, Lustre has to decide what she desires more: glory or her life.

But there is a dark underbelly to the Games, and winning is not always the end. Lustre Baneswood is going to discover the price one has to pay for beating the odds.

Spanning from the 72nd Hunger Games all the way to three years after the events of Mockingjay, this is the story of a girl struggling to reclaim her identity after giving it away to the people who would hurt her most.

FANDOM: Hunger Games

Pairing: Original Plus Size Character/Original Male Character

Other Characters: Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, Gloss, Cashmere, Joanna Mason, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, President Snow, President Coin, Gale, Prim

It was 5am when the call came.

I’d been awake for hours writing, the only time I was able to get any of it done. Mother doesn’t like my writing, and classes at the observatory took up all of my time during the day. My hands were cramping over the datapad keyboard, and I swiped a knuckle over my bloodshot eyes, trying desperately not to succumb to sleep.

The sound of the phone had been so unexpected I’d jerked violently upright. With a cursory glance at the time, I quickly padded out of my room and into the empty hall. Moonlight shone in harsh slivers through the full-length windows. I followed the ringing sound through the silver-white hallway and into the main room of our apartment, where the phone lay next to the front door.

“Hello?” I said, agitation and fatigue coloring my voice. The door to my parents’ room opened and my mother stepped cautiously out, her hair wrapped in a pink silk turban and mouth set in a firm line. My father was just behind her, his eyes horizontal slits, his hair a tuft of downy cotton.

The voice on the phone shrieked at me. “Frederick?! Frederick something’s happened!”

I shook my head before I remembered they could not see me. “No, this is his daughter. Is this an emergency?”

The voice went from feverish to chilly in a moment, freezing my veins like icicles. “Put him on, love. It’s urgent.”

My father had already begun walking over, and he took the phone from me quickly. “Hello?” he asked, his hands reaching into the breast pocket of his pajamas, where he’d placed a box of matches. He fumbled in the drawer of the side table for smokes.

“Uh- huh…Yes, I remember….”

I watched him for a moment, hoping his body language might clue me into what was going on. When I got nothing, I joined my mother on the opposite side of the room. “ D’ya think everything’s ok?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s the Games. Everything’s an emergency.”

The Games were the most hectic time of our family’s life, with my father a showrunner and my mother performing in reenactments and singing at parties. Even my brothers had gotten involved now that they were out of school.

Still, the voice on the phone had sounded scared. Desperate. Something felt off.

“You’re joking.” my father said, lowering the cigarette from his mouth, and bellowing. “You’re fucking joking.”

“Fredrick?” my mother asked immediately. My father did not raise his voice ever. He stared at us, his face ashen, as he listened to whatever news was being delivered on the other end.

“Dad?” I asked, when his eyes locked onto mine and didn’t leave.

“We’ll get another volunteer.” he said, desperate. “There are dozens of kids. Dozens of options.”

Volunteer…?

The reaping had been two days ago, and as expected, both tributes had been volunteers, eager to go into the Games. That’s why I hadn’t even flinched when they called my name. Reaping day was like picture day at school - annoying, but a good excuse to get out of class.

My volunteer had been my best friend. It was her final year in the reaping pool, and her last chance to go into the Games and prove herself. If I could bet, I would have bet on her winning the entire thing.

But now my father was looking at me like I was a hundred miles away, and talking about other volunteers. Why did we need another volunteer? Where was Razzle?

“Dad!” I cried. “What’s going on?”

Tears had begun falling onto his cheeks, and my mother was lurching forward to hold his face in her hands. The excitement had woken my brothers now, both of them tumbling out of their rooms with mussed hair and slurring voices.

“Luster, what’s happening?” Kellen asked from behind me, he and Jace standing on either side of me. Jace scratched his chest with a lazy hand.

“Something bad.” I said. That was all I knew.

My mom was soothing our dad, her hands trying to rub away tears that just kept coming. The phone was pressed to my dad’s ear, still listening. He gently pushed my mom’s comfort away, resignation taking over. Something had happened to Razzle.

“What time?” he asked. The answer made him sigh.

“Ok.” And he hung up. My mother didn’t waste any time. “Frederick,what on earth is going on? It’s practically dawn. The Games are your job, not your life. Oh, these people!”

My mother continued ranting, but my father was looking at me again. I knew already that I would be leaving, but my mind was obsessing more over the why.

“What happened to her?” I asked. My mother grew quiet. My brothers looked confused.

“Training accident.”

“Is she…?”

“Yes.”

Dead. Razzle was dead. And she had volunteered in my place.

“When are they coming to get me?”

“Within the hour.”

My family’s eyes were widening and cries of indignation sounded on their tongues. “She’s going into the Games!?” my mother yelled. “No! Frederick, no!”

“She’s not trained.” Kellen said. Jace said nothing. He wasn’t much for talking.

“She was reaped!” my father explained. “And her volunteer has died. It is law that she must go.”

My mother’s eyes bugged out of her head. “And you’re a showrunner. Surely they don’t expect the law to apply to us!”

It often didn’t.

“This is different. This is the Games. If Luster becomes exempt from them for being my daughter, then other future tributes could argue their way out of participating. Snow would have to weed them out and use force. It could foster dissent.”

It was five in the morning and my family was standing in the living room, talking of treason.

“It’s fine. I’ll go.”

Kellen scoffed, arms folded across his chest. “You’ll die. You’re not a career, you’re a fucking actress.”

The heel of my mother’s hands were pressed against her eyes, her perfectly manicured nails curled tightly against the palm of her hand. “Kellen! Please, that’s not necessary.”

My father puffed on his cigarette, lost in thought. Kellen didn’t back down. “She’s not going to live, mom. Am I supposed to just sit here and watch while my sister dies?”

She draped herself across the chaise. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to Pedro in casting. Maybe a lookalike?”

My father joined her, looking intrigued. “That might work. We’ll release her for training, but for the arena it can be anyone. Keep the close-ups to a minimum, kill her in the first ten minutes.”

Jace was still standing next to me. I watched in abject horror as my parents and Kellen planned the murder of an innocent girl in place of myself. I felt something warm on my hand, and looked down to see Jace’s pinky linking with mine. Then his whole hand. When I turned to him, he didn’t look upset or scared. He was smiling at me.

“Who was the girl who did makeup for you for 68?” Kellen had his hands on his hips, pacing across the living room. He looked the picture of a gamemaker, and it made my stomach swoop like drinking milk that had turned.

“Petra or something?” he asked. “Get her involved.”

My mother was taking notes on an old script. My father was punching something into a datapad, tugging at his hair in distress.

“Stop.” I called, but they ignored me.

“We’ll have to keep Luster out of sight for at least a year. Julian will find us a nice little bungalow for her to lie low in.”

“Pay for it now.” my father said. “Travel to the Capitol increases after the Games.”

“Stop!” I said again, and this time I got their attention.

“You are not killing a random girl just so I can live. That’s actually insane!”

My father shook his head. “No, there are people who like the attention! They’ll do it willingly.”

Willingly….When had someone in a District past four ever gone into a Games willingly?

“I don’t care. That’s fucked.” I removed my hand from Jace’s and ran it through my hair. “This whole thing is fucked.”

Gently, Kellen approached me. “Luster, I know you’re stressed. Let us …un fuck this for you. A year in lockdown, a new Games will happen, and everyone will forget about it. Then we’ll get you a job at the studio.”

“Doing what?” I laughed. “I’m eager to know what you think I’d want to do at the studio.”

He shrugged, frustration evident. “Stylist? Hair and makeup? I don’t know, Luster! I don’t really care, as long as you’re alive.”

“And what about the other tributes? The ones from 9? Or 12? The ones who don’t have careers to volunteer for them. What about the people who want them alive?”

My mother harrumphed, and somehow she had moved from the chaise to the bar, pouring herself a glass of port. “Oh, sweetie, it’s too early in the morning to develop a conscience.”

But drinking wine, I thought bitterly, was perfectly acceptable. If I said anything, she’d hold my impending doom up as her reason for indulging. My head was on the chopping block, but she’d be the one to lose blood somehow. I didn’t particularly care to open that can of worms, so I ignored her entirely in favor of turning to my father.

“Daddy, I don’t want you to get me out of this.”

That statement shifted the temperature of the room greatly. Stillness blanketed us. Kellen punched something hard enough to break it, but I refused to look at what it was. He was always so petulant, and I wouldn’t give into him.

I held my father’s gaze, desperate for him to see things my way, if only for a moment.

“I’ve done everything you guys wanted. I went to Opal instead of Harrison. I went into acting and not writing. I attended every party, talked to every miserable asshole, wore every stupid outfit. All I want in return is for you to let me go.”

He took a puff from his cigarette, already practically down to the filter. It was funny, watching him smoke. I’d never seen him do it before in my life. Not once.

“Why?”

It was a fair question. The answer was more complicated. Because it’s right …but he wouldn’t understand that. Because she volunteered for me…. He wouldn’t understand that either. Hell, I didn’t even understand why I wanted to go. But Jace was still smiling at me, still believing in me like he always had. Sometimes it felt like he knew what I needed before I even had a chance to do the needing.

“Because she was my best friend….and she was supposed to win.”

My father’s face fell. He may not have understood what was right, but he understood honor. He understood fair. He nodded slowly, stubbing his smoke out on the arm of the couch. He must have still been half asleep.

“Ok.”

He didn’t say anything else, and I thanked him quietly before giving him a hug. He held me to him, and it felt like when I was a girl and I would run to him as he came home from work, calling out to him in glee. He’d scoop me up from the ground and press all the pain and grief of his day into my bones, and I took it from him like any other gift. This hug felt like that. He was pressing his grief into my bones, except this time I was grieving too.

When the peacemakers came, I went willing. Quiet. Everyone knew not to resist a peacemaker, even if you were in the right. Agitation led to aggression. Peacemakers were not aggressive dogs, they were violent ones. Hand biting often led to death.

Kellen had refused to say goodbye. I didn’t entertain his fury, just wrapped my arms around his middle. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t hug me back.

Mother was three pours in by the time I had to go. She blew air kisses and raised her glass.

Jace gave me a proper hug and kiss, and pulling away from him had been the hardest goodbye of them all.

“My writing…” I told him, and he nodded.

“I’ll keep it safe.”

My father had taken helicarriers before. He would be taking one hours after me, headed to the Capitol for the Games. I hadn’t ever had the pleasure.

While the door was open, wind and sound rotated around you in a maelstrom. There was something happening everywhere. A seatbelt was being placed across my lap, a pilot was checking gauges, the Peacekeepers chatting in even tones. When the door was closed, though, it was silent.

A light thrum of the engine was the only background noise, but I was effectively left alone with my thoughts for an hour. This was not good.

My thoughts were instantly on Razzle, and with nothing to distract my mind, grief settled in my chest like a purring cat.

She’d spent the morning of the reaping in my bed. We often had sleepovers, but this one had not involved much sleep. Her hands had touched me roughly, like sandpaper, and I had liked the grit of it. I was always considered so delicate, like glass. Razzle touched me like I was solid stone.

She’d whispered promises into my hair, weaving them around the strands like the ribbons I would place there hours later. “When I win, we’ll go away.” She’d said. “When I win, we’ll have forever.”

When. There had been no question in my mind that there would be a when. The only question left unanswered was the how.

But now, there was no when or if or how. There was instead.

We touched down in only an hour. My stomach roiled from the constant vibrations, and when I stepped off it lurched dangerously. Vomit pushed its way onto my tongue. I stopped halfway from the helicarrier and the safety of the roof entrance, the peacekeepers’ hands flying straight to their guns.

I waved my hand at them to give me a moment, but they grabbed me violently by the arm and shoved me along my way. The nausea bobbed up and down inside me. I tried to keep myself from letting it give way to sickness.

In the end I didn’t throw up, but I wanted to.

We took an elevator down, down, down. The first District tributes stayed on the first floor, with the second District tributes on the second and so on and so on all the way until the penthouse. District Twelve lived like cattle, so they got treated like kings. We were all being served up on the finest of China, waiting to be eaten whole.

The Peacekeepers kept their eyes trained on me. They wanted me to act out. A peacekeeper craved violence like a horse craved water after a long ride. The one to my left tightened his hand around his baton. I looked down at the floor.

They dropped me off in the first floor suite, where two people waited at the dining room table. I knew them as Gloss and Cashmere, winners of the 63rd and 64th Games respectively. Cashmere sat cross legged on the table, her silky blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her pajamas were champagne colored silk and they emphasized icy blue eyes that stared at me with no discernible emotion.

Gloss stood scowling, his large arms folded across his chest. His pajama pants were silk, too, except in blackest black. Instead of the matching shirt he wore a white T-shirt.

I felt a bit lackluster in my grey sweats and Opal academy shirt.

“You must be Luster.” Said Cashmere.

I nodded.

“I’m Cashmere.” She waved, her lips forming into an inhumanly beautiful smile. She was like what you thought of when someone said ‘the prettiest girl you know’.

“This is Gloss.” She pointed to him and he made no gesture of greeting. He simply stared.

The Peacekeepers that had escorted me were already back in the elevator. I looked around the suite for the first time and noted its distinct Capitol style. The furnishings were modern, with rich golds and deep blacks accenting them. The large dining table was made of frosted glass. A sectional couch took up most of the living room area, its cream colored cushions pristine in the light of a mini chandelier.

“Can I go to bed?” I asked.

Gloss sighed and dropped his arms. It was the first movement he’d made the entire time I’d been there. It was like watching a statue come to life.

“I’ll be your trainer.” He said, ignoring my question.

“Ok great. Can I go to bed now?”

Cashmere looked a bit puzzled. “Do you have any questions for us? I’m sure this has been a difficult transition.”

What a paltry word for what had happened. Transition implied choice, of which I had none.

“I’ll ask them in the morning. I haven’t been to bed and I’d like to get as much sleep as possible.”

Brother and sister stared idly at each other. They appeared to be having some sort of telepathic conversation, much like she’d seen Kellen and Jace do many times. She needed to fall asleep soon or she’d be plagued by memories of home.

The conversation ended when Cashmere motioned with her hand to where the tributes’ rooms were.

“The door on the left.”

The other tribute had already claimed the room on the right. I would be sleeping in the same place Razzle had.

I gave a curt nod and exited, my fists balled at my side. I didn’t relax until the door to my room was closed and I was lying on the very plush, inviting bed.

It seemed the odds were ever in my favor, because no matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to get the short end of a very long stick.

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seasonsofeverlark · 2 years

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One For the History Books

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt: Fall is football season, so I have a football themed prompt (plus, I love athletic!Everlark, and obvi football!Peeta is always welcomed 😂) Anyways, how about something inspired by this? Katniss becomes the kicker for her college’s football team because they’re down players for whatever reason. This is how she meets Peeta - one of the team’s star players and her crush. [submitted by @daydreamsandcaffeine]

Rating: T

Summary: Katniss Everdeen’s broken the gender barrier on her university’s football team, and she’s about to make history. She’s also caught the eye of fellow teammate, Peeta Mellark, and both are very, very important to her.

Author’s Note: Fun fact, the first game Sarah Fuller officially played was at my alma mater when Vanderbilt traveled to the University of Missouri during the 2020 season. Like I have every time Missouri’s played since I was a freshman in college in 1994, I watched the game and shed a tear or two when she kicked off in the second half. The media and crowd response was understandably astounding, and I’m really proud Mizzou, my alma mater, was part of such an important event. Two weeks later, Fuller scored her first points at a home game in Nashville, Tennessee. I hope y’all enjoy my attempt to Everlark this story. Also, go Mizzou! ________________

“Everdeen,” Haymitch Abernathy, coach of the Panem State University football team, calls to his female kicker. “Get showered and come see me. Immediately.”

Waving over her shoulder, Katniss heads to the locker room and ducks into the private shower on the far side of the area, away from the male players. As she does, Peeta Mellark, the star running back, catches her eye. He grins at her and winks as he strips his shirt over his head and holds it balled up in front of him. Apparently, he doesn’t mind if she sees him, but she does. That’s why she insisted on her own separate space, even though she’s the one who chose to join the football team.

Ten minutes later, she’s in Coach Abernathy’s office, and he’s giving her the shock of her life.

“I’m what now?”

“Playing on Saturday. We’re down a kicker, and we need one. Be ready. If we can actually score a touchdown this week, you might be the first woman ever to put up a point in a Division I football game,” he says between nips out of a flask that she pretends she can’t see. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’re about to become the face of feminism.”

She’s still in shock as she walks from the offices to the parking lot where she ignores the cluster of players who alternate between cat-calling and insulting her and heads directly to her car. Just as she’s about to slip into her seat and slam the door shut, someone calls her name.

“Katniss? Everything okay?” Peeta asks from two cars down the aisle. “Abernathy giving you crap again?”

“Yeah,” she calls. “He, uh…”

“You all right?” he asks as he approaches. “He didn’t kick you off the team or something idiotic like that, did he?”

“No. Nothing like that. In fact, he… Oh, God.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his face serious and swimming in front of hers. “Tell me.”

Still too stunned to process it all, she looks directly at him and murmurs, “I’m going to play on Saturday. In the game. I’m going to take a snap.”

Disbelief washes over his face, and she can’t help the grin that stretches her lips and exposes her teeth. She must look like a loon. He stares at her for a few seconds and then grabs her in a hug. Before she knows it, he’s twirling her in circles and whooping in her ear.

“Congratulations! That’s so, so great.”

Dizzy and reeling, she presses her hand to the roof of her car for stability. “I’m so nervous I think I may vomit. What if I screw up? What if I miss? What if I don’t even connect with the football and fall flat on my ass?”

“What if none of that happens, you trust your training, and you end up being in the history books?”

“Well, there’s that too,” she admits.

Three days later, she’s sweating in her pads, but she’s also so excited she can hardly see straight. It’s official. They’ve announced her as the starting kicker, which means she’s going to take the field. Now, it’s just a waiting game for when the team can’t get a first down and needs to punt, gets close enough for a field goal, or scores a touchdown and needs an extra point kicked.

“Calm down, Catnip,” her teammate Gale says, using a most unwelcome nickname and eyeing her as she shakes her leg. They’re seated next to each other on a bench in front of her locker, and she’s trying not to lose her lunch in her helmet.

“Shut it, Hawthorne,” she snaps and jiggles both her legs as her frazzled nerves make her stomach roll.

Raising her head, she glances around the locker room and locks eyes with Peeta, who’s half-dressed and staring at her with a concerned look on his face. Surely he doesn’t mean to do it, but that doesn’t mean she misses the flex of his pectorals or the way his biceps bulge as he tugs his dry-fit on over his bare chest. With a wink, he lifts the hem up to allow her a glimpse of his abs, and she can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of her lips.

“Good luck,” he mouths, and she nods her thanks.

Before she knows it, Coach Abernathy’s giving the pre-game pep talk, and she’s in the tunnel with the rest of her teammates as the crowd roars and the band plays. When the announcer’s voice booms over the PA system, the cannon sounds, and the team runs onto the field. Squinting in the bright sunlight, Katniss tries not to faint, especially when Panem State wins the toss, receives the kickoff, and advances down the field to score a touchdown.

Suddenly, the special teams’ coach yells her name, and she tugs on her helmet and jogs onto the field. The enormity of the situation isn’t lost on her. If it were up to her, she’d just be a football player, but the national sports media has picked up this story and run with it. She’s not just the kicker for the Panem State football team. She’s a woman in a male dominated sport, and her name’s going into the history books.

As long as she doesn’t miss her kick, that is.

Too terrified to think, she relies on her training. Lining up behind the ball, she holds out her arm to assess the angle, and then takes three steps back and two over. When the whistle blows and the ball snaps, she takes her steps, and her foot connects with the ball. It goes up, flying in an arc toward the goalposts until—

The cannon booms and the refs hold up their arms to indicate the kick is good. Her teammates dogpile on her as the crowd roars. Everyone’s cheering, even the opposing team, and it finally hits her how big this moment is. She’s integrated Division 1 football. For the first time ever, a woman’s name will be in the record books. It doesn’t matter if she wants the attention or not; she’s got it.

When Katniss finally crawls out from under her teammates and jogs back to the sideline, Coach Abernathy gives her a high five, and then Peeta’s standing in front of her with a massive smile on his face. When she grins at him, he picks her up and twirls her around before setting her on her feet.

“Amazing,” he gushes. “So hot you’re on fire.”

“I, uh… Thanks?”

“Hold that thought, Everdeen,” he says as he pulls his helmet over his ears and buckles the strap.

As he sprints onto the field to take his spot behind the line of scrimmage, she watches the way his pants cling to thick thighs that are so very tempting. Shaking her head, she puts the thought out of her mind. They’re in the middle of a game, she doesn’t need to be ogling one of her teammates while they try to win the game.

When the clock winds down, Katniss finds herself the subject of a lot of media attention. Previously ignored entirely, it’s a shock to find out how many reporters want a quote from her so they can run a story about her history-making performance. By the time she’s back in the locker room, almost everyone on the team has left. Exhausted, she sinks onto a bench and exhales a lusty sigh.

“No shower yet, Everdeen? Better get on that because we both know you’re going to be very popular at the parties tonight.”

Smiling wryly, she lifts her gaze to Peeta’s and shrugs. “We also both know I don’t go to parties—not even when I’m in demand.”

“Well, then,” he says softly as he sits next to her and nudges her shoulder with his. “Maybe you just grab a shower so I can take you out for a post-game celebratory pizza, and then you come back to my place and watch a movie with me?”

“Do I get to pick the movie? And can we eat the pizza at your place instead of going somewhere?”

“Sweetheart, not only will I let you pick out what we watch, I’ll let you pick the toppings too.”

Pleased, she ducks her head. “In that case, I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. Meet you in the parking lot? I can follow you to your place.”

“Can’t wait,” he says with a wink before leaving her alone in the locker room.

She sits still for a few seconds, allowing the day to wash over her before jumping to her feet. She might have made the history books, but Peeta Mellark just asked her out. It’s not everyday something so big happens to her.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2021 #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

Engaged

Not Really Goodbye pt.2

Peeta Mellark x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1692 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Peeta having to explain his engagement to you, the woman he loves

Part 1

——————————————————————————————————

Marrying Katniss hadn’t been Peeta’s idea.

Quite frankly, none of this was his idea to start with; not pretending to be together, lying to everyone he cared about, not getting engaged, not going on the tour. It was all stuff he’d been dragged into without even meaning to.

Unfortunately though, that didn’t make it any easier to explain the whole engagement thing to you.

This whole thing was too complicated to just break down, too dangerous to get out of, and even if he wanted to try, Peeta knew the truth. It was too late to get out now, no matter what he did.

Still, it would break your heart, just as it was currently breaking his.

Ever since the two of you were children, you assumed that you would end up being together. You had been inseparable all your lives, never going too far without the other, and your mother often joked that there were no better friends in the world.

That much had always been true.

It wasn’t until you got a bit older that you started really thinking about the possibility that there may never be no two people better suited for one another than you and Peeta were.

He understood you in a way that no one else ever had and being with him was as easy as breathing. By this time in your lives, you were sure that you would end up married, living on a farm somewhere.

Though, clearly, you’d been a fool to believe that.

News of the engagement reached you and the rest of the districts before Peeta and Katniss could even make it back, which meant that he couldn’t explain. All you could do was listen to the broadcasts and try to put the pieces together yourself.

Naturally, it hurt to imagine that everything you’d come to believe was a lie. However, you weren’t shocked that he would rather marry her.

She was incredible.

In all this time since he’d been whisked away to compete in the games, you could see just how much they had bonded. The games were broadcasted all over Panem and you would have had to have been blind to miss it.

Not only was Katniss a fellow victor, and the only other person who had shared experiences with him, but she was also stunningly beautiful and wonderfully strong.

It was something you could have never hoped to compete with.

You only wished, in your wildest dreams, that you could be like her if not for yourself than for his affections.

You wanted nothing more than for Peeta to look at you in the way that he looked at her, like the world started and ended with her, like every action from her could halt his existence entirely.

She had a power of him that you foolishly thought you had, before he went off to the Capital, but that was never going to happen.

You knew Peeta well enough to know that.

That was exactly why, when he did show up at your door trying to explain, you turned him away. If he loved her, and she made him happy, then you wanted him to be with her.

You didn’t want him to feel the need to apologize, which you assumed he was trying to do when he showed up outside your house.

Knowing Peeta, he just didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want there to be any hard feelings between the two of you. If that was all he needed, there was no need for you to talk it over, you understood exactly what was happening.

You knew a man in love when you saw one, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

For whatever reason though, Peeta was adamant over what he wanted. He wanted to explain himself, and he needed to talk to you. This was all a huge misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he didn’t tell you the truth.

...And, at a certain point, you knew that you were going to have to hear him out. At the end of the day, you cared about Peeta and whatever it was that was so important, you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to hear what it was he needed.

“Peeta, I already told you, I get it” you huffed, opening your door to find him standing there again, waiting for the off chance that you would come out.

You had no idea what he was thinking, but there was one thing you knew for sure. He was going to freeze to death if he stood out here any longer.

“No, you really don’t. Please just let me explain” he begged, hoping that for the third time, you would hear him out. He just kept coming here, asking to see you, and each time he was met with the same answer.

Either you weren’t home, or you weren’t going to answer.

“Come in” you sighed finally, opening the door wide enough for him to pass through. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

You were doing your best to just save face, to keep him from seeing how much it had upset you, but you had started to accept it. You were coming to terms with what it would mean, with the fact of the matter, Peeta was going to get married.

Peeta was going to get married, and he wasn’t going to get married to you.

That was just what was happening and there was no use fighting it. If you could understand that, you didn’t get why it was so hard for him.

It seemed simple enough.

“Katniss and I are getting married, but it isn’t because I want to” he grumbled, rubbing his hands together lightly as he started to explain, doing his best to gather his thoughts. It wasn’t until he was in the heat of your home that he realized just how cold it had been, the warm air nipping at his skin.

You nodded, having heard this all before. You felt like you knew, felt like you understood what was going on, but Peeta was far from finished.

This wasn’t about him and Katniss, it wasn’t about a wedding, this was about the two of you and nothing more.

“What are you talking about? Why would you be getting married if you don't want to?” you asked, sitting down beside him on the couch, trying your best to wrap your head around what he was saying.

It didn’t make any sense to you.

For what reason, other than the fact that you loved someone, would you get married? Besides, you saw the way he looked at her while they were in that arena, you knew that he must love her.

That was all you needed to be married.

That was more than most of the people of twelve had and they made it work. Your relationships were formed mostly for survival, and in a desperate attempt to form some kind of life with what you’d been given.

“This is bigger than it seems, but I promise I can explain” he tried, gingerly resting his hand on your knee as he tried to make this work. You weren’t sure that you believed it, but it wouldn’t kill you to give him a chance to make you believe.

So, you settled in for one of the most complicated stories of all your life. Evidently, the events of the games, and what had happened in the capital, was bigger than you could have ever assumed.

It was bigger than both of you.

The more Peeta explained, the more you put together in your head, the more you understood. Of course he had to marry her, if he didn’t, there was no telling what Snow would do.

He had already threatened all of Katniss’ family and you were sure that he’d done the same to Peeta.

There was a chance they would kill you, if this didn’t go the way they wanted, and for Peeta, that was the worst thing that could happen. In all your lives, he’d only ever really had you and if something happened to you, he’d have nothing left.

You were the one. You were the one who came to check on him the night before the reaping, who combed his hair on the day of so he would look nice. You were the only one to come see him before he left for the games.

Every time he needed someone, it was always you there, waiting for him.

If he didn’t have you, Peeta didn’t have anything.

He hated the idea of doing this, of getting married to a woman who wasn’t you, of putting you through this but in the big picture, it was better than losing you. It was better than having to go through life knowing that you died because of a choice he made.

Having to do that would kill him.

It was difficult enough that the two of them had to lie to the world, that he and Katniss didn’t really care for one another in that way. Adding another element, or another person, in your case, would be far too much.

He hated this, but if it was what he had to do to keep you safe, Peeta wasn’t going to apologize for that. You were too important to risk, for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I just don’t have a choice” he huffed, using up all his breath in a hurried attempt to get everything he needed to get out before you started drawing your own conclusions.

...But you didn’t need him to say sorry.

You understood why he was going to do it.

Backing out of the wedding could end all of your lives and as much as you loved him, nothing was worth that. Similarly to Peeta, you figured that a life without him, knowing that he was alive, would be better than one where he died trying to be with you.

It was hardly a fairy tale, but real life rarely was.

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captainseaweedbrains · 3 years

Text

The Hunger Games Again Ch. 6 Thoughts

I am chugging through finally! Here are my rambling thoughts on chapter 6:

I remember our Carson’s had a see-through elevator in it and I used to *love* going up and down it as a child. This just reminds me how young and pure Katniss is wanting to ride the elevator again.

She and Haymitch will be overseeing us right into the arena. In a way, that's a plus because at least she can be counted on to corral us around to places on time whereas we haven't seen Haymitch since he agreed to help us on the train.// I am just imagining these two wandering aimlessly if they were just left in Haymitch’s charge and have a little chuckle

Effie knows everyone who's anyone in the Capitol and has been talking us up all day, trying to win us sponsors.

"I've been very mysterious, though," she says, her eyes squint half shut. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district." // Similar to the prep team, I cannot help but love her because Effie is just so tone deaf to how she comes off. It's funny.

what's she basing our success on? Our table manners? // You absolutely know she is, Katniss

I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" Effie beams at us so brilliantly that we have no choice but to respond enthusiastically to her cleverness even though it's wrong. // It’s stuff like this that endears me and everyone just goes along even though they’re like “wtf. No, idiot.” *wipes tear* You’re so stupid, Effie. I love you.

"But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary." // It is with a curling wand and she is lethal with it

Yo. Sign me up for this instant dryer and hair detangler. I need that NOW.

A meal presided over by just Effie and Haymitch is bound to be a disaster. // I would pay to see it. And they totally do after the war Yes I am a Haffie shipper Don’t @ me

Katniss, you are not wrong. Sweet wine is the best.

Haymitch showing up right as the food is coming out is my kind of style. No, I don’t want to socialize. I am here to eat and I need to make that as clear as possible.

I wonder who’s the unfortunate soul who is stuck cleaning Haymitch up. Do you get paid enough for such a task? Probably not

Last time I mention it, but ughhhhhhhh with the food descriptions.

Katniss’ reaction to seeing Lavinia warms my heart for whatever reason and then I get sad because it’s connected to sadness

Peeta coming to Katniss’ slightly drunk rescue...What a saint.

WHAT DID DELLY EVER DO TO YOU, KATNISS? Calling her LUMPY? Part of me wonders, because clearly Peeta is close to Delly as childhood friends and the fact he thinks of her right away despite the two girls looking nothing alike, if there is a tiny itsy bitsy part of Katniss that is jealous of her. Maybe not so much because Delly and Peeta are close (though perhaps…), but I imagine Delly can easily thank people and talk to people and Katniss, bless her caring heart, does not have that natural skill. So there’s bitterness there and Katniss turns that bitterness into unfair slander on my girl. SLANDER.

Again, can we just talk about how these two work so well as a team? Picking up easily where the other leaves off? Amazing. Brilliant. We stan.

I still have many thoughts on Cinna and the hand holding. Clearly he was working with the rebellion and they were waiting for the right match to set it going. Maybe Cinna was just wiggling his way in and more like opportunity came a knocking?

When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him.//Peeta, your popular jock boy self is showing.

Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.// I know you don’t fully trust him, Katniss, but your subconscious seems to disagree with you if you’re willing to share anything with him.

I really enjoy how SC does this. She distracts us with the flash and glamor and then swiftly reminds us of the horrors that is Panem and the whole reason Peeta and Katniss are here. So similar to how we handle information today and how the news and government try to change our focus to other things to hide from the big, scary picture.

*cries because they read each other so well and pick up meaning behind what the other is actually saying*

You do have the sense that we might be under surveillance here. // They are, no worries

Lmao at it just being such an obvious thing that Katniss and her dad hunt(ed). I know the Mellarks trade(d) with them, but still funny. The not-so secret of the district

There was a moment, after the bird call, but before the hovercraft, where the girl had seen us. She'd locked eyes with me and called out for help.// I love when Katniss tells stories of her past. It’s so haunting and somber. Very clear to picture, and the obvious guilt she feels here. Gets me every time.

Peeta takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I start to take a step back, but then I let him, deciding for a moment to accept both his jacket and his kindness. A friend would do that, right? // *weeps* Peeta is such a good egg. A true gentleman. Yes, Katniss, accept his kindness.

HOLD THE FRONT DOOR. He *buttons* the coat? Peeta is really going all “Last few days of life. We’re just going for it.”

The 1950s vibe of giving the girlfriend the letterman jacket I feel in this Chile’s tonight

And now begins Terri’s frequent comment about how Peeta Mellark is a rebellious boy by nature and does not get the credit he deserves by helping set the building blocks for Katniss later on in the book/series

Sldkmflm PEETA, YOU ARE SO OBVIOUS. Asking about Gale all ~casually. iS He yoUr CoUsIN??? As if you don’t know.

Peeta is a really good liar, yes, Katniss. but he would never lie to you

I find it interesting that Peeta flat out says Mr. M probably wanted a daughter, yet in fandom, it’s Mrs. M.. Interesting.

The idea that I might ever have been discussed, around the dinner table, at the bakery fire, just in passing in Peeta's house gives me a start. It must have been when the mother was out of the room.// Now all I’m imagining is Peeta talking about Katniss to Delly, his confidant, and her just patting his head.

It seems impolite to say she never mentioned the baker except to compliment his bread // Dang, Mrs. E.. Show us how you truly feel.

We're at my door. I give back his jacket. "See you in the morning then."

"See you," he says, and walks off down the hall.//

I know Katniss is going through A Lot right now, but child, pick up your clothes before you shower.

At least she apologizes.

But still.

You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope. // Honestly, one of the best lines of the whole series. Fight me on that, but it’s so true.

I wonder if Katniss has anxiety with how her thought process goes with the guilt and her feeling like she’s not good enough, etc..

On to the next chapter!

#The Hunger Games #thgagain #The Hunger Games Again #Terri reads The Hunger Games #My thoughts #I have feelings

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday, everybirdfellsilent!

Happy belated Birthday, @everybirdfellsilent! Apologies once again for all the mix-ups and confusion with your gift! I hope you had a truly wonderful day back when it actually was your birthday, and that it was much more orderly than this! To bring the party feels back, @ally147writes has emerged from everlark retirement to write a birthday gift just for you!

AN: Let me tell you, @everybirdfellsilent, I agonised over the ending. This was the neatest and tidiest I could make it without writing you a novel. I hope it makes you chuckle a little.

Also a good time to let the audience know that I cannot write horror, or ghost stories, but dang it, I can write borderline crack, and I wanted to write Buzzfeed Unsolved-inspired ghosthunter!everlark so damn much.

Unbeta’d, because that’s how I roll.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted.

Not that that really means anything. Most of the houses they’ve visited over the years haven’t looked haunted. They’ve been completely normal — except for that one in District Ten that had some kind of summoning circle in the basement (Peeta will die hoping it was drawn with red paint, a super weird kid’s project, but he’s got a feeling he’ll be dying disappointed. And extremely terrified) — with completely normal gardens in completely normal streets.

So, no. Like most, the old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted, but it definitely feels haunted.

Peeta pauses at the bottom of the winding path. At its end, atop a small hill, the innocuous house sits empty, Madge and her family out for the next few nights while he and Katniss investigate. It’s as normal looking as any of the other exorbitantly large mansions on the street, but the longer Peeta stares down the deceptively cheerful, sunshine-yellow door, a deep, intense foreboding settles in his gut and ferments there.

He swallows. “Uh, Kat?”

Katniss sighs and stops at the first step to the porch, and Peeta swears he can hear her eyes rolling. Hard. “What is it, Peeta?”

“I just… I got a real bad feeling about this one.”

“Peeta,” she starts, mounting the first step, “you’ve had real bad feelings about all of them so far. And you’ve been wrong every time.”

“No,” he replies quickly, following behind in the relative safety of her shadow. “You’ve just chosen to deny whatever proof we do find.”

“A battery running out in our flashlight does not mean ghosts were playing with it.”

“It ran out at the exact moment I told the spirits to turn it off!”

“I don’t know how else to tell you that was a coincidence. The flashlight had been on for a good two hours by that point.”

“A little convenient, don’t you think? Come on, Katniss. Plus, it turned right back on again when we were done, so the battery can’t have been that damn flat.”

“I can’t understand why you’re so eager for this all to be the work of ghosts when it scares you shitless every single time.”

“What about the time the spirit box said your name?”

“Peeta,” she says with a strained laugh. “It said, Can’t Miss. As in, the District 12 Mockingjays Can’t Miss. It was a snippet of a goddamn basketball ad. It’s on the radio all the time on game days.”

“Yeah, and the spirit box allows ghosts to use radio waves to communicate. Of course it wasn’t going to find Katniss — who the hell’s advertising katniss? — so it picked the next best thing.”

“I’ll just sit here and wait for them to use a snippet of a pita bread company ad to talk to you, then.”

He glares at the back of her head. “I’m sure they would, if there was a pita factory nearby that advertised.”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Peeta. Let’s go find you a ghost.” She lifts a camera to her eyes and kicks the heavy mahogany door open and flicks on the gently swinging chandelier light.

“Ghosts, spirits, urban legends and other assorted demonic entities, how are we all this evening?”

“Katniss,” he hisses as he closes the door. “Some respect, maybe?”

“What part was disrespectful? I covered, well, maybe not the full the spectrum of possible occupants, but definitely most of them, and asked how they were. Honestly if they’re not going to reply, they’re the disrespectful ones, not me.”

The light flickers out. Katniss snorts. Peeta lets out a squeak he’s not proud of.

“She doesn’t mean it,” Peeta calls frantically. “For the love of God, she doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you’re all lovely and polite.”

The light flickers weakly and comes back on. The chandelier fitting swings like a pendulum, casting stretching and receding shadows over the white-sheet covered lounges and a thick, dark coffee table.

“What the hell do you call that, Katniss?”

“Shoddy wiring?” She shrugs. “Peeta, this house is about a century old. Probably more, actually.”

“Madge said it was renovated and rewired two years ago.”

She shrugs again. “Rats? Raccoons, maybe? That would explain the supposedly unexplainable shuffling sounds Madge thinks she hears.”

Now he rolls his eyes. “Why am I married to you, again?”

“Because divorce is costly and time consuming,” she says, kissing his cheek. “Besides, my logic goes well with your fatalistic romanticism.”

“None of that’s going to matter when this house goes all Poltergeist and swallows us.”

“Then what a good thing it is that that’s never going to happen.” She plonks herself down on one of the lounges and sets a pair of small motion-sensing cameras pointing at each entrance. Peeta swallows and hitches a thumb towards the kitchen.

“I’m… uh, gonna look around for a bit.”

“All right,” Katniss says absently. “Scream if you need me.”

“Will do.”

That dread in his stomach recedes and grows with each room he enters. He doesn’t feel anything wrong with the kitchen, or the dining room, but as he ventures up the staircase to the bedrooms, he swears he can feel something weighty on his shoulders.

A sound like a dry, rattling whisper like nails on paper echoes through the long hall leading to the attic entrance. Peeta gulps. “Hello?” He thumbs open the recording app on his phone and turns it on. “Is anyone there?”

The whispering sound grows. It doesn’t sound like words, exactly. At least, not words that he knows. They race up and along his spine until it sounds like they’re shouting in his ear.

Peeta squeaks, jumps about a foot in the air, and something skitters past, too fast to see. A wave of cold washes over him, settling in icicles on his bones, and for a moment he stands stock still, not even breathing…

Another whisper, one that sounds very, unnervingly close to hello, and he sprints back down the stairs to the living room, triggering the motion sensors into a high-pitched beeping sound.

Katniss bolts upright. “What the hell is going on?”

“Kat, were you… God, were you sleeping?” he asks, aghast.

“What? It’s boring down here.” She blinks blearily up at him. “Are you okay?”

“There… there’s something up there.”

“Something as in actually something? Or something like your imagination run wild?”

“Something like… it was making the strangest whispery, scratchy noises. I thought they were words, but… and then, something just… ran right past me. I didn’t see, but it was so so fast, and I —”

“Peeta, it’s probably vermin. And the wind. And just… a bit of everything coming together to make you think it’s ghosts when it’s… just, not.”

But his hands are shaking, and his pulse is more like one long thud instead of lots of little ones. “I just… I don’t…”

She rolls her eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I went and checked? You can stay here with these stupid motion sensors; they’re only picking up bugs, anyway.”

“No. No, I’ll go with you,” he says, setting a fist against his chest like that’ll do any good against his heart’s very valiant escape attempt. “Just in case.”

“Right,” she drawls, “just in case the wind gets me.”

He follows a step behind her, through the kitchen, down the corridor, and up the stairs. He doesn’t feel quite as heavy this, time, either. She cracks open every door they pass, six unused bedrooms, three bathrooms, two studys, and a small library, all silent. They’re left with one room at the very end. As she opens the final door, the whispering starts again, and a low moan like racing wind echoes.

She steps in, and he turns on the light. The room is huge, but full. A writing desk sits in the far corner, and a neatly-made four-poster bed occupies the other corner. Beside the door, a seated vanity with a wide, oval mirror wiped free of dust. On its table, a collection of large and small hairbrushes, and an open box filled with tangled threads and needles and buttons and snippets of fabric. But none of those things holds Peeta’s focus for long.

Instead, he stares at a wide cabinet spanning nearly the whole length of the back wall, covered so densely in dolls of every conceivable material, fabric and wool, porcelain and plastic. The whispering is almost deafening, and every time Peeta turns his head to look somewhere else, he could swear the dolls are twitching, blinking, watching.

“Did, uh, Madge ever mention the doll collection?”

Katniss scowls at the dolls. “She might’ve? I don’t really remember.”

“Oh, I don’t think you would have forgotten something like this,” Peeta retorts.

“I… well, yeah, this is definitely weird, but I don’t think we can call it haunted, or otherworldly.”

“What the hell else would you call it?”

“Any number of perfectly reasonable and logical things, Peeta. Mrs. Undersee likes weird, creepy dolls; what more can you say?”

“Don’t call them weird and creepy.” He sets a finger against her lips. “I’ve read about haunted dolls. If you’re not respectful, they might curse you.”

She rolls her eyes, but nods all the same. He doesn’t take his eyes off hers as he lowers his finger and shoves his hands in his pockets.

He turns back to the dolls, and clears his throat. “Uh, we mean no harm or anything. It’s just… you’ve kind of been terrifying my friend and her parents, and we’d like you to please stop. Please.”

Katniss whispers, “You already said please.”

“Can’t hurt to say it twice.”

“Did you bring the, uh… the thing? You know, the thing that reads the waves or whatever it was?”

He shoots her a dour look. “You mean the EMF?”

“Yeah, that. Do you have it?”

“No, I don’t.” He sighs. “It would have been in the pack with the motion sensors, so it’s still downstairs.”

“Spirit box?”

“In the pack, too.”

She surveys him strangely, arms crossed over her chest. “You really didn’t come prepared, did you?”

“I was prepared! I just… didn’t think I’d be accosted in the very first hallway I went into.”

She snorts. “Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll think —” She stops, freezes, eyes riveted on something Peeta can’t see. His heart thumps harder and louder than he’s ever felt before.

“Uh, Katniss? Is something wrong.”

“Peeta,” she says, deadpan.

“What?”

“Look over there, in the gap between the cabinet and the desk. See that?”

He does see that. He backs up so hard he’s going to have a massive bruise on his ass from the vanity he’s just about knocked over. “Holy shi — Are those… are those eyes?”

“Yeah, they’re eyes. You wanna know what kind of eyes?” She picks up a hairbrush from the vanity stand next to them and hurls it at the gap.

“Goddamn raccoon eyes, Peeta,” she says as the small pack of raccoons scatter. “There’s probably holes in the drywall or something, hence your scratchy whispers.”

“I… oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Raccoons, Peeta. Ninety-five percent of the time, it’s probably rats or raccoons.”

“It wasn’t rats or raccoons in that place in District 10.”

“That… was an outlier of a house, I’ll give you that, but it was probably still just people. Very strange, very creepy people.” She nudges him gently with her elbow and cocks her head to the door. “Come on, we should try and see if we can find the holes they were coming in through.”

“You want to do home repairs?”

“Hey, we promised Madge an exorcism, didn’t we? This is just a different kind of exorcism.”

She hooks her arm in his, and they leave the doll room together. A sound like bye follows them out, but this time he can ignore it. Raccoons. Obviously.

“Why do you come with me to these things?” he asks when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Peeta,” she says seriously. “Know that I say this with all the love in my heart… you would die if I didn’t come with you.”

“If I did die, I would so mercilessly haunt your ass.”

She pats his arm, shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t, Peeta. Ghosts aren’t real.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by ally147writes

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sailorsleepymoon · 3 years

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My Hot Hunger Games Take: when I read the story in 5th grade I always wanted Katniss to end up with Gale because I liked him better and I was 10. Anyway I’m rereading it now and, I still want that and I still want it because I just like him better, but I also wish Suzanne Collins had gone a different direction with what they represented.

I think Peeta should’ve represented letting the tragedy change you like becoming what the world wants or expects you to be. Peeta says in the first book that he just doesn’t want the games to change him, but in the later books ends up being used as a weapon by the capitol against the rebels. Idk how to explain it but that, along with her completing the steps of the romance in order to survive I think could’ve made him be a good symbol for doing what needs to be done no matter the actual situation or cost or whatever.

Gale could’ve represented holding on to who she was before the games. Katniss put on a show for the games when she was first with Peeta. She loved him because she had to, not because she wanted to. I mean maybe she did, she was still figuring it out, but that’s exactly it. She didn’t choose romance with him because she knew she wanted to, she did because she had to. With Gale, every moment for most of their lives was because they chose to spend them together. They could’ve hunted alone, but they liked doing it together. They enjoyed each other’s company. They could tell each other anything. They weren’t around each other out of necessity, but because they chose to be around each other every single day.

Choosing Gale could’ve represented choosing to stay true to her previous values like loving Prim and providing for the people she cares about and choosing Peeta could’ve represented drowning in the politics and war and shit. Obviously plenty of other things would have to change as well, but I think it would’ve been a really cool direction and shit plus we could have a good Peeta-becomes-what-he-sword-to-destroy or whatever moment. Idk I think it would’ve been interesting.

#ven.txt #the hunger games #hunger games meta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #gale hawthorne #I just have thoughts okay

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jlalafics · 3 years

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Snippet: Part Six of “I loved you first”

We’re coming back in with a flashback!

Tomorrow, I’ll be working on my Christmas story so I thought I post this tonight.

Update will be posted on Tuesday.

______

“What does it say?” Peeta called from outside the door of the diner restroom.

Katniss quickly read over the instructions on the back of the box.

“It’s pretty straightforward. We wait two minutes,” she replied. “Minus—we’re good. Plus—prepared to be executed by my Dad.”

Katniss tried to distract herself, turning on the faucet to wash her hands. However, her eyes kept on going to the plastic stick to the side of the sink.

The plastic stick that could possibly change their lives forever.

They thought they were being so careful. Perhaps she hadn’t exactly taken the pill on time and occasionally, Peeta may have foregone a condom when things had gotten out of hand—

There was a knock at the door. “Katniss, you okay?”

“Just here contemplating how we have messed this up so badly.”

“You know that, whatever happens, I’m going to be here, right?” her boyfriend said through the door. “We’re in this together.”

“I know,” she replied, her eyes filling at the sincerity of his words. “I love you, Peeta.”

Katniss could practically feel his grin through the door. “I love you, too.”

Her eyes went to the plastic stick and she took a deep breath before reaching for it.

A glaringly bright plus sign stared back at her as the air escaped her body.

“Shit.”

“Katniss, I can feel your panic,” her boyfriend said. “Just tell me.”

Going to the door, she practically ripped it open revealing Peeta leaning against the opposite wall.

Holding out the stick, Katniss watched as Peeta stared down at the result of the pregnancy test.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded.

“I’m thinking that I should grab a blindfold for my execution,” he replied, his eyes still on the plastic stick.

She put her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Seriously, Peeta?”

Peeta went to her, throwing an arm around her to pull her close.

“I’m thinking that we go to my house and tell my parents. Then, I walk you home and we tell your parents.”

Katniss looked to him in surprise. “You’re not scared?”

“Of course, I’m scared.” Peeta pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Not of our parents, but of little no-name—” His hand went to her stomach. “I always knew that I would be the father of your children, just not so soon—and, I want to be a good dad.”

Katniss couldn’t help but smile at his earnest expression.

“You’re going to be a good dad.” She pushed up on her toes to kiss him gently on the lips. “Whether or not you live to find out after we tell our parents…well, we’ll see what happens.”

Peeta blew out a nervous breath. “Way to make me sweat, sweetheart.”

Katniss couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I was starting to get nervous about you being so cool with this. This—” She waved her hand over his flustered expression. “—is more the Peeta I know and love.”

Peeta drew her close, brushing his mouth over hers.

“Like I said, we’re in this together.”

#i loved you first #Part Six #Snippet #Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction

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everydayescapeartist · 3 years

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First Lines

Tagged by @forbiddenfantasies1 -- Thank you! This was fun!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

1) Jaime stood perusing the wide selection of cards in the Harrenhalmark Gift Shop aisle. (Wench You Care Enough to Send the Very Best, Jaime/Brienne, rated G)

2) It had been a relatively slow night so far. (Ladies’ Night at the Lion’s Den, Jaime/Brienne, rated M)

3) The movie theater was quiet. (The Christmas Leap, Katniss/Peeta, rated M)

4) She’d known this would be part of her creative writing class. (Smut Writing for Dummies, Jaime/Brienne, rated E)

5) She only does it because it’s for Sansa’s Psychology Research class and because Sansa promises her anonymity will be kept and because Sansa is her best friend. (It’s Hard To Look Right At Ya, Baby, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

6) Joanna and Aleysia were as close as sisters, though they shared no blood. (I Don’t Want to Toe the Line, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

7) Jaime couldn’t believe he was here, actually considering doing this. (A Knight Under the Big Top, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

8) There she stood in the dark, feeling all the fool she should for letting Renly talk her into coming to this stupid party. (Seven Minutes with the Seven, Jaime/Brienne, rated G)

9) “I was wondering, my queen, if you’d be so kind as to bend the knee for me.” (Bend the Knee, Jon/Daenerys, rated M)

10) She’d been so excited to get to learn from him, the Golden Lion, knighted (by Ser Arthur Dayne no less) when he was just 15, and invited into the Kingsguard that same year. (Gonna give you all my love, boy, Jaime/Brienne, rated E)

11) She sat at the small, round wooden table feeling numb, staring at the faces around her, the faces deciding a fate she had no say in. (Build a Bridge, Katniss/Peeta, rated M - Note: I realized I suck pretty badly on this one because I forgot that I posted it for PiP, so while I’ve had eight chapters drafted for several years, I kind of forgot anyone might be awaiting them. *hangs head in shame* As you can see if you look at my works list, life shit got real around here and I was just rolling into a hiatus at this point, though I didn’t know it at the time. I cannot make any promises, but perhaps I’ll try to finish this one in some way that satisfies me and post it eventually. Probably no one cares at this point, but I still feel bad.)

12) We take our turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. (In All Moments, Katniss/Peeta, rated M)

13) Dear Dr. Aurelius, You asked me to write a little something about anything "remarkable" about each of the days of this week since it is the anniversary of Prim's death and you want to make sure I don't just get locked up inside myself again. (Prim, Promise, and Progress, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

14) "That'll be $4.50," she informed the middle-aged man still in his business suit from work apparently, his fresh-faced beauty of a girlfriend (wife? mistress? who knew?) hanging on his arm. (Change at the Fair, Katniss/Peeta, rated G)

15) "I'm in the mood to play tonight. Are you?" (Web Spinner, Katniss/Peeta, rated E)

16) Katniss settled down comfortably onto the thick branch she’d ascended to, resting her back against the dark bark of the tree’s trunk. (Reading Companion, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

17) I walk back over to where Finnick is keeping watch and sit back down just a couple feet from him, keeping my eyes trained in the directions he is not covering. (It Can Never Be Enough, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

18) May (Peeta): He was so happy to have gotten the job. (Hot Buns, Honey Buns, Katniss/Peeta, rated E)

19) “Peeta, come on, man, call it a day!” (Beautiful Shield, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

20) His fair hair and skin stood out here and that, plus how off-key he was as he sat on the sand humming a tune whilst sketching in a notebook, is what caught Katniss Everdeen’s attention as she made her way past him toward her friends. (New Old Friend, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

Patterns: I guess I typically try to set the scene a little, let you know where the characters are & generally what they’re doing & maybe how they’re feeling about it. Most times, I don’t start with dialogue, though sometimes I do. Lord knows I use enough dialogue after I give you the initial sentences usually, haha!

Favorites: #5 because it amuses me, like I can feel Brienne’s discomfort in the situation..and because I hope it makes people want to learn more about whatever her predicament is. #8 also because I apparently like Brienne’s feelings in different predicaments, lol. #11, which makes me feel even worse, but yeah, I like the somber feeling of it.

Tagging (apologies, I’m sure I’ll repeat tag someone who has already been tagged/done this - feel free to ignore): @writergirl2011 @ilikeblue @angel-deux-writes @theunpaidcritic @twelvemonkeyswere @bussdowntarthiana @sohereforyou @jennagill @hutchhitched @muttpeeta and anyone else who would like to do this :)

#first lines tag game #eea writes #shit I write #myfic #my fic #braime fics #everlark fics #jonerys fic

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

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Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

————

“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. “Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I’ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…

#Springtime Edition 2020 #alliswell21 #567inpanem #prompt 23 #submission

103 notes · View notes

ilguna · 4 years

Text

Whist - Chapter Three

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

Word Count; 6.2k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: not a finnick odair x reader. it’s a ‘what if’ series

–

“Today is your first day with the other tributes.” you fix Alyssum’s hair, and readjust Rigg’s clothing, “Make an impression.”

“The two of you may show off one important skill each.” Finnick says, “One thing that’ll stand you out to the gamemakers and make the other tributes want to be allies.”

“We’ll talk about how we’ll wow the gamemakers during the private session, later. I promise that if you use your good skill today, it won’t be a loss. The private session is typically for anything you want to keep a surprise from the other tributes.” you back up.

“Try out stations you don’t know anything about. This is your time to learn anything that you don’t have a clue about, or you’re shaky on. It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

The two of them nod, and after a few more pointers that Rigg probably won’t use, he’s the first to leave the apartment. Alyssum is a different story, she waits for you to tell her to go.

“Don’t psych yourself out today, okay? What you did yesterday is exactly what we’re looking for. Confident, smart. If you sound older and show them that you can fight, they’re going to want you.” you cup her face, “But do not stay with them the entire time. Go around and meet the other tributes too. Don’t stick with Rigg, let him do his own thing.”

“Right.” she nods, you let go of her face, standing up again.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, (Y/n).” she smiles, “I can go now?”

“Yeah. Make your skill count.”

“I will.” she goes down the steps, and Elysia trails after her loosely to show her the floor. She’ll only take the elevator down, and then she’ll go see the stylists.

Now it’s just you and Finnick.

“What’re you thinking?” Finnick asks, you look at him.

“I think we need to pay Haymitch a visit.”

The two of you spend the afternoon getting ready to leave. You take a bet that Haymitch is probably somewhere in the betting room, along with the other mentors. But just in case, you’ll take an elevator to the apartment and hope that he’s there first.

When Finnick’s gathered his bearings, both of you get to the apartment. Finnick knocks on the door, and you flip through the notepad, staring at the plans for today.

Talk to Haymitch, go see the betting room, then down to the stylists to help them on a few things. To tweak and make them to the tributes likings. After that, the entire day is up to you and Finnick to figure out a way to get Alyssum and Rigg’s scores to stand out.

“Could teach Alyssum a trick.”

“Alright, then what would we do for Rigg?” you ask, knocking on the door again.

“Have him make a hook or something. He said he was pretty good at that.”

You squint at Finnick, “We want them to stand out.”

“(Y/n), he doesn’t have the same training that Alyssum does. The kid barely knows how to hold a plastic sword correctly. He’s--”

Before Finnick can say the word ‘hopeless’ the door swings open to reveal Haymitch. He’s dressed fairly nice, a little hunched over. When he sees that it’s you two, he straightens up considerably.

“Odairs.”

You roll your eyes, “Abernathy.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised to see that he doesn’t have his flask in hand. Normally it’s always right there, even the cap is unscrewed. You bet that it’s on the inside of his blazer, always within an arm's reach.

“Just curious about your tributes.” you give him a nice smile, slipping your foot inside of the apartment. Just in case he does try to shut the door, it won’t be that easy, “Quite the show yesterday.”

“The stylists' idea. Wanted something eye-catching, different.” Haymitch notices your foot, and after a long look at it, he looks back at you, “Here to steal my sponsors?”

“No, I’d like to negotiate something, though.”

Haymitch squints.

Finnick picks it up now, “We’re allowing Alyssum to make allies on her own, but if she does settle on Katniss, are you willing to work with us?”

“Doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

You slide your foot out of the way, crossing your ankles, “Just wanted you to hear our pitch, is all.”

“Katniss is a hard one to work with. Aly would have a better chance if she talked to Peeta.”

“We’re not after Peeta.” Finnick says, “We want Katniss for a reason.”

“Her sister, right? You think she’ll show the same emotion for your sister?” Haymitch makes a face, “Fine, whatever. I can’t guarantee anything.”

“We just wanted something to fall back on, is all.” you stand up straighter, “See you later, Haymitch.”

You and Finnick go down to the betting area next. It’s a simple task, talking to the sponsors that are loyal every year. And since it’s only a couple of people, the whole task is over before you know it. Then, you’re heading to see the stylists, prep teams and Elysia.

There, you spend the rest of the evening messing with everyone. Laurel has decided that she’s going to play off of the princess idea, and give Alyssum a dress that stands out, very puffy. It might just consume her when she sits down for her interview.

Rigg will be given a simple blue suit that vaguely resembles the one he wore for the tribute parade. There’s not really much that the stylists can do for the male tributes. A suit is expected, and so that’s what’s given. Plus, what else would you give?

Right when you’re done with helping Beth with this crown, you have to go and get the kids. You thank them all for their company, and just like that you’ve left with Finnick. On the way to the room, Finnick holds your hand tightly.

“While you were in the shower, Reed called.” Finnick says.

You look at him, “Why?”

“Mox can’t bring himself to get out of bed. The peacekeepers have visited the house two times already, wanting him to watch with everyone else. Reed keeps telling them that Mox is sick but neither of them can provide proof.” Finnick shakes his head.

Poor Mox. And Poor Reed, too. Mox wasn’t nearly this hopeless when you left, but then again, you were fifteen. You had eight years rather than just a measly five years beneath your belt. You also didn’t have a couple of mean-looking career tributes to worry about.

They really don’t make the tributes like they used to. Back when you and Finnick won, they were fairly manipulable. They were easy to shape and form, and they weren’t nearly as solidified as they are now. Hell, Finnick was able to get you in, and then you were able to get Thyme in.

It was definitely more people than they had wanted, and yet they didn’t care at the time. As long as it made themselves look better, stronger, more desirable.

Now, they just want the glory of the win. And to get to that point, they have to be ruthless. They have to show the Capitol citizens a show they’ll never forget.

So, every year it’s just a continuation of it. All of them are trying to beat each other. One up each other, and when they do it, the next round is screwed.

It makes it hard to mentor.

Anyway, Mox has lost hope. And you feel bad for Reed because he has to put up with it. He has to act strong for Mox, but you know he’s tired of it. Although, you can imagine that the both of them are pretty guilty, especially since you’re the one that’s getting her ready to send her off.

“Better keep that to ourselves.” you give Finnick a smile, “Not tell Alyssum, so we can keep her mind on track.”

He nods, he understands.

You and Finnick make it to the door right on time to see Alyssum skipping out of the training center, a huge smile on her face. Rigg is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Rigg?”

“Left early, said he didn’t feel good.” she says, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Just me the entire time, wasn’t too bad.”

You hold the elevator for Alyssum, making sure Finnick doesn’t head inside. For a second, Alyssum is confused, until Glimmer and Marvel are sliding past to get inside. You give Alyssum a wink, because this was your plan all along.

Cato and Clove come around too, you give the five of them a smile, “I’ll see you later, Alyssum. I’ve got to talk to your sponsors.”

You let go of the door, watching as the steel doors closed. And as soon as they do, you brush off your hands, turning to look at Finnick. He’s got a grin on his face, shaking his head at you, “Dirty, dirty.”

“Gotta cheat to get ahead. Wanna take the stairs?”

“Do we have much of a choice?” he asks, and the two of you slip into the fire escape staircase.

When you finally do get back to the apartment, Alyssum has a giant smile on her face, “They offered an alliance!” she heads towards you, arms out for a hug. You pick her up, spinning her around, “I told them I’d think about it and tell them in a couple of days!”

You press a kiss to Alyssum’s forehead, squeezing her tighter.

The next two days followed as the first training day did. You got up, gave your tributes a few pointers on how they should do things, and then they were off. You didn’t visit Haymitch again, but instead saw him in the betting area. You broke the news that he wouldn’t have to worry about an alliance, and he didn’t really seem to care.

After the betting area, came the time with the stylists. The dress has really come along, and today will be the finishing touches. Adding the accessories that they think would go with it, tweaking the size and whether or not it’ll fit.

You stopped picking the kids up from the training center after the first day, especially since Alyssum said yes to the alliance. She needs to get to know the careers on her own. But you’ve given her a few pointers on how she might back a cozy place in their mind, so they might even feel bad if they kill her.

She’s getting along well with Glimmer and Marvel so far, and from what you heard yesterday, Clove is beginning to come around faster than Cato is. It’s a little worrying, especially since it seems that history is repeating itself. But Alyssum said what you told yourself when you first saw the District Two tributes; they’re a lot meaner than they’ve been the previous years.

It’s only natural.

Now, today is the private session. And you just spent the last hour trying to teach Alyssum a trick that would catch the gamemaker’s attention. Unfortunately, she’s still shaky at it, and not entirely sure if she’s going to use it. But Rigg on the other hand--has decided that he’s going to try out something with a sword.

You run your fingers through your hair, motioning to the space in front of you, “Show Finnick.”

Alyssum gives you a reluctant look, “(Y/n)--”

“Come on.” Finnick urges.

Rigg isn’t even here, he hasn’t been spending much time inside of the apartment. It seems like he likes to run off, and you’re hoping that’s going to come in handy inside of the arena. If he’s not going to make allies, he’s going to need to be able to run.

That and he doesn’t seem to trust you and Finnick very much. Finnick’s gotten as close as Rigg will allow, but it’s not that much. He won’t tell you what he thinks about the other tributes, who he wants to make allies with, what his special skill is or what he’s going to do for the private training session. It’s all radio silence on his side of things.

And you understand that he’s afraid that you’ll pass all of that information off to Alyssum or something, but it’s really not like that. All he’s going is putting himself in a position where you see him as unpredictable, and therefore unreliable when it comes to certain things inside of the arena.

If you can’t confirm or deny his plans to sponsors, and you have to admit that you have no clue what his motive is--besides making it out alive--then he’s not worthy of sponsorship. And since he’s literally twelve like Alyssum, it puts him at an even bigger disadvantage.

Alyssum picks up some knives, twirling it between her fingers. She nails this, it doesn’t cut her skin at all. Then, she draws her arm back wickedly, throwing the first knife from her finger. Quickly, she passes off a second to her right hand, to throw again. It takes her only half a second to get a new knife to throw.

By the time that she’s done, there’s three new holes in the wall, and she’s nailed two out of three of the tricks. You go down the two steps, onto her level of the floor, continuing all the way up to where the knives are. You pluck them out, weighing them in your hands.

“Are these too heavy?”

“No, they weigh just fine.” she says, looking at you.

You stare at the human diagram on the wall. It’s the exact shape of Elysia. She wasn’t too thrilled to have her body shape be the example of a target, but it was what you two need.

Stopping right where Alyssum had been throwing, you take your shot at it. The first knife she always throws is for the thighs, left or right, it doesn’t matter. You aim for the right one. The next she throws aims for the heart, and hers all varies around the same area. This would be a good, direct kill. You get that one without a problem.

The one that Alyssum can’t get right is the forehead. You give Alyssum a look, and she shrugs her shoulders. All the holes reside around the head, not even one has come close to hitting the bullseye. You throw the final knife, getting the head without a single problem.

“Take your time inside of the session. I get that we want it to be quick, but it’s okay to be slow.” you fix some of her hair, “Go at your own pace. The gamemakers won’t be bored by the time you go in.”

“Make sure to be confident when you walk in. Wait until they say you can start, and they’ll also dismiss you.”

“Be nice to not get on their bad side, but show a little bit of arrogance.” you say, “And if you’re sure that you can’t get the forehead in there, aim for the throat.”

Finnick nods.

“Alright.” she nods, standing up straighter, “I guess I should go.”

You kiss her forehead, brushing her hair back, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” she hugs you, and then Finnick on her way out. As soon as the door shuts, you’re leaving the area and heading for the cellphone.

Finnick cleans up the wall as best as he can. But there’s a ton of holes in the wall, and the berry juice has left a faint stain on the white walls. Either way, Finnick dumps the materials, thanks the avox, and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.

You tap your feet slightly, leaning your head against the wall. It’s a long moment of ringing before the phone is finally picked up.

“(Y/n)?” a voice asks.

You raise your head, “Yes, who is this?”

“Caspian’s brother--Lucas.”

Lucas. Shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes and tan skin. He mostly roams around his house without a shirt, which always drives his mom nuts, but he never changes. Sweet kid, he’s turning fifteen this fall.

“What happened to Mox?”

“At the hospital, so is Reed, Caspian, my mom and Mags. He’s unwell, and last night he wasn’t too hot. Reed went to see my mom because he didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to worry you or Aly.” Lucas pauses for a moment, “My mom said that they should bring him to the clinic, and that’s what they’ve done. He’s… strapped down. Don’t want him to harm himself or anything.”

You close your eyes, trying to fight back the tears that are gathering. You pull the phone away from your face for a moment as you take a deep breath in, and then you place it right back up against your ear.

“You’re not supposed to be telling me this.” you say.

“Yeah, but Annie said it would be a good idea anyway. Want to talk to her?”

“Please.” you look at Finnick when he comes out of the hallway.

He has his eyebrows raised, and you’re shaking your head, trying to tell him that it’s not alright back home. In fact, it’s what you feared. It’s in shambles.

“(Y/n), how’s everything in the Capitol?” Annie asks, “Is Alyssum doing okay?”

“Got herself an alliance with the careers, looks promising. If she does well on tonight’s score, then she’s got an official spot.”

“Good.” she says, and then moves on, “Reed doesn’t want to tell you anything, so calling back later won’t do anything. He won’t admit it, even if you tell him everything you know. I’m keeping an eye on the both of them. I didn’t know much about what happened until two days ago.

“Mom’s been keeping me inside a lot, afraid that I’d get everyone around me sick. Only a stomach bug, I’m better now.” she pauses for a long moment, “Sounds like Caspian is back with Mags. I’d give them the phone, but they’ll assume the worst. Instead I’ll just say you called to check up on Mox.”

“Yeah, it’s not the best idea.” you hold your finger up to Finnick, “Which means that you shouldn’t tell them about the career alliance either.”

“I won’t, promise. Call again after the interviews, we’ll all be here. Good luck, (Y/n). Give my best wishes to Alyssum, please.”

“I will,” you say, “Thank you, Annie.”

“No problem.” and then there’s a click.

You place the phone on the hook, taking in a deep breath as you look at Finnick, “Mox is in the clinic because they’re afraid he’s going to hurt himself. Reed and a couple of others are there to visit him.”

“Oh, (Y/n).” Finnick says, face drooping as he reaches out. You let him take you in a hug, squeezing him tightly as you cry into your shoulder.

“Sit, please.” Elysia begs, pushing Laurel and the prep team to the big couch that’s entirely dedicated to them. Pleurisy and the others are already sitting on that same couch, ready to go.

You’ve got Finnick to your right, and Alyssum in your arms on the left. Elysia gets her own private arm chair, and so does Rigg, all the way on the right side of the living room. He’s got his legs pulled up to his knees, and he refuses to talk.

“I’m nervous.” Alyssum mutters.

“It’s okay, Aly.” you rub her shoulder, “As long either of you got anything over an eight, we’ll be fine.”

Caesar then shows up on screen, and suddenly everyone is readjusting in their seats to sit up taller, lean forward or get comfortable. You don’t move. Just tighten your arm around Alyssum’s shoulders.

Starting with District One’s Marvel, he kicks it off with a nine. And this is when you know you can relax. If a boy like him is getting something so low, then it’s easy. Alyssum will be just fine. And since Glimmer gets the same score, you can let out a breath of air.

With Clove and Cato, they get ten’s, which was expected. For District Three, get averagely low scores, and for your tributes, you sit up a little more.

“District Four, Rigg Estridge with a score of six.”

You resist the urge to physically wince. Instead, you turn to Rigg with a warm smile, “That’s good, Rigg.”

He gives a timid smile, and your attention is turned right back to Caesar.

He has a smile on his face, looking up to the camera for a moment, “District Four, Alyssum Gallows with a score of--” he pauses on purpose, and the smile only widens, “--eight.”

You shake Alyssum’s shoulder excitedly, patting her upper arm a bit. She looks as happy as you do about all of this. The praise comes from everyone, directed to both Rigg and Alyssum.

The next few tributes aren’t all that important, they all get around the same score, which only means that they hadn’t done anything outstanding inside of the training center when they had the chances. Not even their private sessions were good, it seems.

Then, it hits Haymitch’s tributes. First is Peeta, who gets an eight. It’s not that bad, it’s actually pretty good. Considering that the careers are always the ones to have a score between eight and ten, he basically qualifies. As for Katniss--she gets an eleven.

You hum, eyes a little wide. You can’t remember the last time Haymitch has got a pair of good tributes. You can only imagine that if his tributes win, it’s going to dig him out of his twenty-four year long streak of only losers.

“Regretting anything yet?” Finnick whispers, you turn to look at him.

“She’s only one person--two if Peeta sticks with her. Alyssum will be surrounded by four people, and she fits right in. I’m not worried about Katniss.”

You look back at the screen, only to see that Caesar is analyzing the scores briefly, until he hits Alyssum again. Then, he picks apart everything that he thinks might have happened, “Do any of you folks remember what had happened during the Gallows’ family interview?”

He then pulls up a clip from the interview. Alyssum was only three then, so little. But that’s not his focus. No, he plays a particular clip where they’re discussing your score;

“That’s a reasonable thought,” Caesar says, a few people in the audience agree, but it’s basically none, “What about her training score? A ten is a very big score, especially for someone who’s fifteen! I would never have guessed it.”

“Me neither.” Reed admits, “I thought she’d get something a little lower, but she always has a trick up her sleeve. She likely thought up some trick last minute that she knew would blow the gamemaker’s minds. And it worked just like she had hoped.”

“I bet she did that trick with the two knives.” Mox says, “Do you remember her doing that?”

Reed shakes his head, “Not really.”

“It’s a difficult trick to pull off, it takes a lot of practice. But if she did the one I’m thinking about, it’s likely the reason why she got one so high. It would be impressive to see her kill two tributes at once.”

After the clip, Caesar’s back, “It makes me wonder if Alyssum had pulled off that same trick that we were never able to see--or something similar! I hope we get to see it inside of the arena.” he winks.

It moves on after that, and Elysia shuts the tv off, turning to all of you, “How do you feel about a celebratory dessert?”

This week has been one huge blur. You still can’t believe that the interviews are tonight, and your sister goes into the arena tomorrow. The fact that she’s a tribute in the hunger games doesn’t seem real to you at all.

This has to be one big nightmare that you can’t escape. Your little sister, Alyssum Gallows, who is twelve years old and has only five years of experience and her name was only in the freaking glass bowl once is going inside of the arena. Nine years ago she was three, and you were in the arena, yourself.

It seems like there’s some unfortunate pattern when it comes to the women in the Gallow’s family. First it was your great-grandmother, caught and killed for her participation in the rebellion. Then it was your grandmother for not obeying the laws and standing up for herself when a peacekeeper was out of line.

Then it was your mother, not surviving childbirth. You came close to death a number of times, thanks to the arena. And right when you had thought your family has gotten off lucky--that you had finally managed to break the streak--it falls onto Alyssum. If the universe couldn’t have you, then it would definitely have her.

You know that after this, when you get home, you’re going to see the remnants of Reed and Mox. Mox will probably have to be medicated for the rest of his life, like Annie. Only time will make the wounds better, but they will never fully heal. Alyssum is the final product of your mother, and sometimes, is her.

Reed will throw himself into work. Maybe something dangerous, something that will get him away from you all for a good amount of time. Take week-long fishing trips, and only come home for a day, before leaving again. You can’t imagine he’ll be able to take the pity that everyone will be giving you, well.

And you can assume that the nightmares will resume. They haven’t just yet, but they will when you get back home. You’ll have to avoid the television for months in order not to see the recaps. As for the victory tour--you don’t think you’ll be able to hand it. To have to stand on a platform with your two brothers, barely sane and being held together with tape and glue.

Finnick will finally be able to see what it’s like to be a part of the family. Misfortune follows you all like the grim reaper. It was only a matter of time before the next big thing would happen.

“Please get that look off your face.” Finnick’s voice is gentle, he reaches up to bring your chin a little higher, wanting you to look at him, “You’ve done a very good job this week. She’s got sponsors, she’s got an alliance, and a high score. You and your brothers prepared her well, just like you said you would.”

“I don’t want her to go inside.” you tell him, throat feeling thick. You look back to the door where she’s supposed to come out in a few moments, “I want her to stay.”

“I know.” Finnick says, pulling you into him. He wraps his arms around you, and you lean your head against his chest, reaching up to grab one of his arms.

You two of you stand like this, staring at the door. The second she comes out, you’re going to have to force a smile and give her more pointers about what she should do on the stage. For now, you get a long moment with your thoughts.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go home.” the words leave your mouth without a second thought to them, “Not because I can’t face my brothers, but I don’t think I want to see what they’ll become.”

“I’m here with you.” Finnick says, “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I know, I get that. But I can’t see them so broken and torn apart. Mox hadn’t even been like this for mom or dad. And Reed literally raised Alyssum and I…” you trail off, eyebrows drawing in, “I can face all the looks from everyone, and the funeral, and the apologies. But my brothers are a whole new thing.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, but his arms do tighten around you a little at the thought of all that. He probably forgot entirely about the funeral. But it’s really not only that. As soon as they retrieve her body, they’re going to do their best to restore what she looked like before she died, and you and Finnick are going to have to approve it.

Then you get to travel back home with her in a casket that the Capitol provides. Since she was a tribute, and she ‘served’ them, she’ll be in a white one, with a Capitol seal as well as a district one.

You frown now, “No, I don’t think I’ll go home.”

Finnick opens his mouth, but the door opens, and it reveals Alyssum in the biggest blue dress you’ve ever seen her in. She gives a bright smile, and you give one back. She twirls a little for you, holding onto her necklace to keep it in its perfect place. Then, she does a curtsy.

“I love it!” she laughs, coming out of the doorway to allow Elysia and Laurel to slip out of the room, “I’m like royalty.”

“Because you are.” you want to give her a hug, but it’ll have to wait until after the interview.

She looks like she did when she was a child. Playing pretend with the fairy wands and the pretend paper and plastic crowns. You never understood her obsession, but now seeing it in front of you, it’s because she was able to have a childhood. Thanks to you winning the hunger games, you brought your family out of poverty, and it was right in time for Alyssum to start playing with toys.

You almost feel guilty for taking it away from her so soon. She really only got four years before you all were on her back simultaneously. Then again, your early training is what’s going to save her. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“Alright, make sure that one of the first things out of your mouth is a compliment to the Ca[pitol. Like their people, outfits, the apartments that they provide, whatever.” you tell her, “I want you to act like yourself today, okay? Make them melt.”

“Right.” she smiles, “I guess I don’t have to lay it on too thick, then. Especially with this dress.”

You laugh, “You’re already halfway there.”

“Answer the questions honestly, but if you think that it’ll get you in trouble, don’t. It’s okay to lie, they’re not going to know the difference. Not if we’re all going to lie with you.” Finnick says, “If you don’t like a question, answer shortly, and then move on before he can ask you a second question about it. He won’t go back.”

“Three minutes on stage.” you hold up your fingers, “He’ll likely split it into three things. Family, the Capitol, and then either a message you can say, or something about yourself. If you ever get nervous, we’re in the crowd. Find us if you need someone to look at for comfort. But I’d really like it if you looked around the room.”

“I can do this.” she says, “I think I’m ready.”

“Follow Caesar’s lead, he’s going to make you comfortable.” Finnick says lastly, “He’s got you.”

You all go to the line in the hallway to see the other tributes. You wish Alyssum good luck, before heading off towards to retrieve Rigg next. He’s not excited, more nervous and scared. You tell him that he’ll do just fine, and drop him off next to Alyssum.

You and Finnick find your places in the crowd, taking a very special spot next to Haymitch. He doesn’t care that you’ve sat next to him, and he even offers his flask without a word.

You take it from him, take a nice gulp, and then pass it off to Finnick while your throat burns. This has to be the Capitol stuff, the districts don’t even nearly have something this strong. Finnick sputters out a cough, and the three of you share a laugh because of it.

“Thanks.” you say.

“You probably need it more than me.”

Caesar introduces the show like he always does, for the audience back home. He starts off with Glimmer, who comes on stage in a short pink dress, her blonde hair curled and a wide smile on her face, waving to the audience. Next is Marvel, who easily tours over Caesar because of his height.

Clove comes in with a red dress, looking mean and smart. She spends her time being sarcastic, but clearly winning the hearts of the people around you. In this time, Haymitch passes the flask over for another drink, and you take it without complaint. You’d rather be drunk than sober when Rigg finally rolls around.

Cato is dressed in a blue suit, and talks about himself the entire time. When the interview is finally over, you’re all relieved and happy to be watching someone who isn’t as full of themselves. Before you know it, the District Four tributes are up.

Alyssum comes up the stage, holding the bottom of her dress just barely up enough so that she doesn’t trip on it. She stops next to Caesar, and the crowd is absolutely in love. You can hear a few people behind you muttering about the dress, and then the crown.

“Wow!” Caesar gasps, “That is--” he backs up, trying to get a whole view of it. Alyssum poses for him, and even turns side to side to allow him to see all of it, “Amazing! Let me guess, you’re supposed to be a princess?”

“Yes!” Alyssum gives a big smile to the crowd, catching you and Finnick instantly. And just as you instructed, she looks out to other people, “Being here in the Capitol makes me feel so…” she stops for a moment, thinking of the word.

“Famous?” Caesar encourages.

“Famous! That’s the word.” she laughs--or more, giggles--at herself, “It makes me feel like I have some fans.”

Caesar gasps, “How could we not? I know I have been a big fan, ever since I saw you for the first time! And you were just a little toddler.”

Behind her, a screen changes to her on Reed’s lap during the family interview.

Alyssum covers her mouth with one hand, “Oh, that’s embarrassing.”

The crowd loves this, and soon, Caesar is encouraging her to sit down too. Following in the footsteps of the six people before her. When she sits, the dress almost consumes her entirely, but she’s able to readjust enough so that it’s fixed.

“Now tell me, Alyssum, what was going through your mind at the reaping?”

Alyssum presses her lips together, a clear sign that she doesn’t like the question. She fakes thinking for a moment, and then gives a shy smile, “I was upset that it was my first year of the reaping and I’d have to go inside of the arena. I thought I’d have a few more years until I would have to start to worry. But, it’s not like that anymore.”

Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Why’s that?”

“I have my older sister here with me.” she places her laced fingers on one of her knees, “Even if this is my last few days, I get to spend it with the person I look up to the most. Or, should I say people. Finnick is pretty cool too.”

She looks right at you and Finnick, giving a cheeky smile.

“Speaking of which, what is it like being in the shadow of her? Being constantly compared to her?” Caesar asks, this question is especially ironic because he’s the one doing it.

“Hard, knowing that I won’t ever compare. But kinda fun too, knowing that people were already familiar with me.” She says, “It’s like going somewhere, thinking it’ll be full of strangers, but instead it’s just family friends.”

“What a thoughtful way to put it.” Caesar says, and then smiles, looking out to the crowd, “what do you think folks? Are you a family friend?”

You wince at how loud the auditorium gets, but give Alyssum a reassuring smile. This is a good sign, a whole audience full of ‘family friends’. This seems to boost Aly’s confidence a little too, and she sits a little taller in her chair.

“You scored very high on your training.” Caesar says, and Alyssum nods.

“I did.”

He smiles at this, “Is there any hidden skills we should know of?”

Alyssum laughs, “If I told you--it wouldn’t be hidden!”

“Fine, do you think you’ll surprise us inside of the arena?”

Alyssum tilts her head with a sweet smile, “I think I might, but you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

The crowd is cheering now, and the buzzer is going off. It’s perfect timing, in your mind. Caesar and Alyssum stand together, he takes her hand in his, and encourages her to step forward. She gives a curtsy, one that’s much more graceful than the one she gave you and Finnick in the hallway.

The crowd is standing now, clapping louder. She gives one final wave, thanking them for their time, and then she’s leaving to go back to the hallway.

As everyone takes their seats again, you and Finnick are slipping out of the crowd, not too focused on Rigg. He’s made his intentions clear, you won’t bother trying to salvage something that doesn’t want to be salvaged.

In the back, Alyssum is twirling around in her dress, and the second her eyes land on you, she’s running over. You hug her tightly, with only praise rolling off Finnick’s tongue.

Now you only have to worry about tomorrow.

#ilguna #whist #whist chapter three #lacuna au

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