#cinna roll

[nerdstreak]

i really am just on an edit frenzy arent i? (ive got something original with these familials too, but i'll wait closer to halloween for that!)

well i got the sudden urge to put cinna in her rightful place with the family in some wedding photos from the sign! thought it would be a tighter fit but worked better than i thought!

[cpahlow]

[moth-spiderling]

Cinnamoroll supremacy, who's with me

[secretlocket]

i wanna eat the cinnamon rolls on your intro post so badly

RIGHT !! every time i look at it im like 🍽️😛

[thecinnaroll]

💛 Types Of Vtubers🧡

[mr-urple]

gets ready to jump in the air, but when i bend my legs instead i sink to the ground and slowly lay down and fall asleep instantly

I think you need to take a nap cinna-roll….

[cincincinnanom]

Imma be so brutally honest when I say that either I am going to have a big accident that makes my physical health worse and then my parents believe me or that never happens and I never get help and then off myself.

[eatember]

-

[msgses]

limits

pairing: loki laufeyson x gn!reader w. 2.2k genre: smut summary: it's finals week and both you and your grad student roommate are pushed to your wit's end. you get caught up in a moment of frustration together. warnings: college au, somewhat implied afab anatomy but no gendered terms used, stupid arguments. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks) a/n: for cinna, you dirty mf

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. MINORS DNI.

Finals week is nobody's favorite, least of all your own.

Work was piling up, due dates were fast approaching, you had to study for exams, and stress was growing exponentially. You couldn't move a muscle without reminding yourself of how much there was to do.

It didn't make it any better that your roommate was snappy. Loki was an... eccentric personality. However, his confident demeanor had turned into backhanded remarks and annoyed glances whenever you had the gall to speak to him. Whenever you were around him, it always felt like an inconvenience to his life.

You couldn't blame him for being stressed. He was in a graduate program and spending half of his days doing TA work. If your life was hard, you couldn't imagine the amount of deadlines he had to worry about. Quite frankly, you didn't want to.

That didn't make it any better, though. Loki was constantly complaining, making things intentionally harder than they needed to be. You weren't out to get him, but he certainly acted like it.

Things were obviously getting worse around the apartment. Other than his outbursts, you could see the disarray that was his bedroom. He was kind enough not to make dishes stack up, but his room was turning into a mess of clothes and papers covering the floors, bed unmade.

As the second half of finals week began, you were getting a bit worried. When he wasn't leaving the apartment to go to an exam, he was holed up in his room studying and grading tests.

You'd never been close, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he might need some help. So, you woke up on Thursday knowing both of your schedules were clear for the day in terms of exams. With the remaining motivation left, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen.

The plan? Make some breakfast for the two of you and see if you could make him feel a bit better. You grabbed what you needed for pancakes and got to work.

By the time you had pancakes cooking on the skillet, Loki appeared from his room. The bags under his eyes looked worse than usual and his hair was a mess.

"I'm making some pancakes, they'll be ready in a few minutes," You said.

He gave a small noise in response before turning around and starting to walk back to his room. As his sulking frame began to disappear towards the hall, you set the spatula down. "Not going to say anything? No 'thank you'?" You asked in a bit of disbelief.

"Why would you need me to thank you? Doing your good deed of the day not enough to make you feel better?" Loki's voice was laced with snark.

The outright rude tone of his comment took you aback. You made sure to put the pancake onto a plate before it burned, turning your attention back to him. "Does it ever occur to you to show the slightest bit of kindness to other people?"

"Kindness," Loki scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorway from the hallway into the kitchen, "Is that what this is? Let me guess, you felt bad for me and wanted to cheer me up, is that it?"

You stared at him in disbelief. "Maybe I saw my roommate looking like a depressed hermit for the last two weeks and I wanted make something to make you feel better. Is that so bad?"

"You can stop pretending to be something you're not. Thinking you've fixed my problems won't make you magically feel better, either."

"Some pancakes aren't going to fix your problems, I just thought it'd be a nice gesture knowing you'd spend the day in your room working."

He took two steps forward into the kitchen, rolling his eyes. "God, you just feel the need to wedge yourself into my life, don't you? What, nobody else giving you enough attention that you have to bother me instead?"

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "That's rich, coming from the man who's only seen the sun long enough to get to campus for an exam. Sounds to me like you haven't interacted with a real person and you forgot how to be decent. Well, not that you ever have been."

Loki let out a taunting laugh, taking another step closer. You hadn't noticed, but you backed yourself against the counter as he approached. "Unlike you, I don't need other people's attention to live. I'm perfectly fine being myself."

"Like hell you don't," You straightened up, but still remained pressed against the counter, "You're so obsessed with making everyone around you feel lesser. You haven't been able to do that lately, so you decided to be a dick to me so you can get your rocks off."

"Excuse me?" Loki took another step forward, only a few feet separating the two of you, "You think I get off on the insolence of the other people around me? The way you think you can psychoanalyze me is pathetic, sweetheart."

You tried to move forward and get away from the counter, but he simply got closer and you couldn't find a good way out of where you were standing. "Oh, I know you do. You'll never be able to live until you have someone to torment with your bullshit."

"You're pathetic."

"Look in the mirror."

Maybe you should've realized just how close he was getting, pointing a finger in your face. You weren't sure who closed the distance, but through the anger all you wanted for him was to stop talking. With his lips against yours, you seemed to have solved the problem.

Your hands found the back of his neck, tangling into his black hair that desperately needed to be brushed. One of his was on your back, the other pressed flat on the counter top next to you and trapping you in.

It was rough and sloppy. He seemed desperate, open-mouthed kisses and slipping his tongue into your mouth without hesitation. He was obviously practiced, yet his care for making it tender and intimate was long gone.

Loki was insistent, pushing against you hard and pressing you into the hard countertop. His hips began to grind against your thigh, his breaths hard against your skin whenever you parted momentarily.

You pulled away from him for a moment, watching as he chased for you. "You're so fucking desperate," You chided, seeing his flushed face.

"Shut your mouth," Loki spat back, leaning forward and kissing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucked marks onto your skin, leaving behind small bites as he worked his way down.

Your hand grasped his hair again as he worked down your neck to your collarbone. "What are we doing?" You asked breathlessly, but only heard a small, mumbled noise against your skin.

His touch was hot and needy, his hand snaking down your body and pushing past the waistband of your pajama pants. He parted from your reddened neck, looking at you for assent. You nodded, feeling his hand yank them down.

The pajamas hit the floor and Loki pressed his hips into your exposed ones, feeling him grind against you for any sort of friction. He notched his thigh between your legs, moving desperately against you. You could hear his breathing labored, shallow and fast as he sought any sort of feeling.

As good of a sight as it was, you needed more than just his thigh. Your hands hooked on his sweatpants, tugging at them. He seemed to get the hint, pulling them down and letting them join your own. He wore a pair of black boxers, although they left little to the imagination.

He was straining against the fabric, so you helped him get his boxers off as well, watching as they quickly joined the assortment of clothes on the kitchen floor. His hands found your waist, pushing you onto the counter.

He looked impossibly hard, leaking and yet waiting as he seemed to stop. "Can.. can I?"

"Yeah."

It was all you had to say before his hand found your thigh, moving it just enough to give himself access before pressing a finger against your entrance, slowly pushing it inside.

Although, he was obviously impatient. He worked his first digit in and out, curling it slightly to reach the sweet spot. Whenever he brought a sound out of you, you could see his grin as he pushed ever-so-slightly harder to hear more.

He added a second without warning, though with little issue. As you whined and your breath hitched, he smiled again. "You're liking this, aren't you?"

Trying to catch your breath enough to speak, you nodded. "You... know what you're doing."

It was true. He seemed practiced, knowing just how to move his fingers to make you feel good. Affirming his words seemed to give him a little more confidence, speeding up and moving with finesse.

As he was speeding up, he suddenly slowed down and pulled his fingers away, leaving you in need of more. You gave him a small frustrated look, but you felt something. Looking down, he had his cock pressed against your entrance.

"Do you want this?" He asked, half teasingly but still looking for your permission.

Sighing, you nodded. "Please."

It was a stretch as he pushed inside, slowly feeling him fill up far more than what his fingers had. Both of you had gasped, watching as he sucked air between his teeth from the feeling. The stretch wasn't exactly painful, but the discomfort was soon replaced with pleasure as he fully sank inside.

"Fuck," Loki muttered under his breath, "So good."

Grinning, you stabilized yourself on the counter. "Not so mouthy now, are you?"

Loki was caught off guard, overwhelmed by the feeling but he let out a laugh that got stifled by a low moan. "Do you ever stop getting on my nerves?"

"What's the fun in that?" You asked, but he began to move his hips and you couldn't be bothered to add any extra snide comments, overwhelmed by the feeling of him hitting deep inside.

Loki began with shallow thrusts, his expression flustered and letting out soft moans as he seemed to get it together. As he quieted down and seemed more confident, his movements were full and precise.

Once he got into a rhythm, you were grasping at his back as he picked up a consistent pace. The sound of your skin connecting began to fill the room as all you could think about was him. Standing in front of you, breathing heavy as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"So perfect," His voice was softer than before, though it carried a feeling of lust, "You're unbelievable."

His words were sweet like candy, your head in the clouds as they filtered in alongside the constant stream of pleasure. You simply grabbed at his shoulders and hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

The feeling came on quick, burying your face into his shoulder as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. You couldn't find the words before you came undone around him, the wave crashing hard. Loki seemed to feel it, having to slow down for a moment as he let out a whine.

"Not going to last like this," Loki admitted through deep breaths, his grip on your thigh tensing.

You nodded. Neither of you had gotten laid in long enough that the encounter was comparatively short. That didn't stop you from loving every second of it, watching as his breath became ragged and the movement of his hips became desperate and sloppy.

He sped up further, going fast enough that you had to tilt your head back and close your eyes, being met with his lips against your exposed neck as he chased his release. He faltered, pulling away as he quickly pulled out of you.

He desperately fucked into his hand, hardly having to move his wrist before he spilled into it, some of the mess hitting against your thigh.

"Fuck," Loki sighed, his breaths shaky as he regained his composure and began to come down from the feeling, "That was.. impeccable."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh. "That was insane."

"Gods," Loki looked at his hand in disgust before rushing over to the kitchen sink and vigorously washing it with soapy water, bringing back a washcloth to get rid of anything that landed on you.

After he had finished cleaning his mess, he stopped and stood in silence for a moment. "I... shouldn't have done that. Gotten upset."

"Over some pancakes? Probably not," You admitted, slowly getting off of the counter. You looked down at the pajama pants on the floor, but shrugged. You'd find something cleaner in a minute.

"It was incredibly irresponsible and stupid," Loki continued, shaking his head.

"It ended alright, though."

"Alright? That wasn't simply 'alright' to you, was it?" Loki looked at you in disbelief.

You shook your head. "No, no, it was great, you were great," You backtracked, "You just seemed a little.. on edge, is all. The sex was great, though."

Loki's ego seemed a bit bruised, but that made him look visibly more confident. "Well... I suppose I should go and shower, get a change of clothes."

"Yeah, of course," You nodded, "Do you want some pancakes, though? They might be a little cold."

He looked at you for a moment in confusion before a small smile came to his face. "That would be nice, yes."

[sweetbunpura]

some fluff for today Yuu and Rollo at a arcade

Okay, are we talking American arcades cause there are a lot of them. Or Japanese arcades, which are just as good but feel better. But that also includes Japanese Crane game arcades.

Just for this, I'm gonna say Japanese crane and American arcade.

American Arcade:

The moment they walk in, Rollo is assaulted by the sounds of the machines and the smell of greasy foods. He had joined Yuu back in her world, and she had taken him to one of her hangout spots. While Rollo looks around, nearly disgusted with everything around him, Yuu chats up the person at the front desk and buys a pair of passes for them.

"Rolls, I got em." She holds up the cards and the two walk into the play area.

"Is everything normally this loud?" He has to talk louder to be heard over the excited yells of the other players.

"Yeah, anything to catch your attention to play the machines."

Rollo hums and the pair begin to try out different machines. He's not a fan of a majority of them, but he tries her Yuu. Any strength ones he leaves to her, a crowd gathers around the pair of them as Yuu sets a high score. When they get hungry, they order some of the greasy food, which has Rollo's stomach turning. The pair of them leave sometime later and he feel like he can breath again.

"Alright, so we know what you don't like." She laughs and holds his hand as they walk along the crosswalk as the sun begins to dip behind the beach they're across from.

He sighs and placed his handkerchief over his mouth "It was foul in there."

Yuu kisses his cheek and a blush appears on his face. "I know, let's head home. We can chill in the pool and watch some TV." She fishes her car keys out of her pocket and spins them around on her finger.

Rollo nods and climbs into the car once she unlocks it. If this was one of her spots, he's almost afraid to see what the others entail.

Japanese Crane Game Arcade:

Things are far quieter in here as Yuu drags Rollo into a Crane Game Arcade. She had returned to Japan to grab some stuff she had missed and Rollo tagged along with her. While Yuu paid to get some of the coins, he looked further into the Arcade. People were at the machines, trying to win whatever prize they were trying to seek. Once Yuu had the amount she wanted to spend, she pushed him inside with a smile on her face.

"Okay, so, just put a coin in and try to grab the prize." She explain as she set him infront of a plush machine.

"Are these those machines that Idia was complaining about?" He stares at the gray owl plush inside. "The ones that he says 'cheat'?"

"American ones cheat, these don't cheat as much." She handed him a coin. "Go ahead."

He takes it, puts it in and tries for the plush. It slips through the claw's grip and he frowns.

"Are you sure these don't cheat?"

Yuu laughs and hands him another coin. Rollo finally gets the plush on the fourth attempt and Yuu cheers for him. They hop from machine to machine and collect price after prize. While Yuu is distracted with trying to get a figure of what Rollo sees is a tall man dressed in a blue outfit with long white hair, he turns his focus to a plush machine. Inside is a white dog like creature that he remembers seeing that was a good chunk of Yuu's room.

He counts up the amount of coins in his hand and decides to try his luck. Rollo gets the plush on the first attempt and fishes it out of the machine.

"Neuvillette, why must you hurt me this way..." Rollo hears her grumble as he joins her side with the plush in his hands.

"Love."

"Hmm?" She turns away from the machine and sees the puppy plush. "My boy!" She takes it and hugs it close. "Cinna~"

While she's hugging it, Rollo makes a few adjustments to the claw and wins the figure for her. She has to hold off on screeching as she hugs him and smothers him in kisses. They leave the arcade with a ton of items and head for the subway.

"Is there room for all of this?"

"This is why you bring extra suitcases."

[nerdstreak]

IT'S FINALLY DONEEE im really proud of how this turned out, now to once again never animate for a whole year

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @amessageonthewind @rosieaurora @little-shiny-sharpies @plucky-belmondo @as8bakwthesage

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@carnival-of-love @camellias-and-coriander @aquaticcryptid @swapthewoz @breadtheend

[katiemay-025]

I Know You Well

~~~~~

~~~~~

Summary: The 3rd Quarter Quell twist has been revealed and after the initial shock wears off, you have a conversation with your lover and fellow victor where you both promise that no matter who gets reaped, there would be no volunteering. Johanna will make sure of that.

wc: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, use of y/n, violence, ptsd, swearing, Ifem!reader think that’s it.

An: I should probably make a banner for Johanna or something. Also I think I sent this head cannon to someone’s ask but I don’t remember whom I sent it to. :/

This probably would have been better as a blurb but oh well.

~~~~~

Johanna sat on the couch rolling her eyes and groaning at the sight of Katniss’ wedding gowns being presented to the audience. Her feet were propped up on the coffee table that you made and she had nothing on except a pair of fuzzy socks. “Ugh disgusting! What flock of white geese had to die for that dress?”

You chuckle at her words as you were cutting the bell pepper for dinner. “Do you mean swans, honey?”

“Absolutely not, she does not deserve swans.”

There were a total of 6 dresses to choose from and Cinna announced to the crowd that they could vote for which dress Katniss should wear. Johanna made another snide comment about making the Girl on Fire walk out in a suit of mud and call it a day. “They would definitely like that.”

“Katniss would not. I’m not too sure she’d be as comfortable as you being naked.”

Johanna cupped her own breast with a smirk. “At least I show myself off instead of being bought for it. What are they going to do? They can’t take it from me if I give it out for free.”

You tilted your head in acknowledgement of her words. It’s something you learned as a victor, watching others do the same. Finnick acted cocky as a defense mechanism. Enobaria sharpened her teeth to defend herself from the Capitol. Hell, you had done it, fiddling with your pocket saw out in the open. It was effective in scaring people away but it also gave you horrible flashbacks to your own game. What does that say about your view of the capital if you decide to willingly traumatize yourself again? Even so, after years of doing it, you’d only get flashes of the dark memory instead of a full blown panic attack. Exposure therapy at its finest.

Anyway, immediately after Cinna finishes his campaign for Katniss’ wedding dress, Snow took the podium on the raised balcony overlooking the city circle. “Why the fuck is he on our screens? As if voting for a wedding dress isn’t torturous enough.” Johanna groaned.

You put your knife down. The living room was a good 50 steps away from the kitchen counters and you placed your hands on the back of the couch watching intently. To you, the twist wouldn’t matter, you’d still have to mentor who ever the twist catered too.

“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Panem. This is the 75th year of the Hunger Games. When the charter of the Games was written, it dictated that every 25 years there would be a Quarter Quell… to make fresh for each new generation the memory of those killed in the rebellion against the Capitol. The Quarter Quell was reserved for the Games of special significance.”

Johanna sat up in her seat fiddling with the hilt of her axe. You noticed the slow movement of her thumb over the wooden handle before she took a breath.

“On the 25th anniversary, each district was made to vote on the tributes who should represent it. In the 50th anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for every Capitol citizen, each district was required to send twice the tributes to the arena. And now on the 75th anniversary of the Rebellion, we honor our third quarter quell, as bestowed to us, by the signers of the Treaty of Treason.”

A small wooden box is carried onto the balcony by a boy dressed in white. You watch as President Snow opens the box and retrieves a yellow sealed envelope. “As a reminder that even the strongest cannot over power the Capitol, on this 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the pool of existing victors of each district.”

The room froze, you and Johanna not daring to break the silence. Your eyes widened and you forgot to breathe. Chills traveled down your spine. Johanna reacted first gripping her axe and swinging it at the television projector with a scream, smashing it to pieces.

Your heart plunged to the ground. You were going back. Tears welled in your eyes and a lump found its way to your throat. The walls closed in around you and before it could crush you, you rushed out of the house.

Your foot caught each other on the way down the steps and you caught yourself with your hands and knees. The bushes beckoned you to them and you crawled over before dispensing the bile caught in your throat.

The fall was so fast you didn’t notice the glassy rocks that cut your knees. Only after you crawled to the log storage did you notice them. Smears of blood oozed out of your wounds and sticky red liquid coated your fingers.

Your hand began to shake.

The First Kill was never something you could get over. Her name was Olive and there was a sponsor sent to you on the 5th day, she was nearby and tried to take the gift from you. She tackled you to the ground and after a few moments of tussling in the grass, you found your saw and lodged it deep into her neck. Her blood trickled down coating your fingers as you pulled on your weapon to slice her neck. She died choking on her own blood. Your hands stained red and no matter how much you tried to scrub it off, it always remained on your hands.

Even now, as you frantically scrubbed your hands in the shed sink, it wouldn’t go away. The harder you rubbed the redder your hands got. That was how friction worked but in your state of delusion, it all looked the same.

The cascade of water stopped. As you moved your hands to the faucet, gentle hands cradled yours. A small whimper escaped your lips. You were going back. You were in the pool of existing victors. But so was Johanna. Your head snapped up spotting the younger girl focused on your reddened hands.

“Johanna.”

She let out an unamused chuckle. “I fucking trashed the house.”

“I assumed so.” You whispered. “I rubbed off the skin on my hands.”

Johanna hummed as she traced her thumb over the injury. “I know.”

You raised your arms to her to hold her face. “I need you to promise me something. Do not volunteer for me.”

She met your eyes with her own fiery ones while tilting her head. “One of us has to go in. Like hell, I’m going to let it be you.”

“I can handle myself, that’s why I’m telling you not to volunteer.”

“If you don’t volunteer then I won’t volunteer.” Johanna bargained. You went quiet pressing your lips into a thin line. Just like you knew her well enough to know she’d volunteer, she knew you well enough to know you would to. It was hypocritical so you agreed.

Johanna kept her unwavering eyes towards you. You matched her gaze until you found a soft glint in her eyes. Your shoulders relaxed as you looked a way. A deep sigh escaped your lips. “Fine, whoever gets picked for the reaping gets picked.”

“Great but we’re training for this. I am not going to have a rusty tribute as my mentee.”

~

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears and thumped against your rib cage. Your legs were wide enough for Johanna to fit between them. She stood in front of you playing with your hair as you buried your ear into her chest. Hers was almost as fast as yours but there was comfort in wrapping your arms around her.

You didn’t want to let go of Johanna. The thought of having to watch from the sidelines where you physically couldn’t protect her. The pressure in your chest felt like a bubbling volcano, stress building up before an eruption.

Usually the silence with Johanna was comfortable being able to be in the moment, in her arms. This time, the silent air was heavy. The small ticking of the clock reminded you of the looming possibility of going back to the arena.

You loved her. You made a promise not to volunteer but you had to. You had to protect her. Blight and Old Spruce came to pick you up for the reaping. When they knocked, Johanna gave you one last squeeze to your hand to comfort you. She made it a habit to hold your hands when you slipped into a memory lapse to keep you from rubbing the skin off your hands. In return you stocked and supplied the wooden logs for Johanna to split when her anger rose.

You snuck her a peck on her lips before the four of you trudged to the town square where the entirety of District 7 awaited the victors. The hot July sun did nothing to ease your worries as it heated your arms. You rocked onto your toes as the escort stepped onto the stage. It was ironic being an eligible tribute again. Seven years ago you dreaded for the slip to say your name and now seeing all the faces of District 7 on this raised platform, you prayed it was your name being called.

“Ladies First.” You stood staring out to your home. After these next moments, your life would never be the same. Either you get reaped and survive the loss of your closest friends turned enemy, Johanna is reaped and survives, you are reaped but die or Johanna is reaped but dies. The loss of it all would turn anyone insane.

Technically, you didn’t promise, you only agreed because it would get Johanna to not volunteer. So you could and you would. To your right, you could see Johanna eyeing you and you returned a glare.

“The female tribute from District 7 is...” He paused for dramatic effect and your heartbeat rose in your throat. Let it be me. Let it be me Let it be me. “Johanna Mason.” Your heart plummeted before turning your head to the escort. You weren’t going to accept this.

Before you could even open your mouth to object, you felt a sharp pain on your nose and a small pop in your neck from the force. Your head hit the ground and everything went black.

When you came to, you were on the train staring straight at Blight across from you on the table. “What the fuck happened?”

“Oh she’s back.” Spruce called. “You were out of it for about 30 minutes.”

“What do you remember?” Blight asked.

“Johanna was reaped and then it felt like my nose exploded.” You say wincing at the pain on the bridge of your nose. You groaned holding your head.

“Doc says you got a broken nose and a concussion.”

“Where’s Johanna?”

“The peacekeepers restrained her in her room.” The escort called. “She knocked you out in one go. She must’ve been so pissed that she was picked.” You shared a look with your fellow victors. The escort hadn’t been here to watch your relationship with Johanna. Both of you were great about hiding your relationship during the annual hunger games.

“So which of you got reaped?”

Blight took a deep breath. He took a swig of his alcohol laughing at the ridiculousness of it. “Can’t believe they’re making me go back after 20 something years.”

“So you and I are mentors.” Spruce solemnly said patting you on the shoulder. “Should I take Johanna?” He asked keeping up with appearances. Ironically it was like the 71st Hunger Games again. Mentoring was set by priority. Old Spruce had said yes to mentoring while the others said no meaning you had no choice but to mentor Johanna. This time you could choose her.

“No. No I’ll talk to her.”

“Take things slowly okay, you took a big fall.”

“Yes dad.” You joked. Dad was nice, ‘Old Spruce’ was pushing 65. He had been your mentor during your games and continued to take care of you afterwards.

The walk to Johanna’s room was short luckily. A peacekeepers stood outside the door and you smiled at him. “Hi I’m here to talk to my mentee.” He looked at you and stepped aside. As soon as the door slid closed, you looked at Johanna. “You fucking bitch.”

She turned her attention to you from the fuzzes of green zooming past the window. A soft smile plastered on her face. “You promised you weren’t going to volunteer.”

“Technically I didn’t. I agreed so you wouldn’t volunteer. We didn’t shake on it or pinky promise or sign a contract so….”

“You were going to volunteer.”

“Yes.”

“Great I’m glad I know you well enough.”

“Decking me in the face was part of the plan?”

“Absolutely.” You stared at her unamused. “Don’t look at me like that. We both know we were going to break that promise to protect the other. Maybe you planned that all along or it was a last minute thought but I saw the look on your face. I anticipated it and knocked you out before you could.” Johanna told shrugging her shoulders as she walked towards you.

“You broke my nose.”

“It’s better than you dead.” Johanna countered. “I said I wasn’t going to let you go back in. I made that promise to myself and I kept it.”

“What do I do if I lose you? Do you think you’re the only one who loves in this relationship.”

Johanna held onto your waist. “First, avenge me. Second, none of us want the other to go in but someone is going to be forced to. I’m sorry, I’d rather it be me than you. You would be safer.”

“Safe is a relative term and when did you become such a sap?”

“Oh you know, since I started dating the best girl I’ve ever met.”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you make me.”

You closed the gap and let your lips meld with the younger girl. Slowly, the two of you walked towards her bed. She sat on her bed and you climbed on top of her with little room to breathe. Johnna wrapped her arms around the back of your neck to bring you in closer deepen the kiss. She flipped you over before nuzzling her face into your neck.

You held her in your arms playing with her hair. Lulling yourself to sleep. “Don’t die okay.” You whispered.

“I won’t.”

“I do hope you break your nose though.”

“Ugh get over it.”

“No! Although it was a smart countermove.”

“Thank you. I thought long and hard about it for all of 5 seconds after you first told me not to volunteer.”

“Well that’s the last time I trust you.” You joked.

“You love me.”

“I do. I know you do too.”

“Yeah, I do.” Johanna sighed. The both of you laid motionless embracing the other, enjoying the moment.

[katnissandpeetamellark]

Thanksgiving Foods I’d give The Hunger Games characters:

Katniss:

Rolls. All of the rolls and bread. I know how to treat a queen.

Peeta:

Sweet Potato Casserole bc he’s so sweet 🫶

Haymitch:

Green bean casserole. I have no reason.

Effie:

Cranberry Sauce (but the fancy kind). She’d probably dress as Cranberry Sauce too

Cinna:

Pecan Pie. He just is so classy to me & pecan pie is classy and beautiful.

Rue:

The WHOLE damn turkey. Feed this child immediately.

Prim:

Stuffing. The good kind made from scratch with herbs and fancy bread. I think she’d like it

Gale:

Mashed potatoes. It will fill him up but he’s still on thin ice.

Lucy Gray:

Some sort of pretty salad. Maybe one with pears. I think she’d enjoy that.

Sejanus:

Cornbread. It’s comforting and sweet. And I bet Ma Plinth made it.

Marcus:

Mac n cheese. GOOD Mac n cheese.

Tigris:

Cranberry salad. It’s my favorite, she’s my favorite.

Reaper:

Pumpkin Pie. He deserves the best Thanksgiving dessert.

Coriolanus:

Air. Starve bitch.

[archangeldyke-all]

prologue to the next ao3 fic i'm writing! it's childhood friends to enemies (to lovers) with sevika! hope you enjoy <33

30 years ago

Sevika trudges through the streets, kicking a rock along as she goes. Being ten fucking sucks. 

At the time, Sevika always thought that six would be the worst year of her life. That was the year her mom died. It was also the year her dad started drinking. But now she’s older and wiser; finally big enough to work in the mines: and Sevika’s beginning to suspect that life just gets worse and worse until you’re lucky enough to die.

Seven was worse than six. Seven was when Sevika learned that if she was going to steal and scam to feed herself, she was also going to have to fight. Sevika got her nose broken four times when she was seven. 

Eight was when she got tall and smart enough for her dad to feel threatened by her. It was the first time her nose had ever been broken by him.

And nine was when her childhood cat died. She found poor little Ladybug in the back corner of her dad’s closet, cold and stiff, curled up on top of her mom’s favorite red poncho. 

But even in those years Sevika wasn’t constantly sore, and her feet weren’t always blistered and bleeding, and she wasn’t coughing up dust all the time. 

And now she is. For less than a hundred bucks a week. 

Still. She has found one nice thing about being ten. 

“Sevika!” You squeal as you sprint up to your best friend’s side. Sevika tries to bite back her smile. She’s pretty sure she succeeds. 

“Easy.” She grunts as you launch yourself into her arms. You’re clinging around her waist, uncaring of the fact that she’s covered in soot. When you pull away to grin up at her, your cheek is smeared in black dust. Sevika chuckles and wipes it clean for you. “Hey, Honeybun.” She greets. The nickname makes your smile impossibly wider. 

“How were the mines today?” You ask as you haul your old flour bag over your shoulder. You’re so tiny, still only seven, and the bag is half your size. Sevika sighs, easily lifting it out of your grasp and hitching it over her shoulder for you. 

“Eh. You know.” She shrugs, trying to act tough, like she wasn’t just on the verge of tears from exhaustion. “How’s your Gramps?” She asks. You shrug, digging around in the little satchel you keep slung over your side. 

“He says to say hi to you. He said if I sell all these buns I can take five dollars of the profits.” You gesture to the bag hanging off Sevika’s shoulder. “Wanna help? We can use the money we earn to get some spicy slugs from Jericho’s!” You offer. Sevika grins. She’d say yes even if you weren’t buying her food. 

“I got nothin’ better to do.” She says cooly as you pull a bundle of fabric out of your bag. You unravel the scrap, and Sevika knows what’s wrapped in it before you can even unveil it. She can smell the cinnamon. You reveal the pastry to her with a grin, and her belly growls. Sevika briefly wonders if the sound is from her hunger, or if it's from the bugs that always seem to be crawling around in her stomach when she’s with you. She snatches the treat out of your grip and tears into it, trying to distract herself from the fuzzy feeling in her chest. “Cinna-roll for my Cinna-Sev.” You sing-song. Sevika rolls her eyes, nudging you with her elbow and huffing an embarrassed laugh. 

“Fuck off.”

She follows you blindly, letting you lead her up the winding streets of the Undercity and toward the docks. You’ve got a few spots around the city you frequently visit to sell baked goods, and judging by the way sailors are grinning and waving at you, this is one of them. 

“Bread girl!” A woman hauling a net full of fish off a boat calls. You giggle and wave at her. 

This has been the best part of Sevika’s days as of late: passing out bread to strangers with one hand, snacking on treats with the other,  as you exchange and count coins and loafs with your adoring customers. 

Sevika first bumped into you three days into starting work at the mines. You came down to pass out rolls to the miners dismissed at lunch time, and a few teenagers were giving you trouble. Two of them were throwing your bag of rolls over your head in a cruel game of keep away, while the third teen was snooping through the little coin purse you’d dropped. You were pathetic, and clearly about to be robbed blind, and Sevika was tired. But… She couldn’t help herself, and she stepped in to defend you.

You both ended up getting beaten to a pulp, and you still got robbed; but she earned your friendship. 

You’ve been there to pick her up from work when she gets off every day since then. She gets teased endlessly for it. She’s ten, and you’re only seven. All the kids she works with want to know what she’s doing with a baby like you. But those kids haven’t tasted your grandpa’s treats. And they’ve never made her laugh like you do. 

Sevika watches you work with a small smile. She wonders if you know how cute you are and play it up to sell more buns, or if it’s really just you. Bugs start crawling around in her stomach again, and Sevika tears her eyes away from you, looking up at the sky instead. 

It’s rare that she ever gets to see so much sky. Down in the Undercity, the sky is sliced into thin slivers, only visible from the right angles. Up here you can’t escape it. The sun’s starting its slow descent, and the blue sky’s turning a sweet yellow. A storm’s brewing in the west, dark clouds starting to cover the very edge of the horizon. 

In the river, the dock starts to fill up with fishermen and tug boats docking for the night. The swell of sailors and seamen quickly buy up all your buns, but you’re in no rush to leave the docks, and Sevika’s never in a rush to get home. 

So, she kicks off her shoes and socks and rolls her pants up, sitting beside you at the end of the dock, both of your feet gently kicking your feet in the river below. You’re counting your earnings on your lap, and Sevika watches with a cringe as coins start to slide off your legs and toward the water below. She reaches out and catches a few. “Thanks Sev.” You giggle, reaching for the coins and putting them in your satchel. You snap your bag closed then sigh, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Sevika freezes for a second, and then she rests her head on top of yours. 

“How’s your dad?” You ask. Sevika swallows the lump in her throat. She’s never talked about him with you… or anyone, really. But you seem to know anyway. 

“Eh. Fine.” She shrugs. You kick her ankle in the water, and a tear falls down her cheek. It's quiet as both of you allow the lie to be true for a while.

“Do you wanna run away to my house? Gramps won’ mind. Y’know he loves you.” You whisper. Sevika’s heart swells, and she wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her chest, hiding her tears from you by kissing the top of your head. You’re so young. Nothing’s hurt you yet. Sometimes, Sevika scares herself thinking of all the things she’d do to keep you safe.

“I’m alright, Honeybun. You don’ gotta worry about me.” She whispers. 

Across the bay two men chat, waist deep in the water and clinking bottles of ale together as they bait their fishing hooks. You and Sevika watch the pair for a while, one broad tall man, one skinny and short. They seem to be in a deep conversation, and occasionally their laughs will carry across the river to reach the two of you. 

“They’re not gonna catch anything. Storm’s comin’ in, the fish’re all hiding.” Sevika says. 

“You’re full'a shit.” You giggle.

“‘M tellin’ Gramps you’re cursing.” Sevika threatens. You jam your elbow into her side, and Sevika cackles. “C’mon, let’s go to Jericho’s before it starts raining.” She says once she catches her breath. 

Before either of you can rise, shouts float across the water. The fishing friends have started fighting with one another, their rods forgotten as they shout, splash and tussle. “Are they… playing?” You ask.

Sevika studies the scene. An animalistic roar floats across the bay, and the big man shoves the skinny guy's head underwater. Her stomach drops and she springs to her feet, gathering your shoes and trying to tug you away as quickly as she can. “We need to get outta here.” 

“Sev.” You whimper, pointing. Sevika’s eyes catch on what’s got you scared: a growing splotch of red staining the water where skinny arms are flailing and clawing at the hulking figure holding him down.

“C’mon, Honeybun.” She grunts, trying to pull you away from the docks. The sky opens up, the first drops of the storm starting to fall.

“S-Stop!” You squeal. Sevika lets go, worried she’s hurt you, but when you fall to your knees and start screaming across the river Sevika’s heart shatters in her chest. “You’re hurting him! Y-you’re gonna k-kill him!” Your screams are ignored, carried away by a strong gust of wind before they can reach the other side of the bay. Sevika’s tugs on your arm cease, she collapses to her knees beside you.

“Honey, let’s go home.” She begs, her voice wobbling as her hands try to guide your face away from the scene ahead of you. Your eyes keep darting between hers and the fight where the skinny man has stopped struggling completely. The surface of the river is still beside the small echoing rings of raindrops falling. 

“S-S-Sevika--” You cry as you lean forward, burying your face against her chest. A crack of lightning flashes in the sky. Sevika puts her hands under your armpits and hauls you up, keeping you tucked against her as she drags the two of you as far away from the docks as she can.

Right before she ducks around the corner, a clap of thunder booms, and a skinny arm bearing a knife breaches the water.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

[thecinnaroll]

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[ticklishraspberries]

Neck Kisses (Katniss/Peeta)

Summary: Peeta gives Katniss kisses over the years. (Week #4 of @august-anon's Tickletober prompts!! I've never written a Hunger Games fic before so let me know if y'all like it and/or want to see more!!)

The lights are blinding, and Katniss is struggling to keep that fake smile on her face. They’ve been standing, taking photos, being gawked at for what has felt like years.

Cinna has dressed her in gold. Peeta’s suit matches perfectly. He does look handsome, but she isn’t sure the color really does him any favors: The shimmer pops on her skin tone, compliments her dark hair and eyes, but Peeta’s pale and blonde and would probably suit silver more, she thinks. Not that she knows anything about fashion, nor does she care about how Peeta dresses. She only cares about how he’ll fight in the arena, and how his hand around her waist right now is really irritating. She wants nothing more than to shrug him off, to roll her eyes right at those cameras, to take all the stupid pins out of her hair.

Instead, she just stands and tries to look pretty.

Peeta’s head moves in her peripheral vision and she shoots him a confused glance, and then twitches when he presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder where the dress has left her skin exposed. No one has ever kissed her there, and goosebumps immediately spread over her skin. It doesn’t feel bad, but she still digs her elbow into his side in retaliation anyway, because he could have at least warned her that he and Haymitch were upping the affection quota.

When they’re finally free from the cameras and lights, and Katniss has shed most of her ridiculous outfit, Peeta comes and sits beside her, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry I kissed your shoulder,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “Haymitch and Effie have been trying to get me to…sell this whole love story thing. I should have asked you if that was okay first, I just had the idea in the moment and went for it.”

Katniss looks him up and down, the shyness in his body language and the genuinity in his tone, and her hard expression softens just a little. “It’s fine. Just…warn me next time.”

He nods, offering her a little smile. Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, he asks: “Did it tickle?”

“What?”

“When I kissed you. It seemed like it tickled.”

Katniss does roll her eyes now, ignoring the way her face feels suddenly warm under his scrutiny. “No, it just felt weird. And I wasn’t expecting it.”

Peeta has this stupid smile on his face that makes Katniss want to punch him. But, there are rules about tributes fighting, and she also doesn’t think she could really hurt him when he looks so innocent, so…She huffs and gets to her feet.

“So, you aren’t ticklish? I just think if we’re going to be allies, I should know your weaknesses, you know?” Peeta says, and he’s fully grinning now.

“Goodnight, Peeta,” she replies, refusing to turn back and let him see the way her lips have started to curl. Watching him try to find the light, the humor in this all, to get to know her even though it’s probable he will have to kill her…Well, those thoughts dampen her mood quite quickly.

The truth is, she is ticklish. Most of her experience with tickling has been her tickling Prim, and sometimes Gale tickling her, but she always fights him tooth and nail when he does it. He’s usually all rough hands squeezing her sides and scribbling behind her knees. What Peeta had done was different, it was gentle and made her stomach flutter…She supposes it would have felt nice, if they had been alone, and she had known he was going to do it, and could have prepared.

She falls asleep trying to ignore the little voice in her mind that wants him to do it again.

***

The sound of birds chirping outside the window is what wakes her.

Katniss blinks against the sunshine seeping into the room, and settles comfortably into Peeta’s arms that are wrapped around her waist. The morning is still, the children still sleeping instead of climbing into their bed with excited babbling as they do most mornings.

Peeta begins to stir beside her, and Katniss finds herself smiling as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” she replies softly.

Peeta’s lips press a soft kiss to the skin of her shoulder, and then continues to pepper those little kisses up to her jaw and back down again. She’s giggling in seconds, having been unprepared for such antics so early. She’s still stubborn as she was as a scrappy teenager in the Seam, and normally when Peeta tickles her, she holds her laughter in and fights back, turning the tables or running off into the grass. She doesn’t have that chance now, lovingly encased in his arms and still too sleepy to launch an escape plan.

She doesn’t even remember the first time he pressed his lips there, back before the first Games, on that stage with the blinding lights. That feels lifetimes away, has been buried under much worse memories, forgotten. They are making new memories now, better ones.

“Peeta, we’ll wake them,” she says, trying to keep her giggling to a low volume.

Peeta just grins. “They’ll be up soon anyway.”

And with that, he starts tickling her belly with ten fast fingers, and Katniss has no choice but to dissolve into laughter. It isn’t long until the children are roused by the sound, curious as to what their mama could be finding so funny.

Now, she starts her day with genuine smiles, laughter, and love.