#victor is back there but i ran out of room for him

[galarfiend]

ouch

panel 2 of a comic i tried to make.

you only get this one, the panel that i did first and tried out a new style with.

when i tried to do the other panels and replicate the style, my sanity started to crack and i was going on 17 attempts and was on the verge of tears so i had to just give up

im going to try again tomorrow but if i still cant get it then im going to either start from scratch or scrap the comic entirely

but this panel --despite being my personal hell-- is cute nonetheless. so here <3

#source: @wizard-email on tumblr #they wrote the text #my art #tried taking some inspo from bdsp and some japanese pop artists that i follow #digital art #found family #pokemon gloria #pokemon hop #pokemon marnie #pokemon bede #victor is back there but i ran out of room for him #ITS SO CUTE IM SO FUCKING MAD!! #they say when you love your job you never work a day in your life #but that cant be true! #because i LOVE my job! #but let me tell you that i have WORKED SOME D A Y S

[avoxrising]

Saw You In That Dress

Finnick x Reader

Masterlist Link

So @kittimbo posted this fic idea on their blog and I wanted to give a shot at writing it (see repost of the request on my blog).

Basically the reader is another victor from District 4 and Finnick’s childhood best friend. She has to go to an event in the capital in a sheer dress and it leaves Finnick very flustered and things heat up back at her place… smut ahead!

Content warnings - cursing, prostitution, unwanted public nudity, very smutty

“Tigris you can’t be serious,” you groan as you see the dress she brought you. It was made of purple organza and was very see through. Your whole body would be on display. Tigris had enough decency to provide you with a small nude thong but your chest was fully on display.

“Client’s request,” Tigris responds. “You just have to be with him during the event and then you get the rest of the night off to wear whatever you want. The siren must make her appearances after all.”

The capital had called you “The Siren” since your games. During the final eight interview your sister told the capital how you were the best singer in District 4 and the capital ran wild with that comment. You were made to pick up singing as your official victor hobby and the rest is history.

Knowing what would happen if you didn’t comply, you reluctantly let Tigris dress you. The dress wouldn’t actually be so bad if it wasn’t see through. The fabric flowed beautifully around your features and the halter top was covered in expensive jewels. Unfortunately, all anyone would notice was your bare top half, not the rest of you.

As your driver takes you to the event at Snow’s mansion you have a moment of panic. The fact that your childhood best friend and mentor, Finnick, was also going to be in attendance was a sense of relief until you saw what you would be wearing. Now you have to avoid him. You can’t let him see you in this dress. That’s literally the definition of embarrassing.

Luckily, the event is fairly crowded. You’re stuck to your client like glue for the whole evening, trying to hide your dress behind him as much as possible. Unfortunately, he purchased you and this dress for the sole intent of checking you out and showing you off, so he mainly kept you in front of him so your girls were in eyesight at all times. You could barely hide your discomfort.

“Come on Siren darling you need to meet my sister,” he coos. “She’s a big fan of Tigris and she would love to see your dress. I’m sure her date would too.”

You reluctantly join him as he glides across the room. The sight of his sister and her date makes you freeze. Of course it had to be Finnick. The second he notices your outfit his eyes shoot to the floor, doing his best not to stare.

“Celia my dear sister!” your client exclaims as he introduces you to a woman with green hair and eyes like a snake. “I’d like you to meet my lovely victor for tonight. Did you know Tigris designed her dress?”

The woman gushes over your dress, running the fabric through her fingers as you stand their uncomfortably. Ironically, Finnick looks more uncomfortable than you. He’s sweating and shifting from foot to foot. What is he doing?

“I’ll be right back,” he tells his date, scurrying away. She’s too enthralled by your dress to notice his absence but you can’t help but feel betrayed. Why was he leaving you alone to fend for yourself?

The rest of the event passes too slowly. It’s finally 3am when your driver picks you up to bring you back to the victors’ apartments in the capital. You spend the car ride removing all the pins from your hair and the jewels from your neckline that Tigris glued on.

When you get back to your apartment, all you want to do is change into actual comfy clothes and go to sleep, but your plans are sidelined by Finnick sitting at your kitchen counter. You can’t help but stare at him in disbelief, as if he had the audacity to think you’d want to hang out with him at this hour, right after he left you alone with your client and his.

You let out a long exhale before dropping your shoes by the door and heading to your room, eager to get out of your dress. Finnick, of course, follows you. What the hell was his problem?

“Hey,” he says as you walk further into your apartment. “How was your night?”

“Awful,” you huff, finally turning around to face him. “What are you even doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he nervously replies, doing his best to keep his eyes on your face.

“Well everyone has seen a whole lot of me tonight,” you retort. You cross your arms over your chest, causing Finnick’s eyes to abruptly snap back up to your face. He was definitely looking.

“I like the dress,” he comments. You roll your eyes and turn to head towards the room when he stops you, putting one of his hands on your arm.

“Wait,” he says. “I just wanted to apologize for leaving you with my client. I just couldn’t control myself with you in that dress. You looked…”

You look up at him, slightly confused. Sure you two had always been somewhat flirty for two people who were just friends, but something about the way you two were flirting tonight felt different.

“You couldn’t control yourself?” you smirk.

“No,” he shyly replies. “I really couldn’t.”

“Well what would you do if you didn’t have to control yourself?” you ask, dragging your fingers down the arm that lay on your shoulder.

“Do you really want to know?” he asks, using his arm to maneuver you so your back was against the wall. Things were definitely different tonight.

“Yes,” you nervously swallow. “Please.”

He hungrily encapsulates your lips with his as his hands hold you firmly against the wall. Was your childhood best friend and longtime crush actually kissing you?

His hands roamed up your stomach until they sat just under your boobs, hands pressing gently into the sheer fabric covering them.

“If I didn’t have to control myself in there I would have dragged you to Snow’s office so I could bend you over his desk and fuck you till you couldn’t walk,” he growls. “You would be singing my name like the deadly siren you are. I would leave marks all over you till your arms and neck matched your dress and everyone knew you didn’t belong to them.”

His hands dig into the flesh of your boobs and you let out a soft moan. You needed his hands in a million different places right now but the words wouldn’t form to tell him that.

“You just look too good in that dress,” he groans, pressing himself closer to you. Your hands drift down his torso until they come to rest over his dress pants. They were definitely getting a bit tight due to the conversation.

“I might look better with it off,” you smirk at him, sliding your hand down gently over his bulge. He let out a deep groan at the contact and swiftly guided you back over to your couch just a few feet away, where he promptly had you sit on his lap, facing him.

“I want to show them that they don’t own you,” he says as you kiss his neck, definitely leaving marks. You pull back for a moment to look into his deep blue green eyes. The two of you had crossed a line, and there was no going back to just friends.

“They don’t,” you tell him. “I won’t let them own you either.”

The moment intensifies until Finnick smashes his lips back into yours, hands pulling up the bottom of your dress. He slides your thong to the side and quickly goes to undo his pants. You impatiently yank them down to his knees, watching his very prominent erection bounce up to hit his stomach.

No words needed to be said, you two already knew what the other was thinking. You take ahold of his member and line it up with your soaking entrance. Only he could do this to you.

He unties the halter top of your dress, fully exposing your breasts to him. He can’t help but run is hands over them and give them a squeeze.

“They’re perfect,” he grins, looking up at you. “You’re perfect.”

You pull his lips to yours as you sink down onto him. He stretches you out nicely and it takes you a second to adjust to his size.

Slowly, you pull back up before sitting yourself back down onto him, moaning in the process.

“Fuck Finnick,” you groan. He ruts his hips up into yours, telling you to get moving. You heed his command and begin to bounce up and down on him, the sound of skin hitting skin filling your apartment.

He presses his face to your chest and gently bites and sucks as you ride him, loving the way your boobs bounce with every thrust. Eventually he has you turn around so he can wrap his arms around you and hold your boobs while you bounce on him.

He lets out a groan and you can tell he’s close, his dick twitching inside of you. The feeling in your stomach lets you know you’re close too, but you need something more.

You wrap one of your hands around his, guiding it down to your swollen clit.

“Please,” you beg as you push his hand towards your core. He does not disappoint as his fingers make contact with your clit.

It’s only a few moments later before your orgasm comes crashing down on you, with Finnick not far behind. He pulls you down onto him as he spurts himself deep into you, burying his face in your neck. You don’t think he could get any deeper but he continues to thrust as he coats your walls.

When the moment fades, he gently lifts you off of him, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he goes to get a warm towel. You lay back on the couch, exhausted. You would have to lie to Tigris about why the dress got so sweaty.

“Here,” Finnick hums as he lays you back on the couch. He proceeds to wipe you up, your clit throbbing from the contact. After you are both cleaned up, you ditch the idea of pjs and climb into your bed together, the sun already rising over the capital.

“We should have done that a lot sooner,” Finnick states. You give him a happy hum in response as you nuzzle up against him. “Thank god I saw you in that dress.”

-

I hope this was in line with your idea! Let me know in the comments what y’all think of this and if I should do more of possessive Finnick in the future.

#hunger games #hunger games fic #finnick odair #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair smut #hunger games smut #finnick smut

[eymie]

THE LYING KIND !

pairings: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: manipulation, possessiveness, fluff (at the beginning), angst, smut, kissing, oral (m. receiving)

summary: coriolanus is starting to grow suspicious that you’ve caught onto his lies. now you have to get his trust back.

a/n: title inspired by duvet by boa.

You had found Coriolanus in District 12, in The Hob. His blond curls shaved, and his sweet expression replaced with a cold one. Until he had seen you. Singing on that stage, voice so sweet his breath caught at the sight. Your little twirls as you sung. His girl.

His victor, his girl, his bird. You caught his eyes as you melted on that stage. A smile engulfing your face, twirling again. When the lights dimmed and you ran to him. Your Coriolanus.

A night you snuck out, meeting him at the hanging tree. Your hands rubbing over his shaved head, missing the way his curls threaded in your fingers.

You'd take him down to the lake, your wet bodies rubbing against each other in the cold water. Enjoying the way his skin rubbed against yours. His cold dog tag tingling against your chest as you pressed together.

His soft touches in the field just outside the forest where it was forbidden to go. When his hand would travel up your skirt, teasing the skin of your inner thighs. His lips brushing against your own. When Coriolanus kissed, he kissed like he was a starving man and you were his last meal. Like he would die if he let go, like he'd stop breathing.

"You can trust me, Coriolanus." You'd whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours. He's hum, nodding.

"I know." He trusted you, and you trusted him.

Coriolanus was a possessive man, you knew this well. When you'd sing and men would compliment your voice he couldn't help but be angry, jealous, hateful. You were his, not theirs.

He hated Sejanus, he couldn't help it. When you'd laugh with him in the crowded rooms. Innocent conversations had Coriolanus biting back his insults. You were his. You were his. You were his. Those men couldn't have you, Sejanus couldn't have you. If you thought to touch another man your body would be the result.

He was a liar, you felt it. You could tell by the way he'd stumble over his words, make excuses. You knew he was possessive, that he was overprotective too. If someone was to threaten you there would be a bounty on their head.

He started noticing your reactions. The way you looked at him in confusion, or hurt. Then again, you were always a better actor than him. He wasn't the same sweet mentor back in the games.

He knew it was over for him when you ran into that room with guns. He blocked you off from the others, the yelling being muffled by the band and loud crowd outside. He knew there was no going back when he grabbed that gun and shot Mayfair. The way you stared back at him in horror, it was over. Trust me, trust me, trust me.

The Coriolanus you had met those two months ago wasn't the cold man standing in front of you. He didn't seem the lying kind back then. Now, you felt his paranoia, his anger, his crave.

Sejanus sobbed in the back of the room but all he could hear was your hyperventilating. His hand going to caress your face but you pulled from his touch.

You ran home that night, Billy and Mayfair bleeding out in that room. Fearing you were next. You clutched your blankets, sobbing into your pillow. You weren't surprised when the town was called to the hanging tree the next morning.

You stood in the crowd, waiting for your own name. Coriolanus stood up front with the rest of the peacekeepers, except Sejanus. You looked around for him until you saw other peacekeepers drag him up to the platform. Jabberjays repeating his screams for him and the recording that got him hung. The sound of Coriolanus' voice on the other end. Bobbin, Mayfair, Sejanus. You knew you were next, whether it be at his hands or the tree.

You ran from the hanging tree that morning, into a dark alley to catch your breath. You didn't know he had followed you until you turned around and saw him.

"You alright?" He asked, trying not to raise your suspicions or scare you. His hand reaches for yours but you pull it away quickly. "You don't trust me."

"I do."

"You don't" He growled, cornering you against the wall. You watched as his adams apple bobbed. His fingers wrapping around your wrist. "Don't lie."

"I wouldn't lie to you Coriolanus--" He cut you off with a hard kiss. It was different than before. It was aggressive, dominating. He was swallowing you words, trying to deter you from your suspicions.

"Are you going to leave me?" He pulls away, looking into your eyes that were holding back tears. He furrowed his eyebrows waiting for you to catch your breath and answer him.

"Why would I?"

"You were. I know you were." He held your chin up, angling your face to look back up at him. "After everything I've done for you. I'm the reason you're alive right now."

"You can trust me, please." You begged, trying to get him to below you. His voice was loud, you wanted to beg him to quiet down. He knew better than that.

"What did I do?" He yelled and you looked around hoping no one heard. The dark alley was empty besides the two of you.

You hated the way his voice still made you clench your thighs. The way that if he begged you’d still let him take you against these brick walls.

"Nothing." You whined, trying to convince him. His girl bruising against your wrist. His face was inches from yours.

"You were going to turn me in." He spat, accusing you. If he wanted to, you could be dead just like Mayfair, Bobbin or Sejanus.

"I wasn't!" You tugged your wrist out of his grip. Your words come out in a whine. You weren’t leaving this alley alive. You caressed his cheek with your hand, knowing he would fall for your lies. He has been the whole time. "I love you."

He was taken aback, backing up a bit from you. You walked forward after him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Let me show you that." You mumbled before softly kissing him, staring into his eyes innocently. You kissed his jaw, fingers hooking around his pant loops praying his didn't notice your shaking hands.

He groaned, his hand threading in your hair. He pulled you into another deep kiss. A kiss of relief, that he believed you. He felt hot against your touch.

You two had touched before, in the cabin by the lake when he'd dry you off. When they'd lay in the field or when he'd pull you back stage. He's explored your body with his hands, partially. Never being the one to purge your true innocence.

He didn't expect her to fall to your knees in front him. The dirty bricks probably leaving marks and bruises.

He almost went to stop her when you unbuttoned his pants. The sound of his pants unzipping as you looked back up at him.

“Can I?” She whispered, even though you knew nobody came near this part of town. You felt him rub the back of your head, your hair getting tangled in his fingers.

“Yes, yes.” He nodded, pulling your hair back a bit to look him in the eyes. Your hands pulled down his pants and boxers just enough for his hard length to fall out. You looked up at him and he nodded. He was longer than you had expected, his pre-cum pooling at his pink tip.

Your tongue kitten licked his tip, the warmth of it making him groan. The tip of your tongue running along the underside of his cock.

“Don’t tease.” He groaned, pulling your head back to look at him. He pushed you back down, forcing his cock past your lips.

You took him as far into your mouth as you could, grabbing at his pants to stabilize herself. His hips thrusted, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him.

“So warm— fuck, and wet.” He pushed your head down in his cock. You sputtered around his length, saliva spilling down his cock. “Fuck, take it.”

Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You scratching at his hip bone as he fucked your throat. You breathed out your nose, fighting back your gags. He let go of his head, you pulled off his cock gasping for air. You wrapped her hand around his cock, sucking his tip back into your mouth.

“M’gonna cum.” He whimpered, you heard it even if he tried to hide it with a groan. The way you hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head allowing him to cum down your throat.

You closed your eyes, tears now straining your cheeks. You heard him mutter at you to swallow so you did. Swallow his hot cum down your bruised throat.

“Good girl.” He stroked your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I trust you.”

masterlist

#coryo #coryo x reader #coryolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coryo smut #coryo x you

[maggiecc]

When the World Shifts (Finnick O'dair x reader)

Finnick O’Dair x reader

TW: It's about the Hunger Games, so murder, talks of death, Annie has panic attacks

This first part does not use Y/N, for the next part should I include it, or continue to disclude it?

No Betas, we die like Vikings.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4:TBD

“On the third quarter quill game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.” Snow continued his speech, but you stopped being able to hear it, his words turning into static.

“No, No, No” You hear Annie mumble. You turn to look at her as she starts to shake, and her mumbles turn to screams. She had covered her ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut “NO, NO, NO!”

You wrap her up into your arms, stroking her hair, whispering words of comfort all while you felt the same. You too wanted to scream but screaming would do you no good and you knew this. You cannot afford to fall apart, not now, not with Annie here. The announcement of the quarter quell, that the 75th Hunger Games would be made up of victors meant your safety from the games was gone. You didn’t want to believe it, that it was possible, but Annie’s tears were enough proof for you to believe it.

Before you could think about reentering the games, you both jumped at the sound of a door slamming shut and footsteps running toward the room you sat in. You knew who it was, you wanted to get up and run to him, but you knew you could not let go of Annie. She clung to you as if you were her lifeline, and perhaps you were for the moment grounding her to remind her where she is something she cannot always tell. As the steps got closer you tried to think of what you should do, or say but there was nothing. The sound of the door being ripped open caused Annie to jump getting ready to fight an instinct all the tributes held. The other 2 victors of District 4 had entered. You turn to try and grab Annie but before you can grab her someone else beats you to it. Mags had her in her arms and started to sink to the ground with her as her cries continued. Finally being able to pull your focus from Annie you turn to look at the man who had yet to leave the entryway.

“Finnick,” you whispered the tears finally starting to fall “Oh Finnick.” You ran to him as he opened his arms to grab you. As you reach him you wrap your arms around him, and he mirrored you, one arm around your waist and one holding the back of your head, lacing his fingers through your hair. Your head was pressed to his chest and you could hear his heart racing, it was the only thing you could hear, even drowning out Annie who now was just whimpering in Mags’s arm. Your tears began to soak his shirt but neither of you cared about that. You did not know what to do, or what to say, so you just let yourself be held and pretend for a moment everything will be okay.

The night of the announcement was a whirlwind, the District 4 tributes all stayed together, few words were spoken that night, but many tears were spilled. You all held each other, only leaving to make tea, or grab tissues. The next morning when you awoke you noticed you were short a person, Annie and Mags rested together but Finnick was gone. You felt your breath quicken as you ran out of the room.

“Finnick? Finnick?” You tried to keep your voice low, you knew if you woke Annie and she heard you calling for Finnick she would panic again.

As you turned the corner you heard a response called from the kitchen “In here love.” 

“Finnick you can’t just leave like that!” You scold him, voicing raising by accident. You take a moment to close your eyes and breathe, knowing you need to remain calm in the coming days, working yourself up would not help. “When I didn’t see you, I got nervous I, I”

“I’m sorry darling, I wanted to get the food ready before everyone awoke so we could eat it again you all wouldn’t have to worry” He explained. 

You let out a soft sign, “ Alright well I’ll help you finish to make it go faster. Annie and Mags will be up soon.” 

The two of you start to move around the kitchen together, moving in tandem to finish the breakfast he had started. It was simple food, only toast, and eggs, all of you so sick to the stomach over the news you would not be able to eat anything else. As Finnick worked on the eggs you put the toast in and started to boil water for tea.

You turn to look at Finnick trying to gather your thoughts “Finnick we need to start”

“Not now,” He cut you off “Let's eat breakfast first and wait until Mags can speak with us too.” 

You silently nod, noticing his purposeful exclusion of Annie, and although you knew why it still hurt to think about. Annie had been doing so much better before the news broke, and thinking about how she was reduced to her state right after her games hurt you. She was like a sister to you, and seeing all her progress dissipate was almost as bad as the news itself.

You both simply look at each other for a moment, both thinking the same thing but neither of you speaking it. The silence is broken by the kettle’s whistle, both breaking your eye contact to return to your kitchen task.

Eventually, you both gather the food and drinks onto a tray and carry it back into the room with Annie and Mags. You place the tray down on the table and go towards the duo. You first wake Mags, giving her a light tap which wakes her instantly. She never fully sleeps anymore always being ready to jump awake at any noise or movement. She looks at you and her eyes soften, expressing all she needs to say. Next was the more difficult one, you put Annie’s head in your lap and start to hum as you stroke her hair, slowly getting louder and louder. Eventually, she jumps awake instantly screaming squeezing her eyes shut.

“Annie, Annie, it's me” You plead to her

“No, no no!”

“Annie please open your eyes, it’s me, it's us.” You continue and eventually, she opens her eyes and sees you. She stops trying to break out of your arms, but her shaking does not stop completely. You then get her to sit up, keeping her between Mags and you and Finnick puts the plates down in front of all of you. 

The silence continues as you all eat the food. It's difficult to swallow the food, every bite feeling like it is going to come back up, but you know now is not the time to starve yourself, not with the games looming overhead. Once you were all finished eating, you started to pile the plates but before you could bring them to the kitchen Mags took them from you to walk them back.

“I can,” you try to stop her, but she shakes her head to you. As Mags leaves you stand and then help Annie up. She was clearly still tired and although you have all been together, you don’t blame her, she had been tense the entire night. You bring her to the couch in the room and hold her hand until she falls back asleep. Once she was done you slipped your hand away from hers and let out a soft sign.

“We have to talk about this,” You tell Finnick, now that Annie is asleep you know you can no longer avoid speaking about the games.

“I know,” he replied, feeling the same weight as you. Mags then walks back into the room, and you all look at each other.

“What, what, what do we do?” You ask, looking at the other victors, unsure of where even to begin.

“We need to figure out who is going in.” Finnick responds “I am the only male victor, but the three of you have an equal chance of getting chosen.”

“We can’t let Annie go back in, she wouldn’t be able to handle it” you begin to explain “And Mags, no offense, but you cannot go back in there. You look so young for 80 but the other victors could be in their prime”

“No, you can’t” Finnick tried to argue but you cut him off.

“Finnick one of us has too, and I am the only one who stands a chance, you else? Annie can’t and I won’t let Mags.” He begins to open his mouth to argue but you don’t even give him the chance. “Finnick, please don’t argue with me on this, I won’t change my mind. Annie will need someone with her here, and I am the most capable in the arena.”

Finnick looked at you, battling with you without words until he eventually lost. 

“Fine, but we stay together and you cannot put yourself in any unnecessary danger”

“Okay, and the same goes for you, we get out of this together.” You put your pinky out.

“Together” He responds, wrapping his pinky with yours.

#finnick odair #Finnick O’Dair #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #annie cresta #thg #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick fanfiction #finnick odair imagines #the hunger games fanfiction #mags flanagan #coriolanus snow

[hidden-poet]

President Snow; part 1

President Snow

part 1/3

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

summary: After lucy gray there was you.

warnings: unco/dubco, power imbalance, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, punishments not fun-ishments, P in V, Spanking, face fucking, oversimulation, SA, breedding kink, unfaithfulness.

I would like to apologize to god for witting this.

Coriolanus would never allow himself to love again. Not after Lucy Grey. Not after his full discovery of who he really was; a victor.

He held no love for his wife, Clemensia or their four children they had. Coriolanus was grateful when she told him she was done providing him with children to parade around. Rutting into her never held the same level of satisfaction that your cunt provides.

He couldn't love you. He won't love you. But he does love the way you feel.

3 out of 4 of his children were conceived with the memory of your first night. It was his favorite memory of you to get hard to.

The power he felt as he dragged you across the marble floors that you had just cleaned by your wrist. The other servants avoided the sound of your screaming. He was president Snow now. No longer a impoverished school boy. He could do as he liked.

And he liked you.

From the first time he set eyes on you he liked you.

It was why he was so cruel to begin with. Nothing was up to his standard's, try as you did. The tea was too cold. The tea was too hot. he could feel the dust in the room, even if he couldn't see it. Most days ended with the cane to your back from your head mistress.

It was ironically his downfall. He would squirm in his chair while trying to get his work done. The picture of you getting flogged just below him plaguing his mind.

He shook it off for as long as he could before yielding to the need to see it for himself. If only to ensure it was being done correctly.

It was painful for him to see you tied to the whipping post, your back exposed and red with big hot tears dripping down your face. It was physically painful as his pants were tight against his growing member.

oh how you needed him. oh how he had complete control of you.

He was busy memorizing your half dressed figure when you had called out to him. His eyes flicked to yours as you spoke.

"president Snow-President Snow-please-I am sorry".

There was only three other maids in addition to the head mistress who had stuck around to watch the show. They all looked at him now.

"Headmistress" Coriolanus pinned the older women under his icy stare, "twelve more lashes for speaking out of turn".

she nodes in return and you cry out as the show continues.

It was important you knew that you had no control over him. No matter how much you whined or begged. He decided what happened.

It was a lesson that your learnt quickly. He was impressed in fact that you learnt your place beneath him so fast.

The next day when he pushed your face up against the bookcase and tore the back of your shirt to expose the red lines. You said nothing. You said nothing when he ran his hands along the marks, no matter how much pain it caused you.

You stood silent and still until he told you to leave. Only a slight tremble of your hands told him you even registered what had happened.

You learnt that the more permissible you were to his touch, the less likely your day was to end tied to the whipping post.

You trained yourself not to react when you felt his hand slide up the back of your leg when delivering his afternoon tea. Funnily enough, his complaints of cold tea stopped.

You were the only one to bring it, you found out. Having swapped this duty with another girl one afternoon after a particularly spine chilling incident where Snow had grabbed your wrist to keep you from going in front of his wife and placed your hand under his shirt collar. He held it there pressed against his chest.

The flow of his sentence never halting as he discussed with his wife an upcoming interview. You were sure Clemensia would skin you alive, otherwise you never would have yanked your hand back and ran out of the room.

two peace-keepers found you not 10 minutes later in the servants quarters and escorted you to the whipping post where you spent the remainder of the night with open sores on your back. twenty lashes for interrupting his sentence, and thirty for leaving a room when not excused.

It was rare Clemensia was in the presidential estate. But when she was you were terrified of crossing paths with her. It would be impossible to serve her and Coriolanus at the same time without it resulting with you begging for mercy at the end of a whip.

So when you were told to bring tea for the president AND first lady. You thought the smartest thing you could do was swap this duty to the nearest girl.

You had promised to finish her days work in the yard in exchange for the five minutes it took to mix his tea and serve it.

A good exchange you both felt.

But you had only begun to rake the leaves in the hot sun when you saw a figure fast approaching you. The sun blinded you to the identity but when a harsh slap knocked you to the ground out of the sun rays you could see your president standing over you.

His light blue eyes had clouded over as they bore down at you. His well-dressed lanky figure casted shade over your hot body. He had dressed for a climate where he controlled the temperature. Despite only barreling down the grand staircase and barley a metre across the yard his curls stuck to his head in perspiration.

He grabs you by the hair, yanking you up and back to the controlled atmosphere. You could feel your face turn red as the eyes of your fellow colleagues follow Coriolanus as he drags you through the estate and to his office.

His hold tightening at every struggle and every slip of your foot. Most of the resistance wasn't intentional, only a natural consequence of being lead by your head. Yet, his fingers showed no compassion as they latched themselves amongst your hair.

His office door was left open from when he had yanked it open to come find you. He kicks it closed upon your return.

You expected him to let go upon the sound of the slamming of the door but you go flying as he throws you into a table and chair setting.

You knock a chair and the table over with your weight.

'get up and make my tea, lazy girl" he demands with much more calmness then his face suggests he had.

He sits at his desk across from his wife and watches as you rise upon Shakey legs and make your way over to them.

You felt dizzy and sick as you take the pot from the tray and fill his cup to his taste.

"you should be honored to serve the president" his wife states as you place his cup in front of him and return to make hers.

"I am, Ma'am".

I had no choice, you wanted to say. Fallen houses often sold their children. The highest aristocrats loved to bask in anothers suffering. Having the child of a former elitist was the highest standing you could gain among peers.

"Cream. No sugar" She directs. You make the tea, and turn to leave the room.

"Who said you could go?" Coriolanus quickly swallows his tea to snap at you.

You felt the thirty lashes upon your skin once more and you turned around.

You curtsey to them before standing against the farthest wall with good posture and a head held high like you were taught.

"Who told you to stand there?"

"Honesty, Corio" Clemensia huffs.

Coriolanus clicks his figures and points to the space beside his chair, "Sit" .

Your legs felt like lead as your dragged them over. They cemented you as you sunk down on them next to the arm of his chair.

he picks up his chia set and balances it on your head as he continues talking to his wife about the selected subjects that their son was to complete as he enters school.

They talk slow as your neck cranes under the pressure. When he would take it off to have a sip the rebalancing became harder but you were determined not to spill a drop.

You peeked through eyelashes at Clemensia. For pity or just to look for any animosity growing in her eyes, you weren't sure. But she never looked your way. Not even as she rose and bid goodbye to her husband in a manner that was more suited to an associate than a lover.

The cup remained balanced on your head after she leaves, as Coriolanus shuffles papers and begins to put them away for the day.

He could feel his eyes on you, and you prayed that he would soon tell you to leave so you could undo the tension in your neck.

Instead, he picks up the tea pot and begins to pour more into the cup. With the uneven weight of the tea as it pours, it is impossible to keep the expensive chia on top of your head and it smashes upon the floor.

The lukewarm tea continues to tip over you, and your shrick as it follows your face as you try and maneuver out of the way.

He empties it upon you and places it back on the desk.

"tomorrow when i take my tea I expect it to be you that serves it. I hate surprises".

He pushes he chair back and walks over to his get his coat of the day from the rack. Today it was a thick black one with feathers for a collar.

He looks at you still kneeling wet like a good girl.

"oh, and Y/N that will be your new spot from now on. Known when to be there".

He walks out the door but you remain kneeling for a long time after. He was done with the cat and mouse game. It would take a lot more to save yourself from pain of the lashes from now on.

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

Part 1/3

second part here

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #president snow #coryo snow #thg series #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[xxblairexxss]

Prime

Pairing : Jude Bellingham x reader

Theme : Fluff

Got this idea from those tiktok videos of him playing football with a group of kids. You probably know which one I’m talking about if you stumbled across one. Haven’t proofread! Sorry for any mistakes.

Jude was like your mom’s favourite child. She was eternally grateful for her lovely daughters but when you introduced your boyfriend to the family, you knew she had put him above you and your sisters. Your dad was a huge fan of football and he thought you were joking when you told him you were dating Dortmund player so of course when Jude first joined your family’s dinner, your dad was elated that you thought he would have forgotten about you if it wasn’t for your constant glare at him.

Since then, Jude always got invited to any family events of yours, just like how he always invited you to his family events.

judebellingham has added to their story

Your nephew, Noah was obsessed with football. Guess it ran in the family because of how the obsession went from your dad to Noah. Different from you, who barely knew anything about it. Noah had asked you a week prior if Jude was gonna come to the housewarming party but when you asked why he was so eager to know, he said it was secret. Turned out he wanted to ask Jude to play football with him because he got a proper football ball from his birthday last month.

You were in the kitchen, taking over the duty to cut the fruits so your sister could sneaked out to the nearby store to get some more ingredients for roasted garlic hummus with her husband. You were left with Jude and the kids as your parents are yet to arrived.

You were decorating the plate with the colourful fruits when you felt a sudden impact on your side. It was Noah, who was suddenly crying and hugging on your legs. Confused, you bent down and wiped the fresh tears on his cheek as he pulled away.

“What’s wrong? Did you fell?”

“No…”

“Why did you cry?”

“Jude wouldn’t give the ball back…”

“What…?”

That was when you saw Jude walked in with Noel, Noah’s baby brother.

“Jude Victor William Bellingham! Did you seriously make my nephew cry?”

“I didn’t! He asked me to play like I was in a match.”

“You are so silly! He’s not prime Lewandowski, is he?”

He chuckled in response before leaving a peck on your lips and squatted down to be on the same level with Noah, who was now refused to look at him.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Let’s do another round, yeah? You’ll be in the same team with Noel and I can only play with one leg, how about that?”

Noah responded with an immediate “Okay!” and a wide grin as he ran to Noel to pull him outside. You could see the little one waddled trying to catch on his brother.

Jude stood back up and pulled you closer by your waist. He found you so adorable when you were still frowning at him that he wanted to just planted kisses all over your beautiful face.

“I’m sorry, princess. I swear I didn’t mean it. Anyway, I didn’t know you actually have some basic football knowledge. I thought you don’t know any other players except me. That was kinda hot, not gonna lie.” He bended down his head to kiss on your exposed shoulder blade from your off shoulder crop top, pressing his body against yours even more.

“Well, I’m actually a barca girl.”

Jude tilted your chin up as he brushed his lips against yours before nibbling softy on your bottom lips.

“Shut up, you’re my girl.”

“Jude, come on!” You heard Noah called out for him from the backyard, probably getting annoyed at how long he was taking his time.

“Coming!” He pulled away and strode across the living room to the kids, leaving you with butterflies in your stomach, even after all these years.

#football imagine #jude bellingham fics #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #football imagines #football fics

[taytrashmouth]

HIII!!!! could u do prompt 1 w peeta I think it would fit his character so well bc he’s actually the sweetest boy ever (also I love ur pfp robin lovers rise!!)

It so would!!!! Okay I love this!

Omg thank you! Robin slays- we should have a club…

Prompt 1: you’re being all cute and sweet and it’s making me want to kiss you

I hope you enjoy! This is just tooth rotting fluff.

Roses and kisses

Peeta Mellark x reader

Peeta was the perfect boyfriend. You realised this really early on in your relationship.

When you mentioned that you liked the smell of roses, the next day he was in your front yard planting rose bushes. You almost cried when you found out he came over every morning to trim, care for and water them.

You often visited him in the victors village, and today was a short, but difficult walk there. You were having the worst cramps which you mentioned to Peeta this morning when he tended to your roses.

“Peeta!” You called as you entered his home.

“Upstairs bathroom!” He yelled back and you began to walk upstairs.

When you turned into the room tears immediately filled your eyes. He had run you a bath, with rose petals floating in the water.

“Peeta-“ you could barely say anything.

“You said you had cramps…and I don’t know much about that stuff but I asked Katniss and she said heat helped sometimes so I ran you a bath.” He explained, completely oblivious to how perfect he was.

When you first started dating Peeta you were worried because of how the Capitol made it seem like he and Katniss had something going. But how could you be, he was so loyal and trustworthy.

“Thank you.” Tears fell from your eyes, more emotional today than any other.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, laced with concern.

“No no! Peeta…it’s perfect, you’re perfect. It’s just so nice and nobody has ever done something so sweet for me before.” You explained.

“Hey it’s okay.” He held you so tightly as he hugged you, stroking your hair. He didn’t mind if you cried on his shirt or were emotional. He was there for you.

“Well I’ll wait downstairs.” He smiled.

“No…you don’t have to leave.” You blurted out.

He nodded.

“I won’t look.” He stated as you pulled at the hem of your shirt. He looked at his feet while you got undressed. You hadn’t gotten there yet.

“I don’t mind if you look, Peeta.” You told him, his slowly raised his gaze. His eyes did a quick search of your naked body but they locked onto your eyes. It was small gestures like that, the ones he didn’t even know he was doing.

“Probably shouldn’t do this today.” Gesturing to yourself. “I’m all bloated and gross-“ you tried to explain.

“You’re so beautiful n/n” he stated just above a whisper. He was the only one that called you n/n. You smiled softly. How did you get so lucky.

You climbed in the bath, the water was so warm and soothing.

You spoke for a while, before Peeta offered to wash your hair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to-“ he was nervous. “I want to.” You replied with a smile.

He massaged your head to gently, making sure soap didn’t go into your eye. He covered every inch of your head with soap and used a bowl to help rinsing it out. He used his hand as a shield from the water. Treating you with more care than you ever had. He finished by smoothing your hair back and softly kissing your forehead.

He was perfect.

He went downstairs to let you change and when you walked into the kitchen he was buttering some steamy bread.

“I thought you’d be hungry, so I made bread before you came. It just came out the oven.” He handed you a plate.

You could do nothing except smile at this perfect boy. “Thank you. It smells delicious.” You spoke as you took a bite of the soft bread. Warm butter on your lips.

“Holy shit!” You smiled widely. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“What do you wanna do today?” Peeta asked.

“Can we maybe just lie down. Rest.” You asked.

He smiled and nodded.

When you had eaten about six slices of bread, Peeta didn’t make a comment about how much you ate, he simply asked if you wanted him to make more.

Soon enough you were upstairs in his room. He walked into the on suite to drain the bath water before he lay down.

“Shit.” He spoke as he walked out of the bathroom, shirt covered in water. He obviously leaned to far forward when draining the water.

“Oh no.” You stood up, that’s when he saw you had changed into one of his plain t-shirts and your underwear.

“Wow.” He breathed out. “You’re really beautiful.” He told you so genuinely.

You smiled. Looking at him with nothing but love.

“Peeta…you’re being all cute and sweet and it’s making me want to kiss you.

He smiled shyly, blush touching his cheeks.

“Okay.”

You kissed him gently but passionately. Holding his cheeks.

When you pulled away he smiled with swollen lips, the sight made you giggle.

“Change you’re shirt and come cuddle.” You made grabby hands from the bed after you sat back down.

He looked nervous. “ I won’t look.” You assured him. He looked eternally grateful.

Peeta had told you before, he was littered with scars from the games, from his parents. He hated it. He was really insecure. He knew you would love him no matter what he looked like but it was still scary. He could barely look at himself in the mirror.

You turned to face the other way.

You heard some movement before you heard his voice again.

“N/n.”

You waited a second before turning around to see his bare chest. You smiled. Sure enough there were scars everywhere.

He looked at the ground, he looked nervous, more than you think you’d seen him before.

“You’re really handsome.” You told him and lifted his chin, stroking his cheek when you approached.

He smiled too.

“Thank you for showing me.” You smiled at him brightly. Teary again, it was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand to let him know it was okay.

You pulled him into his soft bed and you both lay entangled in each other. Your head on his bare chest and he played with your hair.

“Is this okay.” You asked as traced one of his scars.

He hesitated before nodding.

“You don’t have to say yes.” You say up slightly.

“I know. Don’t stop…it’s nice.” He held your head back to his chest and continued.

“Thank you for today.” You whispered. He answered simply with a kiss on your head.

Requests are open please send them in

#y/n #the hunger games peeta #thg peeta #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #peeta my beloved #peeta mellark #team peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta supremacy #peeta x reader

[sagewritings]

Shadows of Peace - Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

pairing: finnick odair x female reader

synopsis: in the aftermath of the war, you and Finnick attempt to grasp a sense of peace amid the ruins. while the external scars slowly fade, the internal turmoil within Finnick's mind persists, casting shadows over the fragile peace you both seek.

word count: 2.4k

warnings/tags: post-war, mentions of death, trauma

a/n: hello everyone! it’s been a while since i’ve posted here on my blog because of college and as an apology, i’m posting 2 fics for yall :> i just recently watched the ballad of songbirds and snakes and it took me back to my hunger games phase when i couldn’t focus on anything else whenever finnick would be on screen lol

the other fanfic is about young coriolanus snow so if you’d like to check that out (as well as my other works) you can check the pinned post in my blog :)

i hope you’ll like this one! happy reading!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The smoke from the rebellion had settled, leaving District 13 in an uneasy calm. Finnick Odair, the once-dazzling victor from District 4, stood on the balcony of his quarters, a ghost of the man he used to be. His eyes, once vibrant with life, now held a haunted look, reflecting the toll of war and loss. As he stared into the distance, memories of the arena, the Capitol, and the faces of fallen comrades flashed before his eyes.

The door creaked open, and you stepped into the room. The connection between you and Finnick was undeniable, a thread woven through the chaos and pain of the rebellion. You had fought side by side, relying on each other in the darkest moments. Yet, despite the camaraderie, an unspoken tension lingered between you two.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice breaking the heavy silence. Finnick turned to look at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Hey," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of the world. The two of you had survived the unimaginable, but the scars ran deep. Finnick's mind was a battlefield, haunted by the ghosts of the arena, the Capitol's manipulation, and the friends he had lost.

You approached him cautiously, your eyes searching his face for any sign of vulnerability. "Finnick, you don't have to carry this alone. We're here for you."

A bitter smile played on Finnick's lips. "We all have our demons, sweetheart. Some of us just got better at hiding them."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the scars that the rebellion had left on everyone. The cost of freedom had been steep, and for Finnick, it felt like the very essence of who he was had been sacrificed in the process.

Silence settled between you, thick and suffocating, as if the air itself held the weight of unspoken words. Finnick's gaze shifted to the distant mountains, a longing in his eyes that mirrored the ache in your heart.

"I thought winning the Games would be the hardest part," he mused, his voice a low murmur. "But it turns out, surviving them... that's the real struggle."

You nodded in understanding, your heart aching for the man before you who had faced horrors most could not fathom. Finnick's eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and yearning reflected in their depths.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "All the fighting, the sacrifices. For what? A broken world, a shattered existence."

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Finnick, we fought for a chance at a better future. We fought so that others wouldn't have to endure what we did."

He sighed, the weight of exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "I know, I know. But at what cost? Look around, and all I see are reminders of the price we paid."

You wanted to argue, to convince him that the sacrifices had meaning, but the haunted look in his eyes silenced you. Finnick pulled away gently, as if your touch burned him, and walked to the balcony once more.

"The Capitol took everything from me," he continued, his voice a bitter edge. "My family, my friends, my identity. And even though we won, it feels like I'm still in their grip, like I can never escape."

Your heart ached for him, for the wounds that ran deeper than any physical scars. "You're not alone, Finnick. We're here for you, to help you find your way back."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours as if seeking a lifeline. "I don't even know who I am anymore. The Capitol shaped me into their plaything, and now... now I'm just trying to piece together the fragments they left behind."

Tears welled in your eyes, a mixture of frustration and empathy. "You're more than the Capitol's creation, Finnick. You're a survivor, a fighter. And there's strength in that, in the person you've become despite everything."

Finnick's gaze softened, a vulnerability breaking through the walls he had erected. "I just... I don't want to lose myself completely."

In that moment, you made a silent vow to stand by him, to help him reclaim the pieces of himself that the Capitol had stolen. The journey to healing would be long and arduous, but you were determined to be a steady anchor in the storm that raged within Finnick's soul.

Days turned into weeks, and the remnants of the rebellion slowly transformed District 13 from a war-torn refuge to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the scars remained, etched into the fabric of the survivors' lives.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the district, you found Finnick sitting alone by the shore of a small lake. His gaze was distant, lost in the ripples of the water as if seeking answers to questions that plagued his mind.

You approached him, the soft crunch of gravel under your boots announcing your presence. Finnick glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. There was a weariness in his gaze, but a glimmer of something else—resilience, perhaps.

"Hey," you greeted, taking a seat beside him.

"Hey," he replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The two of you sat in companionable silence, the lull of the water and the fading sunlight creating a sense of peace. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and violence that had defined your recent past.

"I've been thinking," Finnick began, his voice breaking the quiet. "About everything that happened, about who I was, who I am now.”

You turned to him, giving him the space to share what was on his mind.

"I can't change the past," he continued, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "But maybe I can shape my future. Find a way to be more than the Capitol's puppet."

Hope flickered in your chest, a warmth that spread through the chill of the evening air. "You don't have to do it alone, Finnick. We're here for you, to support you every step of the way."

Finnick turned to you, his eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and determination. "I know. And I appreciate that more than you can imagine."

As the days passed, Finnick took small steps toward reclaiming his identity. He sought solace in the company of those who understood the scars he carried, forming bonds with fellow victors who shared the weight of the Games.

One evening, as a group of you gathered in the communal area, laughter echoed through the room. It was a sound that had been absent for too long, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

Finnick, now surrounded by friends who had faced the Capitol's horrors alongside him, allowed himself a genuine smile. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a glimpse of the man he could become beyond the shadows of the Games.

In the midst of the healing, a connection blossomed between you and Finnick. It was a slow burn, a fragile ember that neither of you dared to name. The wounds of the past still lingered, creating a delicate dance between wanting to move forward and the fear of what the future held.

One evening, as the two of you strolled through the reconstructed gardens of District 13, Finnick spoke, his words weighed with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"I never thought I'd find something worth fighting for beyond survival," he admitted, his eyes meeting yours. "But being here with you, it's like... like I've found a piece of myself I thought I'd lost forever."

The admission hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you. In that moment, you understood that your connection went beyond the shared trauma of the Games; it was a lifeline, a source of strength that allowed both of you to rebuild.

"I feel it too," you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. "We've been through hell, Finnick, but maybe... maybe we can find a new beginning."

He nodded, the weight of the unspoken understanding lingering between you. As the moon cast its gentle glow over the quiet district, you and Finnick stood together, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the possibility of finding love amidst the ruins of war.

In the weeks that followed, Finnick and you navigated the complexities of a burgeoning relationship. It was a delicate dance, filled with moments of joy and vulnerability, but through it all, the connection between you grew stronger.

One day, as you sat together on the rooftop of the reconstructed buildings, watching the sunrise paint the sky in hues of pink and gold, Finnick turned to you.

"I never thought I'd have a chance at happiness," he admitted, his fingers intertwined with yours. "But with you, it feels like maybe... maybe I can find it."

You smiled, the warmth of the rising sun reflecting the hope that had blossomed between you. "We'll find it together, Finnick. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together."

And so, in the aftermath of the rebellion, amidst the ruins of a broken world, Finnick Odair and you found solace in each other's arms. The scars of the past were still there, a testament to the battles fought and the losses endured, but together, you forged a new beginning—one marked by healing, love, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

As the days turned into months, the rebuilding efforts in District 13 continued. The scars on the landscape mirrored the healing process within the hearts of its people. Finnick's journey, too, progressed as he rediscovered pieces of himself he thought were lost forever.

The bond between you and Finnick deepened, evolving into a partnership built on trust and shared experiences. Together, you faced the challenges of rebuilding not only the district but also your lives. The echoes of the rebellion were still present, but they no longer defined the narrative.

Finnick threw himself into community projects, channeling his pain into rebuilding the world around him. The once-dull district started to bloom with life as gardens flourished, laughter echoed through the streets, and a sense of normalcy settled over the survivors.

One day, as you and Finnick walked through the bustling market that had replaced the desolation of war, he turned to you with a sparkle in his eyes. "I never thought I'd see something beautiful emerge from the ruins."

You smiled, grateful for the newfound hope in his words. "We're making something beautiful together, Finnick. It's a testament to the strength within all of us."

The scars on Finnick's soul didn't vanish completely, but they became a part of a larger tapestry, woven with threads of resilience and shared purpose. The Capitol's grip on him loosened, replaced by a determination to shape his own destiny.

As the seasons changed, so did the dynamics of your relationship with Finnick. The initial fragility evolved into a robust partnership. He learned to lean on you not just in times of despair but also in moments of joy. You navigated the complexities of love and healing, forging a connection that became an anchor in the ebb and flow of life.

One evening, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the district, Finnick pulled you into a gentle embrace. The lights of District 13 shimmered below, a testament to the resilience of a community that had faced the brink of destruction.

"I never thought I'd find peace again," Finnick murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "But with you, I've found something more profound than I ever imagined."

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "We've come a long way, Finnick. And we'll keep moving forward, together."

In the months that followed, the remnants of the rebellion became tales told to the younger generation, a history etched into the collective memory of District 13. Finnick, once haunted by the ghosts of the arena, became a beacon of hope for those who had faced the Capitol's tyranny.

Together, you and Finnick worked to ensure that the scars of the past didn't dictate the future. District 13 prospered, becoming a symbol of resilience and rebirth. Finnick's journey of self-discovery inspired others to find strength in their vulnerabilities, to rebuild not just the physical structures but also the foundations of their lives.

As the years passed, and the wounds of war healed, Finnick and you found solace in the quiet moments. The rooftop sunsets, the shared laughter, and the simple joys of everyday life became the pillars of your relationship.

One day, as you walked hand in hand through the district, Finnick stopped by a patch of blooming flowers. He plucked a vibrant bloom and tucked it behind your ear, a tender smile gracing his lips.

"From the ruins, something beautiful emerged," he said, his gaze filled with gratitude.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. "And it's still growing, Finnick. Our story is far from over."

In the evenings, as you both sat on the balcony, watching the sunset cast its warm glow over District 13, Finnick would often reflect on the journey from the ashes of rebellion to the blossoming of a new life.

"I never thought I'd find love after everything," he'd say, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and contentment.

"You found more than love, Finnick," you'd reply, your fingers intertwined with his. "You found a new beginning, a chance at happiness despite the scars."

And in those quiet moments, with the echoes of the past becoming softer, you and Finnick would embrace the present and look towards the future, knowing that, together, you had found a strength that transcended the trials of the Games and the horrors of war—a strength that could build something beautiful from the ruins of a broken world.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair imagine #the hunger games #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #thg finnick

[maximoffwitch]

a johanna mason x oblivious!reader, where j always calms down around r and has a soft spot for her, then someone points it out to r and then r realizes that j is only soft for her and when she asks her, j confesses her feelings please? if that made sense 😅, thank you for ur time! i love ur writing :D

If I Know What Love Is, It Is Because of You

pairing: johanan mason x reader

warnings: canon typical violence, alcohol, blood

word count: 2.4k

summary: Everyone can see that Johanna loves you. Well, everybody but you.

a/n: thank you sm for requesting this! i had the best time writing this 🥹 and note: the scenes in italics are flashbacks!

Your head was pounding. The last place you wanted to be right now was this meeting. Yet here you were, sitting at the table, listening to Coin drone on about something as you all waited for everyone to show up – everyone being Johanna. 

“Where is Johanna?” Plutarch asked and nodded to the vacant seat the District 7 girl usually occupied. Everyone’s heads turned towards you, causing you to frown at the sudden attention.

“What?”

“Where is she?” The head gamemaker looked at you expectantly.

“Why would I know?” you asked exasperatedly, your irritation and fatigue becoming more and more evident.

Before Plutarch could respond with some quip, Finnick put his hand up and interjected. “She had a therapy session earlier,” he explained, knowing Johanna was likely hiding out in her room after her time with the head doctor.

“Let’s just start without her,” Cressida suggested impatiently, and you rolled your eyes, not even trying to hide your annoyance.

“No,” Coin shook her head. She knew the importance Johanna’s victor status held in this rebellion.  

“Well, someone needs to go get her,” Haymitch said before taking a swig of his drink. “(Y/N)?”

Again, everyone looked at you. 

“Why me?” you whined. You liked Johanna – more than you cared to admit – but right now, you were too drained to remedy her bad mood. 

“You’re the only one she tolerates,” Katniss explained.

You frowned and scrunched your brows. “What about Finnick?”

“She has a soft spot for you.” He shrugged at your perplexed look. 

“What?” You tilted your head, becoming increasingly confused. “No she doesn’t.”

“Oh really?” Finnick smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What about that time with Enobaria and the glass table?”

“What did you just say to me?” Johanna seethed as she slowly put her drink down on the glass table before standing up to confront the other woman.

“You heard me.” Enobaria grinned, baring her sharp teeth. “Pawn.”

Johanna flipped the glass table, shattering it completely, causing glass to go flying. “I will kill you, Two,” she screamed, lunging at Enobaria and grabbing at her throat. 

“Hey, hey!” Finnick yelled and ran across the room to pull Johanna away.

“Speak to me again and I’ll be the one ripping your throat out.” She pointed at a leering Enobaria while struggling in Finnick’s hold.

“What the hell is going on in here?” you frowned, concern written across your face as you see Johanna, close to tears, being held back. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Johanna huffed, shrugging Finnick’s hands off her.

“Jo.” You hook your finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet yours. Your frown deepened as you saw her forehead was bleeding; a stray piece of glass must have caught her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Johanna closed her eyes and took a deep breath, immediately calming under your touch. Searching her eyes, you didn’t believe her but you didn’t say anything.

“Come on.” You took her hand and squeezed it. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“That was just because I came after the fight,” you protested weakly, your argument making little sense even to you.

Finnick rolled his eyes but said nothing. 

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch interjected, “that girl could not be more in love with you if she tried.”

He just sighed as you gave him a blank stare, your thoughts racing all over the place. 

“The whiskey incident?” Haymitch grinned smugly, tilting his glass to you before taking a sip.

This year’s Games were rough, even more than usual. Your tributes had a brutal day in the arena, and you were emotionally drained just from watching. 

Entering the common kitchen, you were in desperate need for a drink. You grabbed a glass and the bottle of District 7 whiskey Johanna brought from home.

As you gulped down your decent size pour, already refilling your glass, Haymitch swayed into the room, perking up when he saw the freshly opened bottle.

“What’s that?”

“District 7 whiskey,” you replied, before reading the label. “Hints of smoky pine.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He chugged down whatever was remaining in his own cup before pouring himself some whiskey.

“I don’t think–” You tried to stop him, knowing Johanna would not be too pleased about Haymitch stealing her alcohol. 

“Hmm.” He let out a satisfied sigh as he inhaled the whiskey scent. 

But before he could take a test sip, a voice interrupted him.

“What do you think you’re doing? That’s mine,” Johanna walked in, visibly annoyed, and snatched the glass out of his hand. 

“(Y/N) is drinking some,” Haymitch argued childishly with an incredulous look. 

For a moment, you though you saw a sense of hesitancy flash in Johanna’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“That’s because (Y/N) has some self-restraint while you drink by the bottle,” Johanna snarked, downing the glass Haymitch had poured himself.

“Hey, (Y/N/N),” Finnick poked his head in the room, briefly greeting the other two. “Cecelia was looking for you.”

You internally groaned and finished off your drink. “She probably wants to go over what happened today and strategize.”

Both Haymitch and Johanna sobered, knowing the District 8 tributes were likely not going to last much longer.

“Thanks, Jo.” You got up and pecked Johanna’s cheek, patting her shoulder. “I really needed that drink.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she responded under her breath. You gave her a small smile and slid past her out of the room. 

“You got something –“ Hamyitch motioned to the blush tinting Johanna’s cheek and gave her a knowing smirk.

Johanna snapped out of her brief daze and glared at him. “Oh, shut up, old man.”

“I would hardly call that an ‘incident,’” you objected, rolling your eyes. “I mean what did you expect, drinking what isn’t yours?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Haymitch waved you off. “My point still stands.”

All you could do was nod distractedly, as you were trying to process what Finnick and Haymitch were telling you. You and Johanna had been friends for several years, having met at Johanna’s Victory Tour banquet in the Capitol. Over the years, you knew you were falling for her but not wanting to ruin one of the only friendships you had left, you kept your feelings to yourself.

You would never expect Johanna to ever reciprocate your feelings. I mean why would she? She could be with anybody she wanted. Plus, the baggage that came with being a victor made being in any relationship difficult – for the both of you. 

But now you were starting to wonder if there was even a slight chance she felt the same.

“There was also the aftermath of the blood rain,” Katniss added, causing you to wince at the memory.

As you saw Wiress stumble out onto the beach, you recognized Johanna.

“Johanna!” You ran across the beach, Finnick closely behind you. 

“(Y/N)! Finnick!” She yelled back as the two older victors sunk into the water. 

As you got closer, you could see she was covered in blood and your chest tightened. “Johanna,” you whispered, furrowing your brows. 

“What happened? What is that?” Finnick caught his breath and assessed Johanna’s distressed state.

“It’s blood!” She laughed sardonically. “Just my luck. I’m covered in blood!”

By now, Peeta and Katniss had caught up as Johanna continued to tell what happened.

“Well, I got ‘em out. We were all the way deep into the jungle where I thought it was gonna be safe. That’s when the rain started. I thought it was water. Turned out to be blood,” Johanna explained, Wiress approaching behind her, muttering ‘tick tock’ repeatedly. “Hot, thick blood was coming down. It was choking us. We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind.”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relieved that at least it wasn’t her own blood.

“That’s when Blight hit the forcefield.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Whether she was mourning her fellow District 7 victor or trying to keep herself from shutting Wiress up, or both, you couldn’t tell. “He wasn’t much but he was from home.”

As Katniss asked about Wiress, to which Beetee responded with something about freshwater, you could only focus on Johanna. You knew her like the back of your hand, and you knew Wiress was getting on her last nerve. Johanna was already not too happy about having to stick with the District 3 victors and being separated from you. 

“Tick tock,” Wiress pleaded, grabbing Johanna’s shoulders. 

“Just stop,” Johanna screamed and pushed the older woman into the sand. “Just sit down!”

“Hey!” Katniss yelled, quickly advancing towards Johanna, going straight for her throat. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Johanna immediately retaliated, shoving right back.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You instinctively grabbed Johanna and pulled her away, Peeta doing the same with Katniss, albeit less aggressively.

“I got them out for you,” she continued to shout. As you pulled her further away, you could feel her body start to calm. 

“Jo, you’re okay,” you assure calmly, loosening your grasp on her. “It’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said sharply and pulled her arm away from you, but you weren’t phased by her anger.

“Johanna, hey, look at me,” you coaxed her into meeting your eyes, cupping her face. “You’re okay.”

Johanna stared into your eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m okay,” she breathed, leaning her forehead against yours. 

“We’re okay,” you assured, leaning into her touch. “Now, let me clean you off.”

“She has a soft spot for you, (Y/N/N),” Finnick said, snapping you out of the memory. 

Your mind was reeling. As you thought back to the years of friendship with Johanna, you realized that they’re right, that she’s never been mad at you, that she is only soft for you.

“I gotta go,” you mumble, getting up and quickly scurrying out of the room.

“We still need to have this meeting,” Plutarch called after you, but you paid him no mind. You needed to get to Johanna.

Weaving through the underground halls towards the dormitory area, you could feel your heart pounding against your chest.

As you arrived at Johanna’s room, you took a deep breath and knocked. “Johanna?”

“It’s open,” she responded.

Pushing the door open, you were met with the sight of Johanna sitting on floor, leaning against her bed, as she fiddled with something between her fingers.

“You know–“ You hovered over her, shoving your hands in your pocket. “You missed the meeting. Coin’s pretty peeved.”

“Yeah, well she can just fuck off,” Johanna cursed, still focused on the piece of fabric in her hands, which you recognized as the scrap of embroidery you’d given her before the Quell. 

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, a heavy silence still hanging in the air, as Johanna still had yet to really acknowledge you.

“Are you upset with me, Johanna?” you asked, selfishly wanting to confirm your suspicions.

“What? No.” Her head immediately snapped up as she finally looked at you. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, shrugging. 

“Well, I’m not.” She went back to playing with a stray thread on the scrap of cloth.

You nodded and another brief moment of silence passed between you before you asked, “Johanna, do you have feelings for me?”

Her eyes widened, clearly taken by surprise. “What?”

“Well, it’s just that everyone was talking about how you have a soft spot for me and that I’m the only one you never get angry with. So, I started thinking and it’s true. You’re always kind to me, even if you’re upset. 

“You’ve been there for me all these years, through everything Snow and the Games have thrown at us, and I know I can always count on you. I’ve always cherished our friendship, which is why I never said anything, but I do love you. I’m in love with you,” you confessed, ending your long-winded ramble.

Johanna remained quiet, still staring at the embroidered scrap. Pushing herself off the ground, she joined you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Remember the day you gave me this?”

You nodded with a small hum. It was the last day you could see her before entering the arena where you would be separated. You wanted her to have a piece of you in case the worst were to happen.

“I was so angry that day,” Johanna revealed, finally looking up and meeting your eyes. “I thought this was your way of saying goodbye, that you were admitting defeat.”

“Johanna,” you trailed off, a crestfallen look on your face. 

“Let me finish,” she softly insisted. “It was the first night in the arena when I realized that that anger was actually fear. I remember watching the fallen tributes in the sky and holding my breath, praying you wouldn’t show up. I was so scared, scared I was going to lose you.”

“You didn’t lose me.” You took her hand in yours, squeezing it lightly. “I’m right here.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath and gave you a small smile. “Mostly, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to tell you how I really felt about you.”

Your lips parted, hope flooding your body.

“I love you, (Y/N),” Johanna whispered so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard her if you weren’t inches away. 

Tucking a loose hair out of your face, she glanced down at your lips. 

“Can I–“

Before she could finish her sentence, you leaned forward and kissed her. There were no sparks or fireworks like everyone says a first kiss should have. Rather, there was a sense of familiarity and comfort, as if you were all each other knew. And in a way, you were. 

Johanna was the only constant thing in your life, the only person who truly knew you as you and not some violent victor or Capitol show pony. 

Breaking apart, Johanna leaned her forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed as you savored the feeling of her lips on your skin.

“Hey.” She caressed your cheek with the pad of her thumb, and you opened your eyes with a content sigh. 

“Hi.” 

“You know,” Johanna started, her fingers running through your hair as you dropped your head against her shoulder. “They’re right.”

“About what?” you mumbled into her shirt.

“I do have a soft spot for you,” she kissed the side of your head.

“Good.” You lifted your head, a small smile dancing on your face. “Because I have one for you too.”

#my writing #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason imagine #johanna mason #johanna mason x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[in our next life || EPILOGUE]𓆪—

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - that I know of, there is none! maybe besides cursing(?) but it's pure fluff, just let me know if you think i should add anything!

Ten years later…

This would be the second rope being tied around your wrist, to the same man. Things were different now; the games were over, Finnick built you that house on the river bank, and you had a son this time too.

Your dress was similar to the one you had before, especially because Cinna designed this one too, but this time, it was much smaller than the ballgown you had before. It was still poofy, yes, but this time it was lined with pearls taken from your first dress in strands of gold. Your hair was pulled into your preferred style, a flower crown of white camellias, pearls stranded in your hair as well.

You probably loved this more than your first outfit, a white bouquet in your hands as well. You were going to cry even more this time, you were sure of it. When someone knocks, you turn with a quick confirmation for them to come in, Katniss peeking her head inside. “Someone wants to see you…”

You giggled as your son ran in, gasping loudly. “Momma, you look so pweety!”

You laughed at his childish dialect, smoothing down the front of your dress. “Yeah? You think papa will like it?”

He nods his head vigorously. “Yeah! And if he doesn’t, he’s crazy!”

You giggled, offering your empty hand. “Wanna walk mommy down the aisle?”

He continues to nod, running over. “Momma, I’m glad you’re getting remarried. That bracelet is dirty.”

You laughed, nodding with him. “Is it baby? Well good thing papa’s getting me another one, right?”

“Yeah!”

You named your son Atlas, and for heaven's sake, he came out exactly like Finnick. Golden hair and bright sea blue eyes, a perfect smile and the freckles you loved since you were a child.

He takes your hand, leading you out the room as Katniss follows behind. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

You smiled back at her, giggling. “Thank you, Katniss.”

You walked out the back door, stepping down the steps of the large wrap around porch Finnick had built himself. The second you stepped into the meadow of different kinds of wildflowers, all of the memories came flooding back.

“Finnick, we’re not supposed to be here!”

You whisper yelled at him as he dragged you to the edge of District 4, laughing.

“So? Come on, we’re almost there!” He pulls you harder, groaning. “Y/N, don’t be a scaredy-cat!”

You groaned. “My mother will kill me.”

He snorts. “Fuck your mother.”

You gasped, slapping his bicep before he sharply tugs you forward, a gasp falling from your lips before you screamed out as you both began rolling down the hill. His hand keeps your face in his neck as he laughs, your arms wrapping around him as his other hand holds your side.

You finally get to the bottom, Finnick laughing like the funniest thing in the world just happened as you sit on his chest, looking down at your grass stained dress. The Reaping would happen in a few days, and your mother had just bought you this dress. She would kill you if you came home like this.

“Finnick, my dress is all dirty!” You whine as he sits up.

“You’re so over dramatic, darling. We can clean it when we get back, look at all the flowers,” he says, smiling as he picks one and puts it behind your ear. “I know they’re your favorite.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you picked one and tucked it behind his ear. “My favorite wildflower, Finnick. Not my favorite in general.”

He laughed, clearing his throat. “My apologies, your majesty, your favorite wildflower. Is there any way you could possibly forgive me?”

You giggle, humming. “I mean… I guess so,” you say, making him grin before you boop his nose. “But it’s gonna cost you.”

He starts to blush, but hums. “Oh yeah? What?”

You purse your lips, letting out a soft ‘hmph’ as you fix yourself on Finnick’s lap. “Well, if I’m your highness, that means I’m queen, right?”

He purses his lips in response, nodding. “Yes, it does.”

“Well then, you can be my knight. To protect me and stay with me for the rest of my life. Sounds good?”

He smiled widely, nodding. “Sounds good. I’ll be your knight, Y/N?”

You put up your hand, offering your pinky. “Promise?”

He smiled, nodding as he wrapped his pinky around yours before pushing his hand up. “Lock it.”

You do, watching as he kissed your overlapping thumbs before doing the same. “You can’t break it now, Finnick!”

He nods before smirking. “Y’know, we just shared saliva.”

Your brow ruffled. “No we didn’t.”

“You kissed after me,” he teased, chuckling. “That means you got some of my saliva in your mouth.”

You blushed madly, quickly wiping your lips. “Finnick! Don’t say that!”

He laughed as he pressed his face into your neck. “Oh come on! Knights and queens belong together.”

You purse your lips. “No, kings and queens belong together.”

“Knights and queens make better pairs,” he says immediately before humming. “Y/N, I want to do something.”

Your brow ruffled. “Okay?”

He shook his head. “With you. If you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop and I will, I promise, but I’ve been wanting to do it with you for a while.”

You nodded. “Okay, I will. What is it, Finnick?”

He blushed madly, cheeks turning a bright red as he looked away. “C-Can you close your eyes?”

You do, closing them tightly before something soft lands on your lips. You don’t realize it at first, but Finnick was kissing you. Your lifelong crush was kissing you.

You don’t open your eyes until he pulls away, slowly finding his eyes as he swallows. “W-Was that okay?”

You look at him confused. “Did you just kiss me, Finnick?”

He looked away, mumbling under his breath. “Yeah, yeah I did,” he was blushing madly. “I just… I‘ve been wanting to do it for a while and-”

You pressed your lips to his before he could even finish, holding his cheeks before pulling away. It was soft and quick, but that’s all you really needed. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you rub them softly, clearing your throat. “I uhm… you don’t have to ask next time.”

He starts to smile. “So I can kiss you whenever I want?”

You shove him. “Of course not, dummy! We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend!”

His smile falls. “Why not?”

Your brow furrowed. “You… you want to be?”

“Yeah, I do,” he says quickly, fixing the flower over your ear. “I want to love you until the end of time.”

“Forever?” You ask and he nods.

“And when we meet again in our next life.”

You inhaled shakily as you stood at the end of the white carpet rolled out between the chairs of people, only the most significant you truly wanted to come. Finnick stood on the dock, hands ringing together nervously before he saw you. His jaw drops as he stares, Cinna grinning as he stands between him and where you were going to stand.

Mags had sadly died a few months before Atlas was born, peacefully with you and Finnick by her side. Of course you were heartbroken, but you also knew you would meet again in your next life.

The drums started to play as Atlas tugged on your hand making you look down at him.

“Mama, are you okay? Daddy’s crying.”

You look at Finnick who, sure enough, had tears rolling down his cheeks before he wiped at them.

“Yes baby,” you whisper, your own eyes filling with tears. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m amazing, I’m so, so happy.”

“Well, come on!”

You laughed as he tugged you down the aisle, waving at everyone as Haymitch and Effie grin at you. You smiled widely at them, wiping at your cheeks as you finally got to the dock where the drums stopped.

Atlas ran around you both, running to Cinna who sighed loudly.

“And at last, the day has finally come,” he says, announcing it to everyone here. “Where the King and Queen of Panem are getting married again.”

You can feel the rope being wrapped around you both, your hand holding one end as you stare up at Finnick who leaned his forehead against yours. Cinna continues to speak as Finnick takes the other end, Katniss and Peeta stepping forward to do the same thing they did the first time, but this time, they cut off the previous rope from your wrists before melting the second one around again.

“I have a gift for you both,” Cinna says as the rope stays wrapped around you both, slowly taking a box from his pocket before opening it. “To add onto your rings.”

You gasped as he took out two more rings, one a thinner band with a pearl on it made for Finnick while the other was a vine-shaped gold with a pearl on it as well. He slips them both onto your fingers as you look up at Finnick, eyes watering as he sighed. “I fucking love you, Y/N Odair. I love you so much.”

You giggled, stroking his cheek. “I love you, Finnick Odair. Until the end of time, and in our next life.”

He sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Until the end of time and in our next life, darling.”

“Give her a real kiss, Finnick!” Effie shouts, Atlas groaning in disgust as Finnick pulls his hand from the rope, both of his strong palms resting on your jaw as he pulls you closer, kissing you passionately.

You could taste the slight saltiness from the tears, but you groaned against his lips as you pulled him closer, lower. Everyone cheers as Atlas groans once again.

“Stop being nasty!”

You giggle as you pull away, smiling up at him again. “I love you too, Finnick Odair. Until the end of time, and when we meet in our next life.”

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪   𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪   𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪   𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪  𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪   𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪   𓆩[@c78r]𓆪

In our next life taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪   𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪   𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪   𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪   𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪   𓆩[@ok-boke]𓆪   𓆩[@instabull]𓆪   𓆩[@maxinehufflepuffprincess]𓆪   𓆩[@starryeddie]𓆪   𓆩[@ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations]𓆪   𓆩[@taestrwbrry]𓆪   𓆩[@iveraly]𓆪   𓆩[@b1llzb1tch]𓆪   𓆩[@avoxrising]𓆪   𓆩[@aquawhore]𓆪   𓆩[@luna-ann]𓆪   𓆩[@maliaaaa]𓆪   𓆩[@jyessaminereads]𓆪   𓆩[@hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere]𓆪   𓆩[@crowleysqueenofhell]𓆪   𓆩[@alexa-33]𓆪   𓆩[@wh0re4life]𓆪 𓆩[@duwcsd]𓆪   𓆩[@nyainterlu4ee]𓆪 𓆩[@magical-spit]𓆪

omg. OMG. THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT! OMG!

This is the last chapter, omg. With a heavy heart, this is (kinda) the end! I will start taking requests for Finnick in this universe, the link to request is in at the top! Don't be shy my loves!

© asterias-record-shop

#asterias-record-shop #finnick odair x reader smut #requests open #the hunger games #the hunger games finnick #finnick x you #finnick deserved better #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x y/n #finnick x fem! reader #the hunger games finnick odair #thg x reader #hunger games #thg fic #katniss everdeen #thg fanfiction #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #caesar flickerman #finnick odair #finnick odair x fem! reader smut #thg #with love asteria ♡

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℯℯ

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Part 1, part 2, part 4.. (to be released)

(For the dance, I used whatever moves I could remember from when I was young, but just look at svetlanas black swan performance to see what I meant)

Time skip

You won. Holy shit you won. You stood there, among all the snakes. Your once beautiful white dress was now torn and worn out.

You looked down on your arms, confused as to why the snakes weren’t attacking you like they did the others. Soon, you were escorted out by some peacekeepers.

And when you thought you were finally free, they had told you that Coriolanus had been caught cheating. And you as well, with the poison.

“Take her back to 12.”

And with those words, you were on the train back. Back to where it all started, back to where you would forever be.

"Send me to 12," Coriolanus said, if he were to serve his 20 years anywhere, he would want to serve it wherever you were.

He already missed you, your dress, your voice, your laugh and your smile.

When he saw you again, it was at a theater. The theater was older, nothing like the ones in the capitol. Hoff had given them another day off, the others had gone into the bar, but when he was walking he spotted your name on a sign.

"The victor, swan" it had said in bold letters, he stopped in his tracks, breath catching in his throat. Underneath was a small printing of your name, with a time and date.

He opened up the theater doors quietly, Sejanus followed behind him. He was just on time, because you came onto the stage and went over to the microphone.

“Uhm.. hello.” You said, your makeup and your dress looked perfect. The new black dress went perfectly with you. The people cheered, you smiled and laughed at them.

“Thank you. I’m Y/n, although most of you already know me. I see some familiar and unfamiliar faces, so I’m glad you all are here. This dance… is probably the hardest I’ve done, I was working on it for a while before I got picked. I practiced it every chance I got when I did get picked.” You said, your eyes scanning the crowd.

“And I wanted to dedicate it to everyone who’s been following my stuff for a while, to everyone who’s been watching for a while, and to…” your eyes stopped on Coriolanus. He gave you a small smile and you smiled back, covering your mouth for a second.

“Sorry, and to a certain mentor, he knows who he is. This song is also one of my favorites, the snow is falling. Debussy. It’s a classic. Anyways, enough of me talking. Enjoy!” You said, they rushed to take the microphone off the stage and you took a deep breath as you got into place.

When the song started playing, it was silent and all eyes were on you.

You started off simple, going into the next move with an arabesque, then a saute de chat. It went on for long, an impressive fouetté to finish it off.

Coriolanus was smiling the whole way through it, he turned to look at sejanus for a moment but instead saw him slipping away. He was going into a room in the corner.

Once finished, people clapped and cheered. You smiled and thanked them, giving them a curtsy before you ran down the stairs. You looked through the crowd for Coriolanus but you couldn’t see him anymore. He had left the spot he was in before.

Then you spotted him moving through the crowd, into a room. So, you followed him into the room. You ran into the room, still in costume.

“Coryo-“ you began, coming up to him. He protectively put his arm over you, shielding you from the others.

You were confused, your face fell at it. What had he gotten himself into now?

#Spotify #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #president coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow #president snow x reader #snow x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x female!reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth

[kining-the-evil]

Okay so hear me out, yandere Finnick Odair where he never lets the reader leave his house at victor's village, but somehow reader manages to escape and like reaches out to Snow because reader thinks he'll do something to help her. So Snow puts her on a train to the capital but when she gets to her room in the Presidential Palace Finnick is in there waiting her and tells her off for leaving him. Mid screaming at her he tells her that Snow ordered they get married Infront of the capital and all 12 districts so readers like offially suck with him and cant run away again.

(This was so long I'm so sorry, but I love your work sm!! ❤️)

My Pretty Little Bride

Summary: exactly what the request says

•

Warnings: Yandere!Finnick, kidnapping, drugging, emotional abuse, forced marriage, very small mention of what snow forces Finnick to do.

•

Hunger games masterlist. All masterlist

•

Taglist: @flowercrowns-goodvibes

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Finnick greeted as he walked into the kitchen. He placed a kiss on your head before walking over to stove. “What should we do for Breakfast?”

You ignored him, staring out the window. You were curled up on the window seat that looked out on the beach, giving you a perfect view of the ocean.

“What time did you get up?” You shrugged, making him sigh. “Don’t act like that, you’re the one who messed up our morning walks.”

The morning walks. It had taken months for Finnick to trust you enough to take you out. But you fucked it up when you tried to run last week. Instead of freedom, all you got was bruises along your body from him tackling you and dragging you back to the huge house he kept you locked in.

Finnick spent the morning ignoring you, as though you were a cat curled up on the window. He made breakfast, leaving yours at your normal spot while he ate his own. He cleaned the dishes, and excused himself to shower and change, leaving you alone again.

Before a year ago you didn’t know Finnick. Sure, you knew of him, everyone in district 4 did, but you didn’t know him. You weren’t even sure if you’d ever met the man before that morning. The morning you woke up in a soft, warm bed instead of the hard one you’d gone to sleep in. When you woke up in a strangers house that would become your prison.

The sun was almost completely up by the time you heard Finnick coming back down the stairs. You finally looked away from the window, seeing him for the first time that day. He was dressed up in nicer clothing, making your heart collapse. He only dressed like that when he was going to be seen by the Capital.

“I have to go to the Capital for a few days, maybe a week, for an event." He absentmindedly told you, checking his reflection in a mirror in the hall.

"What?"

A small smile grew on his face from the shakiness of your voice. Finnick knew the only thing you hated more than being locked up here with him was being locked up here alone.

Finnick turned and walked towards you, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to tip your head up towards him. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything in the house is stocked, and I'll be back in a few days." He pushed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, not at all detoured by your lack of response. He gently caressed your face before stepping away with a sad smile.

You watched as he walked towards the door, and in a moment of desperation you ran at it. But of course, Finnick caught you in his large arms, swinging you both to face away from the door. "Don't you get tired of this?" He whispered against your neck while digging for something in his pocket. You hated how strong he was. Even now, as you used all of your body weight to fight against him, he only needed one arm to keep you pinned to his body. "Luckily I know you to well, my little bird. I was prepared." You caught sight of some sort of syringe, causing you to fight harder. Finnick sighed before pushing you against the wall roughly, making your head bounce against it. "Sorry, but I need you to be as still as possible." After a moment there was a sharp prick on your neck, and only seconds later your felt you fighting weaken. The room around you spun lightly as the corners of your vision went black. You went limp against Finnick as he whispered comfort into your ear. The last thing you hear being, "Just rest, little bird."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up in your bed. The whole room was dark, and you were tucked securely into the bed. Your entire body protested as you sat up, shaking slightly from the energy it took. Your mind still foggy as you stood up. You knew what this was, some sort of sedative Finnick liked to use. It would not only knock you out but leave you someone sedated for a few hours after waking up. On shaky legs you made your way over to the window, pulling back the curtains. Outside was dark, the only light coming from the moon shinning on the ocean. You must have slept through the day.

You pulled yourself away from the window, and after becoming aware of how dry your mouth felt, you started the long journey to the kitchen. The victors house was large, but with the drugs running through your system, it felt even larger. The walk down the stairs and into the kitchen felt like it took a good hour for you to get down there.

It was exactly the same as that morning, the plate of uneaten food Finnick had left you still sat on the table and his own dishes were still in the sink. You grabbed a glass, filling it with water and gulping it down. You repeated the process, trying to get rid of the dry, sandy feeling in your throat.

After a few more glasses, you stopped for a moment to catch your breath. You looked outside, watching as the water crashed onto the beach. Like almost every other kid in district 4, you had loved the ocean and the beach, and now you felt just like you had as a child. Never allowed to go alone, being told how dangerous the water could be if you were alone, Finnick scolded you about these things the same way your mother had, like you were just an ignorant child.

You felt tears of frustration Well up in your eyes, and you truly felt like a child. You wanted to scream about how unfair it was, wanted to stomp your feat and throw things, but every time you had Finnick just laughed and watched you.

But Finnick wasn’t here. And every moment you were getting more upset, more angry, and after a moment you grabbed some random statue off the count and threw it as hard as you could.

You didn’t think about where you were throwing it, and jumped when it made a loud smashing sound, the window it had hit shattering. You froze, the kitchen in silence as you stood there, staring at the now broken window, one thought running through your head.

You had to get outside.

Despite still being shaky, you climbed onto the counter, and after a moment of struggling, you climbed out of the window. You could feel the glass cutting you in a few places, and the ground scratched your knees as you fell to the ground outside, but it didn’t matter. You were outside.

You pushed yourself to your feet, and took off running. You didn’t really have a destination in mind, but your feet led you to the beach in front of the house. You didn’t stop until the rough sand became wet and cold beneath your feet, some of it squishing up between your toes. The water splashing up against your feet as the waves came in, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m free…” you whispered, taking a step further into the water. “I’m free!” You yelled, spinning in a circle as waves of excitement rolled over you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping. You were out of that fucking house! Finally, you were free-

“Hey! What are you doing!?” A voice called out, making you stop your spinning and search for the voice. You found the source to be two peace keepers walking towards you, and you felt a new wave of relief rush over you. They would help you, get you somewhere safe.

“Please, I need your help,” you started towards them, but stoped, hands shooting up when a gun was pointed at you.

“Don’t move!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You stayed still as they walked up to you.

“What’s your name?” The older looking one questioned.

“Y/n l/n, please, I was taken from my home a year ago by Finnick Odair. He’s kept me locked up in his house for a year, but I escaped and I really need help-“

“Calm down ma’am.” The younger one spoke. “We’ll take you somewhere while we sort everything out.”

A few hours later you were sitting in the city building, the few cuts you had were wrapped up, and a blanket was brought to you and wrapped around your shoulders. No one had really spoken to you, but you didn’t mind. Just being in a different building than that damn house was comforting.

A little bit later two feet appeared in your vision and you looked up at the head peacekeeper. “Please come with me,” he instructed before turning to walk away. You quickly jumped up to follow him. You struggled to keep up for a few minutes before you finally spoke up.

“Where are we going?”

The peacekeeper slowly came to a stop before looking over at you. You couldn’t fully read his face, but he looked slightly conflicted.

“I’m not really supposed to tell you this, but we’re taking you to the capital.”

“The Capital? Why-“

“President Snow is concerned about what happened considering it was with a victor.” The man rushed out. “Now come on, your train will be leaving in a few minutes.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The train ride, while nerve racking, was exciting. After seeing the same things day after day, the view out the train window was breathtaking. You spent almost the whole ride just sitting and watching. The only time you weren’t looking out the window you were eating the provided food.

Finnick didn’t cheep out on the food he provided at all, but what was provided on the train was beyond what you could imagine. An array of fancy food you couldn’t possibly know the names of, different meats and cheeses, soups and noodle dishes, and of course the large array of deserts. Cakes, cookies, puddings, and a sort of custard dish that you adored.

By the time you made it to the capital however, any excitement that had been rising in you had completely disappeared. You were meeting the president himself, and he was going to help you. Or you hoped he would.

The moment you stepped off of the train you were bombarded by a couple of peacekeepers who took you directly to a building where a new group of people took you. You had seen some photos of Capital citizens, but it still shocked you with how they were dressed. Over the top outfits and hair dyed colors you’d never seen before. You expected them to take you somewhere else, but instead they demanded you strip.

“What?! Why?”

“You’re meeting the president, you will look perfect.”

The next two hours were torture. The three complete strangers plucked and waxed your entire body, talking about you as though you were just an object for them to perfect. By the end of you were placed in a simple dress and your makeup and hair were done up all fancy. As you were once again led away you could hear the people who had prepared you giggling amongst themselves and you heard one say something along the lines of ‘he’ll love how she looks.’

You were led to a door and the door was opened for you. “I’m here please.” You didn’t argue and went into the room and the door was closed behind you. A small click was heard but you thought nothing of it as you walked further into the room. It looked like a large dressing room but there was also a bed on one wall.

A large vanity was set up, and glanced into it, shocked by what you said. You’d seen them adding the makeup, but you didn’t think it’d look this fancy. It looked like you were preparing for some sort of large event and your hair matched. It just confused you, why would the president, or anyone for that matter, require you to look this dressed up. And on top of that, the dress didn’t match the fanciness of the rest of you.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

You practically jumped as you quickly stood up and turned around to see Finnick coming out of a bathroom you hadn’t noticed. He was dressed in a black suit, a small white rose pinned to it. His hair was done up in the ‘perfectly messy’ look the capital loved.

Finnick started to walk forward as you took a step back, hitting the vanity. The man continued to approach you until you were trapped between him and the vanity. He reached up to brush his fingers over your cheek.

“You know, I was a little worried when I was pulled away from my duties to be told about you, but it was the best thing to happen to me.”

“I don’t understand…” you whispered.

“The president decided it would be a pefect event for the Capital darling to marry the love of his life live in front of the whole capital.”

All the color drained from your face as you realized what was happening. “No, no I don’t want to do this.”

“Too bad, what do you think is happening right now?” He motioned to the room around him. “I’m going to marry you in front of everyone and then the whole country will know that your mine, and if you know what’s good for you, you will be the perfect little wife for me.” You wanted to cry and Finnick pulled you into a hug. “Don’t cry little bird, we wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup.”

As he hugged you the door opened and a woman stepped in with a large wedding dress in toe. The woman’s appearance was as dressed up as the others you’d seen, but she had a theme. She looked to be a tiger of some kind.

“Here’s your dress.” Finnick announced as he pulled away from you. “Meet Tigeress, she’s the best designer in the country. We worked together to design your dress.”

You couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful dress. It was porcelain white with a deep neckline. The bottom of the dress had gems and seashells attached. As you studied the dress Finnick placed a small kiss to your cheek. “I’ll leave you to get ready, and I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

Before you new it you were in the dress, a bouquet of flowers were in your hands and you were walking down a long aisle as hundreds of eyes you didn’t know watched your every step, no idea that your life would end at the end of the walk. You were spaced out almost the entire time, mind barely comprehending what was happening to you. You did end up meeting the president at the reception of your wedding as he wished you a long and happy marriage.

“I’m sure the capital will live to watch your relationship, and family, grow.”

#the hunger games x reader #the hunger games finnick #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #yandere!finnick odair #yandere hunger games

[purriteen]

Ad victor spolia, chapter two

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years)

author's note: I feel like this chapter is kinda shitty since I’ve mostly written pure smut before, not to mention I haven’t written in English in a while so I’m still warming back up to the language & structure

but alright, since I've just been projectile vomiting words all day anyways y'all get two chapters at once this time mostly cause I myself couldn't wait to flesh out what happens next

word count: 3,345

Previous chapter

Next chapter

You struggled to fall asleep that night. You’d already come to the conclusion that slipping past the guards positioned along the tall metal fence or the main gate wouldn’t be possible, but at least, before you used to have the privilege of leaving the house and spending time in the garden whenever you wanted. Now you were truly trapped. Now that you needed to get out of here the most.

At first you’d enjoyed going for walks in the garden or having tea in one of the quaint greenhouses, until you discovered the one with those god awful rose bushes. The ones that reeked of your brother. You figured he didn’t tend to them himself, but that didn’t ease the disgust you felt whenever that familiar, overwhelming scent reached you. It was nauseating.

Even in his absence, everything reminded you of him, in the worst way possible. In every nook and cranny of the house there’d be a reminder that this was his home. For a moment you wondered if his signature scent had worn off on you; your shower was equipped with various settings and products, but it was always stacked with that familiar rose shampoo you could smell on him whenever he got close to you - too close for your liking -, without exceptions.

When you finally fell asleep, your face was raw and puffy from all the crying. You hadn’t even bathed or brushed your hair, or changed into one of the many pyjama sets in your wardrobe.

Then, at around seven in the morning according to your alarm clock, you awoke to the sound of keys rustling outside your door. You were relieved when you realised it wasn’t Coriolanus - he’d never make such an awkward entrance. Instead, your nanny maid stepped through the door. Eugenie. She looked even more anxious than usual. Perhaps she took pity on you - if only she knew. 

The two of you hardly spoke that early Friday morning. She’d brought something for you to eat, stacked on a silver tray. As if you needed another reminder of your complete lack of autonomy here, your own brother now wouldn’t even let you have breakfast in the kitchen anymore. At least he’d been generous enough to let you have something you could actually stand to eat, you supposed. A bowl of blueberries and grapes and a fresh loaf of bread with butter and marmalade, neatly plated next to it. 

You sat on the small couch in the corner of the room as you ate your breakfast, only managing to get small bites down. Watching Eugenie change your bedsheets and clean up after last night, you simply couldn’t think about anything else. That was enough to make your appetite vanish.

Once you were both done she gestured towards the bathroom, and you took the hint. She went in first and ran a warm bath for you, before leaving the room to give you some privacy. Finally you took a proper look at yourself for the first time since yesterday.

Your hair was a mess, but what worried you most was the prevailing handprint on the left side of your face. Three, four stripes of a faint purplish colour that was already fading to yellow in some places. You shakily inhaled, forcing yourself to keep it together. The last thing you needed was for Coriolanus to think he was getting to you, even if he was right.

Yet you still didn’t realise the extent of your injuries until you’d already sunk down into the bathtub, relatively comfortably so. You’d felt the swelling on the back of your head last night, of course, but it was almost worse now. All you wanted to do at the moment was fall back asleep, but the aching bump on the back of your skull made it impossible to rest your head anywhere without being in pain. 

A couple minutes later, Eugenie returned. This time with an ice pack in hand, which she carefully placed in your hand and guided it towards the back of your head. She flashed you an almost sorrowful, empathetic smile, before she stepped back and closed the door behind her.

You weren’t particularly fond of her, but you didn’t want to make the poor woman’s job any harder than it already was. So you made sure to thoroughly wash yourself before she got back. The sight of the dried blood from your scalp liquifying and mixing with the bathwater as you rinsed your hair made you feel nauseous. 

You wondered what dinner would be like. If he would pretend nothing happened yesterday, or perhaps dish out another beating. You still hadn’t entirely grasped everything that went down last night. Everything he had kept from you, above anything, the hatred he’d felt for you. The thought of your warm, outwardly unassuming cousin having to make such a sacrifice for you made you feel sick. Poor Tigris. 

Not to mention being reminded of your mother’s passing. You knew she’d died in childbirth, your birth, but you never thought of it as your fault until he brought it up. Grandma’am never once blamed you for the loss of her only daughter-in-law. And until that moment, neither had Coryo. Not openly, at least. You were left staring at yourself in the mirror for a while, wondering if it was truly worth it. If you were worth it.

You knew you couldn’t afford to think like that, to let him get to you. But this was all so unlike the Coryo you were used to, you’d seen this side of him before, to some extent, but never directed towards you. You wished he had just stayed away, that he would’ve left you alone after the initial shock of Grandma’am’s passing. 

As you patted yourself dry with the soft white towel always hung on the gilded heating rack, you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what you deserved. You’d dragged everyone down. You hadn’t even been able to take proper care of grandma’am the last couple days of her life, or at least, Coriolanus wouldn’t let you. 

You sat down on the edge of the bathtub. Waited a couple more minutes. Got impatient again. You decided you might as well get dressed again before Eugenie came back, but the pile of clothes you’d left on the floor was already gone. In its place a peachy slip dress and a robe, with a pair of slippers to match. You sighed and slid on the matching set.

A few minutes later, she returned just on time. This time she just had a glass of water and a small yellow-ish pill in hand. You furrowed your brows a little, looking up at her. “What’s this for?” You inquired, silently scolding yourself as you heard the annoyance in your own voice. This wasn’t her fault, it’s Coriolanus you were upset with. “It’ll help the healing, Miss.” You simply nodded in return, washing down the small capsule with a sip of water before returning the glass to her.

Concern was written all over her face as she studied you for a couple seconds, discomfort forming in your gut. “I’ll be back in four hours with lunch. Master Coriolanus asked me to inform you that his personal stylist will pay you a visit tonight at six.” Her words came out tense and rushed, and you were left with no time to react before she stepped back and locked the door again. You weren’t sure why she was so out of it, or if you even wanted to know.

You were familiar with Coriolanus’ personal stylist. She’d been the one to prepare you for any of those important public appearances where your attendance was actually needed. Rumina, you believe her name was. She was not the type of person you’d expected to find working such a job - she was always well dressed, but always in a timeless, classic fashion rather than the bold, colourful looks that were all the rage this year. 

You supposed that might’ve been why your brother hired her in the first place. Beyond just that, she appeared to be in her fifties or sixties, whereas most stylists were much younger. The reason for that on the other hand, you couldn’t quite grasp. But despite her elegant exterior, you couldn’t stand her personality. She wouldn’t shut up about how delighted she was that somebody was finally ‘stepping up’ to truly restore Panem to its ‘former glory’. 

Truthfully you’d given up on politics long ago - you’d never been among the pick of the litter back at the Academy, largely thanks to being so caught up with caring for Grandma’am. Not to mention the way your last name seemed to precede you every time you entered a classroom - it was clear you had big shoes to fill, after your big brother’s academic achievements - which only drove you further away. So it was clear that wasn’t the right path for you. But at least, before Coriolanus’ presidency, you’d actually thought you might one day have a career of your own, something worth dedicating your life to. You just needed to heal and learn how to stand on your own two feet. 

Until he’d robbed you of that opportunity entirely. You didn’t even truly understand why, how it in any way actually served him. He had every reason to lock up Tigris, if he was simply worried about his own family turning on him. You’d never stood up to him in that sense before, or tried to distance yourself. He’d done a great job at that himself. If he genuinely believed you were so frail, he could’ve just left you in that penthouse to let you wither away in peace. He didn’t need to keep you so close to him.

Despite feeling about as rejuvenated as you could get under these circumstances after that bath, you felt a wave of drowsiness hit you. You laid back on the newly made bed, hoping to just fall back asleep. Instead you laid awake for nearly half an hour, staring at the canopy ceiling. Eventually you’d had enough.

You got up and walked over to your dresser, quickly pulling open your underwear drawer. You doubted that it was actually hidden, but you’d kept some old memorabilia from your childhood stashed in the shoe box at the very back of the drawer. Pictures of you and Grandma’am. Of all four of you who survived. Even a couple pictures of Coryo and your mom and dad together before you were born. 

There was a particular picture of them you just couldn’t stand. As far as you knew Coryo didn’t even remember the photograph’s existence. Mrs. Snow was sat next to your father, who stood up straight right by her side, with their newborn son in her arms. His gloved hand was steadily placed on her shoulder, but his face was about as devoid of any emotion as hers was of happiness. He had Coriolanus’ eyes - a pale shade of blue, cold and unforgiving. 

Your mother on the other hand, looked afraid, exhausted and tense. No amount of makeup was enough to hide the dark circles under her wide eyes. You’d always admired her beauty, and although you never had the chance to know her, you felt a sense of pride in the resemblance the two of you bore. You had her eyes, her smile, her lips. Even her hair, although hers was wavier than yours. Coriolanus always recalled her as a warm, loving mother, and you didn’t doubt that, but this picture always gave you the impression she had to have been wildly unprepared for the task of becoming a mom, and consequently disillusioned. Or worse.

Everyone always spoke fondly of her, of her charm and youthfulness, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they were simply tiptoeing around the word naive. You didn’t have any memories of your father either, but just from the few photographs you had of him he’d always instilled a sense of fear in you. You hated how much Coriolanus was starting to resemble him. 

Finally you got to the picture of Grandma’am holding you in her arms shortly after your mother passed. She was visibly shaken up, and both you and her worn hands were bloody. You’d been told many times of how close a call it was, how the family cook was convinced you wouldn’t make it. You could only imagine how she must’ve felt in that moment, holding her two weeks premature, frail granddaughter in her arms after watching her daughter-in-law lose her life.

It didn’t take long for you to start crying, something which only got worse as you scrambled through the rest of your small collection of family photos. The family fortune had run out awfully fast during the Dark Days, so there were hardly any taken during your childhood. The few you had left were mostly school photos and ones taken at various social events. Even though you couldn’t afford your own photographer, you’d always kept the unprocessed copies and had them processed and printed whenever you had some extra money to spare. Much to Coriolanus’ dismay you’d always been sentimental, just like your cousin.

You stayed like that for almost an hour. All those photos of you smiling in your brother's arms, the ones where he posed so proudly with his baby sister, made you feel nostalgic for something you’d hardly even experienced. You couldn’t grasp that this boy, your Coryo, could’ve gone from that prideful older brother you saw in those pictures to the man he was today. You wondered if Grandma’am had felt the same way bringing up Crassus.

When you finally got up from your seat on the floor, you carefully put the stack of photographs away again, along with the pearl necklace and perfume bottle you’d kept after Grandma’am’s passing, to remind you of her. You didn’t have anything tangible left of your parents, but you had fond memories of Coriolanus letting you sleep with your mother’s powder compact when you were younger. He’d always been possessive, though - only if you were really upset would he share it with you. 

You checked the time. Almost ten o’clock. You went off to your bathroom to splash your face with some cold water, shivering as you looked up and were met with the sight of the yellowing bruise on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten. At least it was healing quickly, like Eugenie promised. After nearly exhausting yourself with tears, your throat hoarse and eyes puffy and red, you finally felt tired enough to take a nap. So you did. You nearly threw yourself back onto the soft, queen size bed and let your eyes flutter shut.

When you woke again it was noon. This time Eugenie had gone unnoticed when she entered, as you only awoke when you heard the wheels of the food cart she wheeled in after herself awkwardly bumping into the threshold, making the porcelain inside clatter against itself. You were startled at first, but immediately calmed down when you realised it was just her. 

Soon enough lunch too had passed, and this time Eugenie stuck around to keep you company for a little while. She taught you how to knit, and you lent her your favourite book. For a moment you’d almost forgotten the gravity of the situation you were in. Until she scurried to get up, proclaiming she was late to laundry service. You glanced at the longcase clock across the room, a bit surprised to find it was already quarter past four in the evening. You had forty-five minutes until your brother’s stylist would turn up.

You spent that time trying to perfect your knitting technique, ignoring the stiffness in your hands as best as you could. You’d never excelled at crafts like Tigris did, or patience, for that matter.

Finally Rumina arrived, and you were almost relieved. She immediately started to babble on about the latest gossip, and as always, sang your brother’s praises. Though, today it was particularly unbearable, and you thought to yourself that someone working so closely with him and his image should know that it’s just that, an image. That your brother didn’t give a flying fuck about the districts, even if he had improved the living conditions of the tributes in the annual Hunger Games, and that he didn’t even really care about the Capitol either. You’d come to terms with the fact that Coriolanus was only loyal to one thing: power.

You had stayed silent as she blow dried, brushed and twisted and folded your hair up behind your head. When she was done she offered you a handheld mirror to have a look for yourself, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you were met with a tidy french twist. Of course your brother had chosen something conservative that’d thoroughly conceal the bloody lump he’d given you.

Then she had done your makeup. This time she laid the base on thicker than usual, but you weren’t surprised Coriolanus intended to hide your bruise, too. You wondered if it was for his own conscience’s sake or for his image. But it could hardly be the latter, you doubted he would let anyone see you so soon after last night’s events. Then again, you weren’t sure he even had a conscience, either.

When you were done, you looked perfectly rejuvenated. Though to you it felt like an empty shell. Rumina eagerly guided you out into your bedroom and helped you get dressed. It seemed your brother had picked out yet another tasteless, phoney dress that you’d feel nothing like yourself in. Much like the makeup it was more glamorous than you’d expected.

The material was flowy, probably something like chiffon, but it was perfectly cinched at your waist, the sweetheart neckline and the puffy fabric at your hips flattering your figure just right. There was some sort of built in corset that stopped just below your chest. The sleeves were long and puffy much like the skirt, which stopped just above your ankles. You knew Coriolanus was always up to whatever dress code applied, and something this elegant was hardly necessary for a simple dinner. 

But what really stood out to you was the colour. It was a deep shade of burgundy; one you’d seen on Coriolanus oh so many times. You felt your jaw clench. It was bad enough that he insisted on dressing you up, like a mere doll, but this was yet another jab at your independence and individuality. Like you were just an extension of him.

Still, complaining to his own stylist would be of no use, so you decided to suck it up and let her finish dressing you. She clasped a silver necklace around your neck, a garnet pendant in the shape of an octagon hanging from it, framed by more silver. It almost seemed compulsive how your brother just had to show off his wealth every chance he got. Finally you slid on some black velvet kitten heels and had a look in the mirror. 

You looked like something out of a gothic painting. (A tragedy, if you had to guess.) That wouldn’t be too unlike your current situation. Only there wouldn’t be a handsome, brooding young mythological hero to save you. No, your ‘prince charming’ had few positive attributes beyond just that - his superficial charm -, and no intention of saving you. 

You felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter as you walked down the stairs to the main floor, confusion spreading on your face as you saw one of Coriolanus’ many servants waiting for you at the bottom. He stiffly informed you that there’d been a change of plans, that he’d be escorting you to the larger dining room over in the east wing. You hadn’t even explored the house enough to know there were multiple.

When you arrived you quickly understood what the sudden change of plans was for. 

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse

#banner credit: @benkeibear #minors dni #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #named reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #thg fanfiction #eventual smut

[seeingivy]

three days 

roommate eren x f!reader  

three years can feel like an eternity, if you let them

**find the mini-series masterlist here

content warning: eren being miserable, jean being annoying again, hitch being even worse 

an: ok I promise we return to regularly scheduled sweet boy eren after this (which is almost done being written) :00000

previous part linked here

-

Eren doesn’t sleep well. Some part of him was always flighty - twisting and turning every time he heard a noise, the fan whirring, the room creaking. He’d been like that, since he was a kid. 

His mom had mentioned that when she visited the nursery for the first time, right after he was born, that the only reason Zeke could point him out in the row of other boys was because he was rustling, struggling against his swaddle. 

The only thing that put him at ease? Kept him still through the night? You. When you would still sleep in his bed. 

The first night, after you so quickly mentioned that the two of you were a mistake, he couldn’t sleep. He could still smell you, your peach scent pressed against his pillows and his blankets. He runs his hand against his pillow cases, wishing you were here with him. 

The following morning, it took him thirty minutes to brace himself. To face you. He has to fight the urge - to touch you, press himself against you and kiss you full on the mouth. Like he should have, when you asked him to. 

He should have just done it. Maybe you’d still be here with him if he would have. Screw Zeke. All that shit about making a special moment, making your heart flutter. He should have just kissed you. 

When you were in the bathroom, getting ready. When you put his necklace on, when he lost you in the crowd, when he carried you at the concert, when you kissed his fucking cheek, when you asked him to. 

He braced himself. Deep breaths, grounding techniques. Just like Mikasa and Armin taught him. When he leaves the safe confines of his room, he finds that your key was off the hook and your sneakers were absent from the door. You left already. You’re avoiding him just as much as he’s avoiding you. 

You don’t return that night. He’s okay with it. He can’t see you. Not yet anyways. 

- 

It worries him, the second day. You still haven’t returned. He couldn’t have messed up that badly, could he? You couldn’t hate him this much, so much so that you wouldn’t come home. 

He marches over to the office, where Armin, Jean, and Annie are supposed to be. He’s hoping you’ll be there. That he’ll open the door and find you there, sprawled across the floor like you usually are.

But you’re not. Just Jean, Armin, and Annie - staring him down. 

“What’s wrong with you, Eren? Why are you…panting?” 

“Nothing, Annie. I just thought Y/N might be here.” 

“She’s out of town. Left a late notice yesterday morning for Victor.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“No. Must have been in a rush. I didn’t even see her before she left.” 

Armin and Annie return to their work, Annie typing on her computer and Armin grading his papers.

“I saw her before she left.” 

Of course he did. 

“How did she seem, Jean?” 

“Well, a little bit earlier. She came to our apartment after she met Hitch.” 

Right. When you ran out, after he handed you the tulips. 

“Well, what did she say?” 

“Nothing much. Just asked me who she was, that’s all.” 

“And what did you say?” 

“Just the usual. That you guys pretended to see each other during soccer season, because of Marlowe.” 

“You didn’t tell her that I liked Hitch, right? That I’m with her or anything?” 

“No. Just that you guys are close during season because you spend time together and all.” 

There goes any hope of it being a misunderstanding. He doesn’t sleep that night either. Your scent on his pillows serves as a cruel reminder.  

- 

The third day, Hitch comes by. You’re still not back and he hates it. He’s had to throw the breakfast he made for you away twice, because he keeps forgetting you’re not here. 

“Are we still on?” 

“Yeah, Hitch. None of the other stuff, okay?” 

“Sure. Marlowe should be at the games and parties, so just then.” 

If he can’t be happy, someone should. He doesn’t mind it, holding Hitch’s hand here and there, slinging his arm around her shoulder to make Marlowe mad. To push the two of them together. He just wished it would do something to you, so you’d come running back to him too. 

The second she leaves, all he can think about is your absence. It’s all he thinks about anyways. He hates that it’s true. That distance makes the heart fonder. 

That’s all he wants to do. Just see you. He doesn’t care how you are - angry, pissed, detached from him. He just wants to see you, in your kitchen. He wants to hear you, singing in the shower, and watch you, sitting in the stands at his games. 

He just wants you back. In whichever way you’ll have him. 

He doesn’t sleep that third night either. Your peach smell is gone from his pillows already. He hates the passing of time. 

 - 

You return, in the dead of night. He’s sure of it. He can hear you out there, your tiny footsteps clinking the dishes into the sink. 

He nearly runs out the door, just to make sure you’re there. And you are, rinsing the dishes he left out. You’re back. 

He fights the urge. To run up to you, press you against his chest, to pepper soft kisses all over your face. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hey Eren.” 

God. Your voice. He didn’t realize that this was something he could miss - your voice, the stray hairs by your ears, the sound of your breathing. But here he is. Reveling at the sight of you. Doing the fucking dishes.  

He walks up, pressing his hands against your frame and leaning his head against your shoulders. He can smell it - the peach smell. It makes his heart ache and he tries to will down the tears. He loves you, doesn’t he? 

God. He can’t love you, can he?

“Am I imagining you or are you really here?”

“Really here, Eren.” 

You’re back. He won’t let you leave again. 

“I haven’t seen you in three days.” 

“I went to see Porco and Pieck for the weekend.” 

“It’s Tuesday. I was worried about you.” 

“Sorry Eren.” 

He can’t even do it. Be mad at you, tell you he was hurting the past few days. He can’t even remember it now, the feel of your skin against his hands was enough. 

“It’s okay. You wake up Porco and Pieck with your morning concert while you were there?” 

Your voice doesn’t fill the air, the sound of the plate in your hand crashing does. He immediately jerks up, your hands still dangerously close to the shards that were now swirling around in the water. Before he can pull your hands out, run his eyes over your fingers to make sure you weren’t hurt, you mutter three words that catch him off guard. 

“Screw you, Eren.” 

He can feel his breath stopping in his tracks. He’d never heard you like this, especially with him. Your voice was soft, sweet honey saccharine. Even when you were fast asleep, all tangled up in his sheets. So why were you angry?

“What?” 

“I’m so sick of you making fun of me all the time. If something I do annoys you, you should just tell me, instead of making passive aggressive comments.” 

Making fun of you? All the time? You couldn’t be serious. There’s no way you misunderstood that. He loves your singing - that you’re comfortable enough to scream in the shower when he’s a few feet away. That the music makes you happy enough to sing out loud, to dance in the kitchen, to share it with him. This couldn’t come out of nowhere. Because you have to know. You have to know that he loves it. 

“Hey, what happened, peaches? You could never annoy me. I was just teasing you.” 

He watches his words hit you, the air tightening in his chest at the sight of you pushing your hands against your eyes. No. No. He couldn’t have made you cry. 

“You happened. I’m not something for you to laugh at Eren. I have feelings too, you know?” 

He watches you move, slamming your door against the frame as you scurry into your room. 

He doesn’t understand it. How you were tangled in his arms, breathing soft against his ears as he kissed you four days ago and now you can’t stand him. He hates it, that he knows how you feel, your touch. Maybe it would be easier if he hadn’t known it at all. 

- 

“We’re okay, right?” 

The question comes three days later, one of the first times you and Eren had been alone in your apartment, since your argument. You kept inviting people over, so you could avoid this. That look, that question, talking about it. 

You nod, wordlessly, sorting out the paperwork. It’s easier to focus on the papers than his eyes. 

Eren had mentioned that the two of you needed to go into town tomorrow, to meet your landlord. Kenny Ackerman. He was apparently a touch eccentric, so he was preparing you for the meeting. You just had to officially sign onto the lease. But how do you tell Eren you’re not even sure you can live with him anymore? 

“How have you been? Lately?” 

You hate this. Be cool about it. 

“Good, Eren. Just busy. How about you?” 

“I’m good too. Soccer season and all that.” 

You wish he was kind enough to be cruel about it. That he could either love you or hate you - nothing in between. You’d prefer that, him declaring he doesn’t care for you. It would be easier that way. But he stays the same - caring, thoughtful, warm. 

“When’s your next game?” 

“Today.” 

“Got your good luck charm?” 

“It broke actually.” 

He opens the kitchen drawer, pulling out the key and the snapped chain. He hands the pieces to you, as you run your fingers along the chain. 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Not sure. Let’s hope I don’t break an arm or something.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve worn that necklace every game I’ve played since I was twelve. One time I forgot it and I broke my ankle.” 

You laugh, twisting the key in your fingers, as you look at him.

“You can’t be serious, right? That’s just a coincidence.” 

“It’s real.” 

“Did it ever happen again, Eren?” 

“No. Do you think I’d ever play a game without it? That’s like basically asking for it.” 

You laugh, the two of you stuck in the middle of the kitchen. You hate this. That he can make you laugh, even after not talking for a week. That some part of him is always familiar to you, that you want to let him in. 

“Do you still have the necklace I gave you?” 

At the concert. 

“Ah yeah.” 

He digs his fingers underneath his shirt, pulling the silver chain out. You spin your finger, signaling for him to turn around. You quickly take the latch off and string the key through the chain before securing it back on. You tap his shoulder and he faces you again, watching you readjust and tuck the necklace back into his jersey. 

“Thanks peaches. Saving my life here.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Sometimes you forget why you’re mad at him. Why you can’t do this. Hitch walks out of Eren’s room, right on cue, with green glitter spread across her face. Right. That’s why. 

“Hey Rennie. Still can’t find it.” 

“I’m not sure what I did with it, Hitch.” 

“Have you seen it, Y/N?” 

“Seen what?” 

“His extra jersey. I wanted to wear it to the game today.” 

Right. The jersey he gave you. To wear to all his games. 

“I think it might have gotten mixed up with my laundry. I’ll go check my room.” 

You retrieve the jersey from your room, your knuckles nearly white when you hand it over to Hitch to wear to the game. You make a mental note to fold and return the rest of Eren’s clothes you had and put them in his room. There’s no point in keeping them at this point. She gives you a smile, taking the jersey to go change into. 

“You didn’t have to give it to her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I gave it to you for a reason.” 

“I don’t mind. It makes sense anyways - girlfriends always wear jerseys to the games.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” 

“I know.”

Girlfriend, fling, your roommate you kiss sometimes. It’s all the same thing. As much as you think you’ve given everything, that there’s nothing more that can hurt you, the universe proves you wrong. 

You’re sure it’s all the same with her too - kissing scars, pretty dresses, soft kisses. It’s a bad omen, but you hope it hurts for her as much as it does for you, when it’ll end.

- 

next part linked here

taglist: @maliakealoha @smolone88 @mykyoon @squirrelspoetry @roronoazorosbxtchh @fell-4-u @erensleftnutt @thelazylemur @mg63k @filunara @mblrrr @spidersinmybutthole @lezsie @erensmoodygf @maesthebestmonth @nanamiswife22 @lalalucidity @lapin0u @cullenswife @leafguitar @saiyasworld @rebeccawinters @mrs-sullys-blog @red-moon-dream @icansmellsouls @luvinclouds @katestrophes @amourely @6sakusa @miralbdo @k0z3me @celiniverse @txminie-blog @erenspersonalwh0re @s0f14sbs @violetmatcha @sweetenertea @wheredidmycrowngo @serendippindots 

reply under this post or any of the one’s linked above to be added to the tag list! <3 

#seeingivywrites! #eren #eren angst #roommate eren #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #read more break

[mitsuyeaah]

i’m yours, and you’re mine.

— bachira meguru x f! reader

cw: college au, student athelete!bachira, nsfw (mdni), smut, exhibitionism, semi-public sex (empty locker room), unprotected sex, backshot, clit slapping (brief), fingering (brief), jealous bachira, pet names (baby).

a/n: mitsu’s bachira brainrot has officially started 🧎🏻‍♀️ this drabble is purely self indulgent!! apologies if my characterisation of meguru is inaccurate, this is my first time writing for him, and bllk in general <3 hope u enjoy!

bachira wasn’t the jealous type, nor was he an individual who easily lost his cool when it came to other boys possibly hitting on you, no. he knew that your relationship with him was secure—he was yours and you were his. bachira didn’t have to worry about anyone stealing you away from him but today was different. right after tonight’s game ended, his demeanour was different despite his team being tonight’s victor.

“he didn’t have to do all that, you know..” bachira clicked his tongue and jutted his bottom lip out—a sweaty arm secured around your waist as the two of you walked side by side to the locker room. grabbing the towel that hung loosely around his neck, you wiped at the sweat rolling down the side of his face, “i’m sure he meant no harm, baby. he was just being nice.”

you didn’t miss the way his fingers at your waist tightened, and the muscles in his arm becoming taut—a clear sign that he wasn’t going to let this go that easily. was he seriously that upset about it? you’ve never seen him act this way before, especially when other men tried to hit on you. usually, he’d even joke about it, saying things like “look how lucky i am to be your boyfriend!”. praising you because of how wonderful you were to have all these guys after you.

a few minutes after the second half of the game started. the ball suddenly came hurling your way. you had no time to react, blurry hues of black and white rapidly making its way over to you and the only thing left to do was close your eyes and accept the ball to your face. you sat on the sideline seats as usual, with every game that bachira had. he liked seeing your face while he ran up and down the field, a good luck charm that helped him calm his nerves during the match.

you waited for what felt like eternity for the ball to come in contact with your face; you were surrounded by the roaring of tonight’s crowd, panicking for your sake for what’s about to hit you but it never came. you took a peek with one eye before opening both of them, one of the players from the rival team had skilfully blocked the ball from smacking you dead in the face which caused the crowd to go wild.

barely even registering what had happened, the rival player—who had blocked the ball—now stood in front of you, asking if you were okay. upon nodding, he gave you a small smile but before leaving to go back to the field, he looked over his shoulder, “can’t have a pretty face like yours get hit, can we?” it left you dumbfounded.

bachira, of course, had heard this small exchange since his first instinct was to head your way and check if you were hurt in anywhere—and this was the sole reason why he was in a sour mood up until now, even though it’s almost been an hour since it happened.

normally, he’d shrug it off and simply tell them that you had a boyfriend but it didn’t sit right with him if the flirting came from a rival player, especially from the one who had been swiftly stealing the ball from him while he dribbled down the field earlier.

“yeah.. being nice or flirting?” he deadpanned. bachira held your gaze, his citrine eyes that used to be filled with joy was now full of annoyance. before you could say anything, his teammates—who had already changed and washed up—rolled out of the locker room, their voices echoing throughout the walls as they celebrated tonight’s win. “bachira! we’re heading out for drinks, coach’s treat for winning the first game of the season! you in? we can wait for you.” isagi rubbed a towel at his wet hair.

“mhm, i’ll meet you guys there. just text me the address.” your boyfriend let out an exasperated sigh before heading inside the locker room. isagi nodded at his reponse and turned to you, “all of us should be done washing up by now, you can head inside.. just don’t let coach catch you.” the man chuckled before leaving.

by the time you got inside only one shower was running and you knew who it was. you walked to bachira’s locker and fished for his change of clothes. the spare uniform that hung on a hanger caught your eye, you took it out from his locker and examined it—it was the same one he wore tonight, the number ‘8’ plastered on both sides, with his name in big, bold letters at the back.

suddenly, an idea popped into your head. you quickly changed out of your blouse and wore bachira’s spare jersey, a smile plastering across your face.

“baby, what if i just wore your shirt to every game i attend so they know that i’m yours and you’re mine?” you joked and turned to your boyfriend who’d just gotten out of the shower. as usual, he didn’t cover himself up.

your eyes widened at his nudity and you quickly averted your gaze, “b-bachira! will you cover up please?” you could feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment even though you weren’t the one fully naked. bachira chuckled, “what? it’s not like you haven’t seen any of this before..”

bachira took a few steps forward to close the gap between the two of you, the soles of his bare feet slapping against the tiled floor. “what was it you were saying..? you, wearing my jersey so they know that you belong to me?” his voice was much lower now.

he gently grabbed your chin and angled your head to face him, there was a weird glint in his amber eyes, it was clouded with lust. “i.. i was just joking..” your lips were parted as you took shallow breaths to calm yourself down. the heat in the apex of your legs suddenly made itself known; bachira noticed the way you rubbed your thighs together to chase after some kind of friction.

the corner of his lips tugged up. ah, there’s that smile he always wore in the field—the one he uses against his opponents to rile them up but now he’s using it on you. to rile you up. “oh? but my name on your back looks so good on you, my baby..” he removed his fingers from your chin and grabbed your hand, sensually kissing at your knuckles while keeping eye contact.

bachira has seen you wear his soccer jersey in different occasions but it didn’t do anything to him more than his heart just skipping a beat when he saw you in it but tonight.. seeing you with his name and number plastered on your back, it awoke something else in him. especially when you told him that you’d wear it during his games so people knew you belonged to him. yes, you were only joking but he didn’t care. it turned him on.

your eyes fixated on a bead of water at the tip of his bangs, following it as it dropped on the floor, and in the process, you saw how his pretty cock now stood against his abdomen. you swallowed thickly and bit your lip.

bachira didn’t hesitate to grab your chin once again and kiss you. his lips desperately moved against your own—it was rough, needy, and full with want. almost like he wanted to prove to an imaginary audience that you were his, and only his.

you moaned into the kiss, hands coming up to rest against his naked, wet chest. your nails left trails of pink and red as you balled your hands into fists—fuck, he absolutely loved it when you marked his skin with your nails. it drove him crazy.

he was quick to move. turning you around and pressing you against the cold surface of the lockers with a loud thud, earning a yelp from you. “mmm—ah! bachira..” whines left your lips as he planted open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. his hands skilfully circled to your front and unbuttoned your jeans, hastily tugging them down—shivering as the cool air kissed your bare skin.

“hmm? already wet, aren’t we?” he whispered against the shell of your ear. you bit your lip as bachira ran his index finger along the valley of your wet folds, he pushed your soaked panties aside and plunged two fingers in without warning. desperate attempts to hide your moans were long gone as your lips parted to let out sounds of pleasure. you rested your forehead against the cool metal and closed your eyes, relishing in the pleasure of his fingers inside you.

“fu—ah! fuck, baby!”

bachira tugged your panties down just enough to expose your sopping cunt; he pulled your ass back to his crotch so that you were bent at the hips—the only thing you could do was lay your palms flat against the lockers, you couldn’t even hold onto anything.

“fuuuck.. look at you. so pretty. so perfect for me.” bachira purred, citrine eyes filled with nothing but lust scanned your back. he kept his jersey on you for the sole reason of wanting to see his name on you while he fucked you from behind. there, in big, bold letters was his name and underneath it was the number ‘8’. his number.

“baby.. please! put it inside me—ah!” bachira slapped your clit with the tip of his cock before pushing it past your wet folds. the sound of your nails dragging across the metal surface of the lockers could be heard as you balled your hands into fists. “so fucking good—ngh!” you moaned as he bottomed out.

he let out a breathless laugh before leaning forward, moulding his hands against your own at the locker. the new angle drove his cock deeper into you, now deliciously kissing your cervix—your legs wobbled at this. he hasn’t even started moving his hips yet you were already gone.

amidst the pleasure you felt, you suddenly remembered where the two of you were. in a locker room, and anyone could come in at any time. “w-wait, baby! what if someone comes? we have to—” “hmm? don’t tell me you’re scared, baby? you know, something inside me is saying: we should be excited, not scared when we’re in a desperate situation.”

before you could respond, bachira moved his hips at a fast pace, earning a loud cry of his name from you. the sounds of wet squelches, and a mix of his and your moans bounced around the walls of the locker room. he rested his forehead on your upper back—where the letters of his name were plastered—and moved his hips at a faster pace.

his heavy balls slapped against your clit; his pelvis turning red from making repeated contact with your ass. bachira panted against the soft fabric of his uniform, gripping at it as you tightly clenched around him—beads of water from the shower mixed with his own sweat, coating him in a light sheen.

“aaah—ngh! so so tight for me, baby! looking so good in my shirt—fuck!” he brought a hand to your front and toyed with your clit, causing your knees to buckle. if it wasn’t for his strong hold, you would have been on the floor by now.

“you’re mine, and mine only. tell me—haah! what number am i drawing on your clit? hm?” you furrowed your brows at his question. your mind was fogged with lust that it almost didn’t make sense but you could feel the way his finger moved against it.

bachira was drawing figures of eight on your clit. number 8.

“e—ah! eight!” you stammered. he smiled even though you couldn’t see his face. “hmm—yeaah.. that’s right. the number eight. my jersey number.” bachira stood upright and used your hips as a leverage to drive his cock deeper into you. he wanted it deeper, faster, and harder, and boy did he fulfil that.

your moans increased in volume and pitch, and if there was someone to walk by the locker room, they’d know exactly what the two of you would be doing. “aaah! me-meguruuu~ i’m close!” bachira’s knees buckled at the use of his first name. fuck, he always found it sexy whenever his name rolled off your tongue so flawlessly.

“fuuuck! aaah! come on, baby.. cum for me—ngh!” he watched the way his jersey bunched up on your mid back, leaving his name in view—your ass bounced with every powerful thrust of his hips. fuck, you were so wet that a white ring had started to form at the base of his cock. you were such a good girl for him. all his.

your back arched further which allowed the blunt tip of his cock deeper. it pounded against your cervix over and over again until the knot it your stomach snapped. your sweaty hands slid from the locker, causing you to fall forward but bachira’s hold stabilised your limp body.

you moaned his name out as every muscle in your body stiffened with pleasure—a sharp sensation shooting up your spine. bachira massaged at the skin of your hips, still driving his cock in and out of your sopping wet cunt. he gave you breathless praises mixed with possessiveness—broken sentences declaring that you were his and he was yours.

it didn’t take long for bachira to reach his sweet release. pulling out, he came all over your back, both on his shirt and on your skin. he threw his head back in pleasure as spurts of his cum messily shot out of his tip—lips parted and amber eyes rolling back from the intense orgasm. his loud, shameless moans filled the entire locker room, and you feared that someone may walk past and catch the two of you in such a lewd act but bachira didn’t care.

the two of you stayed that way for a couple of seconds, chests heaving while catching your breaths. he turned your body around to face him before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

“mine. all mine..” bachira whispered, resting his sweaty forehead against your own.

“all yours.”

© mitsuyeaah

#bachira meguru #bachira smut #bachira x you #bachira x y/n #bachira x reader #bachira x female reader #blue lock smut #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock #blue lock drabbles #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk bachira #bllk x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk x you #bllk fanfiction #bllk #bllk fanfic #bllk fic #blue lock fic #meguru bachira #meguru x reader

[taytrashmouth]

I'm so glad other people are having a peeta renaissance and I'm so obsessed with how you write for him !!!!!! Could you do promt #6 with Peeta please ! Maybe with the scene with Johanna in the elevator or maybe something with Katniss during the victor's tour ?? Big love ! ❤️

Omg omg thank you!!!!!!! Ahhhhh! Love this. I hope you enjoy!

Prompt 6: you’re jealous

Jealousy, jealousy.

Peeta Mellark x reader.

A

You entered the lift with Peeta and Haymitch after the parade. Soon after Johanna entered the lift too. She undid her hair and rambled about how boring her costume was and the stupid Capitol.

She then asked Peeta to unzip her.

He glanced at you for a second before obeying. He looked up but you noticed how his eyes wondered.

A bitter feeling spread into your chest. Why couldn’t he seem to keep his eyes off her.

You had the sudden urge to lean onto Peeta and hold onto his arm.

He glanced quickly down at you, and kissed your head. Johanna climbed off the elevator.

“Wow.” Haymitch mouthed.

Peeta’s eyes went wide in an ‘ I know’ sort of way.

You let go of him, no longer liking the thought of holding him. Not right now, not nowthat she was gone.

When you got back to your room you changed out of your dress and climbed into bed.

“So, you love me…right?” You asked as Peeta brushed his teeth. He frowned leaving the brush limp in his foamy mouth and spat out the toothpaste rinsing his palate and toothbrush.

“Of course n/n.” He crawled behind you and held you close in his lap. “You’re everything to me.” He whispered.

You were quiet for a while before speaking up again.

“What did you think about Johanna?” You asked.

“She was alright-“ he shrugged, still holding you.

You scoffed.

“Oh my god! You’re jealous.” Peeta turned you to face him with a smirk.

“I am not!” You denied.

“Oh come on! You’ve been insecure all evening, you had to grab onto me when she was in the elevator, you’ve been asking about her since dinner.” Peeta listed and you sighed.

“It’s just- you looked at her… and you’re supposed to look at me. And I just- I got upset because you don’t act like that when you see me-“ you were cut off by a kiss.

“Peeta!”

“You are so cute when you’re jealous! Did you know that?” He smirked. “I wasn’t looking at her like that n/n. I was looking at the marks on her back, I think the peacekeepers beat her or something. They looked fresh. And I was thinking, she must be crazy, yelling about the Capitol 24/7 and getting undressed in an elevator.” Peeta explained.

You felt a little silly.

“Oh.”

“Even if I was checking her out, which I wasn’t, I wouldn’t ever look at you like that. You are so gorgeous and I respect you so much. I will only ever look at you with love and not like you were some painting I could eye-fuck.”

Tears filled your eyes. “I just get scared because I don’t look like her. I don’t look like the pretty girls in the Capitol.” Insecurities washed over you. “I don’t want you to be disappointed that you were stuck with me.” Tears ran down your cheeks.

Peeta kissed you on your cheek and wiped away the tears. He stroked hair out of your face. “You don’t look like them… you’re right. You’re more beautiful than all of them. I don’t want the over the top girls in the Capitol or the extremely over the top Johanna.”

You watched him with such love. You had just accused him of checking out some other girl and here he was making you feel better. He wasn’t even angry. He was perfect.

“I mean, have you seen Effie? I don’t think I could handle that much glitter. You know?” He rambled and you giggled.

“I want you n/n…I love you. I could never be disappointed about just you.”

You smiled and held each other tighter until you were almost asleep. You felt Peeta’s stomach moving? Was he laughing?

You heard laughed finally erupt and you leaned back, trying to figure out what was so funny.

“What is so funny.” You were smiling just off of his expression.

“I love you so much you know that.” He laughed. “Remember the day we first spoke back in 12. You asked me to go out with you, which I thought was really brave because you were normally so quiet.” He rambled.

“Then you told me that you’d been outside for about an hour contemplating before you came into the bakery. Well, I had no idea you got so jealous over me…it’s flattering.” He laughed again.

“What!?” You sat up in confusion.

“N/n you 100% saw that red head from school go in before you and watched her flirt with me. That’s why you asked me out. I should thank her really.” He smiled and you gasped and then buried your head in his chest, a bright shade of pink.

It was true. You had liked him for ages. She couldn’t steal him from you.

“I should start kissing you whenever you and Finnick talk.” Peeta tickled your sides and you laughed despite your embarrassment. “I mean, he’s a good looking guy, should I be worried.” Peeta smiled at you and you returned the gesture.

“Yeah you should be.” You tried not to laugh.

Peeta fake gasped and pushed you onto your back, the spongy bed bouncing under you.

“I’m sorry, have you seen his abs…” you fanned yourself. “I don’t make the rules babe.” You smiled.

“Is that so?” Peeta held your knees that were the only barrier between him and the rest of your body.

“Have you seen these abs?” He lifted up his t-shirt revealing his abs. You could look at him all day. He was perfect.

He pulled you closer by your feet and straddled you. Moving for a passionate kiss, and moving down your neck finding your sweet spot. When he sat up straight again you were left in a love sick haze.

“Bet Finnick can’t do that.” Peeta was out of breath after the heated kisses, the only reason he stopped was for air.

You shrugged playfully. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Look who’s jealous!” You smiled. You quickly hooked your ankles and flipped him over to be on top.

“I’m-I’m not jealous.” Peeta was right, he looked at you with only love.

You kissed him now, leaving him a love sick mess. Scruffy hair and all.

“Come on bread boy, let’s get some sleep.” You climbed under the covers and he quickly followed letting you use his now bare chest as a pillow.

“You have better abs.” You whispered and you could almost hear him smirk.

Requests are open please send them in

#the hunger games peeta #the hunger games #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg #thg peeta #y/n #peeta supremacy #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #team peeta #peeta my beloved