#Hunger games OCs

[dippindotties]

do you have any hunger games fc ideas :33

i wanna make an oc!! any district is fine

fivel stewart!

haley bennett!

i have a couple more but i could send those in discord!!! i’m in class so i have to rush……

[daddycassie]

Fight or Flight Chapter 7 : What’s left? 🪨🔪 💉

Pairing: Lucy Gray Baird x Fem! Reader - 1,361 words

Warnings: Mentions of murder and injury, Lucy gray being in pain for the whole time she’s there, honestly a lack of Lucy Gray being around at all, general unhappy feelings from the reader, attachment issues

——————————————

You pant, running as fast as you can. The feeling of Lucy Gray wheezing against your back heightening your stress. She wasn’t heavy, but it had been a while since you started carrying her. You weren’t even sure where you were going or if you were headed the right direction.

Lucy Gray whimpered on your back, and you felt hot blood seeping through your shirt. At least you knew she was still alive, but the blood flow wasn’t stopping. As you took another step forward you felt something crunch under your boot. You looked down and saw something that both scared and gave you hope. Rubble. Remnants of destroyed buildings.

You realize that you’re in district 13, a place long gone. The Capitol made sure of that. You continue with caution, nervous about any possible threats; land mines, sharp debris, peacekeepers, wild animals, you name it. You scavenged, hoping to find something or someone that could help, but in the back of your mind you knew it was hopeless. This had been nuked till nothing remained.

All you managed to find was a dull knife, you took it with you just in case. Was this where Lucy Gray was taking you? You felt every ounce of hope draining from your body. This place was nothing, dirt, rocks, dust. Was there anywhere to go at all?

You hear the sound of metal scraping against metal, like an old door opening. You turn in the direction of the sounds and a large group of armed people swarm you. You clutch Lucy Gray protectively, backing away with caution. The people didn’t appear to be Capitol, no peacekeeper uniforms, but that didn’t stop you from being on edge.

Most lowered their guns as a smaller group pushed through, dressed in white. You notice the red crosses on their uniforms. Medics, you could only assume, hope surged back into your system. When they take Lucy Gray from you, you don’t resist. Not that you were left much of a choice, she was as good as dead with you anyway. You couldn’t save her, but perhaps these people could.

Once Lucy Gray was gone e from your arms, everything became a blur. You allowed yourself to be ushered away, the distinct feeling of your stomach dropping, like falling made you want to be sick. A cold room with bright lights was next, where you were poked and prodded at endlessly like an experiment.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep — or woke up, but when you did you felt feverish. You tried to stand but a few nurses shut that down quickly. They insisted you needed another day of rest, and you didn’t fight them on it. You were fatigued from your journey.

For one day. For two. On the third you collected the energy you could to find your voice and ask where your Lucy Gray was. The only a acknowledgement of your words was a look of pity from one of the nurses, who gave you a shot shortly after and you felt your aches numbing. You were too tired to ask again. You ended up sleeping and waking in cycles for the next two days.

When you awoke again, finally feeling rested you weren’t greeted by the nurses but rather two strangers. One, a tall girl with burly scarred arms, reveled by her rolled up sleeves. Her hair was jet black, and eyes dark gray with a distinct sharp shape, she reminded you of a spider in an unsettling way. The other was a boy with fluffy looking blonde hair, for a moment you’d thought you’d seen a ghost until you saw his deep brown eyes. They looked kind, and warm unlike the icy blue you recalled before you stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.

You shook your head slightly and sat up, the peeling back of the covers reveled you were wearing a matching jumpsuit to the other two. “You’re up!” The boy grins, as though that wasn’t obvious. “I’m sure you must be awfully confused ma’am, don’t worry! You’re perfectly safe here.” Despite his friendly nature, the boy still disturbs you. He looked to you as if someone had taken Sejanus and Coriolanus’ bodies and smashed them together, reshaping them into one person.

The girl frowns. She wasn’t particularly inviting either, if looks could kill you’re certain you would already be long dead. “Unless you’re Capitol.” At her words the boy’s smile weakens. “W-well… of course. But she certainly isn’t. Are you?” You blink a few times. “Where are we?”

“District 13.” The boy answers. “I’m Riggs, and she’s Iris. We’re here to escort you to lunch. What’s your name?” You pause and narrow your eyes. “Y/n. Have you met a girl named Lucy Gray?” Riggs tilts his head, rolling the name over in his mind. “Lucy Gray.” He hums. “Isabella that the girl you arrived with?” You nod quickly, feeling your heart leap in your chest. “She looked pretty bad,” Iris begins bluntly, you know she’s referring to Lucy Gray’s condition, but you scowl anyway. “We haven’t heard any news on her since she arrived.”

You press your lips into a thin line of discontentment at her full answer. Was she okay? Was she alone? Missing you? Scared? You try to shake the negative thoughts from your mind.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay.” Riggs assures. “Our medics are some of Panem’s best! She’s in great hands.” Iris raises a brow. “That’s a bit big headed of you.” You notice her lip twitch up fondly. So he was also a medic. You remember Lucy Gray bringing up that Sejanus wanted to be one, just one more connection that gave you discomfort.

For the rest of the day the two helped you around district 13, the tour was meant to be pleasant but you couldn’t get Lucy Gray out of your head the whole time. It was uncomfortable being away from her. You found yourself wanting her warm hand in yours. Wanting to feel the calloused pads of her fingers against your knuckles.

An hour or so later you found yourself in the cafeteria, which Riggs had enthusiastically introduced to you as such. You were sitting with your new companions at their supposed usual table. The food was nice to have at least, it was warm and filling. Despite there being plenty, and knowing you’d receive more when you were hungry, you saved some.

Riggs happily chatted away with half the table across from you, one of which was a boy with black hair a bright green eyes. They were holding hands, you noted, and the boy watched Riggs with undeniable affection and admiration. It felt like one more jab at your heart, but you tried not to show it. Iris sat closer to you, the only person between you two was a young child, she had a second on her other side and a baby sitting in her lap. 

“Who are these little ones?” You decide to ask, Riggs was busy after all, and you didn’t want to introduce yourself to someone new. Iris turns to you blankly. “My baby sisters.” She gestures to each as she speaks their names. Hazel, Ferne, and Nutmeg. They each bore a resemblance to Iris, similar black hair, other than the baby’s, Nutmeg, who had brown hair, but similar grey eyes.

Ferne, the one who was sitting closest to you tugged on your sleeve. “You’re from outside. What’s it like?” Her voice was high pitched and squeaky, you assumed she was likely no older then four or five. You offer her a small smile “It’s real pretty Miss Ferne. Green trees and pretty flowers everywhere.” The child seemed satisfied with your answer, grey eyes wide with wonder.

“I wanna go up there someday.” She says, eating a spoonful of what appeared to be some sort of hash. You nod half heartedly, your brain moving off course again. Lucy Gray would have been ecstatic to meet and play with such young children who had such energy. You take a bite of your own food, narrowing your eyes at the wall. You’d find her, tomorrow. No matter what.

——————————————

Note: Me: I don’t ship Snowjanus

also me: I’m gonna put a full fledged Snowjanus child in my fanfic :3

anyway @officialelioperlman @sleepy-gee I thought of you two while making Riggs and his bf✌️ enjoy the gays

@torturedcoveydepartment thank you for supporting my fanfics

@sparklebear11 and @losingmymindrn don’t think I forgot that you’ll be here too like 👁️👁️ (also thank you for the coralbaird bot contribution, I ate it)

anyway hope y’all enjoyed 💛 hopefully there will not be as much time in between chapters next time!

[divine-draws]

accidental rainbow

[cecexwrites]

Just One Night

(I was supposed to do a whole bingo card and ended up melting into a useless puddle but I got about halfway through this and I needed to finish it and tbh I'll probably finish the whole card slowly but surely)

May the odds be ever in your favor, Tomorrow The 74th Annual Hunger Games begin, and tomorrow the mentors are all heading out to watch as their tributes are chosen. But tonight is for partying, and when Eulalia Golding is given the key card for her assignment for the night- she finds herself in the room of someone most unexpected

18+ below the cut. Below here there be smut

"Alright, who is here that I should keep an eye out for?" Eulalia tucked her lip gloss into the little bag hanging from her wrist, her eyes scanning the crowd, looking for anyone who would be considered important and worth her time. 

"Several game makers are here, it'd be good to have them on our side for the next games," Thane answered, his golden brown hair was perfectly coiffed, and his deep purple tux was flawless. He was the perfect temporary arm candy, there and handsome until he was no longer needed. 

"Okay." Eulalia nodded. She was getting a new set of tributes this year. Unfortunately, she'd yet to train a champion to take her place. Part of her felt bad about that. Part of her was sure she was saving them from an even worse fate. 

"There are also a large number of Victors here tonight," Thane commented. "The quarter quell is coming next year. No one knows what to expect. I think a lot of Victors want to stay close, they want to listen for any clues."

"Good luck to them. I've done everything in my power to get the game makers to spill and those lips are locked tighter than Snows a-"

"President Snow." Thane interrupted her, giving the man in question a wide grin. He reached out and shook the man's hand. He was old but his grip was strong. Eulalia offered him her hand and he kissed the back. Thane's stomach turned at the gesture. 

"Miss Golding, lovely to see you here. When I asked Mr. Hawksley if you'd be attending, he was- unsure." Snow narrowed his eyes at the two. 

"That was my uncertainty." Eulalia shook her head. "I wasn't feeling well, But it cleared up before it was time to go."

"Lucky us." Snow looked her up and down slowly. "Well, enjoy the party." He drawled, then walked past her. 

"You told him you weren't sure?" Eulalia asked. She'd had the dress for this party picked out for weeks. It was a rather elaborate dress, with a sweeping pearl-colored silk skirt. the top was more structured, as it was made up of golden flowers and branches, leaving more of her skin revealed than not. One wrong move, it seemed, and she'd be exposed to the whole room. But thanks to a lot of tape, there was no chance of that happening. 

"I had a feeling." He shrugged. "That if I didn't admit that you'd be there then perhaps he wouldn't have enough time to set up an appointment for you after the party. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could get home at a decent hour. We have work to do tomorrow." Thane reminded her, the two of them making their way to the refreshments. 

Eulalia eyed the table hungrily, she hadn't eaten much that day- she couldn't risk the bloating, not in a dress like this. And that held true, in addition to the fact that if Snow did find her a client for the night, she just found it was easier to handle on an empty stomach. 

"Are you hungry?" Thane asked, though he very much knew her reasoning for not eating. "I'm sure we can find you something that won't... sit heavy." Eulalia watched as a woman with purple hair, coiffed to look like a swan, loaded up a plate with food. She was talking with her companion, a man with painted orange skin, about the pills that made her sick, so she could make room for more food. 

"Tomorrow I deserve a lavish breakfast." Eulalia decided, lifting her chin up. "Tonight I will be fine."

"You almost sounded believable, princess." A third voice joined the conversation. A man slipped by them, close enough that the satin of his black shirt brushed her fingertips. 

Adler Cresswell. He was the mentor for District Eight, he had been for nearly Eulalia's entire life. His golden blonde curls were cropped fairly close to his head at the moment. He was always at his cleanest right before the games started. When he got a look at who he'd be sending to the slaughter, he often gave up on himself until a few weeks after the games ended. 

Eulalia watched him as he grabbed a plate and started to load it up. He wore a satin shirt, tucked into his matching black pants. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle, and his hands, the fingers long and thin. 

"See something you like?" He asked, teasing. She jerked out of her daydream and flushed, shaking her head. 

"Of course not." she stammered. 

"Of course not." He repeated. He put a pile of various foods on his plate and walked back over, he plucked a berry from the plate and held it up. "Try it." He encouraged. She started to reach up but he shook his head. Eulalia's heart pounded as she opened her mouth and he placed the berry on her tongue. She closed her lips, just barely avoiding the tips of his fingers. 

The berry was perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy, it burst on her tongue and she couldn't stop herself from closing her eyes and releasing a soft moan. 

"That's a good girl." Adler grinned. "Eat something, Golding, you're skin and bones." He commented, eyeing her up and down, much like Snow did, but somehow, when Adler did it, it didn't feel as icky. It felt like he was interested in her- not in what she could do for him. He slipped past them and Eulalia swallowed hard. 

"Lalia?" Thane bumped her gently with his hip. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, of course, everything is fine." Eulalia smiled at him and went to the table, picking up a plate. Thane quirked an eyebrow, turning his head to watch as the District 8 Mentor walked out to the balcony, it was a chilly night, and he was going out there to be left alone. 

"I never realized how amazing the food was at these parties," Eulalia muttered around a mouthful of fruit. She couldn't talk herself into the true indulgences, but the fruit was all perfectly ripe and sweet and amazing. She picked up a berry from her plate and held it out to Thane, he leaned in and bit into it, leaving the leafy green bit in her hands. She smiled at him and dropped the discard on the plate. When the two of them had made it through the small pile of fruit, He started to lead her out to the dance floor, only to be interrupted by Snow. 

"Miss Golding, it seems your presence has been requested." Eulalia's shoulders tensed up. Thane's hand was on her back and he felt every muscle in her back tighten. 

"Is that so?" She asked, her voice as tight as her muscles. 

"It is. A surprising... candidate to say the least." Snow handed over a card to her and she handed it to Thane, who slipped it into his jacket pocket. Snow's eyes narrowed at the pair. "You know, Miss Golding, you are an adult now, you no longer need a... handler."

"He's less a handler and more a friend at this point." Eulalia ducked her head down and let Thane lead her to the dance floor, but they didn't stop there, they kept walking through the floor and out the doors. 

Snow didn't always work face-to-face with victors when he used them, sold them. He saved that for the ones who made him the most money. A lot of Victors from District One and a few scattered through other districts. Fennick, for example, was one of his 'Special projects' But he got the luxury of getting away from it in his own district sometimes. 

Eulalia found that going back to District One was just as awful as staying in the Capitol. 

"I can't cry." She commented, tilting her head back. "I can't, I haven't in years so why-" Because she had been so sure it wouldn't happen this time, because of the way Snow had talked earlier- most of the men picked their toys in the days before the party so they could dress them up, or attach them to their arm for the night as if they weren't forced to be there. She'd spent all night with Thane, she'd been allowed to wear the dress she'd been so excited for. Now it was going to lay crumpled on some man's floor. 

"You can. Makeup can be fixed, Lalia." Thane reminded her. 

"What room is it?" Eulalia asked. Thane dug in his pocket for the card. 

"808." He answered. 

"Let's go, perhaps we can scope out the room before he gets there." She turned on her heel, steeling her resolve, and stormed into the building, past the party, and into the lift. Thane got in alongside her, pressing the button for floor eight. 

Each floor was designed to 'look' like the district of the same number. But it was a much more glamorous, completely false version. No one actually wanted to stay in District Twelve, but they loved the way the darkened hallways looked like mine shafts, how the walls glittered with gold and gems that the real District Twelve never had. They were coal mines, but that wasn't as pretty. 

The floor for District Eight was just as falsely glamorous, with silk and satin lining the walls, with gold embroidery decorating the doors as their room numbers. 802 804 806. Thane stepped in front of Eulalia, running the key card and opening the door. They didn't know who this was, they'd had no chance to look into him or his past Thane hated that. But the room was dark. 

"Oh good, we did beat him here." Thane mused, stepping into the room. He reached out for the light, but came up empty. "Where in the hell-" He finally found the light and he slapped it on, the two of them jumping when they realized there was someone in the room after all. 

"Adler?" Eulalia's heart sank as she felt the betrayal. It was incredibly rare for a victor to request another victor but it wasn't unheard of. He wouldn't be her first. But somehow, because of his comments earlier, it felt like even more of a betrayal. 

"The one and only." Adler sat in a chair in the corner, by the window that overlooked the city. "This floor is god awful. Do they put you on the first floor?" He asked. 

"I have an apartment in town, but I often end up on whatever floor my client is on." She struggled to keep the disdain out of her voice. "Thane you can-" She started to move out of the way. Thane had a murderous look on his face but she shook her head. "Go." the last thing she wanted was for him to get in trouble. 

"No, Hawksley, it's fine, you can stay if you'd like." Their heads jerked to face him in unison. "I didn't hire you to bang you, Golding" Adler stood. "Armitage was putting in his bid and I don't like that prick, so I outbid him just to make sure he couldn't have you." He held a glass of something in his hand- a brown liquor of some kind. 

"You did?" Eulalia's eyes widened a bit as he came closer. 

"I did. You should probably stay for a bit, but you're safe from me, sweetheart. I prefer my partners to be actually willing." There was a knock at the door and while Eulalia jumped, Adler just pulled it open and gestured for the person to come in. It was an Avox who pushed a cart full of food. Just the smell set her mouth watering. 

"Thanks," Adler commented to the Avox as they bowed their head and hurried out of the room. "Like I said, Hawksley, you're welcome to stay. I don't know how closely they watch you two, but I'm sure no one would be shocked at the revelation that you two are fucking."

Eulalia had been through a lot in her life, but nothing had made her clutch her non-existent pearls the way that suggestion did. 

"Watch your mouth, Cresswell," Thane warned. "Eulalia and I have never-"

"Really?" Adler quirked an eyebrow. "That explains the looks. So what, you just escort her to-"

"I said. Watch. Your. Mouth. Come on, Lalia, I don't think him being a quick finisher would be a shock to anyone either." Thane turned to go, but stopped when he realized Eulalia hadn't moved, 

"If we leave too soon- Snow will just book another one." She pointed out. She'd learned the hard way. She had once drugged a client and went to leave, but was intercepted by Snow who happily found her a second for the night. Also, the food looked and smelled amazing. Her stomach growled loudly and Thane sighed. 

"Fine." He unbuttoned and removed his jacket, taking it off and hanging it up, then he began unbuttoning his shirt. 

"What are you-" Eulalia's eyes widened. 

"You can't sit or get comfortable in that dress."

"I have extra shirts she can wear." Adler offered. 

"No." The idea of Eulalia in another man's clothes bothered him more than he cared to admit. Thane got his shirt off- he was wearing an undershirt, so he wasn't fully half-naked in front of them. He held the shirt out to her and she took it, hurrying off to the bathroom to take off the dress. 

"Green is a good color on you, Thane." Adler opened a few of the cloches that covered the food. He'd gotten a ton of different options. "The cost is being covered by someone else, might as well overindulge." He shrugged. 

"I'm not green," Thane argued, walking over and grabbing a handful of fried potatoes, tossing one in his mouth. 

"You're undressing in my hotel room to stop that woman from wearing a shirt out of my closet." Adler pointed out, picking up one of the plates and going to sit back down in the chair by the windows. 

"I'm not- It's not like that." Thane stammered. 

"Oh, I'm not bothered. I rather like half-dressed men in my hotel room- fully undressed it better but I will take what I can get." Adler shrugged. Thane was left- again- speechless. The bathroom door opened and Eulalia walked out, she'd changed out of the dress and had taken her overly complicated hair down as well as removing her makeup. There were still some bits of hair that were hard with hair spray but this was the most undone that she'd let anyone other than Thane and Orin see her in years. 

"Here." Thane picked up one of the plates and held it out to her, he knew what she liked, and even when she was indulging she never let herself go too wild with it. He did sneak a few little treats onto the plate. if they were there, and no one mentioned them, then she'd let herself enjoy them. 

"Thank you." Eulalia took the plate and hopped over to the bed, hopping on. Thane made up his own plate and turned. Eulalia was happily eating, her focus on the plate on the bed in front of her. Adler, however, was silent, unmoving, his gaze on Eulalia. 

Thane didn't say anything. He could understand it. The first time he met Eulalia Golding, as young as she was, she understood the importance of public perception. She kept the facade up for him for a ridiculously long time. She wouldn't let him come over to the apartment that had been rented for her too early, because she needed time to get up, do her hair and make-up, and make sure she was dressed and ready to go. 

So the first time he saw her without all of that, the first time he got to see the Eulalia that was underneath it all- it had been blindsiding and now that she was grown- it was somehow breathtaking. Her beauty wasn't dependent upon all the bullshit. 

Thane sat in the other chair, next to Adler's and he started to eat. 

"Thank you, Adler," Eulalia commented. She had already gotten through a good bit of her food and was pushing the rest around idly. "I can't stand Armitage." She picked up a potato and bit into it. Her eyes closed as it melted in her mouth. She didn't let herself eat a lot of potatoes but damn she loved them. 

Adler got up and snatched her plate. 

So the first time he saw her without all of that, the first time he got to see the Eulalia that was underneath it all- it had been blindsiding and now that she was grown- it was somehow breathtaking. Her beauty wasn't dependent upon all the bullshit.

Thane sat in the other chair, next to Adler's and he started to eat.

"Thank you, Adler," Eulalia commented. She had already gotten through a good bit of her food and was pushing the rest around idly. "I can't stand Armitage." She picked up a potato and bit into it. Her eyes closed as it melted in her mouth. She didn't let herself eat a lot of potatoes but damn she loved them.

Adler got up and snatched her plate.

"You're welcome." He answered, adding more potatoes and bringing it back, putting the plate down in front of her. Eulalia glanced at Thane, but his eyes were on Adler. "Like I said- I want my partners," his eyes darted between the two of them, "Willing." He plopped back down and propped one foot up on the bed. Eulalia looked thoughtful, working out what he'd meant, what his eyes had said that his lips hadn't.

Slowly but surely it hit her. She straightened, her eyes widening.

"Adler- are you..." She trailed off.

"I'm whatever I want to be, Golding." He commented, shrugging. "Usually. Around here it's hard to keep it that way." He admitted. "I never understood why you chose to live here."

Eulalia surprised him by letting out a bitter laugh.

"I've never been allowed to choose anything in my life."

"What?" Even Thane was shocked by that one.

"You heard me." Eulalia shrugged, unwilling to say it again. As if Snow or someone else might appear out of nowhere and punish her- or worse, Thane- because she dared to speak up.

"Lalia." Thane's voice was gentle. She shrugged.

"It's fine. I knew when I was a kid what was going to happen... well... not all of it." She admitted. She'd been completely floored when she found out that winning the games didn't lead to freedom. It led to more shackles. She glanced up when no one spoke up and found Thane staring at her while Adler was back to eating, finishing up the food he had on his plate.

"Then it sounds, Golding like you should probably start making your own decisions." Adler dropped his fork and leaned back, finally looking at her.

Eulalia caught her lip between her teeth, looking thoughtful.

"That's enough." Thane stood and took the plates from Adler and Eulalia, taking them to the room service cart. He sorted through what was left on the tray, putting it all on one serving platter and moving it to the table by the door, and then he pushed the cart out of the room to be taken away.

When he turned around Eulalia was standing, her gaze flicking back and forth between Thane and Adler.

"Lalia." Her hands moved to the buttons of her shirt. Adler was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes had a hungry glint to them.

"Sit, Thane." She ordered, nodding at the chair, she unbuttoned the first button. He didn't move, but he also didn't try to say anything to stop her as she did the same to the second button- the third-

The shirt had eight buttons, she'd only buttoned six of them. Thane's mind screamed at him to stop her, to protect her but deep down he knew- she wanted this, She didn't want him stepping in and telling her what to do.

Adler quirked an eyebrow but remained silent as she let the shirt fall from her shoulders. The soft as clouds material pooled at her feet and she bit her lip, for the first time in a very long time, she looked unsure of herself. Adler stood up, closing the space between them. He placed one hand on her hip, leaning in to kiss her.

Thane's hand balled into a fist, but he didn't feel the urge to punch Adler in the face- no. Instead, he felt a stirring, his cock twitching, coming to life in his pants.

Adler broke the kiss and turned his head to look at Thane. He held a hand out, gesturing for him to join. Thane, however, looked to Eulalia for permission. If she wanted him to walk out right now, he'd do it for her. She gave a small nod, gesturing with her own hand to come closer.

He crossed the room and up close he could see she seemed a bit lust drunk but when Adler's hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down, he didn't stop himself from kissing her. The soft kiss quickly turned to something rougher, the bruising kiss letting out years of tension. Adler let it go on, then used his grip on Thane's neck to break the kiss, pulling the other man in to kiss him.

Adler hadn't known he was bi before coming to the Capitol. He didn't have the vocabulary to know such a thing when he lived in District Eight, but he did know from a young age that he looked at men in the same way he did women. He thought he was a sexual deviant- he knew gay people and he knew straight people but to like both?

When he won his games and he had to deal with the tastes of the people here he started to realize- though he couldn't fucking stand the people in The Capitol- that maybe they had something going with not caring as much about the gender of their lover.

Which was why he was able to kiss Thane without any reservation. He could tell by the looks on both Thane and Eulalia's faces that neither of them expected this to happen. He expertly unbuttoned Thane's fly, tugging the zipper down.

"get them off." He ordered, referring to the pants. Thane nodded and stepped back, kicking off his shoes and tugging his pants down around his ankles, he stepped fully out of them and Adler went to the chair, holding Eulalia's hand so she would follow him there. He sat, propping her up on his lap.

"Keep going." He gestured when Thane paused. He pulled his undershirt over his head, tossing it over by his abandoned pants. Eulalia's tongue darted out to wet her lips, Adler's hand moved between her legs, his fingers slowly running up and down her slit. 

"You're soaked, darling, do you see something you like?" He asked, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She nodded, her mouth moving soundlessly for a moment before she found her voice. 

"Y-yes, Yes I do." She nodded rapidly. Her heart racing. 

"You're still too dressed, Thane, keep going," Adler ordered, his fingers were working Eulalia but his eyes were on Thane, just as much lust in his gaze as there was in hers. Thane found he liked the attention, his fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxer briefs, taking his time to slowly lower them. His cock strained against the fabric, desperate to be let free. When he got them down low enough, his cock bobbed to life, the boxers falling to his ankles. 

"Oh-" Eulalia gasped seeing his size. She'd known he wasn't small, she'd been around him almost twenty-four-seven since she won her games, she had seen little hints and ghosts of what was hiding behind the well-tailored pants but she couldn't have imagined this. 

Adler slipped two fingers into her, her pussy taking them easily with how wet she was. He slid them in and out slowly, gesturing, with his other hand for Thane to come closer. The man didn't think twice about it, crossing the small space between them and kneeling down. 

"See how fucking soaked she is, Thane? And it's all for you."

"Not all of it." Thane denied, glancing up at Adler, his meaning clear. Adler smirked in response. 

"Spread your legs, Eulalia." He ordered and she did just that. "How long have you wanted a taste of that sweet pussy, Thane? How long have you dreamed about it." Thane's cheeks went pink at the suggestion, knowing that it was very much true. 

"Thane." Eulalia's voice was low, almost questioning. 

"A while." He admitted. "A couple of years." He glanced up at her face, she seemed shocked- but not mad. He was just glad she wasn't mad at him. She lived in a world where everyone was using her. Where just about everyone was out to sleep with her or take something from her. He didn't want to be one of those people. His attraction to her went so much deeper than her looks. She was beautiful no doubt, but she was also brilliant and funny and he had spent just about every waking moment with her for years and he wanted to keep doing it until the day one of them died. 

"Do it." She ordered. He dug his nails into his thighs to keep himself from just diving directly between her legs. 

"Lalia-"

"Do it, Thane, please." She spread her legs wider and that was all the invitation he needed. Thane moved forward, finally burying his face between her legs. 

She was as divine as he imagined, her pussy was sweet and warm, soft like velvet. She moaned, her hips rolling up to meet his tongue and he knew- this was dangerous. He was going to end up addicted. He gripped her hips, holding her there as he continued his feast. 

He glanced up and Eulalia and Adler were kissing. Her hand moved down next to Thane's head, over the very obvious bulge in Adler's trousers. Thane ate with fervor, further driven by her unbuttoning and unzipping Adler's fly, her hand slipping down into his pants. 

"Take it out." He paused his meal just long enough to utter the words. She broke the kiss to look at him and he gave a single nod before going back to it. Eulalia did as she was told, freeing Adler's cock from his pants and fuck- Thane found he was just as hungry for that. Her hand moved up and down Adler's thick cock- he wasn't quite as long as Thane, but he seemed to be thicker. Her hand definitely couldn't close all the way around it. Thane moved from her pussy to lick along the underside of Adler's cock until Eulalia's hand got in the way. 

One look up at the man told Thane that he hadn't been expecting that, his eyes were partially closed. 

"That's a good boy." Adler encouraged. Thane helped Eulalia with the hand job, his hand could properly close around the circumference of Adler's cock and their hands together moved in sync while he went back to eating Eulalia out. 

His work was soon rewarded by her thigh muscles tensing, the one hand he still had on her hip held tighter as she tried to break free. She let out a cry of pleasure, her back arching up as she came, her grip on Adler's cock tightened the slightest bit- not enough to hurt him but just enough for him to feel the difference. 

"Fuck-" He groaned. She didn't pull her hand away even as she rode out the orgasm her legs shaking with the effort to stay properly open. Adler reached down, stopping their work on his cock. "On the bed, Eulalia, on your hands and knees. I want to see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours." He got her up off his lap- on his pants there was an obvious wet spot from where she'd literally dripped down- He didn't give it a second glance, Carefully moving Thane out of the way as well so he could stand, removing the pants anyway. As well as his shirt. He hadn't been wearing anything under all of that, leaving him fully naked in front of them. 

Eulalia- as if just remembering what he said- hopped up and headed for the bed. She climbed up, moving until she was at the end where Adler stood, waiting for her. 

"Fuck." Thane moved so he was behind her, getting a proper look at her ass, at her cunt still glistening. As Eulalia took Adler's cock into her mouth, starting with just the tip and working her way up to more, Thane climbed up onto the bed behind her. He tapped her leg and she moved her legs further apart without question. He watched as she worked Adler, positioning his cock at her entrance. However, she decided he was taking far too long, pushing back, the head popping into her with ease. With that permission, he thrust forward, she was tight but she was able to take almost every inch on the first try. She groaned around the other man's cock, her eyes rolling back. 

Adler reached out, gripping her hair and thrusting his hips forward, forcing a few inches down her throat, when that didn't gag her he smirked, exchanging a look with Thane. 

Thane nodded and the two began a rhythm, in at the same time, out at the same time, impaling her mouth and her cunt again and again, She whimpered, her nails digging into the comforter, but she gave no signs of distress, nothing to indicate that she wanted to stop. If anything it seemed she wanted more, one hand letting go of the comforter to move between her legs. 

"Pull out," Thane ordered. Adler frowned but did so, as did Thane. 

"No," Eulalia whined. Thane flipped her onto her back, helping her move up so her head was hanging over the side of the bed. She opened her mouth again and he went right back to fucking her throat. Thane adjusted her hips and began to thrust into her, one arm held her hips up for the angle he wanted, and the other moved to her clit, teasing her. 

At the other end, Adler was toying with her nipples, pinching and tugging on one and then the other, light slaps to her breasts that left her milky white skin a harsh pink color- the contrast was intoxicating. 

Experimentally- Thane slapped her clit and she cried out, her cunt squeezing him tight. She might not have had use of her voice but she didn't let that stop her from being vocal as she came, her nails now digging into Adler's thigh. He pumped harder and faster until he knew he couldn't hold out any longer, pulling out fully, he fucked his own hand until he was cumming, the thick translucent white ropes coating her chest and neck. 

Adler stepped back so Eulalia could sit up a little better as one- two- three more pumps and-

"Don't pull out," Eulalia demanded. "You know I'm on birth control and- please." She begged. Thane didn't need her to ask him twice, he kept going until he was filling her up, he'd dreamt about this for so damn long- he could even pinpoint the day he realized it. It had been a few weeks after her nineteenth birthday. She'd been on the market for over a year at that point and had been ranting to him about it, about the kinds of people who hired her. 

She'd straddled his lap, smelling of vanilla and the sweet scent of the whiskey she'd taken a liking to, grinding herself down on him. He hadn't done anything because he knew she was drunk but that was the day he realized how fucking attracted to her he was. 

And now with that coming to a head, he dumped enough cum into her that when he pulled out, it was leaking down out of her cunt and onto the hotel bedding. 

"Eulalia." He let himself fall back onto his ass, watching her. She looked incredible, his cum dripping out of her, her chest covered in Adler's. She was still a bit drunk on her lust, her eyes glassy, her chest heaving. Adler smirked and squatted down so that he was level with her head. 

"Are you okay, princess?" He asked. She nodded slowly. 

"I- I've never... felt like that before. That was more than just an orgasm." She insisted. She'd cum before- it wasn't terribly often but with the partners she chose it usually happened. But nothing had ever been like that before. She was fully sure she'd had an out-of-body experience.

Adler chuckled and walked around the bed, heading for the bathroom. 

"Don't move." He told them, coming back with some warm, wet cloths. 

"You're staying at the same building as the rest of us for training... right?" Eulalia asked Adler, normally she traveled back and forth between her apartment and the facility for the games but this year- if he was going to be there then maybe, just maybe, she would stay in her rooms there. 

"Yeah." He answered shortly, cleaning up her chest. 

"Good." Eulalia nodded and let her head fall back to the bed as the two men cleaned her up. 

Tomorrow was going to be rough, between travel and getting a good look at the two tributes she was sending to die, but tonight, she was going to enjoy the time she had.

[nugget-creates-things]

Meet our escort and stylist, Cassius Opulent and Satine Labelle! 💙🤍

Cassius is the worst, ngl. He’s a privileged jerk who only cares about luxury. Basically the evil version of Effie. He and Belladonna do BOT get along: Bella thinks he’s a pompous prick and Cassius thinks she’s district trash.

Satine comes off as a hardass, but she actually has a soft side deep down. She developed her cold persona as a coping mechanism after seeing so many kids die in the games. She tried to subtly help her tributes though. For example, she cut Belladonna’s hair to make it harder to grab. After Bella wins, Satine becomes a mother figure to protect Bella in the Capitol.

[cerseimikaelson]

Who's excited to meet them?

Ariana Debose cast as Veranika Bates, the District Eleven escort whose reputation as an ice queen precedes her.

"I may tolerate your disrespect, but only because it amuses me."

Finn Jones cast as Hayden Quinn, the District Five victor nobody suspects of having anything to hide.

"Everyone is looking at her. I am just one of those people."

[zvhal-laurance]

I got a commission recently and really love it. The darker blonde in red is Lir, my own oc, and the lighter blonde in grey is Sirena, @taikatalvi19’s oc! Here’s some alternate ones below!

“Thank you… I was so scared but, you were by my side.” “Anything for you, little turtle.”

[losingmymindrn]

Idk how to do this ive never did an ask before but could you yap abt ur hg ocs (ik i said that terrible but *😿*)

(Ur good pooks don't worry u said it well)

So my main oc's name is Prada Nymph and she's from district 3! She has an older brother named Richard, but everyone calls him Richie. Their parents died during a factory accident when Prada was only 4 years old, Richie at 6. After at, Richie told Prada just to "keep smiling, everything will be okay soon." And she took that a tad to literally. Prada is never seen withoutna smile, even when whe gets bullied for it. They went to a community home until Richie picked up a small job at 8 years old for district 3's quarter quell victor, Belle. Belle eventually adopts them, because they somehow wormed their way into her cold heart and stuck there. Prada is 14 years old when she gets reaped for the 39th games, along side with a boy named Michael. Prada's birthday lands on the exact day of the games, so Richie gives her a kazoo for her early birthday present. It is here where in the first time in years, she breaks her smile and cries. Her and Michael become friends, because Prada's bubbly, somewhat insane personality is hard to ignore, even with someone who is as nervous as Michael.

When her games start, the announcer says, "Oh and, Happy birthday Prada." Her games take place in an abandoned construction site, filled with machinery, old warehouses and other various things you'd find at a construction site. She manages to grab a knife at the cornucopia, when the girl from 4 tackles her into a ditch filled with trash and such. This is where she gets a jagged scar across the right side of her face. She kills the girl by tricking her into jumping at her, just for her to step aside and the girl gets shredded by the wood chipper. "Well, what a lovely birthday I'm having!" She exclaimed to the sky. Prada struggles out of the ravine, seeing how she was pretty bruised and battered, when Michael helps her up. He leads her to his and the girl from district 6, Mary's, hide away. Mary is the fiercest one out of the 3, and is great with a sword. Their alliance lasts days, seeing how the other tributes were hunting each other, when district 2 comes along. During these few days, Mary, somehow, fell for Prada and her clinically insane personality. She sacrifices herself to save them, not without leaving a kiss to Prada's lips first. The following night, Prada breaks her smile again. Over the course of the next few days, Prada and Michael stay at an abandoned warehouse, when Prada gets the idea to start up the wrecking ball crane up. Coming from district 3, they knew how to work machines. They get super close to finishing, but they still need a few parts. They get a sponsor, and Prada heads outside to grab it. In the mean while, district 2 again sneaks up on Michael, gutting him, slitting his throat and hanging him. Prada comes back in, stopping her made up song.

Prada is now hyper aware of everything, which means she hears d2's boy step out of hiding and attempt to throw his spear at her. She sidesteps and grabs the spear, taking a running, leaping start at the boy and reaptingly impaling his stomach. In an act of anger, she tears off his arm with the spear, just in time to start for d2's girl, who gets impaled so many times you couldn't even recognize her, all the while yelling, "did you do this? Was this you? Which one of you killed him? Which one!? Which one of you killed Mary!?". She falls over laughing maniacally. Prada promises to Micheal's dead body, and to Mary, that she'll win.

In the finale, she leads d1's tributes and d4's boy to where the wrecking ball is. She splatters their gutts and blood to the walls of the warehouse. She's crowned victor qt 15 years old, laughing and saying "I did it! Michael, Mary I did it! Richie! I'm coming home! Belle! I-I did it!" Until she loses her voice and the hovercraft comes to pick her up.

(I would keep going but then I'd run out of room eventually and we'd be here all day.)

[in-a-continuous-daydream]

I can't fathom the fact that some people watch a movie, show or read a book they like and they just go: "I liked it :)" and that's it....girl how?? Whenever I like a movie, tv show, book or musical I need to inhale that piece of media like it's air, I need to self insert myself in it and create an elaborate plot line for my character in it, then I listen to music that reminds me of the piece of media and think of it 24/7, while obsessively rewatching scenes and analyzing every bit of it till I notice details nobody has seen, finally, I try to convince people to watch it with me so that I can experience it for the first time through them. Then my obsession dies and I feel empty until the next one comes along..... and you're telling me people can enjoy something and just...go to sleep and not think of it again????

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll���"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t even describe it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[wacuoms]

[slaymitchabernathy]

coriolanus snow definitely has this cup.

[libertyybellls]

RIDE COWGIRL !

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; a slow kiss with finnick has a twist of fate.

contains; SMUT!! mdni. riding, small innocence kink, size kink, established relationship, takes place pre- third quarter quell.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

it was a cozy night in, finnick had been laying in bed with you on top of him, stroking your hair as he read his book.

he’d been so enamored with his book and you whined, so desperate for his attention.

“my baby is so needy.” he lets out a tsk as he places his book on the side table. placing his palms on both sides of your face in an effort to pull you close to him.

you grin, sitting with your legs on either side of him now as you leaned into the warmth’s his hands offered.

your lips connect with his, his hands left your face to run up and down your back as you let out a sound of satisfaction.

the kiss slowly turns into a his tongue assaulting yours in the sweetest way. you can taste him in your mouth- smiling through the kiss.

your hand reached behind his neck to dance with the hairs at the nape of his neck, still so soft, so pure. he deepens the kiss at this, stopping his hands at your hips and grabbing them firmly.

in reaction to his grip your crotch rubs further into his through your sleepwear. he pulls away from the kiss- letting out a huff of air.

you move your hips to slide off of him- but he buckles you down, forcing you to stay put. “stay on top of me.” he demands lowly.

you know exactly what he means behind those words, feeling an ache in your core.

his shirt had already been disregarded as he’d gone into bed- but now his nimble fingers expertly unhooked you bra and rid you of your shirt within seconds.

you grind down on him once more, his head falling back onto the pillow. his neck looks so inviting, so sapid.

you lean down into him, your mouth carries on attack to his neck as his hands find you chest- kneading into your breasts.

once you retreat from his neck he lifts your waist, neglecting your sleeping shorts and underwear. his follow soon after and you find your way back atop him.

finnicks size is well accounted for, you hesitate above his length. he of course, notices. taking his time to tease you, he’d never been in a rush in times like these. always wanting to take all the time in the world to be inside of you with that pleasure, he blames you for making it hard to last too long.

“don’t think it’ll fit sweetheart?” finnick purrs. his rough, big hands find your waist once again , lining you up and sinking you onto his tip. “don’t worry, i’ve got you doll.”

you all but scream out at the intrusion. “you can take it baby.” you sink into him completely, hiding your face in his neck- engulfed by his scent as you attempt to set a steady pace.

“fuck finnick.” your voice rings through his ears- fucking him dumb as he moves your body for you- he just about rolls his eyes back into his head at the sensation this new position brings.

he thinks he’ll cum now just by the way your tiny body can barely take all of him.

your sit upright, back arched and hands finding stability on his chest- taking back the control of your body as you let your hips subsequently rise and fall whilst rubbing against him.

“atta girl.” he cooes, hands finding your ass.

you feel that all too familiar coil build in your stomach, “i’m close.” you choke out.

“not until i say so.”

the pleasure is too much for you- he knows this- but pushes you further, placing two fingers in between where the both of you connect- rubbing and pressing on your swollen clit.

you whimper obscenities, unnerved at his insistence. i can’t’s and it’s too much.

“so pretty like this, so tight.” finnick chokes out, grabbing your hips and bouncing you against his length. expletives follow as he recognizes he’s nearing his climax.

just when you think you can’t hold it back anymore he lets out a low, “you can let go now sweet girl, cum for me baby.”

at his words, his beck and call, you moan out- the feeling causing your legs to shake. he pants your name like a prayer- like your body is his to worship, cheeks red like a sinner.

he continues to bruise you love handles with his grip- allowing you both to ride out your high. once you’ve come down your body falls slack against him- too dumbfounded to do anything else.

once more he strokes your hair, once more he tells you, “i’ve got you doll, i’ve got you.”

-

[cecexwrites]

Never a God

Adler Cresswell District Eight Adler was nearly 18 when he heard his name called for the reaping. Having lived all his life fighting to survive this was nothing new. He made no allies, got no help, he survived the games the same way he made it through life- on his own. However, when the games were over and he was the last player standing, the true hell began. A wash in a sea of booze, lovers and gambling, Adler is waiting for his anchor. And he might just find it, as Katniss Everdeen shouts 'I volunteer'

Eulalia Golding District One Eulalia, a legacy tribute, the daughter of Victor Lysander Golding, and one of the youngest volunteers, being only fourteen when she spoke up at the reaping. The young Eulalia cut down her competition, letting them completely underestimate her. She won when she tricked her district mate, having spent the entire games convincing him she loved him- only to slit his throat last minute- but the public never saw that. They only saw a winner. Life as The Capitol's sweetheart was great- until it wasn't anymore. After seeing his daughter win the games, Lysander took his own life- not wanting to see what happens after. And she soon found out that the grass isn't greener on the other side of the games.

Farren Rochester Capitol Resident Anyone who looks at Farren would see exactly what she wants them to, a silly party girl who is here for a good time, just trying to have as much fun as she can while she's still here. However, anyone who knows her, who really looks at her would see that her glass never seems to truly empty, her eyes are never faded, her mind never soft. No, Farren Rochester is a predator, but she won't let anyone know that. Not unless you catch her at her real home, the underground gambling den she funds.

Orin Flair District One Orin Flair didn't mean to be the tribute for district one. He thought he'd done a great job of being middle of the pack. However- he was told, the day before the reaping that he would be the one to volunteer. He didn't realize until later that his father had pissed off the council. That he was meant to die for what his dad did. When it was revealed to him- in a note dropped into the arena for him- he decided, he was going to win and he would never set foot in District one again, a promise he's kept to this day, instead spending his time in the Capitol, rubbing elbows with other victors and people in charge. He was the one who mentored Eulalia when she went into the games.

Roan Rochester Capitol Resident The Hunger Games are a time honored tradition 74 years and counting. And Roan is one of the men who make it happen. A Game Maker with a ton of potential, he finds the games fascinating. He thinks watching people fight to survive and more than that, watching people watch other people fight to survive. And of course, his mean streak comes out when he's plotting and planning the tricks. As he witnesses the girl from District twelve volunteer to save her sister, he can feel the tides changing. And Roan is nothing, if not adaptable.

Thane Hawksley Capitol Resident Becoming a manager and agent for a victor wasn't exactly Thane's plan in life. However, when he found himself in need of a job, and a friend offered him the roll, he knew he'd be a fool to pass it up. That was fifteen years ago. Now over the years he's gone through a few different clients, but the most meaningful one came a couple years back, when he was handed a young victor from District one and told to make sure she didn't do anything too wild, and blow up her image. Now, closer to her than ever, Thane's eyes are on the future and what's coming next, and not anything anyone could have expected.

[iydiamartinx]

HOME IS IN YOUR ARMS

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader

divider by: @kodaswrld count: 778 synopsis: After a long night of entertaining the Capitol, Finnick finally comes home to your arms

It was late when the door finally clicked shut.

Not that you’d been asleep. Sleep didn’t come easy on nights like this. Not when you knew where he was. Who he was with. What he had to do.

You lay still, your back pressed to the thin mattress, the blanket half-tangled around your legs. The city lights bled in through the curtains, casting pale gold across the floor. He was somewhere out there, and you couldn’t help him. You couldn’t even help yourself.

But you could be here.

You could be waiting.

You could hold whatever pieces of him made it back.

You didn’t move when you heard the apartment door ease open. But when your bedroom door creaked, you sat up, watching him.

Finnick crossed the room in silence, eyes downcast, not even looking at you.

He stripped off his clothes—jacket, shirt, belt—each one falling to the floor like something rotten he couldn’t shed fast enough. Like a costume he’d been forced to wear, layer after suffocating layer. His movements were quiet, but not calm. You heard the tremor in his breath. Saw the pause in his hands.

When he finally slipped beneath the covers, he didn’t reach for you right away.

He just lay there.

Still. Silent.

You turned toward him and opened your arms—slowly, gently—leaving the choice in his hands. If he wanted your touch tonight, it would be his to take. You wouldn’t force it. You wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t.

Too many people had taken from him without permission.

You never would.

He didn’t move right away.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he would. His body remained still beside you, muscles tense beneath the thin blanket, like he was carved from the same marble the Capitol favoured—beautiful but cold and hollowed out from the inside.

But then—he shifted.

Not toward you, not at first. Just the barest turn, enough that his shoulder brushed yours, and you could feel the tremble in him. A breath escaped him then, sharp and broken at the edges, and in that sound, you heard it all.

The shame. The disgust. The guilt that should never belong to him but clung to him anyway.

You said nothing.

You just kept your arms open, patient, unwavering.

And then he came to you.

He moved like he was drowning, like the bed was water and you were the last thing keeping him from sinking. He pressed into you, head tucked beneath your chin, arms sliding around your waist. His grip was tight—too tight—but you didn’t flinch. You held him in return, folding your body around his, wrapping your limbs around him like armour.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, damp with sweat and Capitol cologne. The scent clung to him like a lie, sweet and artificial, masking something much more fragile underneath.

You stroked gently, combing through the strands with a slow rhythm, letting the silence hold him when words couldn’t.

You held him tighter. Pressed a kiss into his hair, slow and gentle.

You knew exactly what the Capitol took. What they dressed up in gold and called privilege. What they made you smile through, entertain through, survive through.

Your hand slid into his hair, gently combing through it again and again, until his breathing began to slow—still shaky, still uneven, but no longer on the verge of unraveling.

He pulled you closer, he needed your heartbeat pressed to his chest to remind him of what was real. Of what still belonged to him. Of you.

Another kiss—this one to his temple. Then lower, along the slope of his cheekbone. And finally, his lips—soft, reverent, like you were kissing the hurt away piece by piece.

He didn’t kiss you back at first.

But then—he did.

Just once.

Just enough to say I’m still here.

Then his forehead pressed to yours, and he whispered, “I didn’t think I’d make it through tonight.”

“You did,” you said softly. “You made it home.”

He didn’t say this doesn’t feel like home.

He didn’t have to.

Because you weren’t talking about the Capitol apartment. Not the sheets beneath you or the walls around you. You were talking about this. The space between your bodies. The way you held each other like nothing else existed—like nothing else mattered.

This was the only place in the world that still belonged to you both.

Your fingers curled gently at the nape of his neck. Your legs tangled with his beneath the covers, anchoring him in place.

And in that small, stolen space—

where the Capitol couldn’t reach,

where the cameras couldn’t follow—

Finnick Odair let you hold him.

And you didn’t let go.