#katniss Everdeen fanfic

[gtgbabie0]

-Katniss Everdeen x Reader

{Katniss returns home to you after a long day of hunting and you clean her up}

I need to write more for her. Enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The herbal smell of venison stew dances through the air pleasantly as the pot simmers on low heat on the stove, bubbling ever so slightly whilst you potter around the kitchen. You hum a soft tune, a song that Katniss had gently whispered against your shoulder as she soothed you from a nightmare last night.

You had to convince her three times over before she finally left to go hunting today. Katniss didn’t like leaving you alone on a good day, let alone after what happened the night before.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t seem to shake. She knew you’d be fine, tucked away in the depths of the forest. Warm and safe in the small cabin you both call home, but it still doesn’t make her worry any less.

Maybe that explains why every time she comes back home there’s a small sigh of relief that passes through her lips. Her face immediately softens at the sight of you as you walk over to her, helping her to take off her coat.

“Smells good,” Katniss smirks as you thumb her cheek, rubbing away whatever stains her skin. Her eyes flutter close ever so slightly at the feeling of your soft hands.

She kicks off her boots, not wanting to track mud into the small house. “Thank you, I used the last bit of deer.” You tell her and she nods softly with a hum of acknowledgement.

You lean forward to press a kiss against her cheek, the scent of the outside lingers in her hair and against her skin. It’s something you’ve come to love, a certain sense of comfort you’ve found within it.

Katniss sits down at the kitchen table with a soft sigh, running her fingers across the grazes on her palms with a frown. You notice this, your eyebrows pulled together in worry as your gaze flickers to her sore palms and then to her face.

The sound of a gasp that comes from you makes her look up. Her eyes find yours as your hand gently cups her face, fingers curling around her jaw.

“What happened?” The softness in your tone burns away her bad mood as you take in the sight her the scrape under her chin, red sore and slightly bleeding. See, she had tripped over a tree root that was hidden beneath the fallen, trodden leaves which blanketed the forest floor with colours of orange, yellows to browns.

But Katniss would never admit this, never. “Nothing… just you know, it’s rough out there this time of year.” She murmurs, glancing down at her palms with a slight twinge of embarrassment flashing through her face.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, the grazes on her palms and underneath her chin. It’s clear what had happened… you’d save her from the embarrassment, for now.

“Looks rough, you really banged yourself up.” You have to bite back the giggle that bubbles within your throat when she shoots you a glare. Although, she’s not really mad at you, how could she be?

Especially when you press such a sweet kiss against her jaw and the way your thumb soothes against her knuckles. “Yeah… yeah.” She mumbles with a small smirk.

You take the first aid kit from the cupboard above the sink before sitting down beside her at the kitchen table. Katniss’ eyes never leave you, watching the way your soft hands take hers. You look down at the grazes on her palms, gently wiping away the dried blood and dirt with an alcohol wipe.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, doing the same to her other palm that was a little worse. She shakes her head, her cheeks a little rosy from how gently you’re handling her.

She’s not used to it, even after all this time. It’s addictive, the sweetness of you that leaves her stomach feeling all fluttery.

“No… no it’s fine.” She promises as a small smile adorns her lips, her expression softening.

“Good. Look up for me, love.” You tilt her head upwards gently, your hand cupping the nape of her neck so you can get a better look at the scrape under her chin.

With a soft 'tut' you begin to gently clean the small cut with the last alcohol wipe before pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw, and you can’t help but smirk at the way her breath hitches ever so slightly.

Katniss looks back at you, an appreciative expression settles against her face. “Thank you.” She whispers.

“Anytime, clumsy pants.” You can’t help it and honestly, Katniss doesn’t mind, despite the huff that escapes her. The sound of your giggle makes it all better, she’d do anything to hear that sound.

“Go get washed up… dinner is almost ready.” You tell her, your lips meeting hers as you both share a loving kiss. It’s soft yet desperate as if she had waited all day just for this.

The kiss tapers off into small pecks, ones that are just as loving. “Okay, I'll be quick...” She whispers breathlessly, her cheeks dusted with a stubble pink colour as she disappears off into the bathroom.

[ilguna]

☼ sensitive (Katniss Everdeen) ☼

summary; as part of Katniss' prep team, you hoped you had more time with her.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 1.6k

prompt: 29. "If you're going to cry, I'm going to punch someone."

–

In the Capitol, there’s a tradition for the prep teams and the stylists of the same District to gather together on reaping day. You all will go to the apartment where the tributes will be staying, and prepare to get your first look at the tributes that you’ll be taking care of for the rest of the week.

The avoxes will prepare the food off of the predetermined menu and serve drinks while the rest of you will wait in the living room for it to be time. The stylists for both genders will bring the designated closets for the tributes, and stock the rooms ahead of time. 

When they’re done, there’s a lengthy discussion on theme ideas for the tribute parade and the interviews to make the tributes stand out. Typically, it’s preferred that the tributes have matching outfits to give the illusion of unity, even if they’re not allies. On the chance that it’s too obvious they can’t be matching, you’re forced to come up with two different outfits that fit their personalities but fall under one idea.

It’s an exercise to get the creative juices working. And between the two prep teams and the stylists, there’s enough ideas to fuel the next few years. They jot them down, and in the case of an emergency, they’ll be used.

This was new to you last year. 

The year before that, you were training underneath Flavius, Venia and Octavia, working as an assistant to train you to work with a better district later on. It was fully intended for you to get moved to one of the careers, because you had the abilities. District Twelve was just supposed to be a stepping stool for you to get the experience for the better job.

Only, that opportunity never came, because each spot that became available at the end of the year, were continuously filled. You weren’t the only assistant that was waiting to be a prep team member. It’s a long wait list, and an even longer one if you want to be a stylist.

You were afraid that you were going to be forced to start over completely, until Cinna came to fill the District Twelve stylist spot. As a new stylist, he had many ideas, and he purposely chose Twelve because he wanted to evolve them from just coal miners to something eye-catching.

When he saw that you were in danger of being stuck as a floating assistant between his three helping hands, he managed to appeal to President Snow to let you become a fourth member. 

Since you had been bouncing between Venia, Flavius and Octavia, you had an eye for every element that they did. It was to see where you flourished the most so that you could focus on that, but nothing ever spoke out to you. The only thing that you seemed to be able to do was spot the mistakes they often left by accident, because they would overlook those small details after working for so long. With your fresh eyes, you could go in and point out every mistake and by the end, the tribute could be flawless.

Cinna saw that, and ran with it.

Despite having a new role made for you, your friends were nothing but supportive, telling you that you’re made for a position like that. The only issue that sprouted was when Cinna informed you that you could be the blueprint for the other prep teams, if you succeed.

Hypothetically, it should’ve been relatively easy, because it’s what you had been doing anyway. Your friends saw your anxiety, so they walked you through what you should expect during the reaping, because it’s almost always the same pattern. If there’s any District to test on, it’s yours, the tributes aren’t focused on from day one.

What they had prepared you for was completely thrown out the window the second Katniss Everdeen volunteered over her younger sister. The silence in that apartment was deafening, as everyone tried to overcome their shock.

There were a lot of mixed reactions. It would be the ultimate test to see where you all were standing skillswise. With a new stylist, and a prep team that had been working their ass off to catch you up on everything they knew. Everything that you had been working for in the winter would be put to the test.

It didn’t help that it was history as well, District Twelve had never seen a volunteer in their life, which meant that the pressure was on.

The moment Peeta was drawn behind her, their fate was sealed. The Capitol finally had a pair of solid tributes from Twelve, and everything was going to be put into them to prove it.

Now that you’re sitting here, an entire year later, waiting for it to be your turn to talk to Katniss before you send her into the tribute parade with the other victors, you can’t help but to wonder if you cursed her instead.

You didn’t think you’d grow this attached to Katniss. You don’t think that the others had the same intention either, but after spending the last year and a half watching her, checking on her, ensuring that she’s set up for success—it sort of happened.

In six days, you will be forced to say goodbye and watch her go into an arena, again. This time, with twenty-two other skilled victors, in an arena that will be specially engineered to keep her on her toes every second of the day. This time, with lower odds of making it out alive.

You wish it didn’t have to be this way.

The door to the room opens, revealing a tearful Venia and Flavius. Octavia isn’t in the same state that they are, she seems to have just pulled herself together. You slide off the stool, catching the door as you go through, and shutting it tightly behind you.

“If you’re going to cry, I’m going to punch someone.” Katniss warns you.

You look up from where your eyes have fallen to the floor, finding a pointed look on her face. Just by looking at her, you can tell her whole body is tense. She must not take tears very well then. Venia and Flavius have a tendency to lay it on thick, too. It must’ve been a long morning for her.

You shake your head, go over to the table of supplies, and grab the flashlight that you’ll shine on her body to catch any stray details. “Katniss, name one time I’ve cried in front of you.”

She lets out a breath, one of relief. She slides off the metal table, holding her arms out without being asked. She knows the routine of you doing the body examination, “Never.”

“Then why are you worried?” You smile, shaking your head.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting them to cry the whole morning, so you might’ve had surprises for me.”

“If it’s any comfort, I wear my emotions on my face.”

“You and everyone else here.” She mutters.

The first time you were left alone in a room with Katniss to inspect her, you almost broke down. You were so used to someone else being in the room to help guide you through each step. The idea of the tributes having a tendency to be standoffish, meant that the pressure to succeed without looking like a moron was crushing.

The one thing that worked for you was talking to someone, it allowed you to take your mind off of what they really must be thinking. It’s hard to be mean to someone that’s making an effort to make both sides comfortable, right?

You remember the way Katniss didn’t say a single word to you the entire time, letting you talk her ear off while you went over every inch of her body to make sure that it was properly done for Cinna. And at the very end, you let her put an extra layer of the cooling cream on her body for putting up with your anxiety.

The next time you saw her, after the tribute parade, she struck up a conversation with you.

You found out that Katniss is only a few years younger than you are, and she has a lot of shared interests as you. You didn’t think that it would be possible for you to make a friend out of her, because of how intimidating she could be at times. Yet, here you are, not an ounce of tension between the two of you, and she feels comfortable enough to complain to you. 

When you’re done, you pull the silk robe off the hook and hand it to her. She pulls it on immediately, and then takes a seat back on the metal table. You take in a breath to speak, and she waits expectantly, but you can’t force any words to come out. 

What’s there to say? Your friends cried it out, all that’s left are apologies.

You try again, “You know, I was really looking forward to working with you and Peeta as mentors. It sounds selfish, but—”

“We’re friends, (Y/n).” Katniss says, “I was hoping we’d have more time, too.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment, “Maybe we will.”

Katniss gives you a knowing look, because you both know that it’s not going to happen.

[rareluvs]

Could you write a super duper fluffy Katniss x reader fic? <3

in dreams - k.e.

summary: while rebuilding twelve, katniss goes hunting, a routine that she has been slowly starting again, more so to help heal her mind. there, she meets you, and she feels something growing in her chest. as your relationship blooms, katniss looks back.

cw: fluff, sfw, gn! reader, florist! reader, katniss needing a long rest, three year relationship (one year as friends), flowers are a love language i fear, mentions of prim it's bittersweet, this was written while half awake, inspired by in dreams by sierra farrell, oneshot, gawd i hope this is fluffy enough, buttercup bittersweetly mentioned, can i get an amen for katniss being sleepy?

katniss wakes up before you do, like always, even after two years of being together. today, her mind is hazy for a few moments with the warmth that your body brings as you're cuddled together in the bed.

that is, before she remembers that today is prim's birthday, and the three year mark since she met you. while you sleep peacefully, cheeks flushed and hair covering your face in small strips, katniss allows herself to gently tuck the strands threatening to be swallowed by your parted mouth behind your ear. she can't help but smile, a soft, tired, one. how you slept was something that katniss loved, and sometimes when she has her nightmares, and you are so deep in dreams, just looking over and touching your cheeks repeatedly until you blink sleepily, or until her heart rate calms, brings her a sense of comfort she never thought possible again.

with you, you never push for her to talk about her trauma unless she starts the conversation, and she loves that about you. you are the balm that soothes her, much like the kinds her mother used to use on her patients.

katniss shifts a little to bring her lips to your forehead, and turning on her side, taking a hand and stroking up and down your arm. you always tease her for not wanting to admit she enjoys affection and admittedly, she does, but you're one of the only people that she will truly let spoil her rotten with it.

as her mind drifts, she remembers when the two of you first crossed paths.

it was in the beginning of trying to gather people to help rebuild twelve, what could be salvaged, and katniss remembers how lost she felt as she looked at a buck, arrow pointed, but shaking. it had been prim's birthday and all katniss could see where her eyes when she looked into any animal nowadays.

your voice had rang out softly, "i want to apologize to you." katniss had lowered her bow in shock, turning around. had she been so lost in her mind that she hadn't noticed your footsteps? more than likely.

katniss remembers your soft eyes, and she's sure she must have looked worn and trying not to be rude and snap at you for interrupting her thoughts. "apologize for what?" she says finally, and you take a step closer, as if approaching a wild animal. katniss couldn't fault you, really, because that is what she felt like.

"for wanting to introduce myself. i know you must be tired of meeting new people and then having to either let them go or lose them. and i want to apologize for that, and i know you have a right to be distrustful. but.."

katnis was struck dumb. she felt raw in that moment, and it wasn't a feeling she liked, but your presence drew her in. the way the morning light filtered through the trees and you looked half human, half angel, made her chest stir with something. more than surprise and anger at you being so straightforward, katniss felt seen.

"but?" she asked slowly, cautiously, eyes scanning your face.

you smile softly. "i want to be your friend, katniss."

katniss knew that she was in love with you, when she went to your family's shop after a few months of dating, a year of knowing each other, and you had come over to her, stroking her hand sweetly and guiding her somewhere, with a little glint in your eye.

"i've been waiting for these all year, katniss, and now that they're here, i wanted to show you." you had practically beamed. your voice when you're happy and containing a little giggle at the ends, she thinks, is sweeter than any song she would ever sing.

"what is it?" katniss feels her lips twitching upwards, something she found herself doing more often now that she spends her days hunting and coming home to have you spend the nights when you can, wrapped in your gentle arms. arms that katniss places kisses upon as she drifts off. arms that make her feel better on the days she is trapped in her mind. she can already feel her face turning soft pink as you show her to a flower arrangement.

primroses and buttercups.

buttercup, the fleabag, had kicked the bucket a few months after prim's death. you hear from katniss about it and while she says he was a pain to her, in the quiet of the night, when the two of you are wrapped up underneath blankets, katniss remembers telling you about him.

"i was so mad at prim for bringing him home i tried to drown him," she admits sleepily, as you hold her hand tenderly as you kiss her closed eyelids. "not only did i have another mouth to feed, but prim was so good with animals while i was forced to kill them so we could eat. i had wanted a pet before prim was old enough, and i guess i was a bit jealous." she has whispered, feeling lighter after letting the words slip out.

you hadn't judged her, you had just nodded, and kissed all over her face until she drifted back to sleep, whispering soothing words into her ears.

when katniss had heard you say that you loved her, passing by her in the hallway of her house, she had grabbed your hand and pulled you back to her, eyes sesrching yours and hugging you so tenderly you melted. "i love you too." she had whispered quietly into your hair, and you made a whispered vow to help katniss to realize you wouldn't disappear if she tells you about her feelings. not if you had any say. you would go kicking and screaming, you had told her, smiling brightly, all teeth and pink cheeks. to say she felt her heart race would be an understatement.

currently though, katniss is staring at you with her gray eyes, and she wonders if prim sent you. because to her, you are an angel, something so good could have only been given to her by prim's loving hands. your hands lovingly touch her black braid, the one you had done in the soft and early morning after soothing katniss' fear from nightmares by kissing her brow over and over, holding her to the point where she was getting hot and you had laughed when she started squirming.

"i was thinking, we could plant them, or scatter some of the petals by the lake and maybe in the woods? the wind could make the petals travel farther, and i think prim would like having her memory spread in places you'll always go back to see," you start, rambling and katniss cannot take her eyes off of the flowers. "then i was going to help you with dinner tonight, and afterwards, we can just lay together, and talk. or just cuddle in silence. how does that sound?"

katniss wants to cry, honestly.

she steps closer, and bring her lips to yours sweetly, never getting tired of the warmth that spreads through her body when you kiss back just as eagerly.

"it sounds amazing. thank you." katniss whispers, cupping your face and laying her forhead against yours. you, in turn, smile lovingly, and close your eyes. "maybe in the future, we can get a cat?" you joke playfully.

katniss opens her eyes and scowls so fast when you look at her, you burst out into laughter. "i'm messing with you, sweetheart." you giggle, kissing her softly, pecking her bottom lip over and over until the scowl is gone (she was never truly angry. she never could be, with you).

later on that night, the two of you stand by the lake, watching the last of the petals carry into the breeze, soft and warm. katniss takes your hand slowly, a tired but small smile on her features. "prim would have loved this, i wish you could have met her." she says softly, melancholic but craving your touch.

"who knows? maybe she sent me to make sure you would be okay." you reply, laying your head on her shoulder, and katniss can't help but admire your features. how could you read her mind?

"you know, i'm starting to really believe that." katniss whispers, and she places a kisses to the top of your head, soft warmth in her cheeks. "i love you." she hears herself whisper, the lake quietly rippling.

a sweet giggle. a melody, she thinks.

"i love you too, katniss."

a single primrose and buttercup petal dance in the wind, in front of her eyes, and katniss finds herself smiling.

cheeky little duck and fleabag, she thinks, and as if on cue, the two petals are softly carried away, intwertwined forever and she realizes she is at peace with that in this moment, and kisses your head again, closing her eyes to sit with the person she is healing for, getting better for.

katniss laughs quietly, as if she shares a secret with the flowers, and mutters a silent thanks to the wind.

[mscresta]

omg yaya can u plss write a fic where katniss is sick and peeta takes care of her. Make it all fluffy and warm and sweet

sickness and in health. 🥖

I’m a firm believer that petta loves drawing katniss. So I wanted too add that too this mini fic!!

This fic is kinda short so I’m sorry!! But thank you for the request <3

Tw: Sickness, shitty spelling, mention of chopping ???

Peeta was calmly chopping vegetables for the soup he was making for Katniss. He knew she hated being sick for lots of reasons. She hated feeling weak, especially when Snow was watching.

He made her a good, yet simple soup and brought it over with a smile that made even the girl on fire feel safe. She hated how easily he could make her feel that way, but it was also what she adored about him.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Katniss said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, well… I did, so eat up.” He smiled again and sat down next to her.

Katniss hesitated for a moment before taking a spoonful of the soup. It was warm, soothing, and tasted better than she expected. She glanced at Peeta, who was watching her with a soft, unwavering gaze, his hands folded neatly on the table.

“I hate being like this,” she muttered, setting the spoon down. “It feels like Snow wins every time I’m weak.”

Peeta shook his head. “You’re not weak, Katniss. Being sick doesn’t change what you’ve done or who you are. Snow doesn’t win because you have a cold.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped. There was something about the way Peeta said it—calm, steady, like he was absolutely sure of it. He always had a way of grounding her, even when her world felt like it was falling apart.

“You make it sound so simple,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“It’s not simple,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But you’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. Not for Snow, not for anyone.

Katniss didn’t respond right away. She didn’t need to. Instead, she picked up the spoon and started eating again, her thoughts swirling. The room felt a little warmer, not just from the soup but from Peeta’s presence.

After a few moments of silence, Peeta reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. “I was going to save this for later, but…” He smoothed it out and slid it across the table to her.

Katniss raised an eyebrow and took the paper, unfolding it carefully. It was a drawing—a simple sketch of her sitting by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, with a faint smile on her face. She recognized the scene immediately; it was from one of the rare quiet nights they’d shared in the Victor’s Village before everything went to hell.

“I thought you could use a reminder,” Peeta said, his voice soft. “That even in the hardest times, you’re still… you.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked at him, unsure of what to say. Instead of speaking, she reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly.

Peeta smiled again, his fingers curling around hers. “Eat your soup, Katniss,” he said gently. “You’ll need your strength for when we fight back.”

And for the first time in days, she felt a spark of hope.

[finnicks]

( fic ) all i hear is your heart

all i hear is your heart

the hunger games | finnick/katniss; mature; 16.4k

It’s been two years since the rebellion and Snow’s tyrannical reign of Panem ended. Despite having settled in District 13, Finnick and Katniss are still struggling to try and pick up the pieces. It’s an impossible task, especially when they still have ghosts to face.

[ playlist ]

[lesbianjackies]

🏹katniss everdeen masterlist🏹

key: ❤︎︎ - fluff, ☁︎︎ - angst, ★ - smut

coming soon!

[darknight3904]

It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

Series Masterlist

[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.”

[jjadmanii]

my roman empire is that literally everyone was realizing katniss was in love with peeta BUT peeta and katniss 😭

[definitelynotisabel]

wtf do people without fandoms do with their life? like actually what do you do when you don’t have something to dangerously obsess over. the last time i wasn’t a part of a fandom was in fourth grade.

[jessmalia]

― Not Easily Conquered

[ilguna]

☼ comfort (Katniss Everdeen) ☼

summary; when Greasy Sae's unable to take care of Katniss, you volunteer to step in for the day, expecting Katniss to ignore your presence.

warnings; swearing, death mention, murder mention, the usual.

wc; 3k

–

The moment you step foot into Victor’s Village, it feels like a wet blanket is thrown over your head. The weight of the air here is unbearable, and you stop walking a few steps in, trying to get used to the feeling before you even think about continuing any further.

You’re not entirely sure what you expected when you agreed to come here for Greasy Sae, but you weren’t expecting to see a barren neighborhood without a single trace of color. The grass is dead, it might as well be dirt. The concrete fountain is dry and cracked. And the houses are grey and black, if you didn’t know any better, you think you’d be walking into a funeral home.

All the times you were told about Victor’s Village, you couldn’t help but to picture a paradise, because that’s what they advertise it as. You win the Hunger Games, you get a nice neighborhood, with bright green grass and flowers lining the sidewalk in front of the houses. You’ve pictures white houses, or even the colorful ones that they show in the Capitol.

It should not look like this.

If any of the victors of Twelve are expected to make a speedy recovery, then that means they need to be in an environment that inspires that idea. A nice garden out front could act as an excuse to get out of the house, sit on the grass and read, have people over—anything.

You’re almost surprised that the volunteers that are rebuilding the district didn’t start here first, since it’s such a small project. It’d be so easy to spread seeds, plant flowers, and call someone to fix the fountain. You suppose that they’d rather focus on jobs, farms, and getting houses built and whatnot for families. If it were you that were in charge, you’d start with the reason why they’re able to work freely in the first place.

The truth is that none of you would be here if it weren’t for the sacrifices that Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch made.

You let out a breath, rolling your shoulders slightly, before continuing around the fountain, off to the right. Katniss’ house is the first one, perfectly preserved from the war.

You go up the few steps onto the porch, adjusting the handle of the basket in the elbow of your arm. You recite the vague instructions that Sae gave you before she had to leave. She told you to knock on the front door to alert Katniss that you’re coming in, but not to expect her to answer. The door should be unlocked.

You knock a few times, pausing briefly, and then reach for the handle to open the door.

Immediately, you’re hit with a smell.

You go back a step, turning your face to the open air behind you, trying to ease the pained look off of your face. It’s a mix of smells, the primary one being rotten food. You wonder if any of them bothered to help her clean what was left in here, or thought of doing it. Surely not Haymitch, because having his own struggles across the street. If Katniss has to be taken care of, then shouldn’t have either. The only person that would’ve been able to is Sae.

You shake your head, going inside of the house anyway, reminding yourself that you’ll get used to the smell as time goes on. You slip out of your boots to leave next to the door, watching as a few bits of snow fall off the bottom and land on the hardwood floor. 

You shut the front door, cutting off the breeze from chilling you any further. You take your time navigating your way to the living room, passing by a staircase and a hallway with several rooms. You catch a glimpse of the fireplace first, and find that it is lit, but the flames aren’t very high.

Katniss has herself positioned so that the back of her chair is to the corner of the room, making it impossible for anyone to sneak up on her, giving her full visibility of the room and the only entrance and exit. The fireplace is to the right, which is why she’s turned in that direction, trying to suck up all the warmth that emits from it.

When Sae was talking to you, she told you that the fire is a pain in the ass to get started, but sometimes Katniss has enough energy to do it herself before she comes to cook breakfast.

Even though the entire house is dark, curtains pulled shut to hide the winter light, Katniss manages to sense your presence. Her eyes snap up from the floor, lifting her head. In the next second, she’s on her feet.

You stop moving, “Sae couldn’t make it today, she had to make plans last minute for her granddaughter. She asked me to come instead.”

She doesn’t move from where she’s standing for a minute, eyeing you up and down, deciding if your story is real. She must figure that it’s not worth the fight, because she slowly sits back down in her chair, but doesn’t return back to her relaxed state from before.

“I’m (Y/n).” You tell her.

You know who Katniss is, for obvious reasons, but also because you both frequented the Hob. While she went to sell what she caught, you wandered around as an extra help to the busier stalls, catching thieves and making little to nothing in payment. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than the alternative.

There’s also the fact that you went to the same school that she did, as well. The two of you weren’t in the same groups, of course. She either kept around Gale or to herself. You had your own friends, the few you could make.

Katniss doesn’t respond, Sae warned you about this, so you’re not all that concerned about it. You head into the kitchen, where the smell seems to worsen the further you go inside. There’s a part of you telling you to open the fridge, despite knowing full well that the smell is coming from there.

You set the basket onto the counter carefully, pulling the top cloth off, and folding it neatly. You then reach inside for the second cloth, thinner and smaller in size. It’s slightly damp from the steam coming off of the muffins, they weren’t able to cool properly before you left. It’s all you could do last minute after Sae told you that she liked baked goods. She was never specific about what type, though. 

You could always cook her, that’s what Sae does. Only, this is the first time being inside of Katniss’ house, the first time that you’re officially meeting her, too. Sae tried to tell you to make yourself at home, but it feels impossible when you don’t know where to start. 

It was better than showing up empty handed, because you came late. 

There’s three types of muffins inside of the basket, two of each, because you couldn’t guess which one Katniss would like better. You pull one of each variety out—a chocolate chip, a blueberry, and a banana nut. You manage to go through three cabinets before you finally find where the plates are.

When you go back to the living room, Katniss seems to have managed to get some of the tension out of her body. You watch her eyebrows twitch together slightly. You can’t imagine she’s thrilled with you being here instead of Sae. Sae’s familiar, she traded with her in the Hob all the time, and she’s the one that’s been taking care of Katniss.

“I made muffins.” You tell her, as if it’s not obvious. You set the plate on the coffee table, and then take a seat across from her on the couch. The heat from the fire begins to eat away at the goosebumps on your arms. “There’s two of each, I’m not sure which you’d like more.”

She doesn’t move, you lean back against the cushions, looking around the room, finding a thick layer of dust at the corner table. You press your lips together, because it’s similar to the state outside. It’s cold and depressing in here. You can’t imagine there’s much healing going on. 

Katniss reaches forward, taking the chocolate chip muffin. You make an effort to try not to watch her eat, because that has a tendency to put people off. You play with your fingers, wondering exactly how long it would take for you to clean this place from top to bottom, if it’d even make her feel better.

Of course, you’re not stupid enough to believe that it would magically clear her of all the feelings she has about her life. She’s been through a lot in the past three years, volunteering for the Hunger Games twice, killing people, losing Peeta, being the face of the rebellion, getting Peeta back, only to find out that he’s not really hers anymore. She lost several more of her friends, her sister, and her mom won’t come back here, either.

Sae tells you that Katniss hasn’t showered since she got here, that’s why she tries not to sit too close. There’s letters that you noticed, piled up on the dining room table. And Sae tells you that Katniss lets the Head Doctor call her the same time every week, trying to get a progress update on her, but she never answers the phone.

Cleaning her house wouldn’t fix any of her problems, or come close to doing it. You remember what it was like, though, being in that position. When you sat at home for two weeks, unable to pull yourself out of bed after your mom died, leaving you to take care of everything.

A small gesture can go a long way.

Katniss eats all three muffins, leaving the wrappers on the plate to make it easy to clean up.

“Are you still hungry?” You ask, watching her shake her head.

You take the plate, heading to the kitchen to throw the paper away. The sink is empty of dishes when you get to it. Sae told you everything should be caught up for the most part. All you’d have to do is come in and cook, and come back at dinner to do it all again. 

After setting the plate into the sink, already deciding that you’ll do it later, with the rest of the dishes you’ll end up with, you head back to the basket. You drop the cover cloth back inside, spreading it over the tops of the muffins. You press your lips together, this is the part where you’re supposed to leave.

You have to try, at the very least. You head over to the living room, Katniss doesn’t look up from where she stares, hands in her lap.

“Katniss?” You call, her eyes flicker to you in the doorway. “I know Sae normally leaves, but I wouldn’t mind sticking around. We could go for a walk, draw a bath, bake?”

She stares at you wordlessly, shaking her head.

“A book, game, puzzle?”

There’s no answer, she turns her body away from you, ending the conversation with that one move. You watch her for a few seconds, not entirely surprised by her behavior. This is exactly what you were expecting to receive, anyway. 

Unfortunately for her, you’ve still got more questions to ask.

“That’s fine. I do need to know what you’d like to have for dinner, though. I don’t want to cook you something that you don’t like.” You say, no response. “Anything you could possibly want, Katniss. From here, from the Capitol, maybe something from another district you tried on the tour?”

Silence.

You suck in a breath, thinking, “How about lamb stew?” You ask, gauging her reaction. It works, her eyes find your face again. “And I think I remember Haymitch mentioning cheese buns.”

Katniss narrows her eyes, face twisted. You can’t tell if this is a good expression or not. If she’s mad that you’ve somehow managed to figure out what her favorite meal is, or the fact that the cheese buns that you’re referring to are Peeta’s specialty.

“You can’t.” She finally says.

“Can’t what?” You challenge.

“Replicate either of those.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, “You’ve never been to the Capitol, and I doubt you’ve ever had the chance to buy one of Peeta’s cheese buns. It won’t turn out right. Why bother?”

You let out a laugh, “Is that right?”

She shrugs, “Am I wrong?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?” You ask.

—

Honestly, there was a second while you were in the middle of making the stew where you had yourself convinced that you weren’t going to make it. You have the handwritten recipe for it, with all the instructions on how to cook on the back, but the further you got, the more complicated it would get.

You knew that the Capitol was outrageous with their ingredients. You just weren’t expecting for them to throw a little bit of everything they could possibly think of into the recipe. They had to have done it to make sure that the taste would be impossible to bring back into the districts by the victors. It truly is an evil thing to do.

And you admire them for it. 

It’s a good thing that you’ve never gotten a recipe wrong in your life, and now that the sanctions are gone between the districts and the Capitol, it means that all ingredients are fair game. It wasn’t easy by any means to track down the lamb and the specially dried plums, but you have your ways for a reason, and your own pantry full of brand new foods you’ve been dying to try.

You carefully ladle the stew into a bowl you brought from home. You think Ksatniss’ dishes are nice, they don’t have that same polished look. As for you, if there’s one habit that your parents successfully instilled on you, it’s a nice appearance for dinner, even if there’s nothing on the place. 

You slide a spoon into the bowl, before grabbing the plate that has Peeta’s cheese bun on it. You’re going to admit it now, you think you would’ve done his recipe better if you had more practice. He’s been a baker his whole life, he’s got an advantage on you there.

“Okay, Katniss.” You say, coming out of the kitchen, carrying her portion of the food. 

She seems more awake now than she did this morning, she’s been open to conversation, too. It’s something to report back to Sae, even if it’s not a lot.

“It smells good.” She murmurs, adjusting in her chair.

“Everything smells good when you’re hungry.” You set it down on the table. “You can’t say anything about the presentation, because I’ve never seen how they serve their stew.”

A smile hints at the corner of her lips, “Anything else?”

“You have to tell the truth.”

You go back into the kitchen, grabbing your bowl and plate, meeting her back in the living room. You find her picking apart the cheese bun first, placing a piece of it in her mouth.

“Sae tells me that she doesn’t cook you lunch, is that your preference, or is it because you wake up late?” You ask.

Katniss raises a shoulder before dropping it. “She doesn’t want to spend her entire day here, she’s got her granddaughter to watch.”

“That’s right.” You take a bite out of the cheese bun. You managed to get the softness of it down perfectly. Katniss wouldn’t tell you the other qualities of what Peeta’s is like, besides the look of it.

It may or may not have led to you cheating a little bit. You went and asked Haymitch what it’s like, but you might as well not have because he was drinking when you walked in the house. You thought Katniss’ house is bad—it’s a fucking nightmare in there. Your persistence won over, he told you that the cheese melts on top and it’s usually a little greasy.

“I didn’t see you in District Thirteen.” Katniss says, lifting the bowl to rest on her lap. “Were you with Greasy Sae in the kitchen?”

“Um, part of the time, yeah.” You move the hair out of your face. “They kept me in the hospital for a couple weeks because of the burns from the fire. When they finally cleared me, Sae vouched and they brought me to work with her.”

“Did you like it there?”

You let out a noise, “Did you? I mean, it was nice for a while, because of the meals and stuff, but not being able to go outside drove me up the wall. For a second, I thought we were going to be stuck down there forever.”

Katniss tilts her head, “That’s why I got out.”

She brings the spoon to her mouth, you watch as her face twists, and then she smiles. Her eyes meet yours, you know immediately that you’ve replicated the dish. That’s all you need to know.

“How do you do it?” She asks, taking another spoonful.

“I’m just that good.” You laugh, “And what about the cheese bun?”

She makes a face, “Close. It’s good, though.”

“I tried.” You pick off more bread, “Would you care if I came at lunch everyday to cook for you?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“I could probably think of a few things, but I would love to use you as a taster for the Capitol cookbook I got last month.” You sit back. “Only if you want me to, I don’t want to overstep.”

She smiles briefly, “I don’t mind, (Y/n).”

[rareluvs]

katniss everdeen

『✎ 』

✪ (smut), ✾ (fluff), (angst) ⚘

blurbs (coming soon)

one shots (coming soon) - katniss being a simp ✾

fics (coming soon)

[homosherb]

[felixravinstills]

I love the narrative as a prison. I love when things escape the narrative.

I love Katniss withholding the names of her children at the end of the Hunger Games!

I love the ambiguity of Lucy Gray's fate!

They, for the most part, escaped the narrative! Lucy Gray had to perform in the Capitol! Katniss had to perform in the Capitol and for the rebels! Their lives were forced into narratives! And then, the story ends, and they are free! The rest of their lives (whether short or long) are theirs!

[lovebeinaprincessworld]

Tragic Love (Cato Hadley x reader)

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Description: You made it out of the arena, but the Games are never really over.

Warnings: oral (fem receiving), p in v, no protection, talk of death, slight overstimulation, fingering

7791 words

Everything after you had thrown the berries to the ground was a blur. You remembered Peeta collapsing as soon as you entered the hovercraft, being rushed into surgery and a screaming Katniss being taken away. And what you vividly remembered was Cato having to be sedated so that they could separate the two of you. It hurt your heart to see him fighting to stay with you and you were in shock, seeing him being taken away.

You had seemingly been sedated too, because the next time you awoke was in a white room with no windows, dressed in just a nightgown and no idea how much time had passed. You felt weirdly smooth, all scars and scratches and dirt from the arena gone, your hair neatly cleaned and brushed and even your fingernails were clean and shaped perfectly.

Only your memories reminded you of the horrors now. And you truly wished Cato was with you, holding you close. But you had no idea where he was, and there was no way you could get to him if they didn’t want you to.

An Avox boy brought you a bit of soup, and you must’ve at least been out a few days considering that filled you more than enough - your stomach shrunken from lack of use. When the door opened again and the boy picked up the tray, you could suddenly hear loud commotion from the hallway.

You couldn’t make out what the voices were shouting, but you just knew it was Cato. „What’s going on there?“, your voice was a bit scratchy, and the boy looked at you with wide eyes, scurrying out of the room quickly. With furrowed brows you looked at where the door previously was and willed yourself to stand.

You were surprisingly steady on your feet, padding across the room barefoot and moved your arms around infront of the wall in hopes the door would open again. After a few minutes of trying you gave up, when suddenly the door did open and two exasperated mentors stood in front of you. Cecilia and Enorbia looked exhausted and you just stared back wide eyed.

Cecilia did crack a smile after all, even going as far as pulling you into a hug. „Congratulations honey, you did it“, she whispered and you couldn’t help but hug her back when it sank in that you would actually be going home. Your brain didn’t yet register that the games were over, the Captiol building feeling just as dangerous as the arena to you.

„Where is Cato? Is he okay?“, you turned your worried gaze to Enorbia when Cecilia let you go and she gave you a little smirk. „Yeah he’s just fine, a bit too fine if you ask me“, she rolled her eyes and you were confused. Too fine?

„What she means is that he won’t calm down“, Cecilia explained and you were worried again, „everytime they take him off the sedatives he flips out and won’t let anyone near him, demanding to see you right away.“

„Which is messing with our plan to have you reunite when the Victors are presented, but we decided to keep him from long lasting bodily harm - not sure how long Brutus can hold back anymore - we’ll take you to him“, if even his mentors seem unnerved he really had to be going crazy over there. But you could understand him, if you would’ve been the type to outwardly show and demand what you wanted you would probably act the same. Instead you had locked your desire to see if he was fine away - your were incredibly relieved you could see him now.

„Come on“, the women motioned for you to follow them and follow them you did. You didn’t have to go far, just down the corridor and then the door with loud voices behind it opened in front of you and a stone you didn’t know was there fell from you heart when you saw Cato standing in the middle of the room aggressively arguing with Brutus and Woof - who seemed to try to mediate between them.

Brutus noticed you first. „Thank god, now you can finally calm down, there she is, you lunatic“, Brutus crossed his arms and stepped back, Catos eyes immediately finding you and the breath was knocked out of you when they met yours.

You only managed to take a step towards him when he was already in front of you, pulling you into his arms immediately. You closed your eyes against the onslaught of emotions almost overpowering you, but here in his arms everything felt bearable, like nothing evil in the world could reach you. „Thank god you’re okay“, he murmured into your hair, his big hands holding your head to his chest securely and your hands gripped his shirt tightly. He was wearing the same color clothes as you, just a shirt and pants.

„Are you okay?“, you asked not pulling away yet and your voice stifled by his chest, but he still managed to hear you. „Yeah, now I am“, he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head, and you could hear the other people in the room moving towards the door. „We’re going to give you a moment“, Cecilia said, ushering a still angry Brutus out of the room, the others following.

„You better be acting like hell when you’re 'reunited' boy!“, Brutus called just before the door closed and it was quiet in the room except for Catos heartbeat thundering under you ear. Cato relaxed a little now that you were alone, moving you two backwards until he was leaning against the bed, with you standing in between his legs.

„Heard you caused quite the ruckus?“, you smiled, your hands finding purchase on his chest and his on your waist. „Couldn’t help it, I had to see you“, he grinned and then as if he knew you were waiting for it, he leaned down, softly pressing his lips to your own, the familiar prickling in your stomach, the tingling on our skin making you sigh and lean into the kiss even more.

„I can’t believe we made it out“, he sighed between kisses, one hand moving to your face and pulling you into a more passionate kiss, your hand slipping to his biceps and taking note of how his muscles only seemed to have grown in the arena. „Yeah“, was the only thing you could say, pushing any and every thought of what this would mean for the future away - especially the one that you would both be living in different Districts.

————————

When you looked in the mirror while your prep team was hustling around you, you saw how much you had changed. It had only been a few weeks since you left home, and you looked significantly more mature, a bit skinnier too and while your eyes still had that kind look, they simultaneously reflected the horrors they had seen.

The interview with Caeser Flickerman and the big reunion were about to happen, and your brain was going haywire with thoughts about what would happen after. You still had your interview tomorrow, but after that you would get on the train home - Cato getting of in District 2 and you in District 8. You wouldn’t see him until the Victory Tour and after that you’d only see him once a year as long as you two were mentors.

It felt like a nightmare, you were able to make it out together and now you were going to live separate lives far away from eachother. You doubted the Capitol would make an exception for one of you to move Districts, and even if the would that would mean one of you had to leave behind their family, which was at least just as devastating as not seeing eachother.

„Come on, we have to go honey“, Aspasia seemed to understand your gloomy mood more than your team, but still firmly urged you towards Cecilia and Wuff. „Thank you“, you squeezed her shoulder lightly and followed your mentors to your platform under the stage.

You could already hear the audience going wild, impatient to finally see the four winners of these years hunger games. It was still crazy to you that the gamemakers let all of you live, but you were immensely grateful nevertheless. „Come here, give me a hug darling“, Woof grinned uncharacteristically and you stepped into his arms with a sense of doom.

He buried his mouth close to your ear in your hair, seemingly not wanting anyone to see what he was about to say and your heartbeat surged without him even starting. Something was wrong. „You’re in trouble (Y/N). The Capitol is furious having been shown up like that in the arena, they’re the joke of Panem“, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear and you did your best to freeze your smile in place and not to let anything show.

He let you go and gently urged you into Cecilia’s arms. „You need to convince them you were so desperately in love you didn’t know what you were doing. Your love story is definitely more believable than Katniss and Peetas but you still need to watch it“, she whispered, hugging you tightly before ushering you onto the platform that would take you up to the stage with a pounding heart.

You knew what she meant with more believable - you and Cato were from different districts, and Cato didn’t profit from you relationship at all, so people wouldn’t think you pretended to be in love to have advantages with sponsors or anything. But you were still deathly afraid at the thought of the Captiol being angry with you, knowing what gruesome retaliation they committed in the past.

The four of you were probably in much more trouble than you could comprehend, but the platform was moving after everyone from the teams were introduced and then you had to smile convincingly. As soon as you could be seen, the light blinding you for a moment, the crowd went wild, screaming all of your names, whistling, clapping, cheering.

You were entranced by the sight for a moment, before suddenly being swept into two strong and familiar arms, giggling between the kisses Cato pressed to your lips and holding onto him tightly. Cecilia was right, you didn’t even have to act. His big hand was cradling your face gently, while the other was holding you close by the waist, not planning to let go anytime soon.

The crowd was going crazy, and you could only imagine Katniss and Peeta looking similar to you. Caesar tried to interrupt Cato after a few minutes, but considering he was much taller and stronger, Cato just ignored him and didn’t even budge in favor of keeping on kissing you. You didn’t complain. Finally Cecilia did manage to get you to get him to move over to the couches Katniss and Peeta were already waiting on for you, cuddled together and wearing grins that seemed just a bit over the top.

The two of you sit together, Cato pulling you close, one arm securely around your waist and the other laying on top of your lap, gripping your thigh firmly with a smirk, making the crowd whoop. You blushed, while Caesar started with a few jokes and then you watched the summary of the games.

It was hard to keep a positive face while watching all those horrible moments again, basically reliving them and you were glad you had Cato next to you. Seeing your own reaping was weird, and it was terrible to watch every single death again, especially the ones from the tracker jacket nest that Katniss dropped on the careers shortly after you left - and damn were you glad that you did, and that Cato followed you.

Rue’s death was especially tragic, you didn’t even know that her and Katniss were allies but you liked the girl from district twelve even more for that. Watching the scenes of you and Cato kissing was kind of uncomfortable, but the audience loved it so you just smiled shyly. It became clear to you more and more the further you got into the summary why Peeta and Katniss did have to prove themselves more than Cato and you, your own love story just appearing more natural. But you could definitely see that there was something between them, Peeta at least was seriously in love.

After the moment with the berries, and the end of the Games, the anthem played again and you stood when Presdient Snow himself took the stage. The crowd went wild again, and then you could hear the confusion when they saw there was only one crown. But then he gave it a twist, and it separated into four individual slender crowns, and the crowd uhhed and ahhed excitedly.

He started with Cato, reaching up to place the crown on the tall careers head, before stepping infront of you with a smile that gave you goosebumps. He placed the crown on your head, his eyes snakelike, but when he placed the crown on Katniss head who was standing next to you, you could see a shift, and you knew even if all of you were willing to eat the berries, she was the one he blamed, she was the one he saw as the instigator.

————————

The Victory Banquet was as uncomfortable as one would imagine, shaking hands with sponsors and talking to everyone for hours, but at least Catos angry stare kept men from trying to dance with you, so you only danced with him a few times (which was a nice break from the turmoil around you). Katniss wasn’t so lucky, and you could see her cringe in the arms of a stranger a few times.

What was at least something positive, was that Cato and you were staying on the same floor, you had moved into the female tributes room on the floor from District 2, which was a weird feeling considering the last person wo slept here was Clove.

You would have your private interview with Caeser tomorrow at 12, Katniss and Peetas turn was after you at 2pm, and so Brutus had sent you both to bed immediately after dinner, not giving you alone time with Cato whatsoever. He still seemed a bit pissed at how Cato acted when you got out of the arena.

Now you were laying in bed wearing some comfortable pyjamas and the only thing you wanted was Cato. You couldn’t sleep, your thoughts running way to fast with everything that happened and all the things that could happen, and you were contemplating sneaking over to Catos room.

Everyone else should be in bed by now, you hadn’t heard any movement from the other side of the door the last hour, so after contemplating for another 30 minutes you finally got up and carefully slipped out of your room. Sneaking through the hallway you prayed that you wouldn’t encounter Enorbia or Brutus (you were pretty sure Cecilia and Woof wouldn’t make you go back to bed) and when you turned the corner and almost made it, you ran into somebody.

You would’ve screamed in shock if a big hand hadn’t muffled the sound - thank god because you really didn’t wanna wake anybody. „It’s just me“, a familiar voice whispered and Cato slowly took his hand of your mouth. „You scared me half to death!“, you hissed, but he only chuckled quietly and pulled you into his arms without much resistance from your side.

„Were you coming to see me?“, he smirked and you couldn’t help but blush eventhough he was obviously on his way to you too. „Couldn’t sleep“, you mumbled, and he pressed a kiss to your head. „Seems we had the same idea then“, he whispered, „come on.“

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you towards his room bridal style, closing the door behind him quietly and moved the both of you under the covers, before wrapping you in his embrace securely.

„What are we gonna do Cato?“, you finally broke the tense silence between you, knowing you had to talk about it. You pulled back a bit and saw how he only closed his eyes in agony instead of answering. „We won’t be seeing eachother for months, and after the Tour…“, you let the sentence hang in the air, not being able to say out loud how you would only see eachother once a year without choking up.

„Brutus says they want to play our lovestory from the tragic side“, Cato finally broke his silence, „he says…he says well never be able to be together.“ It was what you had anticipated, but hearing it out loud, made it real - and the pain that came with that was almost as intense as when you thought Cato would die. Because once one of you wouldn’t be a mentor anymore, you would probably never see eachother again.

Before the two of you could sink any deeper into your despair, Cato pressed his lips to yours in desperation. „Let’s just forget about that tonight“, he panted between kisses, his hands gently gliding underneath your night shirt, „please.“ The agony in his voice could’ve made you cry if it weren’t for the heat pooling in your lower body, when he took your shirt off.

Maybe it was best to be as close as possible tonight, try to savor it, try to savor him. You quickly got rid of his shirt, your hands roaming over his muscles. They moved beneath his skin when he pulled down your Pyjama pants, throwing them somewhere and leaving you only in your panties.

Breathlessly he pulled back, his eyes taking in every part of your body, seemingly trying to burn every detail into his memory. Cato wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget him, because he sure as hell would never forget you. Even the thought of you moving on with some boy from you district made him see red, pushing you onto your back and kissing you in a way that feels like he’s trying to show your body on an instinctual level who you belong to.

He needed to make you cum, needed to feel your body comply with his actions, needed to know that you would always be his. His lips skipped your breasts, his body moving straight towards where you needed him most. In his desperation he tore your panties straight off of you, making you yelp in shock, before it turned into a moan when he dove straight in without giving you room to breathe.

His tongue spread your folds with a groan, his lips wrapping around your clit immediately and your back was arching with the intense pleasure that flooded through you. „Cato“, you whimpered, trying not be too loud and your hands found purchase in his hair while he mercilessly stimulated your clit with his tongue.

It didn’t take long for you to approach your high, the familiar feeling in your belly rising. You were about to give him a warning, when suddenly his teeth grazed your clit and you were thrown over the edge with such an intensity that your thighs clamped around Catos head while you were grinding your pussy into his greedy mouth.

„Good girl“, he growled when you came down from your orgasm, but he didn’t let you catch your breath. He was a bit more gentle, but he still flattened his tongue against your overstimulated clit, slowly moving and holding you in place so you couldn’t twitch away.

„Cato“, you whined, pussy clenching around nothing and you weren’t sure if you wanted to move towards the pleasure or away from the tongue moving against your swollen and sensitive folds, „it’s too much.“

„Shh baby, give me one more, I know you can“, he hummed against your pussy, the feeling spreading through your body liked fire, even your fingertips tingling with the sensation. You only registered his fingers when they were knuckle deep inside of you, curling into your sweet sport and stretching you out.

You didn’t know up and down any more, god this was so much more intense and overwhelming than your first time, and you could only guess how much Cato held back then. Not that you were complaining that he wasn’t holding back now.

His fingers were relentlessly moving in and out, your cunt clenching tightly around him as if you couldn’t wait for him to replace his fingers with his cock. But he needed to feel you cum for him a second time before taking you fully.

You were already so riled up that it didn’t take very long, he expertly stroked the spongey spot inside of you while his tongue lapped at your clit. You were whimpering, trying to keep your moans quiet and when you finally snapped and came hard around his fingers, you had to clutch your hand infront of your mouth to suppress the sounds escaping you.

After helping you ride out your second orgasm Cato finally pulls away from you for a moment to shed his pants, his rock hard member already leaking precum. You were still panting when he laid down on top of you, his cock sliding through your messy and wet pussy, coating him enough to easily slip inside of you.

„You ready?“, he asked, lightly nipping at your neck and you were momentarily stunned by how much in love you were with him. „Yeah“, you stared up at him lovingly when he pushed himself onto his forearms above you, „I love you.“

Catos heart stumbled when he heard you, no matter how many times you’d say it, it would always make him feel like the first time you did. He kissed you gently, sliding into you steadily and your breath hitched. „I love you“, he mumbled against your lips, starting to move right away, not being able to hold back - fortunately you were so wet you didn’t really need time to adjust.

His hips found their rhythm, pounding into you hard but oh so good. You tried to soak it all in, the way the head of his cock relentlessly brushed against that one spot inside of you, the way the stretch burned so good, and the way his hand snuck down between you and started circling your clit so perfectly you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts anymore.

Cato could tell the both of you wouldn’t last very long, emotions were running too high and he could feel you clenching around him tightly as if to pull him in even further. He littered your pretty face with kisses, one hand grabbing your thigh and pulling your leg higher up around him, the changed angle making you moan so loudly he had to quiet you with a kiss.

And then suddenly you came, gripping him so hard he followed you right off the edge, pushing into you as far as possible and spilling his load deep into your still fluttering pussy, making a satisfied hum leave your lips.

He buried his head in your neck, almost being overwhelmed by his emotions. This felt just like the night on the rooftop, the possibility of barely seeing eachother again looming over the two of you. But here in the dark, in eachothers arms, you were able to push it aside in favor of holding onto the other and reveling in the feeling.

——————————

The private interview with Caeser without an audience went as good as it could’ve, but that also meant that you were back on the train and in less than an hour Cato would be the first to get off in District 2. You were currently sitting in the back of the train, in something resembling a sunroom, big windows lining the couches that were put in there.

You were lying in Catos arms, both of you dreading the moment Enorbia or Brutus would come to tell you it was time. You had managed not to cry just yet, but after many gentle kisses and caresses the door did slide open and it was Brutus who delivered the bad news. Cato had to go.

He even looked a bit emphatic, and now that you were following him through the train towards the door where Cato would get off, you couldn’t help your tears anymore. Cato was walking in front of you, holding your hand tightly so he couldn’t see the tears silently running down your face and you tried to calm down before reaching the door and wipe them away.

You didn’t succeed. When you stopped and Brutus gave you a moment while going to collect Enorbia and Catos team, he turned around and his face fell wenn he saw your tears. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again and just pulled you into his arms. Then you really couldn’t stop the tears anymore.

„Its gonna be okay love“, he whispered, and you could hear people starting to pour into this part of the train, his prep team, mentors and so on, but they were giving you two space. You didn’t say anything, your throat closing up anytime you were even thinking about letting him go, so you just held on tighter when you felt the train pull into the station.

„Cato we need to go“, Enorbia said next to you, and you could hear the train door whoosh open, probably giving the cameras outside the perfect view of the tragic couple. You could hear the crowd cheering for their victor and forced yourself to release Cato.

„I love you“, he said one last time, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears away. „I love you“, you chocked out, and then he kissed you for the last time in months, before stepping outside to be greeted by his district and leaving you behind.

—————————

The past months had been agonizing, and it was terrible to think that this was your life now, seeing Cato once a year if at all. It was great to see your parents and your younger brother again, and your were so happy that now that you were a Victor you could provide a better life for them. Your district welcomed you back proudly, but you could definitely feel the underlying tension, the unhappy grumbling people did more openly, criticizing the Capitol.

Your last months had been filled with lots of time spend with your family, who didn’t have to work anymore now that you’ve won the Games, but also lots of time to think and overthink. You and Cato hadn’t had any chance to contact eachother, as contact between districts was strictly forbidden and sanctioned if caught.

But it was almost time for the Victor Tour, and while you didn’t look forward to the Tour itself, you could barely wait to see Cato again. You were incredibly excited to see him again, but also a bit nervous. Since you hadn’t had any chance to talk to eachother, you didn’t know what had happened back in his district. Maybe he thought the long separation wasn’t worth it or maybe he met someone else. Not that you honestly believed that, your brain was - as usual - playing the worst case scenarios.

Your prep team would arrive today, fixing you up and filming your talent for the audience. Your talent was obviously going to be embroidery, it was what you could do best and it also represented you district.

You heard them before you saw them, the bell ringing and your mother welcoming them, your father and little brother had left to go to the market and avoid the Capitol crowd for now - the both of them didn’t like the hustle they brought with them. Your mother didn’t either, but she knew you needed someone there.

„We missed you so much!“, Jaethe basically squeaked, the small man with orange hair embraced you warmly, followed by Loidy and Agatha, completing your prep team. „Aspasia wants us to get you back to a blank canvas, she’s downstairs and left you to our capable hands“, Loidy grinned, already unpacking all the ointments, creams and tools the brought with them. You shivered when they mentioned a blank canvas, that meant every hair on your body was going to get waxed. Ouch. „We have so much to catch up on!“, Agatha added. Double ouch.

—————————

You loved our prep team and Aspasia, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t glad to finally be on the way to the train. You were, of course, sad to say goodbye to your family again, but atleast this time you weren’t in danger of dying. Also there were only a few minutes separating you and Cato, making your heart pound so hard you could feel it.

The Tour would start in District 11, going towards the Capitol and leaving out the Districts of the Victors, which you would seperately visit afterwards. It was much more complicated this year, as the four of you came from different districts.

This would also mean, that Cato was the first one that had been picked up, you had watched his farewell in his district on the tv, the smile not being able to be wiped from your face again. And now it was your turn to be picked up, the train rolling into the station. Somewhere in that massive metal construction, Cato was waiting for you. At least you hoped he was - hoped he was still as in love with you as you were with him.

When the door opened with a hiss, Cecilia ushered you forward and as soon as you took the first step into the wagon, a big hand pulled you in all the way, strong arms tugging you into a familiar broad chest. You knew the cameras were most likely rolling, but you didn’t care, you were just so relieved that Cato seemed to have missed you just as much.

Without saying much, he pulled you away from the others immediately, away from the prep teams, mentors and cameras, towards the end of the train and the sitting area you had to say goodbye in last time. The door closed behind you and you had some privacy, and you were about to say something when he interrupted you with a desperate kiss.

You gasped in surprise, your hands shaking slightly from all the overwhelming emotions, but simultaneously holding onto his shirt tightly. One hand was grasping your waist firmly, while the other was holding your face gently and he was changing pace, his lips moving softer and slower now.

When you finally pulled back panting, you weren’t sure how you ever made it without him for so long, without that deep feeling of belonging and safety, and of course his kisses. „I missed you so much“, Cato rasped, his thumbs trailing your jaw, your eyes meeting his and your lips pulling into a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

„Missed you too“, you whispered, letting yourself be pulled down onto the couch and into his arms again, just enjoying what little time you had together for now. „I don’t know how we’re supposed to live like this“, he sighed, his forehead resting against yours, and instead of answering, you just kissed him again

——————————

You had greeted Katniss and Peeta with a hug when they entered the train, showing a united front to the cameras outside, but also because you really liked them and actually did consider them friends. You were in this together. And now you were sitting through Effie’s summary of the upcoming tour together.

„Yes and of course after we’re done in District 1, you’ll have the great honor to attend and enjoy the party at the presidents mansion thrown just for you! You will be staying in the training center of course, but that’s exciting too isn’t it?“, she was ranting on and on, asking questions without really wanting an answer and eventhough she really romanticized all of this, you couldn’t even be really mad at her, she was just too naive.

„Okay Effie I think they got it, why don’t we send them off to bed they have and early morning tomorrow“, Haymitch finally interrupted her and send you victors a small wink. „Yes, yes you’re quite right, you should get some sleep, go on!“, she ushered you out of the dining room like a ruffled chicken, and the lot of you couldn’t keep in the small chuckles and giggles that left you, on the way to your respective bedrooms.

Peeta and Katniss went into their rooms separately, while you and Cato had to walk down the hallway a bit further into another wagon to your rooms. Instead of going into his though, Cato followed you into yours naturally, sending you a smirk when the door closed behind the two of you.

„I really did miss you“, he hummed, taking steps towards you until he stopped right in front of you. „I missed you too, so much“, you whispered, holding your breath in anticipation when his fingers grasped the bottom of your dress, pulling it upwards slowly. „Gonna show you how much“, he grumbled, pulling your dress over your head and laying you down on the bed. You really missed him, and you definitely missed this too.

——————————

When you were stepping out onto the stage in District 11, the first district of your tour, you could immediately feel the tense atmosphere. Peeta had volunteered to give the speech, and you were glad, because even if you hadn’t known Rue very well, she was the death that hurt the most. You could see how hard Katniss was trying to rule in her emotions at the devastating picture Rues family painted.

„Thank you. We’re honored to be here with you today“, Peeta started reading the speech Effie hat written for him, and your eyes wandered over the disgruntled faces in the crowd, the high number of peace keepers all around, and you wondered what happened here. „And to be with the families of your fallen tributes“, he continued, but stopped for a moment letting his gaze roam over the crowds too. And then he put away the paper with Effie’s speech, and Cato held your hand a bit tighter.

„Though they fought and lived with honor and dignity until the end, both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren’t just measured in years, they’re measured in the lives of people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss, for all of us, we know that without Rue and without Tresh we wouldn’t be standing here today“, Peeta spoke from his heart, and you could see the people of 11 appreciated that.

„So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we’d like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the Tributes every year, for the rest of our lives“, the people applauded his generosity, and you thought it was a really sweet gesture. But it also was something that’s never been done before, and you had a bad feeling about what the Capitol might think about it, and what might become of this.

„Thank you“, Peeta said, and you were turning to go back inside, when Katniss suddenly spoke up. „I just wanted to say that, I didn’t know Thresh. I only spoke to him once. He could have killed me, but instead he showed me mercy - he showed us mercy“, she found your gaze, reminding you of the way he sacrificed himself at the end of the games and let you go, a wistful smile on your lips. „That’s a debt we’ll never be able to repay.“

„I did know Rue. She wasn’t just my ally, she was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in a Mockingjay song. I see her in my sister Prim. She was too young, too gentle. And I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry“, a few lone tears were rolling down Katniss cheeks, matching your own, while you held onto Cato tighter.

Suddenly an old man in the crowd whistled the melody you recognized as Katniss and Rues signal from the games, raising three fingers to his mouth and then into the air. Then the whole crowd followed his example. And while you were being pushed from the stage, watching in horror as the old man was dragged onto stage, the people in the crowd screaming and being beaten, you knew your bad feeling was right. Just as the door was about to be shut, you could feel yourself scream when you saw the old man being executed.

———————

Haymitch had ushered you through the Justice Building through corridors and up several stairs, until you were finally in some dingy attic, where you were sure nobody could overhear you. And he looked pissed. Your mentors stayed behind to distract people and deal with the fallout. „You four had a really simple task“, he joked humorlessly, and you knew something bigger than what you knew was going on.

„I never meant for anyone to get killed! He has to know that“, Katniss was in tears and you were trying to hold it together, only managing so with Cato silently being your rock and holding you securely. „What are you talking about?“, you asked, and Haymitch seemed to be just as confused adding, „Who has to know what?“

„Snow. He came to see me.“, and that was the moment you all knew you were in bigger trouble than you thought, „He’s worried about rebellion in the districts.“ Now the scene downstairs made a bit more sense. „He thinks that they didn’t believe our love story. Mine and Peetas that is, because I had the idea with the berries.“

„So he wants you to make them believe it?“, Haymitch inquired, pacing back and forth. „To calm things down“, Katniss was breathless. „You know Katniss, you shoulda told me that before I went out there, and tried to give these people the money!“, Peeta was angry too, and you could feel Cato getting angry behind you. „I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do! He threatened to kill my family!“, Katniss was desperate, but you also had to admit she was thinking of herself in that moment.

„We have families too, Everdeen! People we need to protect, this isn’t just about you, we’re all in this together if you haven’t noticed“, Cato sarcastically spat, while Peeta just covered his mouth and shaking his head at Katniss. „What about them? Who protects them?“, Haymitch pointed out the tinted window, and you knew he was right, „Katniss what were you thinking?“

„I was thinking about Rue“, Katniss was so devastated you had to step in. You gently grabbed Haymitch sleeve, making him look towards your frightened face. „Haymitch please, please can’t all of you just help us make it through this trip? Just help us get through this“, you pleaded with him, and Katniss nodded in support.

„This trip girl? Wake up“, he snapped his fingers impatiently, „this trip doesn’t end when you get back home. You never get off this train, you four are mentors now, that means that every year they’re gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance, in your case“, he pointed to Katniss and Peeta, „all the happy milestones and in yours“, he nodded towards you two, „they’re never gonna let you be together, dragging that tragic love story form two districts out every year. They want to punish you, every year, your private life becomes theirs. From now on your job is to be a distraction, so people forget what the real problems are.“

„So what are we gonna do?“, Peeta asked, and the sense of dread settled deeper and deeper into your stomach. „You’re going to smile, you’re going to read the cards that we give you, and you’re going to play along. Think you can do that?“

———————————

The districts weren’t calming down, it felt like they were getting angrier with every pre-written speech and fake smile. And you also couldn’t stop thinking about what Haymitch said, how you and Cato would never be allowed to be together to keep the tragic romance going, your outlook on life getting severely darker.

Cato seemed to be affected too, you didn’t really talk about it, really no sense in discussing what you couldn’t change, but you noticed how he was with you every minute that was possible, always touching you in some way. He wasn’t good with words, but you heard him anyway, in his own way.

You made it through the Districts, Katniss and Peeta deciding to get engaged in the Capitol to make their romance more believable, and the people were eating it up. One more thing you and Cato would never be able to do.

You were in the Presidential Palace, „the party of the year“, as Effie had called it, and were currently dancing with Cato. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that people here threw up their food on purpose to eat more, and in other Districts children starved to death, when you spotted Katniss dancing with the middle aged man you were earlier introduced to called Plutarch Heavensbee. He was going to be the new Headgamemaker - after his predecessor Seneca seemed to have met a premature end.

You were just happy that Cato, once again, threw harsh enough glares at all the weird and kind of slimy Captiol men who looked like they wanted a dance with you, so that they left you alone. Suddenly the anthem started playing, effectively stopping your dancing and making everyone turn towards the balcony.

„Tonight, on this, the last day of their tour, I want to welcome our four Victors. Four young people, who embody our ideals of strength and valour. And I personally, want to congratulate two of them on the announcement of their engagement“, Presidnet Snow started and the crowd was cheering and you could see how uncomfortable Katniss was, Peeta could fake it way better.

„Your love has inspired us, and I know it will go on inspiring us, every day, for as long as you may live“, President Snow ended the speech, raising the glass and a firework started. Everyone was looking at it, but you always noticed the little things, not missing the interaction between Snow and Katniss. He shook his head.

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Saying goodbye to Cato was rushed this time, the Peace keepers basically pushing you out of the train and holding Cato back, the rebellious mood cutting the celebrations in your respective Districts shorter than normal, and only when you were laying back in your own bed, could you really start to miss him.

Over the following months you missed him dearly, every day the ache was there, even if it grew more dull. And life back at home was harder. Peacekeepers were even stricter than before, whipping people, imposing curfews and even executing people here and there, it was horrible. You still remembered the scene from District 12, where Katniss was about to stop the new Headpeacekeeper, when the broadcast cut off, so you figured it wasn’t different in the other Districts either.

You and your family were sitting on the couch together, waiting for the Quarter Quell to be announced, President Snow stepping onto the balcony. You were nervous about what you had to deal with as a first time mentor this year. „Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of the Games, that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol“, he started, and you already had goosebumps in anticipation of whatever horrible twist those games would have.

„Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd Quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol“, he continued, and you leaned forward in dreadful anticipation of what that meant, „on this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female Tributes are to be reaped, from the existing pool of Victors in each district.“ The scream you let out was agonizing, your mother pulling you into her arms sobbing.

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It was horrible, walking up towards the stage on the day of the Reaping, only you, Cecilia and Woof being up there, knowing you’d have to most likely go into the arena again. It was either you or Cecilia, and you wouldn’t expect either of you to volunteer for the other. The Reaping in 12 was already over, you heard it was Katniss and - after volunteering for Haymitch - Peeta again. You could cry thinking about going trough this again with the same people, knowing at some point you couldn’t be allies anymore.

And you also had no way of contacting Cato about this, no way of talking about this horrible turn of events. He was the only one of you four that actually had a pretty good chance at not being reaped, considering there were so many Victors in his District. But you knew him, and you knew that the Reaping from District 8 happened several hours before District 2, and should it be you that would be chosen, he would volunteer instead of whoever got reaped in his District to be with you, to protect you. You just knew it, knew how stubborn he was. And you loved and hated him for that at the same time.

„We‘ll start with the gentlemen this time“, the escort for your District smiled uncomfortably, pulling out the lonely paper that was at the bottom of the big jar, „Woof Jasone.“ Emotionless the old man stepped forward and faced the crowd. Your heart was basically jumping out of your chest. Now was the moment of truth. „Your turn Ladies“, you couldn’t even think of how inappropriate she was being in this situation, just staring at her hand reaching into your jar.

She opened the piece of paper slowly, your hands all clam and cold with fear. „(Y/N) (Y/L/N)“, she read the same name she said last year. Yours.

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Finally finally a third part and I’m incredibly sorry, I just sometimes can’t motivate myself to write!! Also funny thing I just moved from Germany to Australia for a year so that’s exciting :) Let me know how you like this part and if you wanna read more and want to be tagged! xx

Taglist: @lisedanie @iskamr @fangirlninja67 @star611 @markeyateallyourfood @urmomsbananabread @faces-ofvenus @hopefulatrocity @inej-ruination-ghafa @trainboom @dxrkheavensworld