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tiredofthehumanlife · 5 months ago

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Skinny dipping on death's door

Barbie dolls: Peeta Mellark x gn!reader

Word: 2.7k

Summary: you skinny dip with the other tributes during the 75th games and peeta finds it rlly rlly attractive and you give him a quick handy

Warning: semi public sexual activities, handies underwater, public nudity, recorded sex kinda, peeta had his leg bc WE WERE ROBBED GOD DAMNIT, I wasn't sure if his one in the book was water proof or the details Abt it so I just decided he's not sure either so he takes it off before going in the water, mentioned that ppl think you guys are pregnant but idk maybe it's a/b/o or maybe peeta is trans now idk I don't care I'm just telling you now warning there's deception, you mock peeta just for a second also biting stuff, praise, mentions of death (it's the hunger games so), yeah I mean that's like it dude

You watched as Finnick flopped himself into the sand near you. He tossed his trident to the side, kicking his legs out in front of him. You looked over him, watching Johanna and BeeTee sit in silence next to each other a few feet away from you.

“Ocean’s lovely, isn’t it?” Finicky asked, dragging your attention back to him. You raised an eyebrow. It was probably the most hollow thing you’ve heard come out of his mouth since you stepped foot in the 75th Games. He said dumb things all the time but they usually had a purpose. Like a bad joke to lighten the mood, or a quip to tick you off for his enjoyment. Never something so purposeless. Still, you entertained him.

“Yeah. It’s nice.” You answered, looking out to the water lapping at the sand just a few inches from your feet. Finnick looked around you at Peeta next to you. Peeta had leaned back onto his elbows with his chin pointed up to the sky. You thought it’d be uncomfortable but it was hot so you didn’t mention it to Peeta.

“Hm, what about you Pete?” Finnick asked. Peeta peeked one eye open and sat up straight. You gave Finnick a quick glare, before looking back at the water. He distracted Peeta and made him sit up. Peeta shrugged.

“Odd time for a swim,” Finnick whispered. You hummed in agreement before slipping your hand up to Peeta’s face. You covered his eyes as Johanna finally reached waters up to her knees. She flopped down into the water, finally covering her body with the waves. You dropped your hand from Peeta’s face. Johanna noticed the confused stares. She threw her arms up in the air.

“Yeah, I mean it’s water. I quite like water.” Peeta said. He was just as confused as you were then because that answer was atrocious. Finnick hummed, looking out at the crashing waves. Peeta’s hand slipped to your side, rubbing at your hip. You glanced at him and gave him a quick smile. Peeta leaned closer to you. He pulled your arm to his chest and dropped his cheek to your shoulder.

You looked up when Johanna stood up from the sand. She dropped her axe to the sand and started walking towards the water. As she made her way for the waves, her hands traveled to her back and pulled at the zipper of her suit. Johanna slipped out of her suit when she reached the edge of the water. Her clothes started to pile at her feet as she slipped out of them. You were getting flashbacks to the elevator. You, Finnick, and Peeta all stared at her in confusion as she waltzed into the ocean bare ass naked. Finnick smacked his mouth.

“No one is going to join me? I won’t bite.” She yelled. You hummed. Peeta lifted his head from your shoulder. Finnick stayed silent. Johanna raised a brow.

“Unless you want me to.” She added. You thought for a moment. The entire Panem probably had their eyes on you right now. Not to mention all of your current friends, who you will later have to kill but that’s not the point. You also considered the thought that you’ll soon be dead in probably less than a week and your embarrassment around revealing your naked body to all of Panem disappeared. You stood up, making Peeta look up at you.

“I’ll join you.” You said to Johanna. You slipped out of your suit, leaving all of your possessions in a heap next to Johanna’s on the sand. As you waded out into the water you heard Finnick whistle. You knew deep down he was joking. In the same way, you promise to treat your friends better than their current boyfriend. You held a particular finger up at Finnick, making him laugh. You joined Johanna under the water, letting the waves kiss your chin.

“Interesting you decide to join me after I promise to bite you.” Johanna joked, her smile tweaking up a notch. You shrugged.

“Remembered I’ll be dead in a few days and I could care less.” Johanna hummed. You looked out towards the beach. Finnick was sat in his same spot though now he had an amused grin for your ‘joke’ still lingering in the air. BeeTee was still sitting on his wire, fiddling with a stick. You wondered what he was brewing in his mind but decided it wasn’t really any of your business. You looked over to Peeta to find him staring directly at you. You tilted your head to the side in confusion. Peeta flung himself backward, pretending to be dead. You snorted and dunked your head under the water.

When you resurfaced, you saw Johanna gesturing for Finnick to join you two. You saw Peeta had sat up, looking at Finnick to see if he’d get up. Finnick and Peeta shared a few words before standing up. You smiled when you saw them stopping at you and Johanna’s piles of clothes to add their own. Peeta had to ditch his prosthetic, leaning on Finnick to help him into the water. Once he was waist-high in the water, he was just fine. Peeta made his way towards you and you moved slightly closer to the edge of the water. You knew he couldn’t swim so you moved towards the area he could touch the sand with no problems. Peeta stood in front of you, smiling at you. You returned the look, though you weren’t sure why you were smiling. Peeta knocked his nose with yours. You hummed.

“No leg for you?” You asked. Peeta hummed. “You’ve already been in the water with it?” Peeta pulled back slightly, giving you a light shrug.

“It’s heavy. I didn’t want to risk it not being fully waterproof. I don’t know how long you’ll want to be in here for.” He answered. Your smile grew at the thought of him staying in the water longer than he really wanted to so he could spend more time with you. You hummed. Peeta’s eyes flickered from yours to your smile.

“We should probably go over towards Johanna and Finnick.” You glanced over at them. Finnick was on his back, spitting water into the air like a fountain. Johanna was repeatedly splashing him. Finnick didn’t seem to care, his arms out from his sides like he was making a snow angel in the water. You looked back at Peeta to see him staring at your face with all the seriousness you could imagine. You raised a brow at him, humming in question.

“We should make out. Right now.” You snorted at Peeta. You reached up and pushed his face away.

“Horn-dog.” You muttered. You looked back at Johanna and Finnick to find Johanna trying to drown Finnick. Finnick splashed at her face, making her laugh and release her grip on his body. Finnick pulled his head away from the water and shook his hair out. You turned back to Peeta. He kept his eyes on you.

“Am I really a horn-dog? Or did I just watch the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen walk down a beach naked?” Peeta asked, still staring at your mouth. You swam just a smidgen closer to him.

“Who, Finnick?” You joked, a smile playing on your lips that you knew was the only thing Peeta was thinking about. Peeta shook his head. “Well you’re lucky BeeTee didn’t join us, otherwise you definitely would’ve fainted.” You said. Peeta leaned his head closer towards yours, eyes still glued on your lips.

“Stop. Talking about other people naked right now. I need-“ He dipped his head towards yours and pressed your lips together. You hummed into his mouth, pulling him closer by the back of his neck. Peeta swiped his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him, letting his tongue join yours. You slipped your hand away from his neck, dipping it under the water. You dragged your hand down his chest before stopping it at his hip. You pulled back from Peeta’s lips, staring into his eyes. He glanced around the water as your hand inched further down very slowly.

“The cameras,” Peeta whispered. You nodded.

“Can’t see underwater. So just control yourself from the neck up and you’ll be fine. “ You answered. Peeta chewed on his bottom lip. You pulled your hand away from his hip and held onto his bicep instead.

“Unless you don’t want to, then we can just chill here for a few minutes before joining Johanna and Finnick.” You added, sensing his tension. You weren’t going to push him even if you both were knocking on Death’s door. Peeta shook his head.

“No, no I want to. Just nervous. Especially with the onlookers. What if they catch us?” Peeta said, taking a step closer towards you in the water. You shrugged.

“Well, they already think we’re pregnant right? They have to be at least a little educated on how something like that falls into place. Right?” You said. Peeta seemed to consider this, glancing over his shoulder again.

“Plus we’re going to die in a couple of days anyway,” Peeta added.

“And we’re going to die.” You agreed. Peeta let out a huff and met your eyes.

“Are we really about to make a porno for the capital?” Peeta asked. You grimaced at the thought of a capitol citizen shoving their hands down their pants when they watch the reruns. That thought washed away from you when you felt Peeta’s skin pressed against yours.

“Only if you want to.” You said, slipping your hand from his bicep. Peeta nodded.

“I just want you. I can’t really think about the cameras or capital when your hands are wandering on my body.” Peeta whispered. You nodded and tilted your head towards his. You pressed your lips against his. You let your hand meet his hip again. You slipped it down to his length, gripping him. Peeta sucked in a breath as he pulled away from your mouth. You slowly dragged your hand down his length before pulling it up again. Peeta left his mouth hanging open as you swipe your thumb over his tip. You reached your other hand up, pressing a finger under his chin. You gently closed his mouth. Peeta clenched his jaw and pressed his forehead against yours.

“This is harder than I thought it was,” Peeta whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. You would’ve laughed if you didn’t think that would draw attention to you two. You whined mockingly.

“Oh, baby. I’ve barely even started.” You said. Peeta dropped his head against your shoulder, sucking in a deep breath as your hand-picked up its pace.

“Oh don’t be mean to me, I might moan and draw all eyes to us,” Peeta whispered. You snorted and dropped your free hand into the water. You found his balls and massaged them as your other hand continued to drag against his length. Peeta pulled back from you, keeping his eyes closed. He dug his teeth into his lip to hold back his moans. You leaned forward and gently kissed the edge of his mouth.

“You’re doing so good at staying quiet. Hm?” You whispered. Peeta’s eyes opened and he let out a quiet groan. You glanced at Finnick and Johanna to see if they picked it up. They were deep in conversation and apparently too far to hear it. You hummed.

“What was that about you moaning too loud if I was mean to you? Seems to me it’s the praise that gets you loud. Isn’t that right, Pretty boy?” You whispered, a smile playing on your lips. You thought for a moment of the watchers in their strange fashion, grinning at the screen. Your left eye twitched as you thought of anyone but you seeing Peeta’s face right now. They weren’t doing any of the work to see his eyebrows pinch together. Nor did they deserve it.

You dropped your hand from his balls to gently reach out for his head. You pushed his face towards your shoulder, holding his body to your chest as you worked his dick with your hand. Peeta whined against the skin on your neck as you picked up your pace a smidge more.

You moved your hand faster, as fast as you probably could all things considered. Peeta tightened his bite on your shoulder. You pressed your lips against his ear so he could hear your moan with all the clarity he deserved. Peeta jutted his hips against yours as he came, groaning against your shoulder. You slowed the pace of your hand, gently riding his high out. You pulled your hand away from his length, settling it against his hip. You lightly rubbed your thumb against his skin as his brain caught up with him.

“Bite on my shoulder if you get too loud, okay baby?” You whispered into his hair. Peeta nodded against your collarbone. If you were to look from the outside you might look like just two lovers hugging in the ocean. Peeta had seemed a little tuckered out earlier in the day. As you kept your hand on his cock you continued to whisper to him so it’d look like you two were just having a private conversation rather than what you actually were doing.

You muttered in his ear how much of a good and sweet boy he was. As his breathing became more erratic his number of moans grew, just barely getting louder than you’d like. You shushed him. Peeta moaned again and opened his mouth against your shoulder. He sank his teeth into your skin as he swallowed another moan. You kissed the side of his face, glad he was enjoying your hand so much.

Peeta slowly released your shoulder from his bite. You hissed at the feeling, suddenly feeling every tooth he had. You glanced down at your shoulder. There were clear indents in your skin from his teeth. Peeta frowned and littered kisses against the marks. He rubbed his hand over them before continuing his kissing.

“ 'M sorry.” He whispered. You shook your head.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it.” You said, glancing over at Finnick and Johanna again. They both had their backs facing you two, pointing at the trees. You gently pushed Peeta away from your shoulder. He squished his lips to the side as he stared at it. His cheeks were flushed and you felt a little pride at the sight.

“We should move away from here before someone puts two and two together.” You whispered. Peeta nodded. He pulled you closer by your wrist and gently pecked your lips.

“I love you. I’ll repay you later, swear on my very short life.” Peeta said. You shook your head.

“You don’t need to repay me, you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to make you feel good. I love you too. Now, Finnick and Johanna.” You said, pointing over to them. You two slowly made your way over towards the pair. Peeta kept his hold on you and used you as support. You couldn’t mind less, you got to keep a hand on his waist the whole time. Finnick looked up when he heard the water splashing around as you two made your way.

“Finally decided to join us?” Finnick asked. You nodded.

“We had to discuss how we were going to handle ourselves around a naked Finnick. Tough discussion, truly.” You answered. Peeta snorted next to you and Finnick touched his chest over his heart.

“You flatter me so,” Finnick said. Johanna raised an eyebrow at you two. Her eyes dipped down to your shoulder and Peeta pressed his hand against it to cover the bite mark.

“Nasty. The both of you. Pull yourselves together.” Johanna whispered. Finnick looked back at you both. He tilted his head to the side.

“What? What did I miss?” He asked. Johanna shook her head in disappointment at both of you.

“You don’t want to know, Finnick,” Johanna whispered. Finnick looked back at you and Peeta.

“What? Is it a secret? Can I know? Please?” Finnick said. You hummed and leaned over to peck Peeta’s lips. “Johanna, please,” Finnick added. You shrugged and winked at Peeta.

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark #thg peeta #the hunger games #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg

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sunsets12 · 2 days ago

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My Spoiler Review of SOTR

Okay, let's start out with the stuff I like, in no particular order:

Maysilee:

She is very much so the standout character of this novel, and I really appreciate her. Haymitch is the one who comes from "rebels" but Maysilee is rebellious in her own right. I also think her character functions as a call-out for middle class Americans -- you won't be spared.

The Katniss/Haymitch parallels and foil:

Ok, I have a lot of thoughts on this, and at a surface level, I think we're supposed to come away from this novel thinking about how similar Katniss and Haymitch are, but I came away thinking the opposite. Because in a lot of the ways that matter, they're pretty different.

For example, Haymitch 100% considers himself a rebel, whereas Katniss definitely does not. One of my favorite examples of this is when they both discuss the importance of the jabberjays. They're pretty much saying this same thing with one important difference:

Katniss: "After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centers to be recorded. It took people awhile to realize what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it."

Haymitch: "During the Dark Days, the Capitol spied on us with jabberjays, mutts that looked like regular birds but could record the rebels’ conversations and play them back word for word. We figured this out and fed them false information.”

Also, Katniss spends so much of her time worrying about her family, whereas Haymitch assumes they'll be fine (as long as they don't explicitly rebel like Lenore Dove). An example of this is Haymitch assuming that he'll die in the arena and his family will be spared from any consequences meanwhile after Katniss shoots at the Gamemakers, she has a breakdown thinking they'll come after her family.

And then there is of course the fact that most Katniss's rebellions (especially in the first book) were not thought of as acts of rebellion. Meanwhile, Haymitch is like, "yeah, I'm gonna blow up the arena!"

Effie:

Ok, disclaimer that I thought her appearance didn't make much sense timeline wise (I would never have imagined she was working as an escort of 12 ever since the 51st games, and honestly, I think Collins kind of fibbed this a little bit to have her make a cameo, but more on my thoughts on forced cameos later...) BUT with that being said:

I love how her character functions as a foil to Drusilla, who is explicitly cruel and views District people as animals. I think this worked really well, especially because after spending a good chunk of the book being like "wow Effie is great" she tells Haymitch that the games are important and necessary and you're like "oh..."

Good stuff

The flint striker:

I love a good metaphor.

The rebellion didn't start with Katniss, she was just the actual push it needed:

Love this

Things I didn't like:

It is dumbed down:

My biggest critique. It feels like Collins was upset that people walked away from TBOSAS thinking Snow is hot and wanted to make sure nothing like that happened again. But as a consequence some of the characters just become dumb/out-of-character to get her point across. I have two smoking gun examples of this:

First, Plutarch has a conversation with Haymitch (in the training center, I believe) where he's like, "Hey so why didn't you all just rebel in the square back there. You totally outnumbered the peace keepers and could have done it." Like ok, let's put aside how easily this conversation could've been overheard. It's silly. It feels like Collins was repeatedly hitting me over the head with the point of this book, and I'm just like... you don't need to do this

Second, Beetee. Beetee's son was reaped as punishment for Beetee, and we, as the readers, know this because Beetee explicitly tells Haymitch it, which was just so wildly out-of-character. And it, again, feels dumbed down. Like she didn't trust we could put two-and-two together. It's okay, Suzanne Collins, you don't need to hold our hand the whole time

Haymitch as a narrator:

He lacks a personality. It's like Suzanne used Katniss as a guide and then removed everything interesting about her. This is especially frustrating because Haymitch is one of my favorite characters in the original series.

Other characters:

In general the characters are underdeveloped and flat, even characters we met before largely feel like empty shells of themselves (Mags and Wiress). Don't get me started on how little I cared about Louella/Lou Lou. I was out there sobbing my eyes out when Rue died, and I rolled my eyes at Lou Lou's death (partially because Haymitch is not stupid enough to let her shove her whole face in some flowers after he learned all the water and food on the island is poisonous. And I don't want to hear that he recognized the flowers as not being poisonous because apples aren't poisonous either and the ones in the arena were so...) I liked the concept behind Louella and Lou Lou, but the execution was not it.

Maysilee and Effie were the only characters I thought were well developed.

The singing:

I mentioned this in my non-spoiler review, but the singing was too much. I genuinely think 80% of the characters sing at some point. I really appreciate the role music plays in the Hunger Games but this was so overdone it become pointless, and frankly, irritating.

Random comments:

We finally learn what Panem thinks of Homosexuality! Doesn't necessarily mean it'll be in my fic, but it was interesting to read nonetheless.

The fact that they don't pay the miners real money was a nice touch.

The sweetheart nickname 🥲

I would've much preferred to see a new Victor character as Haymitch's mentor, especially because Mags and Wiress added basically nothing to the plot (there were too many cameos in general. I had to suspend my disbelief slightly more than I could...)

The dramatic irony of Haymitch not worrying about his family...

I like that he worked for a bootlegger

His attitude towards alcohol in general is *so* interesting. "But from where I'm sitting, hope seems a lot like white liquor. It can fool you in the short run, but like as not, you'll end up paying for it twice."

The way he fails to beat the Capitol and thinks about how a sixteen year old from the trashiest district could never beat the capitol.... the dramatic irony, I love it

Overall thoughts:

I'm pretty disappointed. I get what she was going for, but I don't think the execution is that well done. In my initial review, I called this a money grab, but I don't think that's true. I think Collins is worried about the political climate and wanted to get this book out ASAP and it's rushed as a consequence.

This would've benefited greatly from another round of rewrites. That's my final thought.

#sotr spoilers

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justafewberries · 11 days ago

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I don’t have a copy of SOTR, and I’m trying my best to avoid spoilers, so here’s a last minute list of themes/events I expect from the book:

Haymitch knows something he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just the forcefield, sure, but I can’t reasonably believe that would be enough to enforce such brutality on his family. They won’t kill to punish, the capitol will kill to silence.

The point above lends itself well to a Fahrenheit 451 arc, something I’ve been hoping for since the announcement of Hume’s inclusion.

Haymitch has no one to play real or not real with. Annie has Finnick. Peeta has Katniss. He has no one. The only record he has is the tape of the games. Therefore, I think the capitol will completely change the narrative from the arena. In THG, Katniss remarks how they tell a love story from the footage of the 74th games. We already know they can warp audio (catching fire) and use life-like holograms (tbosas). The capitol will use whatever story they tell as propaganda. Haymitch will try to refute it. He won’t be able to, as “the footage shows otherwise”.

Haymitch will struggle to know what actually happened in the arena. We’ll see his recollection shifted to the capitol’s story by the end, which is why in CF he blames the forcefield. It’s the captiol’s narrative.

We’ll see a change in facts. Maybe Lucy Gray’s name appears at the reaping, maybe not, but we’ll see a manipulation of the narrative around either her story, the war, or previous games. The book will mostly be about the manipulation of information, after all, and imo one of the best ways to represent that would be manipulation of facts we knew to be true. (Like how Katniss and Gale aren’t actually cousins, but the capitol convinced people who have known them for years). Trick us, the audience, to prove a point.

We’ll see a shift from violent rebellion (guns in tbosas) to underground information. Maybe a newspaper, maybe the posters, something. Interestingly, paper is hard to come by in panem (seen in Mj). Maybe because it made information easier to distribute without being vocally recorded.

There will be a faber-character, one who has kept tabs on how the capitol has changed narratives, but hasn’t done anything about it. This role lends itself well to a mentor, as they can see multiple angles of the games, versus the edited versions or the single live-streamed feed. Maybe it will be Beetee, as I previously predicted, but Mags’s input about recognizing the nuts from a previous game (CF) raises flags. Maybe it’s her if she’s there.

Haymitch will grow to resent the idea change can happen. He’d want change, obviously, but he’s soaked in death from his own rebellion. He’ll be beaten down by the capitol via the manipulation of his games vs. his story. He’ll have to learn there’s power in the masses, and to do so, he can’t rebel alone and leave a lasting mark.

These are my final sotr theories. I pre-ordered my book, and it’s supposed to come tomorrow, so I will absolutely be waiting by the door. Please don’t tell me if I’m right or wrong in the tags/comments. I want to find out with everyone else.

#no spoilers i beg you #the hunger games #thg #sunrise on the reaping #haymitch abernathy #mockingjay #sotr #catching fire #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #sotr theories #sotr predictions

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thesweetnessofspring · 1 year ago

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It’s interesting because Peeta is on record the person she has warmed up to quickest. She was laughing with him and enjoyed talking to him even when she thought they were going to kill each other and they weren’t traumatized from the games yet. It literally took months of hunting with Gale for them to be okay with each other.

I firmly believe that if they hadn’t been reaped one day Peeta would’ve mustered up the courage to have a conversation with her and that would’ve started them on the path to being best friends. All of their fun moments like the picnic and plant book had nothing to do with trauma. If anything, I think the trauma from the games slowed down their relationship because it made Katniss more confused

Well, I will say that Katniss warmed up to Rue, Mags, Beetee, and Wiress pretty quickly. And even though all of those people were her competitors like Peeta had been, she doesn't freak out and think they're plotting her demise like she assumed of Peeta. Probably because she wasn't attracted to them like she was to Peeta and so not only were Hunger Games warning bells going off in her head, but so were the alarms going "wait, wait, wait, we don't want to get married and have babies and watch them die! DON'T have a crush on him!!!! Don't do it!!!" And then when it comes down to it, she isn't able to not fall in love with Peeta.

Oh the trauma 100% slowed down their relationship! Take this quote: "Just the sound of his voice twists my stomach into a knot of unpleasant emotions like guilt, sadness, and fear. And longing. I might as well admit there's some of that, too. Only it has too much competition to ever win out."

They went through something so horrible together and he's associated with that, and her instinct is to avoid that and him. As much as Peeta took the blame for the six-month freeze-out, what they had settled on (granted with a lot of guilt) was that Katniss would let him know once she figured out how much was real. And she never did so Peeta also ignored her. And Suzanne confirms this is the case in this interview when she says: "You can see she's [Katniss] practicing avoidance--she's completely pushed Peeta to arm's length, you know? She's trying to stay away from him, because everything associated with him except some very early childhood memories is associated with the games."

And yet despite this, they find their way back together because it was never about the trauma. That was 100% Katniss and Gale's relationship after their fathers died and they became their family's main providers. They fell apart because they didn't have strong enough alignment in their values and pissed each other off and couldn't figure out how to mend what they'd broken. Katniss and Peeta only grew stronger because of their shared values and complimentary personalities and because they always had a way of growing back together, no matter what happened.

#everlark

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missgardenrose · 9 days ago

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Casting Sunrise on the Reaping

Purely opinion (spoilers below!!)

Haymitch: Ty Simpkins

He’s 23, has a crazy impressive portfolio, and looks decently enough like Woody Harrelson. I can picture him covered in blood and having the worst time a human being ever has. He just has the perfect energy to me.

Lenore Dove: Isabela Merced

Also 23. One of the craziest ranges ever, acting chops through the roof. No clue if she can sing but judging by her impressive record in everything else, yes. She just has an enchanting quality about her.

Maysilee Donner: Amiah Miller

Tell me this girl isn’t EXACTLY it. 20, breakout star, and has been great in some horror roles.

Plutarch: Cooper Hoffman (obviously)

It’s the obvious choice but it’s also a great one. The cameras love this guys face and he’s a great actor, right age, and once again has nowhere to go but up.

Snow: Kiefer Sutherland

Full creds to @transgender-daemon-faerie for reminding me that Kiefer Sutherland is the perfect choice for this.

Mags: Diane Lane

A hugely respected actress who I feel looks like she could grow into Lynn Cohen’s Mags. She has the right weight on screen for such a role.

Wiress: Maya Hawke

I know she’s a big name and face / may be the easy pick but I also think she’s perfect for this. She looks similar enough to Amanda Plummer and she can totally nail somewhat off putting genius / hammers in how young she is fresh off her own games.

Beetee: Charles Michael Davis

I have been rooting for this man ever since he blew me away in the originals. He doesn’t look all that similar to the famous Jeffrey Wright but I feel there’s a shared gravitas. Not a doubt in my mind that he could bring his own spin while maintaining Beetee’s spirit. (Side note: I’d love Ampert to be a complete unknown, same with Louella)

Effie: McKenna Grace

Has to be her. Look is similar enough to movie and she has the right portfolio. I think it would be a great opportunity to break out of her box a bit. And she’ll fit a certain stereotype for viewers (much like Effie) that she subverts in certain ways

Asterid March: Jane Widdop

Was phenomenal in Yellowjackets. Acting chops, face card, and great next step for her.

Burdock Evergreen: Xolo Maridueña

[it won’t let me add the photo 😭 just trust]

Cobra Kai star a bit more grown up. I think he has the perfect vibe for the part

#sunrise on the reaping #sotr #thg #thg sotr #spoilers #sunrise on the reaping spoilers #the hunger games #fancast #anyways we shall see

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chronicallyday · 1 year ago

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Okay so because Jena Malone made a TikTok video to respond to the question of what makeup was worn for the Pride & Prejudice movie, I came up with a crack au idea that I shared on discord with friends for post-mockingjay (Finnick lives ofc). It was me telling them my thoughts on how the victors probably all wanted to live privately away from the spotlight even though people like Plutarch wanted them to continue having public personas (like when he asked Katniss to sing for a show)

But what if Johanna Mason one day out of boredom and annoyance decided to do some behind the scenes reveals, just unhinged stuff and she like broadcasts this live and Plutarch has no idea how she’s streaming it. It’s Beetee ofc.

Johanna: oh you wanna know why you never saw me shit? Oh it wasn’t Capitol censorship. You see bears when they hibernate they eat a whole bunch of stuff to clog themselves up before hand and—

Plutarch: make it stop make it stop make it stop

Beetee: I’m gonna need a while to fix it. I did my job too well when I gave her access

Johanna: —and I was 17 of course I didn’t want anyone to see me shitting on national television and then someone sneaking up behind me to kill me while I was doing my business

Haymitch watching with Katniss and Peeta in D12: I should have asked Blight (most likely her mentor) more questions when he was alive

Finnick: pls pls someone be recording this somewhere

Annie: genius. I was too stressed to think about needing to go I just held it in most of the time

Johanna hearing about that later: you held it in for how many days??

Annie: pretty sure the first time I peed that whole time was during the flood

Finnick would try to be supportive with head pats but he’s slowly losing it. Boys had it easier when it came to relieving themselves and he was her mentor so he knew she struggled T^T

But also

Finnick: The real reason the Career pack exists is so we can use the facilities and not be killed with our dicks out

Enobaria just agrees with what he says for the laughs

And honestly I wonder about the bathroom situation cuz Katniss mentions one time that her urine is brown from dehydration in THG but in CF there is not a single mention of any of them needing to use the bathroom

I’m going to assume they were all peeing in the salt lake whenever they were swimming in it

Dr. Aurelius is probably so fed up with the victors at some point cuz they decide to meme their own lives and laugh through the pain

#the hunger games #odesta #johanna mason #crack #crack au #day’s rambling #thg #thg memes #finnick odair

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allisluv · 5 months ago

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drabbles/thoughts part one.

main masterlist.

johanna's nervous habits

putting bows in johanna's hair

johanna taking care of her sick s/o

jealous johanna

johanna with a s/o who likes to (affectionately) bite her

johanna and reader at a capitol party

johanna x finnick's!sister

honeymoon with johanna

johanna x finnick x reader love triangle

johanna making sure you're okay after finding out you've been hurt

watching horror movies with johanna

tying ribbons around johanna's bicep

falling asleep on johanna's shoulder

johanna guiding you through a panic attack

johanna laughing when you fall over

johanna x golden retriever!girlfriend

johanna's love language is acts of service

johanna carrying you to bed after you fall asleep

father figure!haymitch finding out you're dating johanna

explaining your hyperfixations to johanna

johanna realising she's in love with sunshine!reader

johanna with a s/o who can play the guitar

johanna with a s/o who's afraid of sleep

johanna with a hyperactive s/o

johanna with a touchy s/o

johanna teasing you for being short

other victors finding out you're dating johanna

johanna with a capitol s/o

johanna with a gossip girl s/o

johanna during prom season

johanna threatening your designer for straightening your curly hair

johanna x british!reader

johanna when you finally stand up for yourself

pulling johanna's hair during sex*

johanna's reaction to you cutting your hair in the middle of the night

johanna hating physical touch with everyone else but you

johanna loves big thighs

johanna's love language is making wood carvings

johanna with a s/o who has a biting kink*

spending winters with johanna

johanna x theatre kid!girlfriend

johanna on your birthday

johanna when their s/o faces their fear of rollercoasters

johanna x bi!reader

curling up against johanna when you're cold

johanna x actress!reader

johanna reminding you to take your meds

johanna when your girlfriend is being toxic

johanna x beetee and wiress' daughter

johanna x non-binary!reader

johanna x yapper!reader

johanna and reader telling their parents they're dating

being in a secret relationship with johanna

johanna comforting you when you're both on your period

johanna on her period

johanna degrading reader in the bedroom*

johanna helping reader with period cramps

mentor!johanna bribing you out of your room on your victory tour

johanna simping over volleyball!reader in her shorts

johanna being surprised when her bottom girlfriend!reader pins her against a wall

getting a piggyback from johanna when your legs hurt

johanna is a gigi perez and girl in red fan

johanna comforting you when you're getting your bloods taken

johanna with a blind s/o

johanna's reaction to reader getting diagnosed with a terminal illness

johanna x dyslexic!reader

johanna x bipolar!reader

johanna x black cat!reader

johanna x goth!reader

johanna breaks into your records and changes your grade

johanna x dark humoured!reader

johanna scares little kids on halloween

johanna with a muscular!girlfriend

johanna hearing "creepy old guy" from beetlejuice the musical for the first time

johanna with a partner who's constantly getting picked on by the teacher

tattooed and pierced headcanons

skipping school with johanna

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #thgs #thg #johanna mason #johanna mason x you #johanna mason x reader #headcanons #hcs #fem!reader #gn!reader

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euthenasiablues · 7 months ago

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Hunger Games OCs in chronological order:

(Note: this is an AU where everyone's story is connected)

Dahlia Bronze, Victor of the 12th Game from D3. Daughter of a wealthy Capitol-aligned family. Reaped at 18, and won her games by accidentally starting a forest fire, making the Capitol look unable to control the games. She managed to survive by making it to the water where she had to battle against a weakened D2 male, who she managed to drown. In retaliation to her making the Capitol look weak, they rigged next year's to be her brother, who ultimately died in the arena. She became a rebel, and Wiress volunteered in her place when she was reaped. She survived the Victor Purge and was a no vote for the symbolic game, citing her brother's murder at the hands of an angry government. After the war, she looked back on her tapes of the Hunger Games. Her family had recorded them all, and they went to D13 with her. She contributed names of all the fallen tributes and Victors. The first propo after the war was on Lucy Gray Baird, the first Victor of D12.

Lana Blackrose, Victor of 61st Game from D9. From the moment she arrived in the Capitol, she was an object of desire, despite being only 17. The Capitol loved her last name, viewing her as "almost Capitol." Combined with her looks and name, she originated the flirty persona that a tribute would adopt. By flirting her way to win sponsors, she gained the most and was regularly sent weapons and food, which, in turn, helped her win the Games. She was one of the first to be trafficked by Snow, being called "hyper-sexual" and "promiscuous" by Capitol tabloids and hated by her home. She became a rebel, being higher up with Haymitch, her only friend. When a mother was reaped for the Quarter Quell, she volunteered in her place. She made sure to make herself undesirable in order to get Katniss and Peeta sponsors. She made it her goal to get both of them out. The others were focused on Katniss, but she was focused on Peeta. When Katniss blows the arena, she tries to find Peeta and get him to rescue, but they are both captured in the process. During her stay in the Capitol, her method of torture was being sexually assaulted and raped repeatedly to get her to confess the rebel plan. Despite this, she comforted Annie and didn't let her see her being weak. After she was liberated, she was distant and cold towards others, and filmed propos about the exploitation of desirable Victors. She voted yes on the symbolic game, after seeing Katniss vote yes, which shocked her. She, like Haymitch, knew Katniss was up to something and followed her judgement. After the war, she lived a quiet life, writing regularly to Annie and Katniss and Peeta.

Edith Forprior, Victor of the 68th Game from D10. She aligned with a Career pack following her skill with a blade, as she came from a family of butchers. She made sure to protect a young girl from D12, which she told the Careers that "they could save the child for last to make an easy victory." The Career pack split in two: five on each, with non-Careers joining the pack. The final ten were the two packs, but a landmine at the Cornucopia wasn't deactivated, and injured everyone. Edith was miraculously spared, just suffering a broken ankle from the blast. As most were blown to pieces, the little girl from 12 clung to life. In her final moments, Edith comforted her until she died. After that, Edith killed the remaining few who bled out as an act of mercy. On her victory tour, D12 gave her a salute, which she did not understand, and it was not something she thought was significant until the 74th and 75th Game. She was considered desirable, but had cosmetic surgery to make her look more manly. Prominent Adam's apple, flat chest, chiseled jawline. She very rarely had any suitors, which spared her from the harsh realities of being a Victor. She was not a rebel, but she was allied with Lana Blackrose. Due to her affiliations with Beetee's Career Pack, she was rescued by the rebels. She voted yes on the symbolic Game, saying that Panem had not seen enough bloodshed. Following the war, she kept her cosmetic surgeries, as they had become part of her. She lived in the Capitol as a fashion model.

#the hunger games #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #thg oc #thg ocs #my ocs #tbsosas #dahlia bronze #edith forprior #lana blackrose #thg fanfiction #fanfiction #thg au #alternate universe #the hunger games oc #the hunger games fanfiction

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 1 year ago

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Alright. I can’t believe some of you all guessed Where the Stars for this, you hos. Just for that… ANGST!!!!! ANGST UPON YOUR HEADS!!! *also a few small spoilers* and no I will not be answering questions about the spoilers. Y’all are just gonna have to stew in them as punishment for being sassy and taking advantage of my stupidity. 😘

Send Nudes: Where the Stars edition

Katniss feels like she’s about to climb the walls. She’s spent the past three evenings pacing the length of Peeta’s cell, attempting to wear herself out enough to go to sleep. But it’s not enough. Every day since Seneca tossed Peeta into solitary, Katniss has buried herself in her work, desperate not to think about what’s happening to him. How he’s holding up. How long he’ll be gone or what will be left of him if he returns. How deeply she misses him. The feel of him beside her in the dark. The sound of his heart thumping steadily against her ear. His laughter. His lips. All of him snatched away from her.

Again.

It’s like what happened on Earth all over again. At least this time, she knows why they took Peeta away from her. At least this time she wasn’t blindsided.

That hasn’t prevented her from wanting to claw off her skin or gouge trenches in the tree’s inner flesh with her fingernails and scream like a madwoman until someone thinks to toss her in a solitary cell with him, though.

She considered searching the planet for solitary herself, but all she has to go on are Rue’s words about Seneca tossing Peeta “into the caves.” Which caves? Where? They found literally dozens of tunnels and caves during their surveying expedition so where would she even start?

Frustrated beyond words, she throws herself onto the bed, face down so she can rage into the pillow. It no longer smells of him.

When that does nothing, she flops onto her back, arms spread wide. Her left hand lands on something solid and she turns her head to stare at her holopics. She asked Beetee to repair it before the expedition, and he delivered it to her yesterday, but she hasn’t opened any of the files on it yet.

With a deep breath, she rolls over and turns on the device. When it loads, she stares at the holographic thumbnails projected into the air in front of her. Her sister. Her mother. Amaryllis. Gale and the Hawthornes. Even Buttercup, that damn cat. And yes, Peeta too. Smiling and happy, with his arm around her and his lips pressed to her temple on their wedding day. Outside the bakery with Rilla.

Katniss scrolls down, to the bottom, where an icon of a file folder with a lock on it pulses gently in blue light. After a few moments of debating with herself, she taps on it. Waits for the device to scan her fingerprint, her retina. When it beeps, she speaks.

“Katniss… Mellark.” She never thought to change the voice code.

The device beeps again and opens the file. There’s not many here. Maybe half a dozen private portraits of Peeta. Her finger hovers over the last one and she takes a deep breath before tapping on it. This may be worse torture than waiting for him.

The image expands to fill the room. So it’s like she’s there again, sitting on the edge of their bed on Earth, recording him.

“Peeta. Peeta, wake up,” she coos softly and watches him shift slightly beneath the sheet covering him from the waist down. One leg sticks out from the side and he smiles at her as he stretches, curls his left arm up over his head and scratches absently at his navel with his right hand.

“Oh, giving me some good footage,” she teases and he huffs out a laugh.

“Come closer and I’ll give you better.”

“Uh-uh. Not until you say that you love me.”

“I love you,” he says and she scoffs.

“You don’t have to say it like it’s boring.”

“Loving you is anything but boring,” he says around a yawn and then props himself up on his elbows. “What’s this really about?”

“I just wanted a recording of you saying that you love me. In case my boss decides to be an ass and sends me on that pointless fact finding mission.”

Peeta smiles and sits up all the way, his blue eyes gleaming with a heady mix of desire and love.

“I love you, to the ends of the universe and back, Katniss. I will always love you.”

Her breath catches again at the depth in his voice, just as it did on that day. At the way he used to look at her. Would he do it again? If she let him, would he look at her as if she were his whole world again?

“What do you want to do today?” she asks in the recording. “Since neither of us has to work until tomorrow.”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Peeta says with a wicked grin. He stands up and tosses the sheet aside. She gasps and the camera jostles slightly, but not enough to completely obscure the image of Peeta, fully nude and his cock fully erect, stalking her across their bed.

“Peeta! I’m recording!” she says through her laughter.

“I don’t care if you show me naked,” he says and cages her in, jostling the camera again so that all the lens captures is his naked chest and his erection. “Besides,” he says and kisses her. “I know you won’t let anyone see this. Because you,” he kisses her again. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Share.” Kiss. “But keep that steady. You’re definitely going to want to catch this next part.”

He’s grinning as he returns to the frame, his eyes alight with mischief and his hair adorably disheveled as he pushes her knees apart and settles between them. When he starts to lift his shirt she’s wearing, the camera goes crazy as Katniss scrambles to stop the recording.

She hadn’t wanted to record herself accidentally. And now, she wishes she had. Why had she been such a coward and stopped it? Her skin burns with the memory of his mouth on her. Of how he would spend hours driving her half wild with pleasure, his head between her thighs, his lips and tongue like fire and flower petals all at once on her sex. She doesn’t even need to see it to remember it, but oh she wishes she could see him there again.

But it was a mistake to watch this, she realizes with a groan. Because now she’s thinking about him naked and inside her again. And not just the way he was on Earth, but here as well. Her body is tight and hot with need as she listens to her own recorded breathy sounds.

The camera settles for a second, with nothing but her face in the frame as she tries desperately to stop the recording. Her eyelashes flutter and her breath shortens.

“Oooooh. Peeta,” she whispers his name, soft and sensual, and bites her lip. The image freezes like that. The recording over.

Immediately after they’d finished making love, Katniss had moved the recording into the locked file. Peeta had watched her do it, his body still draped over her back and his lips still warm, dragging over the bare skin of her shoulders and neck.

“See. I told you you’d never share,” he’d whispered in her ear. “Share it to mine at least?”

“Why? You can’t even see me in this,” she’d said, and Peeta had shrugged.

“I’ll hear you. And here,” he’d taken the device from her then and snapped a few quick pictures of her and her naked body. She’d laughed and let him, still a perspiring mess from their sex.

When he was arrested shortly after that, she deleted the pictures he’d taken of her that morning. But she never could bring herself to delete this recording. It was the last image she took of him before they took him away from her.

A second later, the life size image shrinks back to a thumbnail. Leaving her alone once more, with nothing but her memories and a hollow ache inside her where flowers used to bloom every time Peeta touched her.

Fine. I’ll be nice. She retakes the nudes of herself she deleted.

Have any of the AU Peeta’s you wrote about in your fics ever was the first one to ask for nudes and/or the first one to send it?

(I kind of can see Peeta asking, Katniss thinking it's a joke, but going with it anyway, and then boom, dick pic)

A continuation of this ask, I presume.

I can think of a couple of my au Everlarks this might fit, but here you go, Anon. Katniss texts in bold italics, Peeta’s in plain italics.

+++

Missed you last night

Didn’t sleep too well without you here

You missed me? That’s so cute.

Rude. I tell you I didn’t sleep well and you call me cute?

Can’t help it. You’re cute when you scowl at me.

Am not. I’m ferocious.

Bet you’re scowling right now.

AM NOT!!!

Prove it. Send a pic of you wearing a smile. A real one.

And nothing else.

Did you just ask me to send you a nude selfie?!

Well I can’t ask you to wear nothing but me right now, so I figure a smile is second best.

You are unbelievable

Unbelievably in love with you 😘

You don’t think I’ll do it.

I mean… I know how you are in bed. 🥵 😜 😏 But sending a picture of yourself? 🫣

*Image Attached*

Katniss… fuck.

Where’s mine?

*Image Attached*

All. Yours. 🍆

Unfair, Peeta. You know how I feel about plump eggplants.

I’ll make sure it’s ready and waiting for you when you get home, my love.

+++

A/N: Peeta did not send a picture of an actual eggplant.

#words are peetas thing not mine #I hereby punish your sassiness with angst

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annonniiiiieeeee · 2 years ago

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Okay so I just watched catching fire and mockingjay part one. And I have new ideas and context.

(I will have more once the books are in my hands)

First I’m going to rearrange some characters

Cassandra and Casey are going to be from district 7 now. I was already tying Cassandra to Johanna, but I think the overall district feel just suits them better. Them being from the lumber district and having skills with axs and spears.

This means I will have to rewrite Casey’s games but I wasn’t satisfied with his game any way.

But now you must be wondering who is beetee as he is necessary for both catching fire and mockingjay. This was a big reason that I switched the characters around. I wanted an older character. I was thinking either Baxter Stockman from 2003 or Leatherhead from 2003. He seems older in that show and he is raised by the Ute on to be highly intelligent. Im leaning towards leather head as I like him more. But they will be from district 3

Usagi, Tomoe ame and Katauichi are all still from district 10. I’ve been thinking about giving them another victor.

Raph and the others are all from district 12.

But the biggest change besides where casey and Cassandra come from is a leosagi moment.

Their first kiss isn’t in district 13 anymore.

The night before the quarter quell.

Raph still hasn’t decided on any Alliances. Leo knows he needs them and Usagi has already promised to watch Raph’s back. But Leo knows Raph doesn’t trust Usagi, and he needs to come up with a way to make sure Raph won’t kill Usagi on sight.

Big mama had given Leo, mona, and Raph matching trinkets. Maybe instead of being all gold as in the original story she got them matching bracelets in their colors (Leo blue, Raph red, Mona pink and Big Mama lavender)

Leo sneaks down to Usagi’s floor to see him the night before they go into the arena. While they were all hoping for a smooth alliance the district 10 teen was surprised to see Leo so late. They had hoped he was announcing that his brother had finally decided to have them as allies (it would make the plan so much smoother)

Leo asks to talk to Usagi alone. The two slip into Usagi’s room for some semblance of privacy but they both know that they are probably being watched in some way.

The both try to start taking at the same time. There is so much to say. Usagi let’s Leo go first though.

Leo gives Usagi his bracelet telling him to show it to Raph as soon as he can. Raph might not trust Usagi but he trust Leo’s judgment and this is Leo declaring Usagi part of the team. That Leo trust Usagi completely

After Leo is done attacking the bracelet at holding Usagi’s hand, Usagi frames his face with his hand and pulls him into a quick kiss which surprises Leo but he tearfully returns.

Usagi pulls away just enough that their lips aren’t touching, but their foreheads are pressed together. They are so close that it’s not possible to see their lips moving between them. Usagi whispers as lowly as he can keeping his hands framing Leo’s face trying to shield them both as best he can. He doesn’t want what he’s about to say to be found on any camera or recording device.

He holds Leo’s close and in between soft kisses he begs him to do what ever Katsuichi asks of him. Usagi promises to get Raph out alive but Leo has to listen to Katsuichi.

Leo agrees and Usagi kisses him hard one last time before they part ways.

Leo’s not sure if Usagi meant any of that affection romantically or if it was just the best way to disguise their conversation.

To Usagi it might have been the last and only time he ever got to kiss the man he loved while also pleading his safety.

They won’t see each other again until after the rescue.

Last change Donnie is still gale, but some one asked about the rescue mission. Donnie is 100% on that mission. He almost didn’t get clearance but he is able to bully his way into it.

These are all my updates so far. But I know have way more context. Let me know what you guys think.

#leosagi #rottmnt hunger games au

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

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Hiiii! Here’s part two of my Katniss and Peeta Taking Of Each Other bookcomb! It’s pretty long so … sorry 😬. There was a lot I didn’t include and a lot I wasn’t sure about including, because so much of Catching Fire and Mockingjay is about them wanting to protect the other but I tried to narrow it down to actual acts that were caring, or times they at least tried to care for the other.

Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips — he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg — and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way.

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. The Peacekeepers follow a pace or two behind us.

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily.

“Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tailbone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion.

My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?”

“I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now.

My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.

Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.”

I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale.

“No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.

Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.

Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

“Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?” I ask, somehow annoyed.

“To show he’s going to do everything he can to defend you. That’s what everyone in the Capitol’s expecting, anyway. Didn’t he volunteer to go in with you?” Effie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I lock my fingers tightly into his and say, “Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step.” It helps. We seem to move a little faster, but never enough to afford a rest, and the mist continues to lap at our heels.

Peeta and Finnick and I position ourselves in a triangle, a few yards apart, our backs to one another. My heart sinks as my fingers draw back my last arrow. Then I remember Peeta has a sheath, too. And he’s not shooting, he’s hacking away with that knife. My own knife is out now, but the monkeys are quicker, can spring in and out so fast you can barely react.

“Peeta!” I shout. “Your arrows!”

Peeta turns to see my predicament and is sliding off his sheath when it happens. A monkey lunges out of a tree for his chest. I have no arrow, no way to shoot. I can hear the thud of Finnick’s trident finding another mark and know his weapon is occupied. Peeta’s knife arm is disabled as he tries to remove the sheath. I throw my knife at the oncoming mutt but the creature somersaults, evading the blade, and stays on its trajectory.

Weaponless, defenseless, I do the only thing I can think of. I run for Peeta, to knock him to the ground, to protect his body with mine, even though I know I won’t make it in time.

While I help Peeta coat his skin with the ointment, Finnick deftly cleans the meat from the shellfish.

I stretch out, pressing my hot cheek on the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs a tense spot between my shoulders and I let myself relax a little.

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

“It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers.

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

I can’t protect him. I can’t move fast or far and my shooting abilities are questionable at best. I do the one thing I can to draw the attackers away from him and over to me. “Peeta!” I scream out. “Peeta! I’m here! Peeta!” Yes, I will draw them in, any in my vicinity, away from Peeta and over to me and the lightning tree that will soon be a weapon in and of itself. “I’m here! I’m here!” He won’t make it. Not with that leg in the night. He will never make it in time. “Peeta!”

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

Off camera, Snow orders, “End it!” Beetee throws the whole thing into chaos by flashing a still shot of me standing in front of the hospital at three-second intervals. But between the images, we are privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Peeta’s attempt to continue speaking. The camera knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of the blow that’s inseparable from Peeta’s cry of pain.

And his blood as it splatters the tiles.

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave.

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.

“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.

“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.”

Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to . . .”

I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.”

His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs.

I help Peeta up and address Pollux.

While Cressida and Pollux make fur nests for each of us, I attend to Peeta’s wrists. Gently rinsing away the blood, putting on an antiseptic, and bandaging them beneath the cuffs.

By the time I make it back to the fence, I’m so sick and dizzy, Thom has to give me a ride home in the dead people’s cart. Help me to the sofa in the living room, where I watch the dust motes spin in the thin shafts of afternoon light.

My head snaps around at the hiss, but it takes awhile to believe he’s real. How could he have gotten here? I take in the claw marks from some wild animal, the back paw he holds slightly above the ground, the prominent bones in his face. He’s come on foot, then, all the way from 13. Maybe they kicked him out or maybe he just couldn’t stand it there without her, so he came looking.

[…]

Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.

Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver.

#everlark #thg #thgagain #bookcomb ♥️🔎#hunger games #katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #catching fire #mockingjay #long post

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incaensio · 2 years ago

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she's always nervous, meeting with other victors; the guilt churns at her stomach when she thinks that they may think of her as the murderous one who had taken one of their kids, who made a fool of the capitol for her own benefit — or worse, that she's the fool, one more trinket. haymitch vouches for beetee though, which is as good as it gets, because the older victor from the seam had bristled at her idea. she gets it. she finds it disgusting too. even the house at victor's village feels rotten at times. she can not even imagine how a house in the capitol will feel.

"ah, yes." she chews on her bottom lip. he is good with words — she supposes it has to do with how intelligent he is (they all say that about him), how seasoned. katniss doesn't want to wonder how much beetee has seen in all his over twenty years as a victor, how he has learned all that composure (she hopes the cost is not as filthy as the one she is paying, but she doesn't think the president is very clement). "sorry, mr. latier —" he feels like a professor, and so she remembers how the teachers at twelve pressed on that they are called by their surnames, that they are respected. not a lot of opportunities for that there, she supposes. "but i'm growing a garden, and i haven't had the time to water the buds today. do you mind?" she makes a motion with her head for him to follow her. pleasant, homely, attentive. the perfect housewife image, she thinks, and feels herself gag.

there is a smile upon her lips as she guides the older man towards the roof. the wind is not strong, but it is enough to make the chimes ring around them in a noise that should be enough to disrupt any sound recording. or so she's been told (considering they haven't been punished by the times they've been there, she supposes it's as safe as she will get). "is this truly safe? this place?" she raises her brows, looking around them. "the force field—" she nods towards what's ahead of them. tecnhology is not a subject necessary in district twelve schools. "does it do anything?"

@incaensio sent: FAVOR : for one muse to owe the other a favor.

haymitch had asked the older victor to come meet with katniss at the penthouse in the tribute center. he had met her briefly before at the wedding. he had attended with wiress. people all over the city were salivating at the chance of attending. his attendance felt more like morbid curiosity. not the glaring question of the authenicity regarding twelve's star-crossed lovers. no, the rebellion was brewing and they wanted her as the figurehead. the brazen tribute was different from the bride in all white. he will follow in good faith.

" haymitch told me that you were looking into buying proerty. that's a good investment here, " he initially greets. " he mentioned your desire for privacy," beetee adds. his word choice is careful. " are you needing assistance in finding a location that has it, or what to look out for when wanting that privacy ? " haymitch had been vague. though the man from three was prepared to go to locations if that's what she needed.

#— 𝐾. 𝐸. : written.

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

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Wedding Colors (Part 1)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

6:00—wake up. The timer in Effie’s quarters buzzed, and the overhead lights turned on automatically. Up up up! It’s going to be a big, big, big day! If the lights could have spoken, that’s what they would have said... The irony.

“This oppressive cavern has no respect for my individual biorhythms!” She pulled the blanket up over her head.

Her one consolation was that the blanket smelled like Haymitch — his skin, his hair, his body with hers. She breathed in deeply, and the scents evoked memories of the evening before. If there was going to be regret, she hadn’t yet felt it. Instead, she was inundated with the sensations of an awakened heart and flushed cheeks.

She lifted her nightgown and traced the paths his hands had taken. Pleasure urged her fingertips in concentric circles and symbols of infinity. Her core flooded as she came alive, so quickly. Effie turned her face into the pillow to stifle the sounds coming from her throat as she trembled and found release.

Every morning in that dungeon, she’d missed the sunrise — the infusion of gold and blue, with wispy clouds white as cotton or pink like tufts of spun sugar. For weeks she’d longed for some bit of delight. And she was feeling it now.

Unfortunately, the timer chirped every five minutes until she placed her forearm into the hole in the wall which imprinted her schedule for the day. She dragged her sated body out of bed to submit to obnoxious authority in order to silence the equally obnoxious alarm.

“...7:00—breakfast, 7:30—kitchen duties, 8:00—Command...” It had been a couple of weeks since Plutarch had an assignment for her which took her down to Command. Am I in trouble? was her initial thought.

Aemilia Trinket’s voice crept out from the recesses of her mind. “You deserve whatever punishment awaits you for sacrificing your virtue to that boor!”

“Oh, Mother...” Effie pushed back at the chastising words inside her. “I said goodbye to my *virtue* 17 years ago. ...And shut up about Haymitch. You don’t know him. You don’t know him at all.” She said it louder than intended, then glanced around her quarters. Are there recorders in here? ...Probably. The people in charge in 13 seemed to care as little about privacy as they did about free will. In which case, they likely got an earful last night! Effie changed into her clothes quickly, imagining the horror of cameras hidden as well.

She slid one of her bracelets onto her wrist and slipped her sunglasses into her pocket. Then she gazed into the small mirror on the wall, searching for evidence that someone might be peering out at her from within. Her reflection was flat here, a shadow of her normal self, her former self.

Her soft curls were weighed down by the residue of industrial shampoo. “This golden color is lovely,” her mother had told Effie’s 5-year-old self, “Though I had hoped it would have grown long and thick by now. You must resign yourself, Euphemia, to a lifetime of woven ribbons, extensions, and silk scarves. Implants may be a possibility when you’re older. Or wigs might come back into fashion. Let us hope they do.”

This is my favorite part of you... Haymitch’s words broke through the old memory. He’d threaded his fingers through her hair and held on like a person drowning, kissing her until her lips were raw.

For an instant, she considered leaving her head uncovered today, but split ends after weeks of unmanicured growth brought her to her senses. She brushed out the night’s tangles and tied her hair up as usual in order to continue hiding at least that much of herself.

If Coin had given Effie approval to continue wearing the wig she’d arrived in, then she wouldn’t be restricted now to improvised kerchiefs and turbans. How is a person supposed to stand out here when everyone is ordered to look the same!?

***

7:00—Breakfast. In the dining hall, Effie always sat at her assigned table, unless someone she felt comfortable with was scheduled to eat at the same time, in which case she joined them if space permitted.

The list of people in 13 who she was comfortable with was short. It began with the Everdeens and Gale. He’d introduced her to his family, but they remained distant. Most people here kept their distance from her. She didn’t like to think about it. “Everyone is still adjusting,” sweet Delly Cartwright had mentioned weeks ago.

Effie tolerated Plutarch’s company as soon as she’d forgiven him for the forced rescue effort which brought her here. Next came Katniss’s *prep team* which included 13’s barber along with the nurses who did laser treatments to remove scarring. Cressida and her film crew whose names Effie never made an effort to recall were from the Capitol, but she felt little kinship with them.

There were also the people who had gathered to brainstorm for the propos. Beetee and Finnick she’d known loosely for years through the Games. Boggs often had his little boy with him in the dining hall. She’d scarcely spoken with Dalton from District 10 or Katniss’s friend Leevy, but at least ther faces were familiar.

Greasy Sae worked in the kitchen during mealtimes, otherwise Effie would have enjoyed her company. Her lively presence was one of the saving graces of “kitchen duty.”

And there was Haymitch.

At breakfast that morning, she sat alone. The food was tasteless as usual. She stirred mashed beets into porridge, creating a bright pink swirl. At least her meal would have some semblance of beauty.

At 7:15 a tray plopped down next to hers. “Morning, sweetheart.” He looked cold in his knit hat and sweater. His bloodshot eyes avoided hers, but he was here.

“You want coffee...” she said knowingly.

“Whiskey first. Or preferably both together, if you’re offering.”

“We’ll have to pretend.” She clinked her plastic water cup against his. “Cheers.”

He finally looked at her. In this light, her eyebrows were golden like the hair she concealed under that kerchief. He wanted to trace them with his fingertips. Why hadn’t he done that last night?

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“More than usual.” He wanted to touch her. Could he touch her here? When they were making their rules, they hadn’t talked about this part. “I was worn out from the... unscheduled exercise.”

“Is that what that was?” She leaned toward his ear and whispered, “My hips are marked black and blue with your fingerprints.”

His expression changed. He slid an arm around her waist and rested his hands lightly on her hip bones. “Here?”

His face was close to hers. The cut on his lip was starting to knit itself together. She wanted to kiss him. Could she kiss him here? When they were making their rules, they hadn’t talked about this part. “Yes... I’ll live.”

Her echoing his words from the night before only added to the feeling of intimacy. He brushed his thumbs along her hips, offering a gentle apology; even though she was the one who had asked for roughness.

She dropped her hand to his thigh. “I like having your fingerprints on me.”

“I had a good time.”

“I had SUCH a good time.”

“Want to do it again—“

“What’s this about good times?” Finnick arrived with two breakfast trays. Annie’s hand was tucked in the crook of his elbow. He set the trays on the table directly across from Haymitch and Effie. He pulled a chair out for Annie, then sat beside her.

“It looks like we’re having a little reunion here...” Haymitch grinned at Finnick and left his hands right where they were on Effie’s hips despite her letting go of his thigh and returning to her meal. “...Annie, you’re looking lovely.”

Their his-and-hers hospital gowns had been replaced with standard District 13 clothing.

“Indeed, it is WONDERFUL to see you both — together.” Effie fidgeted, uncomfortable now with Haymitch touching her so personally in front of his friends and her associates.

“Annie, my love, you remember Effie Trinket? And Haymitch of course.”

“Effie...” Annie took a moment to place the name. “Oh! I didn’t recognize you. You look so... beautiful.”

Welling tears made Effie’s eyes shine bright blue. Unadorned and dressed in these rags, she hadn’t expected anyone would find her beautiful, let alone give voice to such sentiment. “Thank you, my dear. YOU are the beautiful one. That hair is absolutely divine.”

Finnick beamed as he held Annie’s hand, “Can I tell them?” he asked and she nodded. “She’s going to be a beautiful BRIDE very soon.”

“Ohh!” Effie clasped her hands together and held them in front of her chest. “You’re getting married! This is DELIGHTFUL news.”

At the mention of marriage, Haymitch let go of Effie’s hips. Having sex with someone he cared about was feeling dangerous enough. Marriage was a whole other species that he wanted nothing to do with. That said, he couldn’t help but feel a moment of lightness. He reached forward to clap Finnick’s shoulder. “I’m glad, kid. Nobody deserves a good thing more than you two.”

A slyness slipped into Finnick’s smile as he glanced from Haymitch to Effie and back again. “Other people deserve good things too.” For years he’d observed them shooting barbs at one another, holding each other’s hands each time one of their tributes died, lifting one another up through his drunkenness and her disappointed hopes.

“You and Effie?” Finnick had asked him years ago. “...Too complicated,” had been Haymitch’s response.

Noticing Finnick’s scrutiny, Effie cleared her throat. “Well, look at the time! It’s my turn to be a *servant of the masses.* Congratulations, dears. I look forward to seeing you all later.” She looked intently at Haymitch before moving toward the kitchen.

When she passed through the doorway, Finnick poked him in the arm. “You LIKE her.”

Haymitch said nothing. He could feel the corners of his mouth start to creep up, and he shoved them back down again.

“You’ve never had much of a poker face.” Then Finnick said to Annie. “When he’s got a good hand, he has too many tells. He definitely likes her.”

Annie was glowing like late morning sun lifting up over the woods.

Haymitch had played enough poker with Finnick to know it was pointless to protest his assessment. “It’s like liking a cat,” he admitted, “One minute they’re all soft and purring. And the next, they’re hissing and scratching your eyes out.”

“Or your lip maybe?” Finnick’s eyes were twinkling mischief. Flecks of light on a green sea.

“Alright, alright. Eat your porridge.”

***

8:00—Command. Plutarch and Coin were in the thick of discussion when Effie arrived. She waited unobtrusively just outside the room, hearing only pieces of their conversation.

“My soldiers are occupied with intense training which does not include *walks in the woods*.”

“Forgive my assumption, but soldiers would likely shovel fallen leaves at random and lop off branches without finesse or discernment. We need someone with artistic flair.”

“Effie Trinket will have to make due with the foliage within the exercise yard and along its perimeter.”

“The yard is small. Those limited trees will not provide the diversity of colors and shapes we need for a truly festive propo. This propo is KEY to reaching into the minds of the citizens of the Capitol. Surely regulations can be flexed so a handful of civilians can spend their exercise time gathering vegetation in a small section of the woods.”

“I hear your perspective. But I cannot authorize a full security detail to supervise the equivalent of *berry picking*.”

“Madam President, may I remind you that you agreed to decorations. To honor the spirit of that agreement, those decorations must actually be decorative.”

“What do you propose?”

“Two security guards for two hours, a 100-yard radius, with four civilians wearing tracker anklets and communicators.”

“I’ll allow the two hour shift for a single security guard, a 50-yard radius, and two civilians working in tandem. Any additional foliage you need must be gathered from within the yard.”

Plutarch opened his mouth to negotiate further, but decided against it when he noticed Effie near the doorway. “Ah, Miss Trinket, just the person we’re looking for.”

Effie stepped inside, carrying herself with grace to hide her lingering concern that she’d been called to the *principal’s office* for doing something wrong. “I’m grateful to be at your service. All this dishwashing lately has been MURDER on my hands.”

Coin stood up, signaling an end to her discussion with Plutarch. He followed as she greeted Effie. “Hopefully your hands can be resurrected, because we’ll be needing them over the next few days.”

“Fortunately, resurrection is one of my specialties!”

“Well, that’s something we have in common.” Coin always took the last word, though she never showed overt pleasure in doing so. The president was clearly adept at concealment. The stillness of her hair was uncanny. Stoic even. Maybe it’s a wig after all, Effie thought. The nerve of this woman.

“Madam President, please excuse us.” Plutarch nodded to her. “Miss Trinket, let’s walk.”

He led Effie to an elevator and pressed a button. She watched the lights as they descended to who knows where. “Are you taking me to the dungeon?” she asked.

“It’s all dungeon; isn’t it.” As ever, he was aware of his audience, “Though some places here are less... unpleasant than others.”

The elevator opened up into a zig-zagging corridor flanked by rooms full of technology. The end of the maze was marked by light, lustrous enough to resemble sunshine.

They entered a large room steeped in stillness, interrupted periodically by the flitting chatter of hummingbirds. The floor was dotted with planters full of grass. Several trees carried Effie’s eyes upward to an elaborate ceiling. The architecture was austere yet beautiful. She drew a breath and held it in awe. If this dungeon had a cathedral, then this surely was it. “What is this place?”

“Special Defense. A fitting name for the site of our ultimate propo... the wedding of Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair. The details are being arranged as we speak. Do you feel up to the task of coordinating some of those details?”

His words filled her with a sense of purpose. She could have hugged Plutarch! She could have skipped around the nearest tree like a girl. With a lifetime of rehearsed restraint, she walked to the center of the room and turned methodically in a circle, observing the entirety of the space.

“I do!”

Plutarch smirked. “You realize that YOU are not the bride?”

Effie glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous! I DO want to help coordinate. When Katniss left for District 2, I was relegated to the work of a peasant!”

“Apparently nobody avoids chores here. Even the president.”

“I have yet to see HER with a broomstick... outside of metaphor, that is.”

“Careful. I believe 13 is bringing out your natural color.”

“Well, it’s all I have in this fortress of gray! The grass and trees add a gorgeous splash of green to this glorious room, but these cement walls are atrocious.”

“I agree. Coin is allowing them to be decorated with fall foliage. Beetee assures me that a few spools of old wire and aging adhesive tape can be repurposed for making garlands. Have you made garlands before?”

“Of course! Decorating is one of my talents! Not that there has been much opportunity for it down here, to put it mildly.”

“Coin will make a public announcement, requesting volunteers to assemble the decorations later this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?! It’s a great deal to pull together so quickly!”

“Time is of the essence. Tomorrow a hovercraft will take Katniss and Annie to District 12 in order to select clothing for the bride and groom.”

“Ohh...” Effie whispered with even greater reverence than she felt at the sight of the ceiling. “...Cinna and Portia’s closets.”

“Yes. Katniss asked permission for you to accompany them to help the bride with her fashion decisions. Her request was approved, but the choice whether or not to go with them is yours. I’ll be honest; 12 is a gruesome place right now.”

Fire bombed. Thousands of people dead. For weeks Effie had imagined the reasons Haymitch knew he couldn’t face it sober. The images her mind conjured were disturbing.

“Katniss would not have asked for my assistance if she didn’t need it. ...Of course I’ll go. I will always be there for my victors.”

Plutarch assessed her. “You may regard yourself as a reluctant rebel, but it’s clear to me where your loyalties lie.”

“Is it?” Effie’s question was genuine. Loyalty was a concept she didn’t contemplate. Doing her job, whatever that may be, was important to her. The people she cared about were important to her. For a while, she’d felt increasingly tugged in opposite directions. She was still trying to hold herself together.

“I trust you’ll figure that out in time.”

“Plutarch, do you EVER give a straightforward answer?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She shook her head, half amused and half annoyed.

“I have people setting up three hundred chairs in here later this morning. The film crew will work with them on optimal placement in order to get the best angles. The propo will film the day after tomorrow. Wedding Day. I’ll need you to make sure the bride and groom look their best.”

“Now, THAT will be easy. They have tremendous natural beauty. They just need a little help smoothing out some rough edges.” Effie might have been tempted to describe their appearance as haggard, but when she’d observed them at breakfast, she could see that being deeply in love had a power to smooth out edges that lasers and makeup could not touch.

She felt a flash of envy and let it pass without holding on. She already had enough emotions to contend with. *Deeply in love* was a complication she did not need. She could feel herself standing upon a brink — a precipice with a red canyon below and warm wind rushing around her. Letting the wind take her would be so easy. And letting the wind take her would be the smashing death of everything she’d ever been.

I’m not ready for it.

She and Plutarch spent the next quarter hour discussing juxtaposition of color and shape, length and placement of garlands, positioning of the bride and groom. He’d already thought through each detail. He’s not just planning a propo. It’s almost as if he’s designing... an arena. Effie felt chills along her arms.

“This wedding, it’s not another... Hunger Games?” She began it as a statement, but it came out as a question. To her ears it sounded absurd, but her body clearly felt something she couldn’t wrap her mind around.

“There are different kinds of hungers; aren’t there? And games are always afoot.” Again, he was intentionally vague. “A person only needs to create the right atmosphere; then those hungers will emerge, and those games will play out of their own volition. Creating the atmosphere will be our collective task today.”

The goosebumps refused to subside. She suspected Plutarch would never be out of a job in any regime. “What do you need me to do?”

“You’ll notice this morning that you’re scheduled for two hours of exercise. You’ll be in the woods.”

“The woods?!” Effie enjoyed the natural world at a distance and contained, but nature up close was wild and daunting.

“A security guard will escort you. Coin gave approval for another civilian to work with you to gather vegetation. You’ll need a diversity and abundance of leaves, much more than can be found in the exercise yard. You’ll have only two hours, so make wise use of your time. Whatever you bring back is what the volunteers will have to work with this afternoon.”

“What is the plan for the afternoon?”

“Between the lunch and dinner shifts you’ll have use of the dining hall. Volunteers will show up to make the decorations. School will be done for the day, so expect citizens and refugees of all ages. Afterward, you’ll bring a number of volunteers back here to display the garlands as we’ve discussed.”

“Who will be helping me in the woods?”

“You can select anyone whose schedule for the day can be altered. No on-duty kitchen staff, hospital staff, or military personnel, and no minors. ...Who do you want?”

Who do I want?

A hummingbird hovered close. The feathers covering its throat shimmered like rubies, but the beating of its wings was the only sound she heard.

“If you don’t know who you want I can just assign someone.”

She silently cursed the prohibition of makeup here as her feelings showed scarlet on her cheeks before she’d even said his name.

“Miss Trinket, the clock is ticking.”

A ticking clock... this reminder of the last arena raised more goosebumps. When the chips were down, there was only one person in this fortress, maybe in the whole world, who she was comfortable with.

“I want Haymitch.”

“...Of course you do.”

#HayffieFics #hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #thg #thg fanfiction #district 13 #plutarch heavensbee #alma coin #finnick odair #annie cresta #odesta #finnick and annie #effies mother #the hunger games

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ilguna · 5 years ago

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Metanoia - Chapter Fifteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 10.7k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

uhhh long ass chapter jfc

–

You tap the end of the spoon against the table, “Maybe more gasoline?”

Beetee gives you a look, “I’ve engineered these perfectly--”

“I’m literally from District Two, I manufactured weapons. Just add a bit more gas, and see what happens, it can’t hurt, can it?”

Beetee readjusts the glasses on his face, “I suppose not.” he gets to work, and you scoop some of the carrots onto your spoon, trying not to make a face when you force them down your throat. They’ve gotten cold from how long you’ve been stalling, “You’ve made molotov arrows before?”

“Well…” you make a face, and he turns his eyes to you, “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve… experimented that’s for sure.”

Gale laughs, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve illegally made weapons and sometimes started bush fires because of it,” you laugh, “And I’ve never been caught, either.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be in here.” Beetee mutters.

You roll your eyes, “As if I would willingly do work now. Just telling you to add more gas was a bore.”

Beetee screws the top back onto the arrow, being careless with it to see if it’ll explode or whatever. Which means that you should definitely put some distance between you and the psychopath here, you’re not too fond of being inside of a molotov. No matter how small that arrow is, there will be a ton of fire.

“Give it a shot.” you motion at Gale, “Seriously.”

“It won’t set the studio on fire?”

“You’re talking to the two engineers, here. Go ahead before I do it myself.”

Gale picks up the crossbow, and then takes the arrow that Beetee is offering him. While he prepares everything, you swivel around to face Gale, while Beetee has to turn the entire wheelchair to see.

“I’ve been trying to make a trident for Finnick.” Beetee begins, the two of you watch Gale prepare, the people on the other end of the room have fire extinguishers ready to put the fire out as soon as the arrow is fired.

“Don’t make it look like an actual trident, keep the design as close as possible to the one he had inside of the arena.” you scoop up another spoonful of carrots, “And make it hollow in the middle, it’ll be easier to move around--and you can make it compatible that way too.”

“Ready?” Gale asks.

“We’ve been ready.” you eat the cold, slimy carrots.

Gale fires the arrow, and right when it hits the bullseye, it explodes into fire. The entire target, the wall behind it, mostly the floor and some get onto the ceiling too. The crew runs forward, putting out the fire before it can spread across the entire room.

You look at Beetee, “See? Not too shabby.”

“Know any ways to make them waterproof?”

“Wax, water rolls right off of it. Don’t lay it on too thick, and you’ll be just fine.” You set the empty tray onto the table, “

“They should have sent you down here sooner.” Gale says, coming back over, “Imagine how much faster all of this would have been made.”

“Beetee would have gotten fed up with me, if he isn’t already.” you say, stretching.

“You’re not too bad to be around.”

“You only like me because I make your weapon engineering much easier. I’m able to catch your mistakes before you even make them.” you tuck your legs in.

He ignores what you said, moving on to Gale, “How’s Katniss doing?”

Gale doesn’t give much of an answer, “Recovering.”

“Let me guess, she’s still mad at you?” you raise your eyebrows. For this, he tells you to shut up. You shrug, getting back to the sketch you were working on for your own personal weapon, “Hey, if you can’t see how out of line you were, then that’s your deal.”

“How was I out of line?”

You place the sketchbook on your knee, “Dude, you called her fiance weak for doing what he could to stay alive. Obviously you two are still pretty close after that, but I wouldn’t have made a comment like that.” you pause for a moment, looking at Gale, “Then again, you don’t know what it’s like to be under a microscope, you can run your mouth all you want, because you were nothing but a coal miner.”

Gale practically rolls his eyes, “I know what it’s like, Katniss had to start calling me her cousin.”

“Katniss was the one being watched, don’t flatter yourself.” you go back to what you were doing.

“She’s right.” Beetee chips in, “(Y/n), I mean.”

“Right.”

The sound of boots on cement makes you look up, expecting Gale to be the one walking away. He doesn’t normally like to take shit from you or Beetee. Coming down here is like a safe place, allowing him to vent and blow steam when he gets to test out the new fancy weapons.

Gale stands right where he was before, which means that it’s someone else. And since Beetee can’t walk, you turn around in the chair to see who it is.

It’s Finnick. His hands are in his pockets, with a gleeful smile on his face, “Good afternoon.”

Gale is just as suspicious as you are, “What are you up to?”

“What was I up to.” he corrects, coming to a stop behind your chair, “It’s a surprise.”

Beetee makes a face, and then wheels himself around so that he’s facing the table again. As he gets back to work, you resume critiquing Gale, and Finnick finds where he wants to be.

“Gale, don’t get me wrong, I can sorta see where you’re coming from, but you need to see it from our perspective too.” you drop your leg, “Let’s compare you to Peeta, since you were doing that already by saying you’d never say what you said.

“He had absolutely no clue what the fuck was going on. Peeta didn’t know that there was a plan to get him and Katniss out of the arena, he didn’t know that Coin was planning on using Katniss as a symbol. The only things he did know was what the Capitol fed him to get him on their side.

“And if you still can’t see eye to eye with it, imagine a gun pointed to Katniss’ head. If you so much as step out of line in a way that Snow doesn’t like, he’ll shoot her. It’s not his family, friend or girlfriend that he’s killing, it’s yours. And if you don’t cooperate after Katniss, he’s grabbing the next dearest thing to you.” you lean back in the chair, “And before you say shit, Snow literally did that to me twice. First was right after I won my games and he killed my entire family, and the second time was when we found Tanith dead in a chair. It’s a little different for Tanith, because she was already dead, but he still tried to use her against me.”

“Okay, but what were they threatening Peeta with?”

“His life, for starters.” Finnick says, “And likely his family too.”

Gale doesn’t say anything after that.

“How’s this design?” You offer the sketchbook for Beetee, and he takes it.

“We could probably start this now.” Beetee says, “Mind doing something for Finnick, too?”

“Sure.”

He hands it back, but Finnick takes it before you’re able to grab a hold of it. Sighing, you look up at Finnick, watching his face as he looks over the page, “These are swords.”

“Sai’s.” you correct.

Finnick gives you a look, “But it says right here--”

“--that it’s basically a sword, yes, I know. Normally they’re used to disarm someone--as I showed you before. But I want some that are actually sharp. Blunt force trauma is fun, but what’s even more fun is spilling someone’s guts in front of them.”

Finnick hands the book back, “Sword.”

“Sure.” you cross your legs, “What are you here for, other to annoy me?”

“Keeping an eye on you three for the next couple of hours.” Finnick pulls up a chair of his own, mirroring your stance.

“Sounds exciting.”

Everything falls back into rhythm. Beetee goes back to tinkering on arrows, having Gale use the decoys. And the times he’s not shooting arrows, he’s sitting in a chair talking to you guys. You cough up a couple of sketches for Beetee, hoping that it’ll be good enough.

You might be the one from District Two, but that doesn’t mean you actually put things together. The legal age to actually get into the warehouses is eighteen, and since you went into the games at sixteen and won, you never really had to work. You’ve sat on money for your entire life. The only people that worked were your parents, aunts and uncles and some of your cousins.

Those same cousins taught you how to put things together before your games--obviously. During family get togethers, you’d all disappear for a little while, which is when they’d take the chance. They always thought it was so cool to pass on forbidden knowledge, and have it all be a secret between you guys.

They had this secret stash of gadgets inside of a log, and they’d fuck around with it until it turned into something dangerous. Honestly, the first thing you learned from them was the molotov, and when you threw it on a rock, it exploded and the dead grass around it caught fire.

Cue you all scooping the gadgets into your shirts and taking off behind the houses to get as far as possible. Your older cousin had a backup spot not too far away, you dumped all the shit there and got back to the house in record time. Before the firefighters had even left their stations.

It’s a wonder why you weren’t caught, cause that wasn’t the first time that area specifically had been set on fire, and it wouldn’t be the last either. The firefighters definitely had an idea of why it would always set ablaze, but never pursued it. After a while, they started to monitor the place on extremely hot days, thinking that it was the sun that was starting the fires.

If only they had known that it was a bunch of teenagers doing that shit for fun.

After a while, Beetee gets tired of the arrows and starts over to the crew to begin making the sai’s. While they’re heating up the metal, he gets to making the hilt.

“I feel like we’re doing more work than we have to.” you look at Beetee.

“Do you want it to be fucked up, or do you want it to be done right the first time?” He raises his glasses above his eyes when he looks right back at you.

“The first time.” you sigh.

When you get back to work, Finnick moves in closer, curious as to how you’re designing his new weapon. Every now and then he’ll point out the practicalities, and weighing in on how he would rather it be built.

“This doesn’t even look like a trident anymore.” you hold the journal away from your face, and turn it so it’s long-ways since the entire trident spans over both pages, “It’s basically the opposite.”

“But think of it this way.” Finnick reaches over, touching where the blades of the trident are, “Initial stab, right? But the rest of this does more damage.”

There’s a spear point at the top of the trident, which isn’t the problem. That’s pretty normal when it comes to the design. However, instead of wanting all the other blades facing up and towards it, he wants it downwards.

“And you can even make it compatible!” Finnick grins.

“At least we agree on one thing.” You pass the journal to him, “Go ahead and show Beetee, he’s the one in charge.”

Finnick goes over, and it’s basically halfway across the room, since Beetee is hovering over the crew’s work like a hawk. He wasn’t playing around when he said that he would like it to be perfect the first time around.

“Finnick’s into you.” Gale says.

“You say that like he’s not my soulmate.” you give Gale a look, “Also, I’m not into Finnick.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a teenager and I don’t date people right after they broke up with their girlfriends.” you turn back to Finnick to see that he’s discussing the weapon with Beetee and a crew member.

“If there was no Annie, would you have dated him then?”

You squint, “No.”

Gale laughs, but doesn’t say anything because Finnick is heading your guys’ way again. He drops the journal in Beetee’s workspace on his way over, “Beetee will start it tonight.”

“Cool.” you get up, picking up the lunch tray, “Am I free to leave now?”

“Yes,” Finnick says, but he makes a point to stay in front of both you and Gale.

“See ya later, Beetee!” you shout, “Send someone if you need my help.”

He waves, and then goes back to hovering.

Finnick starts up the staircase first, and Gale walks beside you, “Any progress on Peeta?”

Gale rolls his eyes, you can feel it, “Same as he was before. I saw him before coming here.”

“Katniss still saying no?” you look over.

Gale nods.

“That’s reasonable, I wouldn’t want to go near him either…” you trail off for a moment, and then laugh to yourself.

Finnick glances over his shoulder curiously, “What is it?”

You chuckle a bit, “Out of everyone, I’m definitely last on the list of people he wants to see.”

“Why’s that?”

Your smile is small as you look at your feet, rather than up at Finnick, “I nearly killed Peeta.”

“After the birds? I know--” Finnick says.

“No, after. After you had been pulled out of the arena, did I tell either of you that story?”

Gale says no, which is expected, but Finnick thinks about it before answerings, “We talked about emotion when you first got here, and how intense it was.”

“Well, after I left the lightning tree, my real goal was to go downhill and straight for the cornucopia. I thought that if the jungle were to burn, I would need to take my chances in the middle. On the way, I found a livid Peeta, and a strangely calm Johanna.” you smile, “Peeta started screaming at me instead, and Johanna urged me not to do anything.

“But then Peeta backed me into a rock, so when I got up, I punched him twice. Kicked him a couple of times while he was down, and then Johanna stepped in--” Finnick has slowed down now, he watches you, “--and naturally I knocked her out with a single right hook, since she’s… weak to say the least. She hit her head on a rock on the way down, and I thought I’d finish her off later.

“As for Peeta, it was just him and I.” the smile develops into a grin, “I was about to rip him apart--and I mean minutes from doing it. But then the peacekeepers came and I thought that it would be better to leave the situation as it was.”

“You’re… sadistic.” Gale says.

“I’ve heard it all before.” you say, looking at Finnick.

“At least you didn’t kill them.” Finnick says.

“Peeta knew that I was about to. Doesn’t matter if I did it or not.”

Gale laughs now, “You should go visit him to see what he says.”

“He’d probably get mad at me for not killing him when I had the chance. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle me in that hovercraft.”

“The tracker jacker venom fucked with his head, he probably barely recognized you.” Gale says.

At the top of the staircase, Finnick stops you, “We’ll see you later, Gale.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m going to see Boggs.”

You salute as a joke, getting an eye roll in return. Finnick purposely waits until Gale is gone, and then he moves out of your way, “You’re getting better.”

“At making people like me?” you ask, giving Finnick a look, “You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I think.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “A genius you say?”

“Maybe not a genius.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in, “So what were you up to?”

“You’ll see in a couple of hours.”

“Is that why we aren’t getting off on the floor we normally do?” you stare at your feet.

“We’re heading straight for the medical floor to Johanna.”

You stop on the stairs, and Finnick gets a couple of steps above you, “Did you not just hear my whole story?”

“The worst Johanna will do is run her mouth about the fact that you didn’t kill her when you had the chance. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask one of the nurses. We’ve heard her speech a couple of times now.”

“Then can I opt out and go to the dorm instead?” you start up the stairs again.

“You’re really going to leave me to talk to Johanna?”

Your eyebrows draw together, “You’re the one that wants to see her!”

“Come on, we see Johanna and then we go to the dorm right after, I promise.” Finnick says.

You hold out your pinky for Finnick, and with a slight chuckle, he pinky promises you. The two of you resume your journey up the stairs, and then he says, “Unless we talk for too long.”

You press your lips together, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He laughs anyway.

When the two of you reach Johanna’s room, you hang by the door, not really wanting to go inside. You don’t like the look of the room, much less the idea of being back inside of it. Ever since you’ve been granted the freedom, you’ve made a point of not coming back to the hospital--or infirmary--floor, no matter the reason.

The other day, you cut your hand on a blade down in the workshop. The crew had wanted to call someone down to come and take care of you, and you barely stopped them in time. Over your dead body, would you be brought back here to sit and wallow in white for a couple of days.

Especially over something as childish as a cut. So, you found the first aid kit, cleaned out the wound and Beetee stitched it up for you. The crew was a little surprised how calm you were during the entire procedure but the only thing you had to say was ‘high pain tolerance’ after all your years of bullshit.

So being back here makes you nervous. As if someone will pop out from one of the walls and tie you down to a bed for absolutely no reason. You’re perfectly healthy, and the nurses and doctors knew this. Even after you had tests that came back negative for poison in your system, you were required to stay.

Finnick and Johanna’s conversation is surprisingly normal and boring. There was absolutely no reason for you to tag along, except for Finnick’s own request. The only reason why you’re here is to be nice.

As if Finnick’s read your mind, he looks at you, “(Y/n) been helping Beetee out in the workshop lately, designing weapons.”

Johanna’s eyes drag over to you, bored of it already, “She’s being helpful for once?”

You stare at her.

“She’s done quite a lot, Johanna.” Finnick says, looking back at her, “She’s the one that opened the conversation about rescuing you and the others from the Capitol.”

“For her own benefit.” Johanna laughs, “Because she can’t stand being alone. It’s why she’s kept you around so long, you know? Not because she likes you, but because she needs another soul to harvest. She’s like the fucking grim reaper.” she looks at you now, “A heartless murderer.”

You take a deep breath, and then a smile spreads over your face, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. At least then, there would be one less leech on the morphling supply.” you spit, “You deserve everything that Snow gave you, the waterboarding, the near-drowning. It’s a shame that he only kept you alive so you’d suffer and become nothing but another downer on everyone around you.”

Finnick’s head whips in your direction, clearly not expecting the outburst. You’ve been so good for so long, but there’s something about Johanna that just gets you steaming.

“I should have stomped your head into that fucking rock in front of Peeta.” you seethe, “And then I should’ve beaten Peeta to death, because you two weren’t nearly worth sacrificing my life over.” you shake your head, “You’re nothing but another morphling addict. Another victor that couldn’t take the fucking heat. If I were you, I’d just kill myself from how embarrased I’d be.”

Johanna’s been smiling at you the entire time, like she wanted this sort of reaction, and so you finish it off, “It’s probably how Blight felt too.”

Her smile drops, and her hand is reaching towards the needles in her arms before her feet have even hit the ground. You stand your ground, allowing Finnick to get her to stop because she does some real damage to her veins.

“(Y/n)--go!” Finnick’s angry, and he glares at you over his shoulder.

“My fucking pleasure.” you spit, leaving the doorway.

It was worth it. Every word that left your mouth was fucking worth it. Being nice to people is such a fucking chore, especially when it’s towards people who don’t deserve it.

You stand in the stairwell for a moment, thinking about where you’d want to go. But there’s really no place that’s safe if Finnick comes looking for you. The workshop and dorm are an obvious place, as well as the stream you stumbled upon. He’ll check with Boggs and Gale--and there’s no one else here that likes you.

You hate it here.

You thought you would be able to make this place feel like a real home and maybe even like it, but it’s not worth it. This whole place isn’t worth it to you.

Everything inside of you is a frenzy.

You have to go home.

You start up the staircase, knowing that seeing Plutarch and finding a ride would be the place to start. He might not be happy about it, but there’s really no need for you here. You’re not doing anything besides designing personal weapons that Beetee likes and doesn’t like.

Occasionally you’re genuinely helpful with dumb shit, but that’s the extent of it. Other than that, you’re miserable. The freedom you have isn’t actual freedom.

You hop up the last couple of steps, and round the corner to the door to the control room. You practically throw it open, nearly letting it hit the wall, when your hand appears between the crack to stop it.

At your appearance, a few people look over. The only eyes who stick are Boggs, Gale, Haymitch and Plutarch.

“Where’s Finnick?” Gale asks.

“Not his owner,” you go down the steps, eyes on Plutarch, “I want a ride to District Two. Your next hovercraft is mine to take.”

Boggs stands up, crossing his arms, “What about the workshop?”

“Boring, Beetee has it under control.”

“And Finnick?” Haymitch asks, “I thought you were just liking it here--”

“I’m a liar.”

Gale sighs, “Tell us what happened.”

“Johanna and I are going to end up killing each other the next time we come face to face.” your eyes land on Plutarch to see he has an eye on his watch, “So unless you feel like cleaning up a dead body, I’ll take one free ticket to District Two.”

“The next hovercraft is leaving in fifteen minutes.” Plutarch looks up now, “I’ll call in and let them know you’re going.”

“Does Finnick know you’re doing this?” Gale asks, “He’s going to be upset if we have to tell him--”

“It’s his fault for getting attached to me.” your face is serious, and then the smile spreads over your face, because of the irony of that statement. After what Johanna had said… “He’s your problem now, good luck.”

You go up the steps, heading right out the door you came in. You can’t take the staircase to the top, so you make your way to the elevator instead. You press the button, waiting patiently with a smile on your face.

The hovercrafts that they’re using to get the supplies to and from District Two are the slow type. District Thirteen is in no rush to get the crates there, so it won’t be a surprise to you if it takes more than just a couple of hours for you to get there. Or if it makes stops along the way.

The elevator arrives, you pull up the safety bar, and then step inside, pulling it back down. You punch the top floor button with your thumb, then you go to stare as the floors disappear beneath your feet.

At least back home you don’t have to act and lie for the happiness of others. Especially if your first and only stop is going to be your house in victor’s village. And if you need groceries, it looks like you’ll be hunting for food to eat. Or you might actually have to go into town and ransack the already destroyed buildings.

Most of the people that used to own the shops are probably dead, or they won’t be returning back home for a while. The entirety of victor’s village is going to be a graveyard--there might even still be rotting bodies inside of the houses. If the smell is too unbearable, you could always bury the corpses yourself.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

At the top, there’s someone waiting on the ramp. You don’t bother waiting for them to tell you to hurry it up, you start jogging immediately. The faster you get on, the faster you can take off.

“I’m ready.” you say when you get to the ramp.

“Good, take a seat and strap in.” the man follows you in.

The whole district is in ruins.

The last time you were here, everything seemed to be in near perfect condition, apart from the obvious looting that had taken place. The broken windows, and the wood splinters in the gravel could be easily looked over. But it’s much harder to see this place as it once was.

Most stores and houses that were made out of wood, and had been passed down from generation to generation have been burned to ashes or their cement flooring. There’s nothing left of them, not the furniture inside, and definitely not the foundation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that they were vacant lots.

If they couldn’t burn, then they were bombed. Chunks of cement and brick have now joined the mixture in the gravel. The roofs have long since caved in, and just one gust of wind makes the walls shudder. All it would take is one more bomb dropped in this area, and it all would come crashing down.

The air around you is hardly breathable too. Before you had stepped off the hovercraft you were given a mask--not the same gas mask that you’d used during the tribute center invasion--and a pair of sunglasses that would help you see through the debris and smoke.

It’s almost like fog, but so much worse. It’s smoke from fires that can’t be put out, and it’s from the bombs that are from your own district. The loyalists and the rebels are still fighting over this place. Katniss’ visit here hadn’t done much good, in fact you’d say that it made it a lot worse.

As you wander through the streets towards victor’s village, you come up with a lousy plan that’ll likely get you killed.

Coin had thought that sending Katniss here was a good idea, but it wasn’t by any means. Katniss got a bullet to her ribs, which bruised a ton of them, and put her right back into a hospital bed. They clearly didn’t think about what would happen if you mix people who don’t mind the games, with someone who’s leading a rebellion.

You’ve seen the speech, and as heartfelt as it was, it’s not what they want to hear.

Here’s the way you saw it at first; this girl from the poorest part of District Twelve is kicking up a rebellion that’ll likely destroy the system that’s making District Two rich, and the favorite. District Two thinks that they’re going to get everything taken away from them. Their houses, nice clothes and furniture, the good paying jobs.

You would all much rather send in the two kids a year--mostly because your children are prepared ahead of time, and therefore the career districts have nothing to lose--than take the risk of getting everything taken away. The Capitol absolutely adores you guys, with all that you supply them.

So, instead of having the girl that’s leading the rebellion try and convince the loyalists that they’re on the wrong side. You have someone who’s lived in the same luxury as them do it instead. How is Katniss supposed to understand how you all feel? She despised the games, while the rest of you adored it.

The outsider districts don’t understand the need for luxury and favoritism. They’ve lived on the hated side of the Capitol for a long time. The Capitol expects them to underperform in the games, so that’s why they don’t ever see the spotlight until they get a winner.

Anyway, you’re going to get to your house, change into something that says ‘living in luxury’ and then march your way to the justice building. There, you won’t ask for any sort of protection but an escort there instead. You won’t carry any weapons, you won’t pull on a bulletproof vest.

If they shoot you, then they’ll have made their choice very clear.

The gate entrance to the village is all sorts of broken. You barely push the metal door open, and the entire thing falls apart in your hands. You have to prop it up against the fence, being sure that it won’t fall over before you move on to go inside. Then, you waste no time with a quick jog through.

The fountain in the first part of the village is dry. The cement is no longer grey, it’s black from the amount of fire that must have washed through here. On the tiles that line the bottom, there’s melted coins. You’re tempted to reach in and pick one out when you realize just how bad of an idea that is.

You continue down the stone brick path after that, taking in note of every house that you pass. The doors are slightly ajar, most windows seem to be shattered, and a couple are burned down to the foundation. Most still stand though, Sorcha, Enobaria, Brutus, Tanith and Zavian’s seem to be in good condition.

As for Lyme, her house is completely gone. You have an idea that it might be because of the fact that she’s helping the rebels, and some of the loyalists must’ve gotten behind their lines to come and burn hers down specifically. As for the others, there must be a bigger story behind it.

As you come into the third part of the neighborhood, you cross your fingers as you hope it’s not like Lyme’s. You just want a moment inside of a clean house, to be able to go upstairs and find out that there’s running water. Then you’ll take a shower, get dressed in fancy clothing and put on makeup as if there isn’t hellfire around you.

It takes you a moment to find it, because all the houses in this section are still standing. And then you realize that your house is the only one that looks fresh. It hasn’t been touched by all the ash and smoke, it’s still as bright white as the day you received it. Perfect condition.

No windows are broken, the wood and cement show no signs of it being on fire at any point in time. The door is shut tight, a little stuck so you have to rattle the handle until it comes loose. You swing the door wide open, standing in the doorway as you wait to see a mess.

But it’s clean. Of course, the house has collected dust, but there’s no blood. There’s no broken vases, or stuffing all over the floor. It’s how you left it.

You shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. As you go inside, you can’t help but to look around and gape like you’re on a house tour. Nothing has been touched, which is the part that baffles you the most. Both the inside and outside are great.

For a moment, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised that nothing had happened--apart from the fact that the whole neighborhood is disgusting. And then you remember the last time you came home from the games. With the house torn apart with dead bodies frozen in time.

“He seriously fucked me up, didn’t he?” you ask, laughing to yourself.

The house does smell pretty bad though, and the scent only gets stronger the more you head towards the kitchen. You have to plug your nose, strictly breathing in and out through your mouth, blinking away the tears that form in your eyes. It’s just so strong…

Going through the doorway, you take your time to look for anything that might be off. There is nothing, but you’re sure that it was coming from here specifically, and the second that you test the water with a breath of air through your nose, you gag. You go back to breathing through your mouth, even though you can taste the toxicity.

It’s not gas, that’s for sure. It’s something else…

The kitchen, the smell, the fact you haven’t been here--it’s the fridge. The food inside of the fridge and the cupboards are likely rotting. You can picture the mold in your mind already, and you shiver a little. Deciding that it’s better not to investigate further, you head straight upstairs instead.

On the way to your room, you can’t help but to pop open the doors and take a look inside. It’s just the paranoia now that’s making you do this. You don’t think you’ll find anyone in here, it’s just the thought of someone maybe hiding and waiting for you. A house like yours shouldn’t be in perfect condition, not after everything that’s happened.

And yet, there is nothing. Not even in your master bedroom, and not in the bathroom either. Despite this, you also lock your bedroom door, stripping on the way to the bathroom. And when you get inside of there, you lock that one too. For a second, the water in the shower runs cold, but then it turns warm.

While you let it heat up a little more, you take a look at yourself in the mirror for the first time in a couple of weeks. The mirrors that they have in District Thirteen are practically useless, they might as well not have them at all. You can barely see your face in them, and they’re permanently fogged over. At first, you thought that there was a protective film, until you realized that they were just shit quality.

Your fingers dance along the scars that cover you from head to toe. You turn your body to get a better angle, only to be disappointed when they continue. You force yourself to lean onto the counter, even though you’re so incredibly uncomfortable now, but curiosity is what’s fueling it all.

Then you’re able to see that the spider bite scars exist on your face too. They’re faint though, not too noticeable. What is noticeable, is the fact that there’s a scar that’s right beneath your eye. It’s so small that you can see it, even with you leaning over the counter.

You wipe the fog off the mirror, hopping onto the counter. You’re basically pressed against the mirror with how you’re seated as you desperately try to see what the fuck is beneath your eye. Wiping the mirror again, you take your chance to see.

C.S.

Your face twists as you back up, trying to think of who has those initials. Much less who would leave it on you like they’re marking their territory. You slide off the counter, rubbing beneath your eye, wishing that it’ll just go away, but it won’t.

Then it clicks, and you almost wish it hadn’t.

Coriolanus Snow.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, mouth hanging open as you watch the fog take over the mirror again, and your naked figure is covered up as a result.

He marked you. Snow fucking marked you like you’re his pet.

Your hand has swiped the vase off the counter before you’ve realized it. It isn’t until it’s shattered, when you’re jumping out of your skin. Even then, you’re still captivated by the amount of rage that’s running through your veins.

“Motherfucker!” you yell, digging your nail into the spot, gritting your teeth when it hurts. But it has to go. It has to be defaced. You won’t be seen as his. You don’t belong to Snow.

It’s a relief when your bare nail breaks skin. Though, more pain spikes in that one spot, and even in your eye a little bit. You lean on the counter, squeezing your eyes shut and giving yourself a moment to recover before you head into the shower.

You can’t fucking believe this.

You had always told yourself that you would be saving this dress for an occasion that you’d never be able to replicate. No weddings, funerals or parties. No victory tour, no get together, no reaping. You had to save it for something that would be groundbreaking, something that would change the game altogether.

At first, you didn’t want to pick it up for even this. Then you remembered that you have a chance of dying, and thought that was an event you’d never be able to replicate. Because you’d be dead.

And now that you’re walking to the justice buildings, holding the dress up so that it doesn’t get caught in the gravel and what lies inside of you, you’re beginning to see that you’ve got to make it count. Not the dress, but this entire encounter. If they don’t end up killing you, they’re definitely not going to let you come back again. Not peacefully, at least.

All you have to do is make them hesitate. Make them think for the rebel’s side for a second. That’s all you need. A moment of apprehension that they’ll never be able to take back. And since you’re pretty good at playing devil's advocate, this will be a walk in the park.

Seeing a sudden blast of dust and dirt heading your way, you make a home behind a building, aiming the umbrella you’re holding towards the corner that’s closest to you. It takes a moment before the dust storm comes through. The rocks pelt the plastic, and they attack your bare legs.

Since the umbrella is see-through, you’re able to tell when it dies down. You don’t wait to make sure that it’s over completely, because you never know when another gust will roll on in. At some point in time, you recognize the streets that the scouting group had brought you through, so you take that carefully.

You’re still fairly surprised that Paylor and Lyme hadn’t taken your statement of a survey group into consideration. And if they did, then that didn’t last as long as you thought it would. It’s literally only been two to three weeks since you were here last.

You guess that just means that they can’t spare the people as much as they could before. Which says a lot--that they’re losing the battle they swore that they’d be able to win. Coin said in one of her speeches that it wouldn’t be easy, and it would take a while. And here you are, thinking that you’ll be able to change their minds in a day.

“Watch this.” you smile to yourself.

You go around a corner, only to stop dead in your tracks. Standing right in front of you are some pretty armored people, holding a gun pointed straight at your chest.

“State your name and business.”

“I see Lyme’s upgraded her shitty guards.” you give him a smile, “(Y/n) Rosecelli.”

He lowers the gun, “You’re supposed to be in District Thirteen.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” you say, continuing your way down the alley, “Quite boring. Is Lyme in the justice building?”

“Yes, I can bring--”

“I’ve got it.” you cut him off, leaving him behind you.

“I wouldn’t recommend going that way.”

“Whatever!” you shout, going right out.

The steps to the building are pretty wrecked, but there’s just enough stone for you to be able to go up them. You hike the dress up a little higher, stomping your heels when you step, as you try to get the gravel and glass off your shoes. The people standing outside the building seem confused at first.

“Excuse me.” you say, moving right past them as you head through the doors.

You take the stairs up, still having an iron grip on the dress. You won’t let it down until you’re standing in front of rebels. You swear on everything.

You pass a third set of guards on your way inside of the meeting room that they had used the first time. When the door pops open, you can see a familiar face on the hologram screen. Alma Coin.

Paylor and Lyme look over simultaneously to see who’s entered the room.

“(Y/n)’s here.” Lyme says, standing up now.

“Good.” Coin says, “Won’t you join us?”

You make a face, stepping inside and shutting the door. You don’t head that far inside, sticking rather close to the door, but still in sight of the camera.

“Finnick’s been looking everywhere for you.” Coin tells you calmly, “We just broke the news to him.”

“And?” you ask.

“He’s disappointed that he went through all that trouble to throw a party for you.”

So that’s what he was doing earlier. Throwing you a party, and for what? God, you can’t imagine the headache you would have had through the whole thing. Fake a smile, pretend to like it. The only parties you do like are the types that go on inside of the Capitol.

It’s all lavish there. The foods are delicious, the sweets and the sour foods. The drinks they have that you swear are going to make you dehydrated, but you drink anyway. The people there are always so friendly, even when they aren’t. They’re so stupid and naive that it makes it enjoyable to be around them.

Not to mention they worshipped you.

“Am I supposed to care?” you ask, crossing your arms, “Can’t be a very good party with your district. The entire thing is probably being attended by a total of ten people, and the food and drinks are twenty years old. I’m not missing out on anything, trust me.”

Coin bites her tongue, smiling, “Maybe it’s best that you’re back in District Two, then.”

“I’m done talking to you.” you give her a mock smile, turning to Lyme and Paylor, “I’m going to solve this whole loyalist problem for you in a second. Do you want to send a camera crew with me just in case it works?”

Lyme’s confused, “No offense, but what makes you think it’ll work? Especially with your mouth?”

“Cause I know you guys have been approaching it all wrong, and rather than having a second person fuck it up for you ingrates, I’ll do it myself. I may be selfish but I’m also open minded and have a way of words when I’m not being a complete bitch.” you look at Coin, “And if it does work, you don’t get to say you planned it at all. I’m not Katniss, and I won’t be easily manipulated.

“On top of that, you’ll also owe me a shiny, brand new apartment in the heart of the Capitol. Otherwise you can take that propaganda footage and shove it up that ass of yours.” you point to Lyme and Paylor, “Camera crew, now.”

You leave the room after that, and Paylor approves the camera crew, asking one of the people in the room with them to go ahead and gather the people. In the meantime, you take a look at yourself in the nearest bathroom. Your makeup and hair are still how you left it, and the dress isn’t that dirty either.

When you get outside, there’s people already waiting to take you to the tunnels. And for their protection, they’re bringing volunteers with them. As for you, you’ll be out in the open just as you asked for.

“I live in luxury.” you tell yourself, raising your head a bit, “I belong in the Capitol. I am a loyalist. These rebels have no idea what they’re doing.”

You take the train tracks straight to the tunnel. The mountain has long since collapsed, which drew out most of the loyalists. And with Katniss’ speech after, a few surrendered. But there’s still plenty of people inside of there.

“I don’t know if we can follow you inside.” one of the girls tells you nervously, “It’s dark and unhealthy in there. If they begin firing, we’ll be the first to be brought down.”

“No, I will.” you say, “They’ll likely let you all live. If those cameras zoom well, keep as much of a distance as you can spare.”

The girl nods, “We trust you.”

You press your lips together, because it’s a first, “If I reach for my dress and turn my body like I’m going to run, you should take off immediately. I don’t plan on running, but I will if it gets too risky.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, I promise.”

Inside the tunnel, it’s even dirtier than you expected. Nonetheless, you all push through. The camera crew and the couple of armed people have masks over their face, but you work right through the dirt and smoke filled air. Even if you put a mask on now, you’ll have to take it off to talk anyway. There would be no point to it, you’re going to breathe in the air whether you like it or not.

“Stop!” A voice shouts, and you all come to a halt.

“Stay here.” you tell the crew.

Lights turn on, you cover your eyes for a moment as you blink through, trying to get adjusted to them. When you lower your hand, you can see that there’s several people ready to shoot you, and what looks like hundreds of people ready to back them up. The lights are coming from the train right in front of you.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I’m here to speak to whoever is in charge, face to face.” you move forward, but stop a little bit after that, not wanting to push your limits.

Someone appears on the top of the train, an automatic rifle in his hands, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

You drop the dress down now, “No, I shouldn’t. This place is unfathomably filthy, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to breathe the air in here. What’s your name?”

“Jovian.”

“You know why I’m here, right?” you ask, crossing your arms, your eyes wandering over all the people waiting to see what happens.

“It’s pretty obvious, which is why I should let you know it’s not going to work, and you should leave while you can.” he tells you, “Or I’ll just make an example of you, just like how we did with Katniss.”

“Except Katniss is still alive in District Thirteen, you didn’t actually kill her.” you tell him, “Healthy as a horse, she was up on her feet the same day, ready to come right back here and give you guys a second chance.”

They won’t know you’re lying.

“We should’ve gone for her head.”

You ignore that, “There’s a big difference between Katniss and I, though. Katniss grew up in the poorest part of twelve, and I grew up in what was arguable once the richest parts of District Two. And then I won the games and got more money than I knew what to do with, and she didn’t have any time to get to realize her luxury.

“Because of this, she’ll never understand what you’ll have to sacrifice if you do take part in the fight. You’re putting everything up for a gamble. Your house, your clothes, furniture, a family. And you’d have to do it without knowing the outcome of a rebellion.”

Jovian nods slowly, “You get it.”

“Of course I do, I was once a Capitol pet too, and then Snow ended up killing my family, and then my friends on top of that.” you motion with your hand, “And I saw the type of people that we were supporting all this time. They’re nothing worth supporting, Jovian. I can promise you that.”

Jovian shakes his head, “What if you lose, huh? The district is already in deep shit because half of us are rebels, what if there’s a chance that the people who don’t fight with you, get rewarded?”

You snort, “You think he’s writing down names? You think he gives a shit if some of you were helping, and the others weren’t? All he’s going to see is that District Two had tried to help the rebels, and suddenly we’re all fucked. So why not give in? You know what will happen if there are no more hunger games, no more districts, no more districts versus the Capitol bullshit?

“You’d be able to live wherever you want--the Capitol, here, any of the other districts, places that were off limits, maybe even in some of the arenas that had gone untouched. You would work if you want to, and have a million kids without worrying about teaching them how to fight.

“There would be no more worries, Jovian. You’d still get to live the same, but it would be that much more freedom. And even if you wouldn’t want to live in any of those other places, you’d be able to visit them whenever you want. Take a vacation to the Capitol and come home to a sturdy house. And for anyone who hasn't found their soulmate because they exist in a different district, you’d have a greater chance of finding them.”

The silence that fills the tunnel is surprisingly calm, it isn’t as tense as you thought it would be. Jovian is obviously thinking all of this through.

“But we can’t win this without District Two. If we get those warehouses pumping out weapons, we’ll win this, guaranteed. It’ll be difficult, as all wars are, but we’ll win for once. We’ll get the justice we deserve, Snow will pay for all the shit he’s done.” you insist, “If you guys come with me now, there’s no hard feelings.

“There’s food, water, clothes, medicine. All you’d have to do is come with us now, and we’ll get you cleaned up, one at a time.”

Jovian looks down at you, “And you can promise us this?”

You look behind you, straight at one of the guards, “Get Paylor to confirm this.”

It takes a moment, but when her voice comes over the tunnel, echoing, saying all of what you said is true, you can’t help but to give a hopeful look to Jovian.

He takes in a deep breath, “Okay.”

“That’s just you, though.” you look to all the others, past the lights, “How about you guys? Are you willing to fight?”

“Will you be fighting with us?” someone yells to you.

This question you weren’t expecting, but you find yourself nodding before you can catch it, “Every step of the way.”

“Then sign me up.” A girl starts coming forward, behind her trails a couple of kids, they come in a line, all holding hands. She walks right past you guys.

It takes a moment before others start breaking off in groups. Jovian gives you a look, “These are my people.”

“They’re our people now.” You correct him, “And they’re going to be safe. Pack the hurt into the train and get this baby moving out here.”

You turn around, heading towards the camera, “Is it still running?”

“Yes.”

You look straight into the camera lense, “Twenty-three kids have died every year for the past seventy-four years. That’s one thousand, seven hundred and one kids that have died in the hunger games. Nearly two thousand of your kids have gone into an arena, scared and alone.

“They wouldn’t know where their next meal would come from, they didn’t know if they would get sponsors or if they were worthy of them. They likely shivered and starved and were dehydrated down to their very last days. And while it was happening, all they could picture was their blue face in the night sky, signaling another fallen tribute.

“And you’re telling me, that now there’s a rebellion happening--one that will stop a cycle of heartless and meaningless murder--you’re not going to help? You’ll finally be able to have kids, and not worry about training them the moment that they’re born. No more staying up all night worrying that it’ll be your kid picked during the reaping.

“But we can’t get there if you don’t help.” You then lean a forward, “And Coriolanus, if you’re watching, I’d like to let you know that I found the scar you left on my face. You can mark me all you fucking want, but I haven’t done your bidding since I was sixteen. How’s this for calming down District Two?”

You stand up again, “For those of you who don’t know, my name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I won the sixty-sixth hunger games when I was sixteen. I’m from District Two, and I have to admit that I have lived in luxury since the day I was born, and coming to terms with a rebellion that has ruined my whole lifestyle, isn’t easy.

“However, if I can see past all my greediness to realize that it’s unfair that I can live in luxury and others live in dirt, then you can too. There will be no more inequality, everyone will be able to live in a stable environment, and if you don’t want that, then you’re just as ill as Snow is.”

You turn to leave after that, hiking up the dress in the front so you don’t end up stepping on it and make a fool out of yourself in the process. It’s a couple of moments before the others are scrambling to follow.

“Are you really going to fight with us?” The girl asks.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

She’s quiet for a moment, “You just don’t look like you’d been into that type of thing.”

You look at her, “Don’t be fooled by the dress and makeup. I’m a lot more than a pretty face.”

“We’ll have to get you fitted for clothing, then. You can’t march to the Capitol in a dress.”

You end the conversation, not saying anything else to her. What she said is obvious, you know that you’ll have to be dressed properly. Hell, you know what’s happening in the Capitol at the moment.

Nothing slips past you. You hear everything when it comes to secrets. You knew Johanna had been waterboarded because she failed some sort of swimming test, nearly took down a couple of people during her panic. And you knew that her and Blight were a little more than friends too.

Just like how you know that the Capitol is turning into a whole trap. Snow is planting these pods—as Beetee called them—that are near impossible to keep track of. Snow is pulling in the Capitol citizens closer, allowing him to plant more pods. Hundreds of them, every single day.

Which means that if you go out there with the other volunteers, there’s a good chance of a million things happening to you. You can’t even think of what the gamemakers would put into the streets of the Capitol. All you know is that it can’t be good.

They might as well throw in every single project that they’ve ever created since they won’t be able to use it against you all in the future. And in that case, you might not want to be in the streets of the Capitol after all.

Right when you leave the train station, there’s a giant dumpster waiting for the people leaving the tunnel. They’re forced to give up their weapons so that they can pass into the team of medics that are waiting. As you get closer, you’re able to see that there’s no struggle. Most give up their weapons without a fight, but some are a little hesitant to do so.

You and the camera crew pass by it easily, none of you are holding a significant weapon, and if you are, you’re all rebels anyway. They’re not worried about you guys turning on them, it’s more like the newly rebels that are just coming out of the tunnel.

Past all the disarming, is the group of medics that wait for everyone who makes it past the tunnel. It takes a bit for you and the camera crew to get through the dense crowd that only gets bigger. Just before you break the last line of people, you can hear the train’s horn, warning everyone that it’s coming.

Then, you get through.

Waiting on the other side of the crowd is Lyme, with a particularly impressed look on her face.

“Maybe we should have sent you in, initially.” Lyme says, “You did it effortlessly.”

“If any of you had bothered to tell me before sending Katniss in, I would have told you it was a bad idea.” You take a look behind you, “And by the way, this is a perfect example of what you should do when it comes to the Capitol citizens.”

“Want to be put in charge of that?” Lyme offers.

Your head whips towards her, “I will not play devil's advocate for them. That’s your fucking problem to sort.”

“It was just an offer.” Lyme says, but you’re already leaving towards the justice building again. Lyme’s quite taller than you, so it takes basically no effort when it comes to catching up with you, “While you were gone, Coin had someone flown in.”

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Oh, whoever should that be?”

After what you said to Coin, it’s no surprise to you. She would pull some bullshit like this to make you angry. It’s just her little form of payback.

“He’s waiting at your house.”

You look at her, “You had him escorted to my house?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him basic instructions to get to victor’s village, and then told him yours is the only one that hasn’t been touched.”

“Speaking of which, why is that?” you fix a curl that’s fallen into your face.

“Honestly, no clue.” Lyme says, “Good luck with Finnick.”

“Right.”

Lyme and the camera crew break off when you reach the justice building. From there, one single person brings you as far as they’re allowed to go into the town part of District Two, and then they head back to where they had been standing before you stumbled along.

You’re nearly home when your feet start to ache from the heels. And if it weren’t for the fact that the dirt is mixed in with glass, you might have taken the heels right off and walked barefoot the rest of the way. Before the rebellion, you definitely would have done that. Regardless of how people would feel about it.

Victor’s village still looks shitty, there’s not much to expect from it in the first place. It’s not like it’s going to have changed in the past hour or two. Although, you thought that you might find Finnick poking around in the abandoned, charcoal black houses.

Through the first arch and into the second reveals your perfect house. The door is shut--so it looks like Finnick knows his manners--and you don’t waste time going inside.

Swinging the door open, you make a point to slam it shut when you get inside. You don’t even move from the doorway before you’re tearing the heels off your feet, massaging them one at a time. Then, you head upstairs to your room.

If Finnick wants to speak, Finnick can come and find you. He invited himself to District Two, he was able to find your house, he’ll be able to find you.

Or rather, the other way around.

Finnick’s lounging on your bed when you walk in. In his hand he holds a book with your face on it. You can’t help but roll your eyes--that book was forced on you by Snow. He thought it was a good idea to draw in more attraction to you. And unfortunately it worked, and after that, you spent a couple more weeks than you were meant to, inside of the Capitol.

Of course, it ran short when everyone heard about your sour attitude, no matter what time of the day it was. People revoked their… reservations, and you were forced to go home.

“Welcome.” you say bitterly, opening the wardrobe doors and tossing your shoes inside, then you unzip the dress from the back with little to no problem.

“So the friendliness didn’t last long.” Finnick sounds amused, but when you turn to look over your shoulder, you can see that it’s not how he’s feeling. There’s a hint of a scowl on his face, maybe some touch of annoyance.

“Thank god.” you hang the dress up, then you close the wardrobe door and move onto the bathroom.

You tear off everything that you wouldn’t normally wear. The bracelets, earrings, rings. The only thing you leave is the necklace Tanith gave you, otherwise it’s all gone. And as soon as you get into the bathroom, it’s tossed into the jewelry drawer, which is absolute hellfire to sift through.

Finnick follows you to the bathroom, and watches as you remove the makeup, unphased by the fact that you’re half naked again, “Did you actually mean any of it?”

You pause for a moment, “Mean what? What I said to Johanna? Every word, she fucking asked for it. Antagonizing me and all that, she should have seen it coming.”

“The apology.” Finnick clarifies.

“I meant that, yes.” there’s no hesitation.

“That’s all I wanted to know.” he turns and leaves the bathroom.

“So now what?” you call, “You’re going back to District Thirteen?”

Finnick laughs, “Dream on.”

You roll your eyes, “It was worth a shot.”

“Your house smells like shit, by the way.”

“It’s the kitchen, feel free to clean it out if it bothers you that much. I just figured that this house would be blown to bits the second Snow gets a chance because of what I said.”

“Speaking of which.” Finnick comes back, he’s got some clothes for you hanging over his arm, “The front lines?”

You scowl at him a little bit, “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through someone’s clothes? And yes, the front lines.”

Regardless, you pull on the shorts and shirt after tossing the makeup wipes away. You unpin your hair, letting it all fall into place unnaturally, which causes you to just pull it right back up into a ponytail anyway to keep it out of your face.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

You side-eye him, “Let me guess, you’re coming along?”

Finnick smiles, “You know me better than I thought.”

“No, you just have a thing for following me around, so I figured. Just like how Lyme didn’t even have to say your name, and I knew you came.” you grin a little, “How was the party, by the way?”

“Surprisingly boring without you there.”

“You’re saying that I’m entertainment?” you ask.

“The best.” Finnick smiles.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fifteen

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