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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

Note

Hi sweet angel, I have to admit that I'm new to your profile, but my obsession with your writing is almost as great as my obsession with snow, I have a request that changes the story a little bit.

Coryo is completely obsessed with the reader, but she thinks he is just an affectionate friend, both become mentors and instead of snow falling in love with lucy, it is the reader who falls in love with her tribute, and begins to move away from Snow, he can not accept this and manipulates the games, Not for lucy to win, but rather, to get rid of the reader's tribute. (Sorry for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue, so I use Google translator)

Slipping Through My Fingers || Young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by i forgot sorry :( divided by @firefly-graphics

A/n: this took me forever to finish idk why 😭 also this has to be the longest fic i've written so far.

Warnings: mention of blood, possessive coryo, mentions of death

Wc: 2,975

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

"Can I see you tomorrow morning?" Coriolanus looks down at you with hope in his eyes, you open your mouth but close it before sighing. "I can't, sorry. My parents want me to be home when my grandparents are there," You lie through your teeth as he hums, nodding.

"That's fine, tomorrow afternoon then?" His hand touches your waist as you smile up at the boy. "Of course Coryo, I'll see you then?" You touch his hand that was at your waist as he nods. You give him one final smile before disappearing around the corner.

You felt bad for lying to him but you didn't know how he would take it if he found out that you were actually going to meet your tribute first thing when his train from the districts arrived in Panem. Your tribute, Dean, from district 8 intrigued you. You couldn't keep your eyes of the screen when he appeared. He caught your eye immediately.

Coryo couldn’t stop complaining all day about his tribute from district 12, Lucy Gray. Saying that she would not last a second in the game. Unlike him, you had faith in your tribute.

So here you were, standing on the platform waiting for the train to come to a halt as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A smile on your face, dimples on display as the doors open revealing Dean. He was taller than you imagined, but nonetheless, he looked surreal. There was no denying that Dean was good looking, incredibly good looking which you would imagine would play a role in the amount of donations he would have.

"Dean. Y/n Y/l/n. I'll be your mentor." You extend your hand out in front of him as he looks you up and down before shaking your hand. His shake was firm, his fingers calloused. An indication that he was a hard worker.

"Are you supposed to be here? I don't see other people like you around here," He says as he looks around the train station. You notice Coriolanus' tribute, Lucy Gray walking by and staring at the two of you questioningly. You make eye contact with her before clearing your throat and looking back at Dean who hadn't kept his eyes off of you.

"No. I'm not supposed to be here." You confess, your hands fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "Then.... what are you doing here?" You pause. What were you doing here? You could have waited like the others for tomorrow to meet him.

"I uh- I wanted to welcome you to the Capitol." You offer him a smile. Silence. "Can I be blunt with you Dean?" Your head slightly tilts, a habit of yours when you ask questions. "Sure," He shrugs. "I see potential in you," You hold his hands in between yours as he glances down at your intertwined hands with an expression you couldn't quite figure out.

"You can win this hunger games. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you do. Such potential like you for a bright future shouldn't be wasted," You solemnly smile at him. Dean stays quiet for awhile, his hand still in yours before a peacekeeper roughly pulls him away from you.

"Hey!" You shout as you follow the two. "It's time for them to go Miss." The peacekeeper says as he throws Dean into the back of a van. Just as he walks away from your view to close the door, you jump into the van along with the rest of the tributes. "What are you doing!" Dean whispers yells at you as you stay hidden behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors close. "What's this? Is this your mentor, Dean?" A girl you recognised to be Carol asks with a sinister smile. You push past Dean and extend your hand out for her to shake. She looks at your face then your hand and lets out a laugh.

"Why would I shake hands with someone like you." She spat as a few others laugh alongside her. You notice Lucy Gray once more, sitting there silently. "Why do you get special treatment Dean, huh?" Carol pushes you backwards catching you off balance as Dean catches you.

"I could kill her right now," Carol chuckles like a maniac. Dean moves you behind him, "Leave her alone," He voices out, his tone screaming authority. Before Carol could respond, the van shook violently as you all lose your balance. You let out a groan as you felt your body slam against the van door before it flies open, causing you all to roll out onto hard rocks.

You let out a groan as you slowly lift up your head, squinting your eyes at your surrounding before you hear Dean's voice. "Y/n! Are you alright?" He asks worriedly as his grips your bicep, aiding you to stand up as you realise where you were. You were at the zoo cage.

You place a hand on your head as you let out a low groan. "Excuse me! Hello! Over there! Can they not hear me in there?" You hear a familiar voice belonging to Lucretius Flickerman. Dean takes a hold of your forearm, helping you keep balance as he whispers to you, "Own it." You look up at him with a small smile. He offers his arm to you as you link arms and walk towards the iron bars.

"Y/n Y/l/n, one of the mentors for the 10th hunger games." Lucretius says to the camera as he then directs his gaze towards you. "The game makers did tell you to jump into the cage with them," His tone was skeptical. Dean looks down at you as you glance at him before looking at Lucky.

"They didn't tell me not to. They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem, and I thought well if Dean is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be too?" You say with confidence, "For the record, I didn't have a choice," Dean butts in.

"What is Y/n doing there?" Arachne gasps as she ctaches the attention of Snow and the others as they look to the screen. There you were, linked arms with a tribute, looking awfully comfortable with him to add. Snow furrows his eyebrows at disbelief that you were there.

You told him that you were to be at home, but clearly not. Coriolanus watches with intent as you look at Dean when he spoke. His fists bawl up as Clemensia makes a comment. "You alright Coryo? You look.... bothered," Her hands rest on Snow's upper arm as he pries her touch off of him.

"I'm fine," He snaps as he leans forward on his seat. He was bothered. Very bothered seeing you so close with a tribute. "He's obviously not fine, he's bothered seeing Y/n so touchy with her tribute, isn't that right Snow?" Arachne teases as he slams his hand on the table causing her to shut up. "Shut it, Crane." Coriolanus says through gritted teeth as Arachne puts her hands up in surrender.

"They look really close. Can't blame Y/n honestly, she got a good looking one," He hears Clemensia quietly say before he had enough and stood up, storming off.

"Coryo," You call out as you catch up to him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you offer him a smile. He says nothing, his face stern as he continues to walk, not bothering to look at you. "Hey listen, I'm sorry I stood you yesterday, I just got super busy-" "Yeah I saw, busy with your tribute right?" He gives you a sarcastic smile as you scrunch your eyebrows.

You were all making your way to the enclosed cage to talk to your tributes. "What?" Snow rolls his eyes at you, finally stopping. "I saw your interview with Flickerman. Looked awfully close to your tribute," You let out small chuckle as his face shows no sign of amusement.

"Coryo, I was just introducing myself to him and getting to know him that's all. I have faith in him that he will win and I wanted him to know that. Wouldn't you do the same with your tribute if you had faith in her?" You touch his arm as he looks at your hand.

"Right?" You try and get a response from him as he sighs, "I guess," Is all he says before intertwining his hands with yours. You look down at your hands, a sweet gesture from him. When you both get closer to the tributes, you unclasp your hands with Snow and walk towards Dean who has already seen you and was making his way closer to you.

"Hey," You greet Dean as you look through your bag and find the half of your sandwich and cookie which you put away for him. You hand it to him as he thanks you, immediately taking bites as you watch him. He could feel your stares as you look away. Your eyes land on Coriolanus and Lucy.

He was talking to her about something as Lucy looks towards you and Dean. Snow finally looks at you, his expression cold as you gulp and look at Dean who was already looking at you. "He your boyfriend or something?" He asks as he takes another bite of the cookie. Your eyes widen. "Who? Coryo? No." You laugh as Dean stares at you.

"He's just a close friend of mine." You say as he nods, unbothered. "Do you? Do you- uh- have a-" "No." He deadpans as you slowly nod. From afar, Snow was watching the two of you interact the entire time. "Do you want to win Lucy Gray?" He turns his attention from you to his tribute.

"Do you think I can win?" She asks him as he thinks. "Honestly? no." He admits as Lucy scoffs. "But if you listen to what I say and do what I tell you to do, you will." His tone was stern as Lucy nods, her eyes following his eyeline which led to you and Dean. "That your girlfriend? That girl who was with us yesterday in the van."

"Her and Dean seem to be close, don't you think?" Lucy watches Coriolanus' face, his jaw clenching at the mention of the two. "They're not close, she just knows how to play the game," Coriolanus snaps before standing up and backing away from Lucy Gray.

You hadn't spoken much to Coriolanus the past couple of days. You were with Dean quite a lot, making up strategies and scenarios for when the games started. "I care about you, Dean. A lot." You take his hands in yours, the sound of his iron shackles making you cringe as you look him the eyes. Dean looks around the room before caressing your hand.

You and Dean have gotten very close over the past days. You both had faith in each other, trusted one another. Coriolanus narrows his eyes at the two of you, 2 desks away from him before his gaze settles on your touching hands.

He lets out a quiet scoff as Lucy Gray looks over to you and Dean. "Do you know him?" Snow asks her as he cocks his head towards Dean. Lucy shakes her head. "You want to win, don't you?" He leans in close to her.

Lucy hesitantly nods her head, "Yes. Yes you do Lucy." He answered for her, his gaze hard on her as she squirmed under his stare. "You need to kill Dean first. You need to before he kills you. He's a strong competitor, I can tell, that's why you need him out first. Then, it will be a piece of cake." He smirks as he leans back on his chair. "What do I need to do?"

“Y/n,” Coriolanus calls out as you turn your head to his direction, a small smile on his face as you beam at him. You run to him, throwing your arms around him as you hug him tightly. Coryo was caught off guard but eventually hugs you back.

“Good luck,” You say, although it was slightly muffled against his shirt. “You too,” He says back, his hand rubbing your back as you pull back, giving him your pearly white grin that only a few were able to see. Coriolanus felt a pull at his heart for he knew what was going to happen would break you.

Your other classmates arrive as you get settled for the 10th hunger games to start. Your eyes were trained on the screen as you watch Dean kill 2 people. You bite your fingernails as you continue to watch it play out infront of your eyes. Coriolanus offers his hand as you take it, squeezing it as you watch Dean.

A couple hours pass by and everyone sits up when they watch Coryo's tribute, Lucy Gray being corned by a few of the others, Dean included. In the corner of your eye, you watch Coryo come up to his screen and rapidly click.

Your eyes flicker back to the screen as drones of water come flying at the tributes, knocking them out as the room erupts in gasps. "These drones are not very good," Flickerman comments. "Hey! What are you doing?" Vipsania shouts as she stands up.

"You can't attack the tributes Coryo!" You snap at him. "I'm just sending water," He coolly says as you shake your head and scoff. Dean managed to dodge them luckily. You watch as Lucy Gray runs, Dean chasing after her as your leg bounces.

She manages to hide in one of the vent holes as you notice Snow let out a sigh of relief. Dean punches the vent in anger as he eventually leaves her. A few more hours pass by as you fell asleep, the sound of banging wakes you up. Coryo was nowhere to be found.

Your eyes focus on the screen as Dean and Coral stand underneath a vent pipe. Coral's pitchfork was reportingly stabbing at the vents above. Dean follows the noises, his gaze on the vent. "Coral. Coral she's right here," He whispers to her as she continues stabbing at the vent. Coriolanus then runs in, "Lucy Gray, is she okay?" He says out of breath.

"She wont be for long," Festus comments as everyone's eyes are trained on the screen. All of a sudden, Dean touches his nose as he looks confused. You immediately stand up on your feet, "Wait, what's wrong with Dean?" You move closer as he falls on his knee making your heart race.

"Did Coral do something to Dean?" You panic as Dean starts spazzing out on the floor. Coryo glances at you. Lucy Gray did what he told her to do. He had snuck her rat poison to use, if a small amount was to be inhaled, it would be deadly.

You cover your mouth as your eyes widen. Dean was laying on the ground, not moving at all. You flinch at the sound of a buzzer going off, indicating that he was in fact dead. Dean was dead. And you didn't even know how it happened. You storm out but before you could, Coryo grips your arm, "I'm sorry," He says as you furrow your eyebrows at what he meant before snatching your arm from his grip. "Dean is down. Good afternoon Miss Y/l/n," Flickerman calls out.

You storm out with rage. Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to make it out alive. You even promised him he would come out alive and go back to his family. One moment he was perfectly fine, and then the next, he's on the floor spazzing out and then dead. Your mind drifts back to Coriolanus' words, I'm sorry. What did that even mean? You assumed he was just apologising that your tribute was dead.

Lucy Gray had managed to win. You were happy for Coryo of course. But Dean’s recent death still plagued your mind. “Y/n,” Coryo breathed out the moment you opened your door to him; he reached out for you, pulling you against his chest.

It caught you by slight surprise before you hugged him back. The pent up emotions finally releasing the moment he rubs your back affectionately. “Shh” He softly shushed you as waterfalls fall down your cheeks. Everything was chasing up to you.

“I-I don’t even know what happened to him,” You sob in his embrace as he traces shapes on your arm. You continued to rant to him as he brought you to your living room.

You rested your head against his chest as he listened, sometimes he would bite his tongue at the things you were saying about Dean. "He was just a tribute y/n-" "He was not just a tribute." You snapped, lifting your head up as you stared at his blue irises.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes the minute you turn your head back around. "He's human, just like you and I. He had dreams, he had a family to go back to Coryo, do not just sit there and tell me he was just a tribute. He's more than a tribute," Coriolanus listened to every single word that came out of your mouth.

He did not agree with most of the things you said but for the sake of it, he said nothing. When you spoke about Dean, it grew on Coriolanus that you infact liked him, alot. Perhaps even more than like. And that was why he felt the need to kill him. You were his, only his. And after all, he couldn't have some lowly district boy taking over your body and soul.

#fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x lucy gray #the hunger games #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas imagine #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #president snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut

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eufezco · 10 months

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IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE BABY — FINNICKODAIR x FEM!READER

IN WHICH Finnick is interviewed by Caesar.

Caesar Flickerman greeted Finnick. Everyone in the audience stood up from their seats when he entered the stage, men chanted his name and women shouted for his attention. ―Thank you, thank you so much. ―Finnick smiled and waved to everyone in the audience who had welcomed him so warmly. He was especially handsome that night. The white shirt that your stylist had put on him had a large opening in the front that went down to almost his belly button, somewhat revealing for the Capitol but not vulgar at all. The bottom part of his outfit was a skirt that reached his ankles and the necklaces made with materials from your district rested on his neck.

From your place backstage you could appreciate how Finnick's green eyes shone under the spotlights. They also had that lovely glow when he saw you arrive at the back of the stage with your outfit. He wanted to tell you how pretty you looked, he wanted to help you relax before going on stage with Caesar. Finnick knew how uncomfortable those questions, often more private than they should be, made you. But it had been days since the last time you talked to him and you didn't have a Capitol camera on you, and that didn't seem to be the moment when you were going to speak to him again.

You had taken the opportunity to look him up and down when he was not aware of your presence. When his eyes fell on you, you acted unbothered, with a serious face and not paying attention to him for even a second. He was by your side with his hands behind his back minutes before he went onto the stage, you were paying attention to the tributes being interviewed but Finnick was looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

―You look great. ―Finnick dared to say. He didn't receive an answer from you, not even a look of disdain or a grimace. He pressed his lips together, defeated, and stretched the muscles in his back as the host introduced him.

You stayed backstage, watching him with your arms crossed and with still no expression on your face. The trip to the Capitol had been tense. Very tense on your part. Your hostile attitude hadn't made things easy for Finnick, your mentor Mags, and even yourself. From the instant your names came out through your stay at the tribute's hotel up to that moment, you had been avoiding Finnick. Mags had tried to bring you back to him, but you were pissed off. Pissed off with the Capitol for putting you in that arena with the love of your life, with Finnick for pretending that everything was okay, and with yourself for not letting them kill you in your first games.

You looked over your shoulder when a girl covered in white fabric appeared in your visual field. She came closer to you, accompanied by Effie who was constantly arranging her dress, and you rolled your eyes. ―A wedding dress. Of course. ―You pointed out loud enough for the girl to hear you.

You and that girl liked each other. Very similar personalities, highly challenging to the Capitol, difficult to contain for President Snow. You wouldn't say you two had a friendship but your encounters during training definitely could have been the beginning of one if you were not just a few days away from fighting for your lives in the games. Again.

―Snow made me wear it. ―Katniss confessed.

You looked up and down at her and nodded.― Make him pay for it.

―Finnick, it is an honor to have you here with us tonight. ― They both sat and Caesar grabbed both FInnick's hands, shaking them. The smile remained on Finnick's lips. ―We thought we would never have you back but we're so glad that we get to see you once again. Let's show some love to Finnick Odair, ladies and gentlemen!

At that moment the people in the audience applauded and shouted for him again. Your eyes were still focused on your partner, the boy was very relaxed, grateful for all the affection he was receiving from the people of the Capitol. Gosh, he was so good at pretending. At that moment your dress started to feel too tight and your stomach grumbled; was it because of the crappy food you'd been at the Capitol? Because of how tight was the dress around your body? Or was it because of how disgusted you felt with the person Finnick became when a Capitol camera focused on him? Even if you knew he was faking it, you didn't like seeing him like that.

―The pleasure is always mine, Caesar.

―Finnick, we saw that dramatic reaping day that took place on District 4 and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we lived it very intensely. ―Murmurs could be heard in the audience agreeing with the host. Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. ―First, your name comes out, ten years after your first victory, and then her name comes out and we can see how your expression changes completely. Look, look at that. ―The images from that day played on the big screens for the people to watch and you had to look away.

You swallowed and tensed your back, all the memories of that day came to your head unwantedly. His name. Your heart feeling heavy inside your chest. Him walking to the center of the stage with a smile on his lips. His eyes on you telling you to not worry. Your name. Gasps from the people of District 4. Finnick's jaw clenching. It became difficult for him to breathe. You walking to the center of the stage next to him with no smile on your lips. You shook hands. People clapped for you two.

―Are you okay? ―Katniss placed her hand on one of your shoulders and you nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing.

―People in District 4 love drama. ―A familiar voice said behind you two. The girl in her tree and wood-inspired outfit approached you and Katniss with a devilish smile on her lips. ―It's already done, girl. Your name came out already and you are here. Get yourself together. Snow is watching, don't embarrass yourself like this.

The relationship you had with Johanna Mason was complicated. You did consider her somewhat of a friend but sometimes she was too much. Finnick definitely knew how to deal with her better than you.

―We have been informed that she has expressly asked not to be here with you tonight, how does that make you feel?

―Well, it makes me feel sad, obviously. As everybody knows, she is a very special person to me and I think we could handle this situation much better together. Things have been difficult but I strongly believe we are the best allies, in and out of the arena. The love I have for her keeps me from having any negative feelings about her not wanting to sit with me here tonight, Caesar. I just hope that you all can enjoy her later.

―I'm sure we will have the best time with her. She's lovely, very lovely. ―People clapped. They loved Finnick. You could see it on their faces every time the boy opened his mouth, how they nodded their heads to everything he said, empathizing with him. In a way you were grateful for it, when the time came you knew they would rather save him. ―As you said, she'll be sitting here later and we know she's back there now, probably watching us and waiting for her moment. Finnick, is there anything you'd like to say to her?

Finnick nodded and acted for a few seconds as if he was looking for the words. As if he hadn't had this planned. ―My love, you have my heart. All eternity. And if I― if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.

―Oh, Finnick! You're going to make our hearts melt! When did you became such a loverboy?

―I've always been, Caesar.

They all laughed.

Johanna giggled and you ran your hand over your face. Maybe Johanna was right and the people of District Four were too dramatic. Katniss was left speechless, he and his ability to make those things sound natural surprised her. He reminded her of Peeta.

―Forgive me but I must ask because I know people are dying to know. Is everything okay between you two? Has the Quarter Quell been the cause of any couple crises?

People in the audience laughed again and so did Finnick. He didn't find it funny but laughed anyway which made you angrier.―No, that has not happened, no. We have had our ups and downs since that day, as you said, there have been a lot of emotions going on. We had plans for the future but we are trying to get through it.

―I'm sorry, Finnick, but you can't leave us like this. Plans for the future? Tell us more about that.

―We were trying for a baby.

That statement hit you like a big wave and swept you breathlessly to the seashore. You heard Johanna chuckling and Katniss, on the other hand, was as surprised and as confused as you were. People in the audience got up from their seats, demanding more information, asking if there was a wedding planned, and questioning if you were already pregnant.

―No we weren't. ―You mumbled getting the attention of the two girls who were with you. ―¡No we weren't! ― You tried to go on stage, angry like the sea during a storm and about to do something foolish that you would regret later and for which Mags would tell you off. Johanna was quick to step in front of you to prevent that from happening. Effie let out a little scream, seeing the scandal that was being made.

―Johanna, move.

The girl shook her head at you, smirking. That smirk. She knew all along.

―I'm not asking, Johanna. Move.

Johanna, again, shook her head at you.

―¡Ladies! Let's mind our manners and let's calm down. Please. ―Effie intervened, aware that there were people from the Capitol backstage watching. Katniss was behind you, silently rooting for Johanna to let you out.

―He knows Snow is not canceling the games. He's saving you.

―I do not need him to save me. I do not want him to save me. If I have come all this way, it is to save him.

Johanna smiled, mocking you. ―Well, he has gone ahead of you.

―What's going on? ―Peeta appeared and Effie jumped on his neck to fix the white suit he was wearing.

―She's pregnant. ―Johanna answered him.

―I'm not.

―Congratulations. ―The boy from District 12 told you sincerely.

―¡I'm not pregnant!

Seeing that people in the audience were not calming down after Finnick's news, Caesar mumbled something in the boy's ear. Unlike the rest of the tributes who had already been interviewed and who remained on the stage, Finnick was sent to the back of it.

―Girl from 4, you're next. ―A man from the staff announced and grabbed your arm. Caesar was distracting the audience while they got you ready to go out.

―Get off of me. I'm not going anywhere. ―You shook your body and managed to free yourself from the grip that was eager to push you on stage. You were still face to face with Johanna who had not taken a single step backwards and waiting for Finnick.

He said goodbye to the audience and walked to where you were. He knew what was waiting for him there, an even angrier you who would not understand why he had done that. All this time moving around the Capitol and with much of your relationship on display for everyone, and you still hadn't learned how to play the real game.

―I'll go for her. I'm ready. ―Peeta offered instead of you. The man seemed satisfied and before walking Peeta to the stage, he warned you that you would go after the boy from District 12 whether you liked it or you didn't.

Finnick walked with his head down. You were no longer interested in Johanna but you were surprised by the way she and Finnick shared a look of complicity when he passed by your side. His eyes never landed on you but they did on his friend. You turned around and walked after him. Your fists were close, your jaw was tight.

You pushed him by his shoulders, now it was Finnick who seemed unbothered. You pushed him again, trying to get any reaction but instead, he continued walking as if you did not affect it. He was calmed, he did what he thought it needed to be done. People in the Capitol will have mercy on you, you will have plenty of sponsors and you will make it out alive. But you didn't want that. You wanted him to be the last one standing, you had already discussed that with Mags. The woman assured you that she'd do anything in her power to get Finnick out alive. ―Why did you do that to me?! Who gave you the right to do that?! Finnick I swear to God if you don't speak to me right now!

―Oh, now you want to talk, don't you? What happens if now I don't feel like it? Would you like that? Would you like me ignoring you like you've been doing with me for the past days?

By the way his eyes looked at you and the way he had said it, practically spitting the words in your face, you knew he had been holding it in for days. You shook your head. ―It's not the same.

―Oh but it is. Trust me. You just don't want to see it. And for your information, it was Mags. She gave me the right.―He turned around and answered your previous question. ―Oh, you didn't expect that answer? Did you think you were the only one she’s made promises to?

You clenched your jaw. You did think that. Whatever she'd promised Finnick would contradict the promises she had made to you, so she was clearly fooling one of you two. And you knew it wasn't Finnick.

―You made me look weak!

―But you're not so why do you care? Right now you have more than half of those people in the palm of your hand. You could need the stupidest thing in the arena and they would send it to you without even thinking about it. They will make you the victor.

―I didn't want that! I didn't want that and you don't even care!

―You're right, I don't.

―You fucker. ―You threw yourself against his chest, hitting him with your small hands compared to his body. He was still standing on the spot while you beat him with tears in your eyes out of anger.

―Come on come on, give him a break. ―Haymitch, who had gone backstage to be with Katniss when he saw Peeta come out on stage, tried to separate you from Finnick by grabbing you around your waist.

―Why don't you save all that anger for when we're in the arena? It'll be better.

―Finnick! ―Effie said, shocked.

―I fucking hate you. ― You mumbled. While Haymitch managed to get you away from Finnick, your hands grabbed his shirt, he wasn't going to get off that easy, not after that comment. Your body shook against District 12's mentor.

―I could really use a helping hand right now, you know? ―Haymitch struggled to hold you. Katniss and Johanna freed Finnick from your grip and he left. You tried to go after him but obviously, you couldn't do anything against three people. As you continued to fight to free yourself from his grasp, Peeta's voice sounded louder over the loudspeakers, getting your attention.

If it weren't for the baby.

You looked at Katniss and she looked at you, still trying to process what had just come out of Peeta's mouth and trying to find a way of not going into that stage and choke him to death. Now you were going to be the one who was going to hold her down.

―Well, congratulations to you two. You are going to be amazing moms if you make it out of this one alive.

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vintagegeekculture · 1 year

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Someone deeply influential in a subterranean way to comic book culture passed without comment this week: female bodybuilder Lisa Lyon, who was 70. Even if you've never heard of her, I guarantee you've seen her image, or a takeoff of one of her images.

If she seems familiar in some way, there's a reason.

You see, every single artist in the world has it drilled into them that an art swipe (tracing from figure studies or other artists) is unethical, but here’s the thing:

Every single working comic artist does it!

Is it really cheating if everyone does it? Artists love to mock Rob Liefeld for his art swaps, but it is possible to do the same if you dig into the art catalogue of nearly any comic artist, even today. Nowhere else can I find a better example of the old quote that "hypocrisy is the tribute vice pays to virtue."

In any case, there’s no better figure at the center of this than Lisa Lyon, who in the 1980s, was a female bodybuilder who was the center of an enormously influential series of sophisticated physique study photographs by superstar photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. It sounds almost quaint to remember now, but Mapplethorpe was so influential that he was the first photographer to be called to congress for obscenity in the 1980s, based on his male nudes and study of the gay BDSM scene, in a moral panic that sounds extremely familiar. He was also the first photographer to get a video game, the Flowers of Robert Mapplethorpe on CD-I, which was essentially just an image gallery set to muzak, famously reviewed by a completely baffled Angry Video Game Nerd and his sidekick.

youtube

Mapplethorpe’s favorite subject was Lisa Lyon, and his photographs were so widespread that they were essentially traced and used for art swipes over and over by comic artists that need a study of a muscular female physique.

So at different points, photograph swipes of Lisa Lyon were the model used for Wonder Woman, She-Hulk, tons of fighting game characters....it's impossible to list all the times a Lisa Lyon photograph was swiped. We may never find them all. Most importantly of all, she was not only swiped but was the physical inspiration for the appearance of Elektra.

Frank Miller always had a foot in the fine art world, and like his mentor, Philip Jose Farmer, was also interested in the theme of how violence is often a substitute for sexuality in the lives of adventure characters. Miller was always fascinated by BDSM (which to me, explains a lot of 300), and explicitly said in many interviews he based Elektra physically on Lisa Lyon and was a great fan of Mapplethorpe.

#lisa lyon #photography #robert mapplethorpe #comics #Youtube

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etfrin · 9 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — second chapter | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow meets his tribute and lands on a cage and then a car ride with his girl <33

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i never tasted orange chicken but since @nowitsmissing likes it, that means it's good and worthy for Coryo to eat

Series Masterlist | Navigation | previous chapter!

“I wouldn't sing a note for you if I were her!” - Coriolanus reminded himself of Tigris's words as he waited for the train to arrive. Besides a handful of peacekeepers, he was the only one standing in the train station, waiting for the tributes to come.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was terrified. He wasn't sure if he was breaking any rules as he stood and waited. The academy hadn't sanctioned this, but they didn't tell the mentors what to do or not to do either.

It's not his fault he's getting a headstart.

Though he was surprised that you weren't here, waiting. He glees internally. He had already one-upped you and was going to continue to do so.

Snow lands on top.

He was going to be five steps ahead of everyone. No one can take the Plinth Prize away from him and he's going to make this ‘Lucy Gray’ won't either.

If not a winner, she'll create a fine spectacle for the Capitol, with her snakes and voice. Even if some part of him was terrified of her, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he got an insane tribute.

And of course, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he gave you someone who has actual chances of winning. And of the same district too, as if trying to push them both into a battle with each other.

It was highly annoying. It felt like Dean Highbottom was mocking him with this. Dangling a carrot in front of him and expecting him to take the bait and snap. But he won't. You weren't going to win this, and Dean Highbottom won't be getting the satisfaction of the Snows' falling.

Finally, the train had arrived, and with it came his Lucy Gray Baird. She was a girl with a rainbow frilly dress and a mess of brown curls. She was pretty (not as much as you) and had a certain accent when she came to him, asking who he was.

“I am Coriolanus Snow,” he begins to introduce himself with a warm tone, “and I am your mentor.”

He holds a white rose in his hand, pushing his arm forward to offer it to her. A part of him watches in horror as she spews nonsense and tears a petal from the beautiful rose and eats it.

She eats it and smiles at him, “Tastes like bedtime.”

A part of him was horrified, his mind solidifying the fact that Lucy Gray was truly insane. But a part of his mind went back to yesterday when you had taken off a petal of the red rose.

When you had crushed it between your fingers, the red juices of the petal pigmented your fingertips. He wonders if he could take the digits in his mouth and clear your skin of the taint if it would taste delicious with the flavor of your skin. If it-

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy Gray (damn her!). “What does a mentor do besides bringing me flowers?” Her voice calls him out.

He tried hard not to frown or snap at her. He controls his voice, depriving it of the annoyance he feels as he replies, “I try my best to help you win.”

She hums in response. And before he could continue the conversation, the peacekeepers came in to sweep the tributes into a truck. He tried to keep pace and asked for permission if it was alright to enter but was ignored. So when a distraction was caused by a tribute trying to run (foolish, foolish boy), he entered the truck.

He was being stared at by them all as if he was the animal, and not them. All of the tributes looked more or less filthy, sick, and District. It seemed like only Lucy Gray bothered to somewhat take care of her appearance, with her bizarre make-up and rainbow dress.

Soon enough, he was pinned by a black boy, named Reaper. Everyone around him yelling to kill him, cheering him on, goading him on. Lucy Gray decided to prove herself to be useful to Coriolanus. She was the one speaking up about how if he died, their families would be hurt and that she might need him.

Despite many protests and not being convinced to leave him alone, they couldn't do anything about especially when suddenly the truck gates swung open, and then bam!

Light sweeps in and everyone loses their balance. Falling onto bare, rough ground, landing onto a cage. Coriolanus barely managed to stand up before he realized where he was. A zoo, a fitting place for district animals but not for him. Not only that, he was surrounded by people and cameras.

With his luck, this was probably broadcast live. He felt panic rush in his veins, his mouth drying up and his hands getting sweaty. He was going to make a fool out of himself in front of all of Panem, Sejanus, and You.

No, wait, you were there. His wide, panicking eyes find yours. Just like him, you were in your academy uniform. But you were outside the cage and he was in it.

Never on the same side. You and he.

He could feel his body shaking, an anxiety attack beginning with his breaths becoming shorter and shorter. Just then he could see you form the words, ‘Own it. Own it, Coryo.’ He nods in reply, his mind quietening as he becomes focused on a task.

The Capitol wanted a show, he was going to give them one.

He snaps off the stem of the rose and places it on Lucy Gray's ear. He will never know how your eyes glared at him for that action. He takes her hand his, swallowing the disgust about the fact he was touching District.

“Lucy Gray, let me introduce you to my neighbors,” he said as he dragged her in front of the cameras. The girl had been smart so far, if she knew what was good for her, she would continue acting like that.

He goes near Flickerman, the guy with the microphone and you were standing there beside him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your eyebrows raised in an unimpressed way. He only shrugged in response before giving his attention to the cameras.

He lets Lucy Gray sweet talk to the camera. She was polite and playful, playing into the hearts of the Capitol citizens with ease. Then the cameras turn to him, and before Flickerman asks him why he is in the cage. He isn't sure what to answer.

As if you could sense his panic, you immediately take the attention of him with your reply. “That's Coryo for you. Always making an impression. You should look forward to him. And his tribute,” your eyes turn to look at Lucy Gray, a hint of poisonous hate in your look that was hidden by the fake warmth of your smile.

“And you should be looking forward to my tribute too, Jessup Diggs.” You added as you stole the show with your sweet words. The broadcast ended with Flickerman praising you for your encouraging words despite the fact you and Snow were rivals.

He grits his teeth as he is dragged into a car by the peacekeepers. He supposed he was going to be taken to the Academy. He sat in the back seat, waiting for the car to start. He wished he would go there before lunch began, he hadn't breakfast. He couldn't have those damn cabbages again, he would rather tie the shower curtain around his neck.

The car door opens and you slip inside, sitting beside him. His breath hitches as he takes in the scent of your perfume. The heat of your body sweeps into his as your arm brushes against him. “You're crazy,” you said, not looking at him but the ruins of the Capitol outside the window. The car had started to drive back to the Academy.

“For getting a headstart,” he replied, “it's not crazy if it's smart.”

“Smart,” you mock, you turn to him, your face twisted in anger. You spit out, “It's not smart if you die, Snow! Those animals could have done anything to you! During the ride! During the cage! Do you think the cameras or the people would have stopped them? Fuck no and for what? A headstart!? It was stupid.”

Coriolanus blinks as he sees your childish tantrum. He was sure it was because he was going to be the talk of Panem, and not because you had genuine concern for him. He doesn't reply anything to you, despite feeling offended that you called him stupid.

He had been caught off guard, but he wasn't stupid. He furrows his eyebrows but keeps quiet. The silence was heated, and awkward. But it continues to persist, that's until his stomach growls, reminding him of his uneaten cabbage soup.

He felt his body flush in embarrassment. He begins to think of excuses to explain the loud growl but before he can even think of anything, a box is handed to him. You had taken something out of your bag and just set it on his lap along with a plastic spoon.

“It's not poisoned,” was the only thing you said, your eyes now back at the window.

“I sure hope so,” he replied, his voice controlled and his mind glad that you didn't glance at him to see his red face.

He opens up the box to see rice and orange chicken. He devours it as manner fully as he can. It took him a lot of self-control not to moan with each bite. It was that good. Perhaps his mind was subconsciously biased because it was by you. He didn't linger much on that thought.

But his touch did linger when he handed you back the box. He didn't thank you and you didn't ask for one. Neither of you said a word as your fingers laced together with his.

Neither of you said a word when your hand squeezed his, tightly. A warning not to act stupid again.

Neither of you needed to.

Both of you reached the Academy and Coriolanus stepped out of the car.

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

Next Chapter

Taglist : @tristanswildcat @alllriseabove @sushirolliee

@masimptoowth @ppcowboyprincess @lauravanderbooben20 @captainbabybear

@linkcommercial831 @write-from-the-heart

@kodzuvk @arzua10 @frill04 @cremebruleequeen @nan-nie @xreaderandreaderinserts @impeterporker @shoutingcardinal @coffee-tulips-books @Insomniac1345 @chaoticcoffeequeen @xyraphine

@blairfox04 @555saccharine @gisellesprettylies @livid-euphoria @fentyxmalik @buckysjuicyplums @cryinginanuncoolway @duckielikesgames @articxari @or-was-it-just-a-dream @serving-targaryen-realness @qardasngan @wendythedarling @mashathestarx @maybankswhore @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bunny24sstuff

@lot4ever @diannana @abaker74 @ultrav10l3nce @jjstyles @reaganswiftie01 @freyaaah-writings @marauders-wife

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nebulaafterdark · 10 months

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Exile (Part 4)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol/drug use and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 3

The reaping for the 64th hunger games, brings forth their tributes, Denali and Maximus. The girl, is sixteen and her little brother, only fourteen. Orphans, surviving solely off of tesserae and profits made from pedaling contraband at the hob.

When Y/N comes to greet them on the train, Denali has her brother tucked behind her protectively, near the table of food. “Hello.”

Denali watches her with wary eyes.

“You should eat.” Y/N tells her. “Both of you. Get your strength up for the arena.”

Maximus reaches out for a dinner roll, but his sister slaps it from his hand.

“You first.” Denali demands. She needs to be sure it’s not poisoned.

Y/N closes the space between them, taking the abandoned bread and tearing off a piece. Placing it into her mouth, she chews and swallows.

Maximus presses his lips together, gulping hard. He can almost taste it.

“My name is Y/N. I’ll be your mentor-”

“Where’s the other one? The man?”

“Haymitch is down in the bar car.” Y/N tells them.

“He’s been doing it longer, we want him.” Denali says.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest, toying with the bracelet on her left wrist. “But the two of you stay here, and eat. Please eat.”

The girl narrows her gray, seam, eyes, watching the woman leave. She’s seen her before, sneaking around where she didn’t belong. The man, Haymitch, was from the seam, before he won the games. He still comes down to the hob, Denali’s sold to him a couple times. Most recently, a bracelet, woven from stitching scraps. For his wife, he’d told her…and the woman, Y/N, is wearing it.

The victors return after a long moment, their hands intertwined. Y/N appears to be leading Haymitch toward them, against his will.

Maximus and his sister stare at him, expectantly.

Haymitch smiles, “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Y-yes. You’re our mentor and we need strategy and-”

“Woah,” Haymitch stops the girl’s train of thought, “you’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“That’s her department,” Haymitch jerks his chin toward his wife.

“Then what do you do?” Denali asks.

“Enjoy the refreshments,” Haymitch lifts his glass.

————————————————————————

Upon arriving in the Capitol, Y/N and Haymitch are collected to film interviews. Caesar always finds a way to make the most of their time here. But over the years, it has proven useful in gaining sponsors for their tributes.

“We’re happy.” Haymitch reminds Y/N. “We’re in love and so glad to be here.”

Y/N nods, blinking up at him through obscenely long lashes. Vanity has done a number on her this time. Y/N is her muse, the one who inspired her to leave her position as stylist for the games and design pieces for her victor full time.

The people of the Capitol cannot get enough. Anything Y/N wears, they want to wear. Tonight is a cotton candy pink dress.

“For the first time, on this very stage, we will be joined by Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy.” Caesar announces, riling the crowd into a frenzy.

Last time they were here was their wedding day and Snow obviously had better things for them to do afterwards than gossip with Caesar Flickerman.

“Please give our newly weds a warm welcome, Y/N and Haymitch.” Caesar motions toward them from the stage, their queue to join him.

Haymitch reaches back for her hand, waving out at the crowd as they cross the floor.

Y/N greets Caesar first. He likes her better than Haymitch anyway, most people do.

————————————————————————

“Where’ve you been?” Maximus asks his mentors, after the tribute parade.

“Clearly they have more important things to do than help us.” Denali turns up her nose in their direction.

The tributes are dressed as coal miners…again.

“Do you have any idea how much a bottle of water goes for in the arena? A loaf of bread? Medicine?” Haymitch cuts in. “Those things don’t come cheap, sweetheart.”

“So what?” Denali doesn’t understand how their absence would change that.

“There’s people here with a lot of money.” Y/N explains. “The more time we spend with them, the more money they’re willing to provide our tributes. I’m sorry that we had to step away, but that’s why I supplied you with the tablets. Did you have a chance to look over the strategy files?”

Denali shakes her head of dark curls.

“That’s ok, we still have time.” Y/N assures her, “let’s go up to our floor. We can discuss it over dinner.”

————————————————————————-

The district twelve escort, a woman named Cordelia Walters, who desperately hopes to be reassigned to another district; holds the elevator for them. “Chop, chop.” She claps her hands together. Like herding animals in a zoo.

“Always a delight.” Haymitch snarks, as they step into the confined space.

Y/N huffs a laugh, pressing her lips together. Their escorts seem to have a high turnover rate. She hopes that holds true.

Dinner is tense, Cordelia can’t be bothered with listening to defense strategy details. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Oh, sure!” Y/N pipes up, “let’s discuss the up in coming fashion for the spring. I have all of Vanity’s sketches.”

“Really?” The woman squeals, “you don’t think she’ll mind?”

“Not at all.” Y/N lies, “here, take it. You can bring it back in the morning.”

“Thank you.” The Capitol woman races away, closing the door to her suite behind her.

“That’s one way to do it.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder, poking at the peas on his plate.

“Now we can talk?” Maximus asks, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. “You can start by telling me what you’re good at.”

“I’m a fast runner.” The boy tells her.

“Had to be, we’ve been running all our lives.” Denali adds, still unsure if Y/N can be trusted.

“And what about you,” Y/N asks, “what are you good at?”

“I’m strong and good with a knife.” The girl tells her. “We just need you to give us a chance.”

Y/N leans in, across the table, “we can train you, separate from the other tributes. We can supply you with anything you might need from a sponsor. We can prepare you for your interviews. No one is rooting for you more than we are.”

The four of them talk late into the night, answering questions. Exchanging stories and discussing useful weapon tactics.

Haymitch’s number one rule is not to get attached. However his wife, either cannot or will not follow it.

When they finally retire to their room, Y/N makes a mad dash for the white pills, on the bedside table. The contents rattle in her shaking hand.

“Here, angel.” Haymitch takes it from her, “that won’t help.”

“But you said-” White is for pain.

He reaches for another bottle. “Take this.” He deposits a yellow pill into her hand. Then a blue. For her nerves and to help her sleep.

Y/N swallows them down, attempting to catch her breath.

“Come here.” Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Placing a hand over her heart and rubbing gently, “that’s where it hurts, huh?”

She nods, praying that the pills take effect soon.

“The white ones can’t help with that.” He continues, attempting to soothe the ache.

“How do you do this?” Y/N leans into him. “It’s only been four years and I feel like-”

“Before you, those ten years after I won….I drank until I blacked out and I can still see their faces. I remember their names. I see their families, back home and it never gets easier. It never gets better. But you find ways to live with it.”

Y/N lets out a sob, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“I’ll help you.” I’ll do whatever it takes.

“I want to go home.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes. “But the pills are gonna kick in soon. Then you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better. I want to save those kids!”

“We can try.” Haymitch says, somberly.

“If I overdose, what happens to my family?” Y/N wonders, eyelids growing heavy as Haymitch shuffles her toward the bed.

“Snow wanted to have them executed after your games. As punishment for you not killing Tyson. He was only willing to negotiate a deal, in exchange for my…work. If you kill yourself, I have nothing else to offer him. No leverage. He’ll kill them and sell me; again.” Haymitch explains, pulling off her shoes. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. She has something to live for. Her sister, her parents and him. She has Haymitch to live for. Therefore she cannot die. “It was only a hypothetical question, I wasn’t- I wouldn’t-” leave you.

Haymitch pats her cheek, the drugs have kicked in and her tears have subsided. “Goodnight, angel.”

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch smut #haymitch x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #exile

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neousfics · 2 months

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Dead Boy Detective Fic Recs (Hurt/Comfort Edition)

All of the following fics are completed :) The lamps are going out by MagicAio1 Words: 9,755 Rating: T Summary: Evil spirits, vengeful spirits. At the time, he didn't yet have the words to explain what had happened to him –even though, without a frame of reference, he could still tell something was wrong– They formed when a ghost felt an awful injustice had befallen them, and few ghosts could claim to have been as wronged by everything as Edwin Payne.

He just hoped the boy from the attic wouldn't put two and two together.

Review: Vengeful Spirit!Edwin is an incredible idea that is beautifully executed in this fic. Edwin being convinced he's evil or tainted in some way because of the way he has been wronged makes for some fantastic angst, and Charles and Crystal loving him anyway makes for some equally fantastic comfort.

Still a Better Love Story by Vamillepudding Words: 18,000 Rating: T Summary: “That about did it,” Edwin says, patting himself down and straightening his bowtie. “Now, if you’re ready, I suggest we find a mirror and-“

“Did you just cough up a flower?” Charles interrupts. Flower, perhaps, is a slight exaggeration. It’s more like a petal, red and incredibly out of place here on the shore.

Edwin clears his throat, but this time no petals follow. “Certainly it’s nothing to worry about.”

Or: Edwin is suffering from a weird curse, but for some reason, he's refusing Charles' help. Charles is trying his best to fix it anyway, but Edwin is being oddly secretive about the whole thing.

Review: I'm a sucker for a good hanahaki AU, and Payneland is made for them. This fic really leans into Edwin not wanting Charles to suffer or feel pressured as a form of angst which works very well.

for my soul he made an offer (and to dust again i fell) by aletterinthenameofsanity Words: 37,687 Rating: M (CW: rape, blackmail, violence) Summary: Monty gets up on the interview stage and it doesn’t matter what the other tributes have to say, because Monty tells Caesar Flickerman that the boy he fell in love with is the very Mentor trying to save him from the Arena.

It’s a dangerous move, but it just might save Monty’s life in the Arena and his body post-Arena. It might just keep him out of the same deal that Esther made for Edwin.

A familiar hand touches Edwin’s wrist backstage. Charles’ hands gently pry Edwin’s fingernails away from the bloody crescents they are carving into his palms.

“It was the only way I could protect him,” Edwin says, trying to plead with Charles to understand, because Edwin has to do anything he can to protect just one of his tributes.

Charles gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “You could’ve told me.”

But Edwin twists his wrist slightly so that Charles isn’t touching him, because he knows where this is going even if Charles does not. He knows whose life lays on the line if this plan fails, and it’s not just Monty’s.

(Years ago, the President made Edwin kneel and told him that Charles’ life was forfeit if Edwin ever disobeyed. And he won't risk that, even if it means breaking both of their hearts.)

Review: One of my absolute favorite DBD fics to date. Hunger Games AUs are notoriously difficult to pull off, but this one knocks the ball out of the park. It focuses on Edwin's experience as District 10 victor and all the brutality that comes with being in the Capitol. This fic had me actually gasping and jumping about.

By Lantern's Light by babyseraphim Words: 13,620 Rating: T Summary: Edwin is terrified. He feels as though he is a wounded deer caught in a bear trap, simply waiting for the hunter to discover his misfortune. The room is dark enough that he cannot make out a single landmark, the deprivation of all sounds playing tricks on his panicked mind. He swears that he hears distant giggles, the sound of grotesque dolls laughing at his renewed torment, but no creature ever makes an appearance. A hysterical laugh threatens to spill past his own lips, accompanied by a sudden rush of tears. He closes his eyes and wills them away, steeling himself for whatever is to come.

The question is not whether Charles will come; the question is when. Until that question is answered, all Edwin can do is endure. --- A heartbreaking story of love and near loss told from three separate perspectives.

Review: Explores Edwin experiencing the effects of trauma and PTSD from his time in hell as well as his unwavering faith in Charles which makes for a beautifully bittersweet experience. Babyseraphim does a great job exploring the hurt/comfort that occurs on all sides of this story.

the taste in your mouth by greenaerie Words: 14,004 Rating: M (CW: non/con elements) Summary: An unexpected attack from Esther shocks the Dead Boy Detective Agency, taking Charles out of commission.

Edwin solves this the only way he can. A good detective does what they must, after all.

Review: This is one of the only fics I've found that explores the idea of Edwin taking the Cat Kings initial offer from a place of risk-assessment/desperation to save his friends, and I love it! I do wish it had a bit more angst w/ Edwin's experience / Charles reaction to it. However, the author does a great job w/ Edwin's characterization.

dulcet tones of broken bones by gremlininthemachine Words: 20,173 Rating: M (CW: suicidal ideation, suicide attempt) Summary: Object: cardboard shoe box, pilfered from Crystal's overflowing wardrobe; location: the London office, on top of their desk; box contents: several labeled cassette tapes enclosed in plastic cases, along with a handwritten note in perfect script; note contents: "Dead Boy Detective Agency - Recorded explanation for my unannounced absence is enclosed. Sincerely yours, Edwin Payne" | Or, the fic where Edwin no longer wants to exist and seeks to make that reality. Inspired by Thirteen Reasons Why, knowledge of series canon not required.

Review: More hurt than comfort, but in the best way possible. This rips your heart out, but it still leaves with a distinctly hopeful note which I highly appreciate.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero Words: 45,874 Rating: T Summary: Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX “Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Review: Obsessed with how the ghost lore works in this fic. The author plays into the idea of how a ghosts emotions can affect there form and tackles the question of "How far is too far?" brilliantly. Great characterization!

The Case of the Lovesick Student by amurusk Words: 5,151 Rating: Unrated (CW: child abuse, implied SA) Summary: It's not unusual for Charles to bear the brunt of an attack during cases. Charles is the brawn, after all, and he’s thrived in that role in life and death. He’s a soldier, taking a beating and giving one back. It just feels right, keeping his loved ones safe from harm and trusting them to fix whatever mess they’re in. Not that he faces danger alone, they just think of the big picture while Charles handles the immediate threat. Edwin, Crystal, and Niko have all saved him back multiple times over.

But no one has ever physically stepped between him and pain, taken a hit for him.

Review: Charles finally getting to be the one who's defended is a fic premise that we need more of. I love getting a glimpse into Charles experience of wanting to be protected/vulnerable.

it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then by ethan_elliott Words: 3,658 Rating: T Summary: Ghosts could not feel pain. Or much of anything, really. Except in Hell. A place designed to cause eternal agony, and so levelled the playing field by making humans and supernatural entities equal in their perception. Edwin had been corporeal there, subject to hurt and cold, the hammer of a heart in his chest and the struggle of lungs for breath. It was the one place he felt everything.

Charles had rescued him from Hell the second time. So then why, as Edwin lay in Esther’s torture device helplessly watching Niko disappear from sight, could he feel everything?

Charles had rescued him from Hell the second time. Right?

—

Or, after Niko’s death, Charles has to rescue Edwin from Hell once more, but this time it’s all in Edwin’s mind.

Review: A great one-shot exploring a world where Edwin isn't sure if he really made it out of hell. I honestly wish this was longer because it was excellently written and the premise is awful /pos.

a kingdom never bound by piilu Words: 1,974 Rating: G Summary: “Fuck, Edwin,” Charles breathes. “You could’ve come got me, you know?” Edwin doesn’t know what to say to that. He would be fine, soon. Not really worth bothering anybody. He just shakes his head and curls up tighter. “You’re alright,” Charles says. He wraps an arm around him. Then his face changes, into something like determination, and he pushes Edwin’s head onto his shoulder. “You’re alright, mate.”

Review: Short and sweet fic about Edwin havin' a bit of a panic attack/sensory overload moment.

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love by coloursflyaway Words: 18,028 Rating: T Summary: “Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand. “Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…” He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head. “Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

____________

Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Review: Charles really goes through it in this one, so if that's what you're looking for than this will be quite fun. The author does a great job at infusing a sense of panic and despair into the story.

here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed by pinklemonades Words: 3,095 Rating: T Summary:

Edwin is in love with his best friend who doesn’t love him back, and the world has not ended. In some ways, he wishes it had.

Edwin deals with the pains of losing a friend while living through the consequences of falling in love with his best friend (aka a Hanahaki Disease post-canon fic).

Review: Very good, short hanahaki AU! Loved the characterization and angst w/ happy ending.

#dead boy detectives #fic recs #fic rec #payneland #painland #charles x edwin

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gogobootz1 · 5 months

Text

The Mentor Pt. 7

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your Hunger Games strategy goes off the rails when a friend comes to you with a plan

Part 6 | Part 8

“Look kid, this isn’t like last time, you’re not on a level playing field here.”

Katniss crossed her arms as she leaned back into the couch of District Twelve’s Capitol penthouse.

“These are Capitol darlings, lethal weapons, murderers one and all, gathered neatly together for an All Stars round. Of these stars, you are space dust. Recency may be on your side, but little else. They are older, stronger,”

Peeta effectively interrupted, “Who are they?”

“What?” Haymitch blinked.

“Take us through them. Surely you can offer some insight, after knowing them all these years,” he shrugged.

“I’ll ignore the fact you just called me old,” the older man walked off to grab the tablet that controlled the TV. District by district, he took his tributes through their competition.

When he got to District Four, Katniss beat him to it, “Finnick O’Dair, right?”

“Yes,” Haymitch confirmed, “he won his games at fourteen. Youngest ever. Extremely humble.” The image of the tall, bronzed man sauntering across their screen seemed to disagree.

“You’re kidding,” she deadpanned.

“Yes! I’m kidding,” Haymitch snapped. “He’s a,” he dramatically moved his hair, “peacock. A total preener. But he’s the Capitol Darling, they love him here. Charming, smart, and very skilled at combat. Especially in water.”

“What about weaknesses?” Peeta leaned forward.

“One,” Haymitch confirmed, “Mags. She was his mentor and basically raised him. If he’s trying to protect her in any way it exposes him.”

“A guy like that has to know she’s not gonna make it. I bet when it really comes down to it he won’t protect her,” Katniss shrugged.

“Well, Katniss,” Haymitch said, “I just hope when she goes she goes quickly. She’s actually a wonderful lady.”

Katniss blinked guiltily at his statement, and Peeta leaned back into the couch.

“But if he does ally with her it’ll make him less of a threat,” Peeta offered.

Haymitch let out a sour little laugh, “Oh, we’ll get to his allies.”

Peeta winced when Haymitch later marked the intimidating young woman from District Seven as one, and was surprised at the lack of others.

By the time he got to Ten, Katniss was antsy, “Can we wrap this up?”

“Sure if you want to ignore a huge fucking threat,” Haymitch shrugged.

“It looks like a strong gust of wind would blow him over,” Katniss complained.

“Not him,” her mentor snapped, clicking forward, “Darla Kennedy.”

Their attention went back to the screen when another young woman appeared, stepping forward and giving an assured nod to the cameras.

“Darla is young, well connected, and deadly with a whip,” Haymitch began.

“Who’s that behind her?” Peeta interrupted, noticing the woman peace keepers were escorting off stage.

“Well, since you mentioned it,” he rewinded the feed to when the young women were standing next to each other. “That,” he pointed to the one they weren’t familiar with, “is Darla’s mentor. One of the most popular tributes to ever come out of the games, and maybe the best mentor I’ve ever met.”

“How do you mean?” Peeta pressed.

“She saved Darla’s life about four times during her games with just wit and a warm smile,” he shrugged, “if she wanted a sponsor there’d be twenty knocking down her door. Kid’s a magnet, and a brilliant strategist. Not to mention, a great drinking buddy,” Haymitch finished.

“Not helpful,” Katniss griped, and the man rolled his eyes.

“Point is, if you don’t think she’s calling on every favor she’s owed and pulling every string in her arsenal to save that girl, you’re dead wrong. Darla’s practically all she has left,” Haymitch elaborated, “but both Ten ladies are good friends with Finnick.”

“Finnick?” Peeta asked, surprised.

“Not that he’d need the help with sponsors,” Haymitch shrugged, “but no doubt it’ll be a scary alliance. One you might consider joining.”

“No way,” Katniss scoffed.

“Like I said, I’m friends with their mentor, I could hook you up,” he doubled down.

“Not interested,” she grunted.

“Look,” Haymitch sat on the coffee table across from them, “you’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.”

“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss snapped, crossing her arms.

“Do it your own way,” Haymitch shrugged, “but I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down. Both of you.” He left the room before his words even sank in.

————————————

Your fingers twitched while you waited for Darla to wake up. Sometimes you cursed yourself for being an early bird, but after your games you couldn’t help but get up with the sun. Some lasting self-preservation instinct had always been your theory. You had a plan for her, not that she’d like it.

Shuffling from the hall caught your attention, and you perked up to see her walking toward the breakfast table half-awake.

“Morning,” you said, quickly. She just grunted as she poured herself some coffee. “I want to run something by you.”

She took a sip of coffee, placing pastries from the breakfast spread onto her plate. When she realized you weren’t still talking she looked up, and gestured for you to go on.

“I want you and Finnick working together,” you started.

Darla interrupted, mouth full of croissant, “Obviously, that was just a given.”

You clenched your jaw a bit, but barreled on, “and I want the two of you working with Johanna and-“

“No!” She cut you off, nostrils flared. “That’s a recipe for disaster, and you know it.”

“It’s the best plan I’ve got,” you fired back, “the Capitol knows the two of you were together. They’ll eat your dynamic right up, and keep you alive long enough for you to keep making good television.”

She looked indignant, but you doubled down, “Johanna is a strong fighter, and with Finnick distracted protecting Mags you’ll need to beef up your alliance. If Blight comes with her, the five of you can square off evenly against the careers.”

“We’re sure Finnick won’t want to join the pack?” Darla raised a brow, and you blinked at her in surprise.

“You really think he’d do that?” You asked, voice light. Would he? You were so certain of his character you hadn’t even considered the possibility. But the games always changed things- changed people. When she made a face at you, you shook it off, “You know he loves Mags, he wouldn’t just leave her. And the careers are too pragmatic to take on someone they see as dead weight.”

“Good thing I’m not pragmatic, then,” Darla said wryly, taking a bite of a fruit tart.

Pragmatic, no. Entertaining, yes. Watching Finnick care for Mags would melt hearts across the nation, and they wouldn’t be able to turn the cameras away from two bickering exes. Putting on a show was the first step to a one way ticket out of the arena. You just didn’t want to think about which one of your friends would be the one to take it.

Your strategy started as soon as the train pulled into the station. Walking onto the platform with an arm over Darla’s shoulder, and big smiles on both of your faces. If there was ever a time to appeal to the audience it was now. Normally you’d shy away from questions, but with a few cameras you were eager to assert your tribute early.

“We’re always happy to visit the Capitol! You all make us feel so welcome here!” Darla assured a reporter. So she had taken your strategy briefing to heart.

“While we wish we could be seeing you under better circumstances,” you jumped in, “we’re certainly going to make the most of our time here. You might just get sick of seeing us!” You laughed with the reporter, touching her wrist lightly.

From there you were off to the races, starting a campaign of phone calls in the car. Scheduling an appearance on daytime TV to talk up Darla, conversing with the connections you’d made over the years, and making appointments for drinks or coffee occupied your afternoon.

Darla took the time to settle in to the space, flicking through magazines on the couch as you talked your throat dry. After hanging up on another Capitolite, you scratched some more notes on the meticulous schedule you’d started.

“Time for a break?” Darla asked from the other room after a minute of silence.

“Time for a drink,” you complained, but caught a glimpse of the time. “Shit!”

“What?” She asked as you ran to the room you’d stayed in during your annual visits.

“I’m meeting Mrs. Montgomery for dinner!” You shouted back.

“Who?”

Within ten minutes you stumbled back out in a short, but stylish cocktail dress.

“How do I look?” You asked, shoving your feet into a small pair of heels as you smeared lipgloss on your mouth.

“Stellar,” Darla assured you, not bothering to look up from her magazine.

You were busy clipping your hair up, assessing your appearance in the microwave’s reflection. “Really?” You fretted, finally turning toward her.

“Absolutely!” She said enthusiastically, still not looking up.

Your shoulders dropped, “Fuck off!” Grabbing your purse, you headed for the door.

“Love you too! Thanks for all you do for-“

The slamming door cut her off, and she snickered.

Mrs. Montgomery was over the moon that’d you’d asked her out to dinner, and recommended her favorite spot in the city. Luckily it was only a few blocks away, and with some extra incentive your driver floored it. You walked into her embrace right on time, and successfully reminded her of how much she adored you for an hour.

Long ago you had learned just how much Capitolites liked to talk about themselves, and you used it to your advantage more often than not. Questions like, “How are your students? I so regret I haven’t been able to visit recently!” Were unbelievably well received, and further endeared you to the very wealthy woman who sat across the table.

Finally, she came to address the elephant in the room, “I’m sure it’s hard for you to be here under these circumstances.”

You nodded, “It is. This is my home away from home, but I can’t help but worry for Darla.” She nodded sympathetically, you had her hooked, but it was time to reel her in, “She’s so so capable, and I know she’ll go far, but I need her to come home.”

Mrs. Montgomery reached across the table for your hand, “We’ll be happy to sponsor Darla.” She spoke on behalf of herself and her ultra-rich husband, who you’d have the displeasure of meeting as a client.

“It would mean so much to me to have yours and Mr. Montgomery’s support. Please tell him I asked after him, by the way,” you squeezed her hand gently. You might come to regret it later, but what was the point of being forced to have a roster if you couldn’t put them to good use. The man was richer than God, and had requested your company on multiple occasions. An appeal to his wife and to him, though indirectly, would go far. You could face any consequences later.

You paid for dinner yourself, though Mrs. Montgomery did protest, earning even more points towards your cause. A warm goodbye hug marked your departure, and soon enough you were B-Lining to the hotel bar in the lobby of the training center.

—————

“If it isn’t my favorite District Twelve victor,” an airy voice pulled Haymitch’s attention from the glass of bourbon he’d been swirling. Pleasantly surprised to see you, he turned the futuristic stool next to him in your direction.

“Well, have a seat, your highness,” he invited, and you settled in at the bar. “What are you drinking?”

“Surprise me,” you set your purse on the counter. He slid you his untouched glass of bourbon. “Lazy,” you complained, before taking a sip.

“You’re just the gal I’ve been wanting to see,” a small smile spread across his thin lips and raised alarm bells in your mind.

“Why’s that?” You asked cautiously.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he stood from his chair, but you shook your head.

“Let’s not,” you weren’t aiming to be associated with Twelve right now. If Capitolites saw the two of you on the street and got to talking, it could be bad for business. Katniss and Peeta made for a good show, but with your finger on the pulse of the Capitol, you could tell when Snow was displeased. That wasn’t an obstacle you currently needed in your way.

Haymitch put his hands up in surrender, “Then I’ll mix you something better.” He winded around to the other side of the bar. Stopping in front of you, he snatched the glass of bourbon back and polished it off. Where the bartender had run off to, you couldn’t say.

“What do you want?”

“Your ear,” he crushed some mint at the bottom of a new glass. “I just don’t want you to waste your efforts.”

Your brow furrowed, he was crazier than you thought if he was asking you to back off, “I spend my energy carefully, thank you.”

“Then spend it on this,” he plopped a mojito in front of you, “your girl makes it out and so does mine.”

You raised a brow, inspecting both him and your drink, “You know that can’t happen.”

“If you pretend we’re flirting while I lean in to tell you the plan it can,” you blinked for a second before meeting him halfway.

“A transport is coming from District Thirteen to pick up Katniss and anyone aiding her from the arena. They want her for the rebellion,” Haymitch breathed into your ear. Pretending you hadn’t just heard literal whispers of treason involving a long-dead district was difficult, but you managed to swallow your shock.

“When?” If true, this would change everything. Your moves would need to incorporate Katniss and Peeta, your endgame would be totally different. But first you had to determine the chances of this going wrong.

“I don’t know yet,” Haymitch whispered.

“Give me something here,” you pleaded, “I can’t work with nothing. How could I trust a pretty promise?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he warned, and you angled your head enough so he could see your glare. “You know very well I’m too chicken to take anything less than a sure bet.”

“You’re awful at gambling, and you’re a reckless old drunk,” you snarked quietly back, this wasn’t a risk you could take lightly.

“I’m telling you this because I need your help, and Darla’s, and Finnick’s, and Johanna’s,” he went on, but you cut him off.

“You’re assembling a team of political defectors?”

Haymitch’s nostrils flared, but went on before you could protest further, “We need to keep Katniss alive until Plutarch can get her and her allies out of that arena.”

“Plutarch?” That caught you off guard, and you reeled back. Your volume clearly bothered him, though the bar was empty. Haymitch clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Yes,” he confirmed quietly, scanning the room, “though this is all meant to be secret!”

You smacked his hand away, “Then what is my part in your lovely little treason plot?”

“You need to recruit the others,” Haymitch nodded.

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, as helpful as you’ll be pulling strings from behind the scenes, Katniss needs allies in the arena,” he said.

“You really think they’d commit treason because I asked nicely?” You were skeptical.

“Yes,” he nodded, and you gaped.

Shaking it off, you kept pushing, “What makes you think they’ll work with her? What makes you think she’ll work with them?”

“She doesn’t know about this,” he said sharply, “and she can’t. All they have to do is not kill her, and eliminate those tributes who might.”

“The careers, then,” you tilted your chin up.

“Bingo.”

You took a sip of the now slightly watered mojito, “So what does she know?”

“What you did when you won,” he offered, “shoot to kill, play to win.”

“Will she take any allies?” You asked, taking a deep breath, “You know that’d make things easier.”

“I’m working on it,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s a no,” you huffed a laugh, astounded by the turn of events. Never in a million years would you have seen this coming. You knew Katniss had stirred something up, but had not foreseen a full fledged rebellion on the immediate horizon.

“She needs time,” Haymitch insisted, “Peeta will help her see the logic behind strong allies.”

“And how much does he know?” You set your glass down with a clink. Haymitch just shook his head. Sighing, you barreled on, “I don’t like this, you know?”

“I know,” he nodded, eyes clear and serious. You weren’t sure you’d seen him quite like this before. “But you’ll do it. You don’t want to have to choose between Finnick and Darla.”

Tightening your grasp around the glass, you ran your tongue across your teeth. Fuck if he didn’t have you pinned. If there was even a slight chance you could save them both, you’d take it. Just when Haymitch had realized how deep your affection for Finnick ran, you had no clue. Suddenly, you hoped you weren’t a chatty drunk.

“Your lives will all be better for it,” Haymitch said, “we’ll all be free.” You met his gaze head on, and were surprised to find hope lying in them.

“I’ll talk to D tonight,” you nodded once, “and I’ll get to Fin and Jo.” Haymitch’s shoulders sagged with something like relief. When you clocked Peeta walking in from the other side of the room, you knew it was time to wrap things up. You leaned in close, again.

“But don’t think I’m doing all your dirty work, Old Man,” you said lowly, with a coy grin, “I’m sending them your way!” You planted a quick kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a lip stick print. Quickly grabbing your purse, you sprung off your stool.

With some manufactured pep in your step, you walked towards the blond boy. “Don’t let him fix you a drink, Peeta,” you said, conversationally, “for a drunk, he’s piss poor at it!” The last part was directed at your old pal, who’d now placed the lot of you in a precarious spot.

“I missed you too, Sugar!” He yelled back, wide grin on his face as you sauntered toward the elevator.

Peeta looked at him, amused, but skeptical, “What’d she want?”

“A piece of this!” Haymitch gestured dramatically toward himself, and picked up the glass you’d left behind. Polishing it off, he choked a little at the taste. You’d been right, of course, he was a little rusty at bartending.

——————————

You tugged at the shoulder of Darla’s tribute outfit. When you’d suggested leather to the stylist, this wasn’t what you’d meant. Skin tight, black patent leather reflected sunlight into your eyes. You let your hand come to your brow as you shook your head.

“What?”

You raised a brow at the stylist, one of Darla’s.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You don’t think it leans a little… kinky?” You shrugged, frustrated.

“Well, you said leather,” the stylist defended themself.

“And you took that as BDSM?”

Darla threw her hands up in the air at your comment, tired of being examined, and wandered off.

You sent the stylist away before they could argue any further. This parade was already a mess. Your plans to put Darla on horseback, to harken back to her first parade, were ruined by Darby’s apparent inability to ride a horse. There was no way you could put her on horseback if those poor creatures were pulling a cart as well. You pet one of the horses that would be pulling the Ten tributes, and the action calmed you a bit. Only, your peace was disturbed when you saw Finnick putting the moves on Katniss.

Of the ways to piss off the standoffish girl you’d been charged with helping protect, he had to pick this one. It took about ten seconds for you to march over and fix it.

“I’m sorry you had to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you,” you overheard. His voice oozed with sarcasm and you rolled your eyes.

“Is this strange man bothering you, Katniss?” You didn’t wait for a response before dragging him off by his ear.

“Hey, now,” he complained, but kept at your side. “Peeta,” Finnick tried for a dignified nod as you passed him, but came up short.

“Finnick,” he nodded back, gaze turning to you.

“Bye, Peeta!” You waved with your free hand.

“See ‘ya, Sugar,” he waved back, kindly.

Finnick planted his feet, freeing himself in an instant, “Sugar?!” He stood to his full height and shot the Twelve tribute a sour look. You rolled your eyes and started dragging him by the wrist instead. While you were going to correct Peeta, you no longer saw a point.

“Sugar?” Katniss questioned too, a skeptical look on her face.

“Is that not her name?” Peeta was confused. “That’s what Haymitch called- oh,” he seemed to have answered his own question, and Katniss let out a small laugh.

“What was that?” You asked Finnick, when you’d finally pulled him to a secluded area.

“What? I was just being nice,” he defended himself, about to pop a sugar cube in his mouth. You plucked it from his hand and tossed it over you shoulder. Finnick blinked.

“So I was trying to sus her out,” he shrugged, “big deal. If the Capitol finds out their romance is a lie, their support goes up in flames… like her little dresses.”

You rolled your eyes. If you were still playing to win, you would’ve liked his angle, but as it was, you had to steer the ship back on course. “Play nice with her, would you? I’m working on something.”

“You’re working on something that includes the girl on fire?”

You grabbed his wrist, “Keep it quiet and come find me later. Find Haymitch too!” Sensing the parade was about to start, you turned to go.

“Some greeting,” he complained, moodily. You stopped in your tracks, and turned again to face him.

“Did I forget to say hi to you and your abs and your skirt?” You asked facetiously.

“You did” he nodded, “we were offended.” Rolling your eyes amusedly, you stepped up close to him.

“Hello Finnick,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Hi Finnick’s abs,” your gaze moved down as you went, “hi Finnick’s skirt.” You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips as you looked back up at him. “Happy?” You asked.

“Very,” he nodded, soundly.

“Good,” you nodded back.

“I missed that smile.” He said lowly, leaning in a bit. You were really fighting against your grin, now.

“It missed you too,” you said, refusing to make eye contact.

“Really?” His eyes sparkled as he looked down at you.

“Don’t you have a populous to charm?” You tilted your head.

“I’ve got a you to charm, first,” he blinked, innocently. When he reached out to tug on a strand of your hair, you’d had enough.

You lightly swatted his hands away and skittered back, “Go! … Do your parade prep,” you sputtered.

Finnick tried to conceal his laughter at your reaction. He just loved to see you flustered. “If you insist,” he bowed his head and began to trot off. But he couldn’t resist throwing a melodic goodbye over his shoulder and taking one last glance to see you hurry off.

————————————

Finnick wouldn’t see you again until later, though he did try. He eventually found you at a party that night, a young Capitol socialite you were both familiar with was throwing a celebration in honor of the games.

When he saw Darla tearing up the dance floor, he had no doubt that you were behind the appearance, and started scanning the rooms in the penthouse. Finally, he found you hidden away in a quiet spot, typing away on a tablet.

Hard at work securing sponsors, no doubt. If he was lucky, he’d be reaping the rewards of Darla’s 101 sponsor gifts. Maybe you’d even deign to send him a little something. He called your name to pull you from your work.

You looked up from your tablet, curiously. His hand tensed. When did you start wearing glasses? How did they make you look even more-

“Finnick?” You arched a brow.

“Yup?” He said, shoving both hands in his pockets.

You blinked at him from your spot on a couch, “Spaced out there for a second?”

“Yup,” he nodded. You rose to meet him when you noticed he wasn’t moving to sit beside you. He watched the slinky black dress graze your thighs as you walked.

“Are you alright?”

“Yup,” he said, a little breathy.

“Okay,” you said, skeptically, “So in terms of-“

“Sorry,” he interrupted, swallowing, “when did you start wearing glasses?”

“What?” You asked, not quite following his train of thought.

He inched closer and adjusted the frames on your nose as you blinked up at him, “When did this become a thing?”

“I-“ you floundered. Was he blushing?

“Okay, lovebirds,” Johanna breezed into the room. You jolted and Finnick snatched his hands away from your face in surprise. “Wrap it up, I want to hear this brilliant plan of yours.”

She directed the last part towards you. You had found her earlier and told her essentially the same thing you’d said to Finnick. Johanna was surly, sure, but had a soft spot for you. She’d won the year after Darla, and you eventually took her under your wing as well. Not in time to warn her to take Snow’s threats seriously, but soon enough to comfort her before she could spiral too badly.

You tried to shake off the confusing last few moments, “Alright, well, marketing it as my plan was maybe a little disingenuous.” They both seemed confused at your words. “But if it’s the plan I think it is it’s a plan I can get behind,” you rushed out

“Are we throwing a surprise party? What the hell are you talking about?” Johanna asked.

“Look, I,” you did a quick glance around the room, and motioned for them to follow you. They both did, but it only further soured Johanna’s mood. When you found a private enough corner, you told them what Haymitch had told you.

“So what? We have to protect pretty little princess for a free ticket out of here?” Johanna spat.

“Basically,” you nodded. Looking over at Finnick, you tried to gauge his reaction. He hadn’t said anything, and still seemed deep in thought.

You knew neither of your friends were fond of the Capitol. They had both lost more than they’d care to admit to these people, but you couldn’t begrudge them for trying to think this through. You’d spent a few hours doing the same before you brought it to Darla last night, and she had to sleep on it.

“Look,” you tried again, “the reality is, she probably won’t ally with you. I still think the smartest thing to do would be to bring both your district partners and Darla into an alliance of five. If you can manage to knock out some threats to her, you can bide your time until the free plane ride.”

They both seemed to relax a bit at that, but there was still some hesitance. “You really think throwing Darla and I together is a smart move?” Johanna asked smartly.

“I don’t take this lightly,” you said with an air of scolding, “I’m trying to keep you safe. Right now, the only way I know how is asking you to watch each others backs in the arena while I watch yours from here. Can you trust me to do that?”

“Yes,” Finnick chimed in seriously, speaking for the first time in minutes.

Johanna was silent for only a few seconds longer, “Yes. But don’t expect me to be nice to her.”

You weren’t quite sure if she was talking about Katniss or Darla, but either way it didn’t surprise you. You only shrugged at her before she walked away.

“So,” you turned casually back to Finnick, “where were we?” You gave him a quick once over, and he seemed to tense up.

“I think I might turn in,” he nodded quickly, brow furrowed. When you titled your head and shot him a confused glance he barreled on, laughing awkwardly, “Big day tomorrow, super tired, goodnight!” He took smell steps backward with every word before practically bolting.

He breezed past Darla, face a little flushed. She smirked a little at his quick pace, and shook her head as she approached you. “What was that about?” She laughed.

“Beats me,” you shook your head, confused and a more than a little disappointed at his departure. After all, you hadn’t seen him in a few months. Most of your phone calls had circled back to the quell, and you would’ve liked some time together. At least the escape plan had made you more optimistic about your chances of seeing him again.

————————————

“Answer me this,” Darla’s voice startled him the next day at training. “Why’d you leave the party in a rush?”

“Sorry?” Finnick remembered it well, but in the light of day was better able to keep his cool. Damned glasses.

Darla rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you tell me after I kick your ass?” She gestured toward the mats set up in an alcove and started walking that way. He followed her lead and took on a fighting stance.

She started to throw out guesses as he dodged her jabs. “Indigestion?” He blocked a punch. “Had to vomit?” Blocked a kick. “Left the oven on?” Sidestepped a hit. Her barrage continued until he swept her legs out from under her.

Darla landed on the mat without complaint, more concerned with him than with training. “Then what sent you running from my lovely mentor?”

Finnick offered her a hand up, but she swept his legs out too. Lying in opposite directions on the floor, he made his first verbal defense. “What, you don’t get sick of those parties?”

She propped herself up on her elbows and sent him a glare. It was intimidating too, but Darla had learned from the best. “Cut the crap, I know there’s a reason. No way she could fathom being rude to you, so that’s out.” Finnick rolled his eyes as sat up. “And she’s got no game so no way she made you blush.”

“Come on,” he said, defensively, pushing to his feet, “don’t insult her.”

Darla perked up at this, and accepted the hand he had once again offered, “Wait, it was really her that made you blush? What on Earth did she say?”

“Drop it, D,” he warned, stalking off.

“I am so getting to the bottom of this!” She chirped, smiling at his departing figure.

Darla gave him some space for a while, flitting around the various stations. The practical skills called out to her, no use practicing with weapons when she was already as good as she’d get.

When she saw Finnick bothering Katniss she made her way over to intervene. He’d tied a noose around his neck, the cheeky bastard. Just when he held it out for Katniss to take, Darla snatched it and pulled him away.

She heard him wheeze and let up on her grasp. “Fuck,” Finnick choked out as loosened the rope from around his neck. “Darla!” He scolded her once he was properly free.

“Don’t antagonize the girl,” she said, stopping once they were out of ear shot, “and don’t act like you’re not spoken for.”

He didn’t bother replying to the first part, “I’m not spoken for.” Darla shot him a glare, saying you’re really going to pretend I’m wrong? with just her eyes. When he glared back she only shrugged.

“You could be,” she sassed, and he took a sharp breath.

“I don’t think now is the time to-“

“If not now then when?!” Darla whisper-yelled, “Newsflash buddy, you still might die. So do you want to die sad and alone… or spoken for?”

“Do I really come off as sad and alone?” Finnick blinked.

“Only to those who know you,” she shook her head.

“Gee thanks, Darla,” he said flatly.

“It’s my pleasure,” she gave him a friendly yet exaggerated shoulder bump. “Come on, let’s catch the show.” Finnick followed her off to join the crowd forming around Katniss’s simulation session.

Darla could see the faces of the other tributes drop as Katniss put down figure after figure. They were nearly all modeled after the rest of them, and featured their signature weapons at the very least. She clenched her jaw when Katniss shot the female figure holding a whip straight through the face. No mistaking who that was meant to be. She saw Finnick twitch when Katniss shot the figure with a trident through the chest. By the end, it was clear that the girl was absolutely on the level of every person there. If luck was on her side, and she wanted to, she could likely kill each one of them.

Wiress started clapping, and it killed some of the tension in the air. But the quell was getting more interesting by the minute.

——————-

The four of you sat in silence in a both in the empty lounge within the training center. You traced the rim of your drink, hoping Haymitch would arrive soon since he asked you all to meet him there. The casual conversation had died out a bit ago, having run out of outfits to make fun of to keep the conversation light. It was hard not to think about your immediate circumstances.

You shivered a little, still unused to the central air the Capitol pumped through all their buildings. Finnick caught your eye and nodded his head in the other direction, inviting you to scoot closer to him. You would’ve shaken your head if you hadn’t put on a tank top earlier, but you were chilly enough to press up against his side in a bid to steal body heat.

Finnick raised a hand to wave to Haymitch when he saw the older man scanning the place. He settled the arm over your shoulder when he was done. Behind your head, he caught Darla narrow her gaze at him and sent her a look of warning.

“What’s the update?” He asked Haymitch as the man slotted into the space at the edge of the curved booth.

“Well, Katniss is not keen on allies,” he said, instantly off to a bad start, “though she is interested in the District Three Tributes.”

“Excuse me?” Johanna asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Wiress and Beete.”

“You mean she wants Nuts and Volts for allies?” Darla asked, and heard Johanna try to muffle a snicker. She tried not to smirk at the sound. So much for ‘not understanding her’ or whatever Jo had said during their breakup.

“Look, don’t shoot the messenger,” he defended himself.

“Maybe we should if the message is dumb,” Johanna snarked, crossing her arms.

“She said she liked them,” Haymitch repeated, and the whole table winced. Maybe as people, Darla thought, though even that might be a stretch, but as allies? In terms of physical game it’d be like tying a brick around your ankle. Hadn’t the girl seen anyone else at work? Johanna’s axe skills? The second time she and Finnick had sparred?

“Anyone else?” You tried, hoping for a better result. Haymitch thought for a second before snapping his fingers.

“Yeah, Mags!” Darla groaned, make that two bricks. Finnick used the arm he’d draped across your shoulders to flick Darla in the ear.

“Mags and I are a package deal,” Finnick asserted. Not a chance in hell he’d trust someone else to protect Mags.

“Then my bet would be no deal from the girl on fire,” Haymitch shrugged.

“Ok, so we’re keeping Katniss alive, but Three too?” Darla asked.

“Haven’t we established-?”

“We’ve got it,” you reassured him, and Finnick and Johanna nodded.

“Good,” Haymitch saidd. “We’ll,” he nodded in your direction, “keep in touch through sponsor gifts. But it’ll have to be subtle, so keep your thinking caps on.”

“Is that it?” Johanna asked, bored.

“No actually,” he went on, “when the time comes you’ll have to cut out your trackers and one of you will have to get Katniss’s.”

“Shit,” Darla said.

“Squeamish?” Johanna taunted her from the other side of the table. Haymitch interrupted before a fight could break out.

“Before then,” he said, firmly, “I’d recommend making a big show of the interviews. Last chance to drum up public outrage at this, maybe get it cancelled.” Johanna scoffed at that, but Haymitch kept on, “At the very least it’ll be good for sponsors.”

“He’s right about that,” you nodded, already thinking up possible interview angles for Darla.

Haymitch grinned, “I’ll see you all there.” He pushed away from the table, heading back to his own tributes, no doubt.

Johanna walked away next, and Darla popped up to follow her.

“Think they’ll kill each other before the games start?” Finnick asked, angling his head to look at you.

You let out a chuckle, still tucked under his arm. “Let’s hope not. I’m counting on those repressed feelings to bring in sponsorships,” you replied, watching the two walk off. He grinned, shaking with a bit of laughter. When you looked up to catch his gaze, you realized how close you were.

“They sure are powerful,” Finnick said, holding your gaze.

You blinked at him, “Sorry?”

“Repressed feelings,” he clarified, doing his best to look innocent. You elbowed him and scooted away from his grasp and out of the booth. You’d been dancing around your feelings for him for so long you didn’t know how to do anything else.

“Goodnight, Finnick!” You called over your shoulder as you marched away. He sighed as he watched you go, a small smile working on his face. Maybe Darla was onto something.

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

Hope you enjoyed <3333 next part coming soon! That one will cover the interviews and the start of the games at least

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#finnick odair x reader #hunger games fanfiction #finnick x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games

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choerypetal · 9 months

Note

Yooooo!!! That Snow fic you recently released involving the reader and Treech being in love? Absolute masterpiece! So hear me out: what if you wrote about their connection and how it progressed? Like, before Coryo got his clutches on the reader. There was a moment you described where Treech and the reader snuck out, I’m pretty sure. I’d love to see a story on that. Maybe end it with those dying words you mentioned? Just utter fluff with that heartbreak of an ending.

Capitol's love birds. / Treech

summary : being Snow's twin meant being exactly like him, even though your appearances were slightly different. As a mentor yourself, you were assigned to District 7's male tribute, Treech. it was only in the wagon on its way to the Capitol that the chemistry first sparked, ultimately solidifying your status as the Capitol's favorite lovebirds.

ps ; english is not my native language, and I appreciate seeing your requests for ideas that I may not have thought of. Hopefully, you find the suggestions helpful. please refrain from plagiarizing my work without my permission or proper credit, as doing so may result in being flagged or banned. thank you.

Mentoring proved to be a challenging responsibility, but the greatest struggle arose when love entered the picture. However, this was no ordinary affection; it was a type of love that some might view as disgraceful, while others perceived it as a form of admiration amid the Games. Although Treech wasn't particularly interested in getting to know his mentor, let alone encountering them in another restricted enclosure, it was within those confines that the two of you crossed paths. Despite being Snow's twin traditionally constantly at his side, it was unquestionable that you, too, were destined to trail behind him to discover who your tribute was.

While taking pride in mentoring someone from a district not situated at the lowest rungs of Panem's hierarchy, you were fortunate enough to maintain a semblance of dignity, given the reputation of the district you represented for its familiarity with victory. However, Lucy Gray Baird's captivating performance, the talk of the town since the reaping, cast shadows of doubt over your confidence. All of this, while your brother engaged with fellow tributes, attempting his best to establish his temptation not to gith back.

You couldn't help but notice the stark class distinctions. Dust still clung to their attire, indicating a lack of access to basic amenities like showers before arriving. A twinge of sympathy crept in. "What's a pretty face doing here?" Reaper Ash remarked, catching you off guard. Initially assuming the comment was directed at Coriolanus, you soon realized it was aimed squarely at you. The revelation that you, too, were to become a mentor became apparent. And that the unspoken pressure to make a positive first impression on the fortunate second tribute who had the early opportunity to meet you loomed large. But Ash simply laughed at your brother’s reaction by ordering you stay behind him. Although poorly as his arm performed itself as a fence initiating to any tributes not to go further. "Relax, pretty boy. I won't touch her. Just asking for a friend, that's all."

That friend happened to be Treech, whose imposing silhouette positioned itself in front of you a little closer this time. His gaze had been fixed on you from the moment he laid eyes on you. While you initially attributed it to natural human interaction, the persistent feeling of being scrutinized lingered throughout. It seemed as if Treech was almost surprised or even deceived to have you as his mentor, likely influenced by how your brother had fared so far. "Looking for District 7." You mentioned exchanging quick glances with the tributes to assess who would be best with an axe.

As expected, your eyes landed on the red-headed girl who endeavored to present herself as the ideal candidate for you. "A boy." Your brother corrected, noticing as Lamina stood up, but Treech, adopting a protective stance, advised her to remain behind, much like your twin had done. After all it was a one-on-one game for the time being. "That must be my lucky one." Treech expressed sarcastically, stating it as a matter of fact, causing a subtle pink shade to color your cheeks – a reaction you tried hard to control. After all, it was your very first time you had seen someone outside the District ever. "You get to have the other pretty one." Ash teased playfully, suggesting that, despite Treech's charming demeanor, he was seemingly destined for a grim fate in the arena upon arrival. “I’m a little jealous.” Ash generously said.

Upon reaching the Capitol, you and your brother were taken aback as you discovered an unforeseen aspect of the tributes' journey. The initial understanding was that Flickerman, the Capitol's esteemed journalist, would be present to introduce each tribute upon their arrival. However, what they were unaware of was the presence of two mentors among the tributes, perhaps trespassing without official permission. This, however, was a matter for another time. Despite the somewhat unconventional transportation, Treech remained fixated on you throughout the journey to the Capitol. He seemed entranced by the striking resemblance between you and your brother, sparking a sense of compassion. Observing your interactions and the way you closely accompanied your brother, it was rumored that you were akin to his pet, only permitted to speak when approved by Coriolanus. Despite his disdain for the District, your brother demonstrated a surprising degree of protectiveness towards you, although in the midst of the situation, allowed some space during the encounter with your tribute in an unexpected location.

Fortunately, your keen observation allowed you to realize that you were reaching your destination, a detail that eluded many, including Coryo himself. Swiftly grasping your twin’s arm, a gesture he had ensured, the sudden tilt of the wagon hinted at the possibility of your feet slipping and sliding. Treech's eyes widened at your momentary clumsiness, seizing the opportunity to support you. As your back met the uncomfortable mud of the Zoo, he was determined not to lose his mentee on the spot.

Cameras focused intently on both you and your brother, eliciting a crowd reaction filled with exclamations such as, "It's Snow's boy!" Swiftly, the onlookers noticed your presence next to your brother, who rose and asserted himself. There you stood, a captivating spectacle, with Treech's arm securing your waist and his unwavering gaze fixed on yours. A sly smirk played on his lips as the rest of the crowd declared your presence as well. "And look! The other Snow!" The citizens of the Capitol, already entranced by the presence of the twin siblings on their tributes' first day, began expressing confidence in your victory. This added an additional layer of challenge for the other mentors who were absent from this captivating spectacle. "It's your cue, princess."

"Princess" was the first word he used to address you. Ironically, it took you a moment to realize that all the cameras were focused on you. Your brother had already made his mark, keeping a careful eye to ensure your tribute didn't make any missteps, especially when it came to touching you. However, you were completely under Treech's influence. With a confident smile, he waved at the cameras, making it a bit easier for you to face the potential embarrassment later at home. "She's alright!" He assured, shifting his gaze quickly to your relieved brother. He could have sworn he saw a few Capitol ladies, with similar makeup to yours, watching in awe at how Treech gallantly assisted you. As he watched the scene unfold with Lucy and Snow not far away, he too decided to play the role of the Capitol's love bird.

As preparations for the 10th Hunger Games were underway, Flickerman's team mandated interviews with every tribute each year. From the very beginning, you managed to establish trust with Treech, a bond that proved beneficial. Not only did you ensure he was well-fed, but you also took the initiative to fetch Lamina additional food, given her mentor's apparent neglect. Treech appreciated the maternal role you assumed for Lamina. On one occasion, he confessed that he would go to great lengths for her, even if it meant risking his own life to secure her victory as the final tribute. It was all in the pursuit of making District 7 proud once again, for a Lumberjack always harbors a wealth of secrets up their sleeves.

During his time at the Zoo, Treech found increased joy in your company, particularly when you accompanied him for a quick visit to the arena. Following suit with other tributes, he decided to take the initiative in making the first move. It happened on that initial day when he casually attempted to hold your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You discreetly glanced at him, careful not to make it too obvious given the presence of the assigned tributes and their mentors. With Coriolanus behind you taking notice. Yet, observing Treech's attempts to connect with you, he sensed a deeper connection between the two of you. Realizing this, your elder sibling understood the need to strengthen his bond with Lucy. To Treech's delight, he could only imagine your brother envying a love that he would never receive in return.

With insider knowledge of the arena and sneaky routes into the Academy, Treech and you managed to slip away after the arena visit. Observing his interaction back with District 4's tribute and noticing his vigilance, a few teases were all it took to provoke Treech into throwing a punch, especially when faced with comments like. "Your girlfriend wouldn't mind if I speak with you?" While it was clear that others were aware of your connection, Treech dismissed it as a mere game, refusing to believe that it held any deeper significance. However, his sentiments towards you had sparked an unexpected depth of emotion within him. "Just a reminder." He sternly directed at the other tribute, his gaze darkening with offense. Spotting you behind him with Lamina by your side, Treech asserted. "You don't speak such filth about Y/N." The onlookers chuckled at his protectiveness and the evident depth of his emotions. "Or else?" They added, challenging anyone who dared to disrespect you.

"Or else, I won't hesitate to cut your head off with my axe. Watch yourself, because I can do it in the blink of an eye." With those words, Treech revealed what you truly meant to him. He could vividly recall Snow's concerned gaze as he tried to pull you away from the escalating situation. However, you had refused that day, meeting Treech's eyes the entire time after discussing the tributes he would be teamed with. "For Lamina's sake," You had pleaded, urging him to be cautious. "Those individuals only seek your vulnerability. They may be from District 4, but they don't understand the power of an axe." Was what Treech said reassuring you with a smile. A smile you’ll never forget.

In that very moment, you decided to take Treech with you for a clandestine escape from the arena. It was a day when even the tributes were granted the freedom to either stay at the arena for practice or wander under the watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers. However, Treech and you had a different agenda. You used the excuse of wanting to make his training more convenient as a cover. For some inexplicable reason, you had the approval of Dr. Gaul, who only instructed that Treech needed to return to the Zoo before midnight. It seemed that being Snow's twin had its perks after all.

Upon your arrival at the Academy's Greenhouse, both of you maintained a quiet atmosphere. This place held a special significance for you, offering tranquility during moments of anxiety or family pressure. Though it was suspected that you were in charge of the Greenhouse, under your grandmother's watchful eye and constant reminders to enjoy tending to flowers like she did, you chose to share this haven with Treech. It was the same place where you had once spoken briefly to him, and he was thrilled not only to spend time alone with you but also to witness the real person behind the facade of prestige and elegance showcased in public. Trying to ease the slight tension, Treech remarked. "You know, I'd be damned to see your brother's face if he were here." It was a fact that you were gradually opening up to someone. The type that was once a stranger and now someone to feel loved by. "Brother could care less; he has Lucy wrapped around his finger right now.” You added, acknowledging the complexities of your relationships within the family.

A smirk played across Treech's face, revealing his amusement at the thought of your brother feeling jealous. Although they were in similar positions, this time the connection between you and Treech was authentic, not just for show. Playful teasing began to permeate every event at the Academy, serving as a tactic to expose vulnerabilities in both of you. However, with Treech's mentor skills and the insights gained from your brother's tips, he honed his skills and strength, making it increasingly difficult for others to exploit weaknesses or gain his trust. "And would it be fair to say that I, too, have my little finger entirely wrapped around you, Princess?" He added, playfully reciprocating the banter.

His words caused a warm blush to spread across your cheeks, especially when he directed his attention toward you during wound care in practice. The worry in your eyes whenever he made a slight mistake was met with a reassuring thumbs-up and the smile you cherished. There were moments when it became challenging for him to stay focused, particularly when he saw you engaged in conversations with your other classmates. Despite the casual nature of those interactions, he couldn't resist the urge to draw your attention back to him. In response, you chuckled softly, suggesting a meeting on the rooftop of the Greenhouse to admire the stars. "Anything that involves being with you, I'll gladly say yes." He replied with a smile. “You know, I love when you blush more. Especially for me.”

Without uttering a word, you playfully dismissed his comment, rolling your eyes in a teasing manner. You extended your hand, a gesture he effortlessly accepted. "Show me the way, Princess." He said, and together, you ascended the stairs. Luck was on your side as you reached the rooftop just as the sun of the Capitol dipped below the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn. The sky was clear, and the stars of Panem glittered above, creating a breathtaking scene just for the two of you. "Looks like I'm the lucky one." He marveled at the view. "Having a beautiful face to look at and a beautiful scenery to enjoy all to myself. I'd be damned not to win these Games and return home to a beautiful angel." He confessed, and this time, he genuinely meant every word.

On the other hand, you remained completely silent. Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude, but as the Games drew nearer, uncertainty crept in, even with Treech's skills. The looming uncertainty, especially regarding Lucy's well-being and Snow's single-minded pursuit of victory, left you unsure. Despite your love for your brother, his focus was solely on winning, regardless of the familial bond. Treech noticed the tension as the two of you sat next to the bench, and he tried to bring you closer. In an unexpected reaction, you flinched—a rare occurrence. "Hey—" Treech began, but he immediately noticed your slightly swollen face and your eyes fighting back tears. The man you loved had become, overnight, a complete stranger at best. "Look at me, Y/N." He pleaded, adopting a worried tone as you broke down in front of him. The situation must have been incredibly embarrassing for you.

"What's wrong?" His voice softened as he looked at you, tender care evident in his gaze. He took immense pride in having you as his partner during the Games and falling in love with the most exceptional mentors he could have ever asked for. He harbored concerns about the possibility of you crying over his lifeless body, should the worst come to pass. The thought of hearing you scream his name filled him with worry, although he made a concerted effort not to show it. His overarching plan was to make you proud and, above all, to be loved by you until his very last breath.

"Have you ever genuinely fallen in love?" Your question resonated with Treech. Of course, he loved you. You were an unexpected and, ironically, his first love. And so for you. The circumstances of your meeting might not have been ideal, but as long as he was with you, that's all that mattered. And if things worked in his favor, it was not just for him but for Lamina as well, given that she often regarded you as someone she could trust. "Like genuinely." You added, trying your best not to burst into laughter. Your tears didn't make it any easier, giving you a slightly maniacal tone.

“Of course, and that person is sitting right in front of me.” His eyes not taking his gaze from you. How he watched you loosing yourself entirely in the moment of a mere seconds. Your old habits resurging as you would try to numb the pain of your fingers by scratching the very last skin until it bled. To which Treech could not help to notice the moment he had met you. He grabbed your fingers, making you to stop it quickly as he began to peck every single fingers. “And I have made a promise to myself, that if I’d ever win. That we will be reunited together. Build a family, run away together. Be the lovebirds the Capitol wants us to be.”

A mixture of remorse and relief surged through you as you heard every word from Treech, assuring you that he would stay alive and well. If only you could muster the same confidence he exuded. Despite your attempts, he gently wiped away your tears, his fingers delicately holding your chin to meet his gaze. "You know, even if it's not the conventional way to confess one's love to another, I might be able to let myself do it." He said, leaning in to press his lips against yours. They were soft, just as you expected, carrying the comforting scent of wood he had kept upon his arrival—a reminder of home, a home with both you and Treech.

"I love you to the bottom of my heart. I know our first meetings weren't the best, but the way you cared for Lamina, and even showed care to me, proved something deeper. If we can continue doing that every night until the Games, I'll make sure you genuinely know that I love you." He confessed once the kiss broke. His words carried a weight that nearly brought tears to your eyes, holding you in place. The both of you chuckled at the irony of the situation, yet a newfound sense of confidence enveloped you—something you had never experienced before, especially as someone from a District.

"Man, I wish we could continue this, but I don't want you to get punished for bringing me here—" This time, you swiftly cut him off, recognizing that it wasn't the right time for such activities, especially just a few days before the Games. Instead, you proposed a deal—a deal he seemed to enjoy a little too much. Every time you had the chance to train with him, just before returning him to the Zoo, you would indulge in cuddling and sometimes reminisce about home. Occasionally, these encounters escalated into intense make-out sessions, leaving him with a desire to mark you visibly. The marks led to teasing from some classmates, making you blush, and occasional interventions from your brother. Despite casual warnings, Treech took pleasure in denying everything with a smirk that your brother despised. To add to his delight, that same night, Treech deepened the marks, leaving a lasting impression. Just to see Snow’s furious face once again.

Although this little pleasure was only going to last very soon, when the Games were officially commencing and you knew that. With you being at least able to say your final goodbyes to Treech, he could to feel your worrying about his situation. Cupping your face so delicately as a mention that everything was going to be alright. It was the last time that you also felt his lips brushing against yours. A kiss you would not forget so easily.

During the Games, you and the remaining mentors, alongside your brother, watched with stress and concern for the well-being of your tributes. While your eyes remained fixed on Treech, you also tried your best to ensure Lamina's safety. However, the situation took a dire turn when the poison finally affected Treech. Feeling helpless, you did everything in your power to find a remedy, attempting to prevent the symptoms from worsening and to make them last until only one tribute remained. "The poison!" You angrily tried to draw attention, tears welling up as you called out to your brother, who paid no heed. Seeing you suffer for the one you loved was what he had envisioned from the start. His pleasure lay in witnessing Treech's suffering on screen. "Please! Give him the medication!" You appealed to your District 7's female mentor, but it was too late. Treech's coughing worsened, and your eyes remained fixed on the screen. "Treech..." was all you could say.

Treech sensed that you were watching him, but whether it was with shame or grief, he couldn't discern. What he was certain of was seeing the expression on your face—a face that conveyed concern and a desperate desire to help. He knew that if the poison were to affect him, you would swiftly send the medication. However, it didn't happen, and he realized it was too late. Lucy had managed to escape, unlike him, who became the prisoner of an inevitable and senseless death. As he noticed the cameras focused on him, he understood that by now, you would be looking at him. "Y/N..." he began to cough in the middle of his sentence, capturing the attention of everyone in the room, including your brother. "I loved you since we met. Please, once I am gone, I want you to know that I genuinely loved and will always love you."

"No!!" Your voice wavered between tears, desperately trying to advocate for the medication option repeatedly. Cursing under your breath, you fought against Pliny Harrington, who did his best to restrain you. "Y/N..." he tried to console you, sensing the profound grief from everyone's tributes, including yours. What he failed to comprehend was the deep connection between you and Treech, destined to become the Capitol's favorite lovebirds. "It's too late..." His voice turned into a plea for you to stop. It was at that moment that your entire body went numb. In Pliny’s arms, you managed to sit down, and as Snow's victory loomed over you, you realized that your confidence was about to be completely overshadowed once again. You would become Snow's source of pride and victory.

A man you had once loved would forever reside in your heart. In the heart of District 7, you were revered for your role as a caretaker for both its female and male tribute. What you were not aware of was that, unlike Snow, you became the face of purity and trust—a bond between the District and the people of the Capitol. It was a paid respect for the Capitol's most famous lovebirds.

#tboas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #treech #treech tbosas #treech x reader #angst #one shot #fluff #treech imagines #treech x you #reaper ash #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus imagines #treech fanfiction #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #request open #imagine request

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writersblockiskillingme · 9 months

Text

Lilith | Finnick Odair

Pairing: Finnick Odair x fem!reader (District 4!reader)

Summary: The life of a Victor took a big tool on you, but you're not alone.

Warning/s: +18!, angst, sex trafficking, forced prostitution, trauma, just a bit of fluff (maybe), a little bit of pinning, some curse words (one or two), mentions of sexual activities, light smut at the end (not to explicit, but it's there), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Been obsessed with this song lately, so here you go. I can't believe I never wrote for Finnick, this is a crime. Also, I skipped some parts of the song.

I'm perfection when it comes to first impressions

Well, I romanticize and then I get to stressing

A big brain like I'm teaching it a lesson

Baby, it's a blessing, yeah

The music was too fucking loud.

Finnick found himself gently tugging at the edge of his, what felt like too tight, suit. He felt like he was walking on fire with every step that he took just so he could arrive to yet another party held at the Capitol. Everyone important was going to be there.

The rich, spoiled Capitol's elite who will be thirsting over every attractive Victor there, including him. Especially him.

Even president Snow will be there. He, who is the reason this is happening to almost half of the Victors. The ones who were here for a while like him and new toys who just won. Like you.

Finnick found himself shivering a little bit at the mere thought of the new District 4 female Victor. You, who just won your games by not drowning in the lake like the rest of the tributes that year. You were certainly lucky, Finnick told you that a lot. It was true, of course. You were lucky that you came from District 4 so you knew your way in the water. Otherwise, you would be a gonner.

Finnick felt his throat tightening and his stomach doing a flip once he remembered you. His tribute. His victor. His secret crush.

He knew that he reached for a glass of their finest alcohol a bit too fast, practically at the moment he showed up. God knows he'll need it in him once you show up.

And you did. You showed up in all of your glory.

Your hair was let down, slowly trailing behind you as you walked, clearly a fake smile placed on your gorgeous face. Finnick Odair knew that it was fake. It didn't reach your eyes. Plus you didn't have that glint in your eyes. The glint that you usually wore around the heartthrob from District 4. The dress that you wore was too much for him. It was long enough to be trailing behind you on the ground as you wore, but he felt like it left little to nothing to the imagination. The naked dress that you wore was no doubt beautiful, but it scared him so much that he had no choice but to drown the liquid in his glass all at once, leaving it empty.

"Odair." You suddenly appeared next to him, ordering yourself a drink, bartenders gaze lingering on you a bit to long for Finnick's liking.

"Stunning as always, (L/N)." He replied holding your gaze, the straight tequila still burning a little in his throat.

"You're not two bad yourself." You noticed the edge in his voice and a slight panic, maybe even a hint of regret in his eyes, as you had this conversation with your handsome mentor. "Luckily for them." You barely nodded your head in the direction of the Capitol's elite, nobody noticed it. But he did. Of course he did. He always does.

Finnick found himself once again drowning the hot alcohol from another glass as he felt the dread eating him alive. It was bad enough that he found himself in the situation that he was in, but Snow doing it to you too was simply too much.

And as he turned his head a little to look at the Capitol's elite he watched them looking at you and himself like the two District 4 Victors were a piece of meat. He knew at that moment that it was going to be a long night.

For both of you.

You got me thinking that I was too mean

Well, everything that I say I believe

Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve and

Change like a season

Reason for nothing

I am disruptive

I've been corrupted

And by now I don't need a fucking introduction

I've been gone

'Cause I been on this road too long

It was a gloomy day at District 4. The wind was blowing the leaves around as it went, it was also touching the sea, the waves all over it. The lighting cracked somewhere in the distance, but it was loud enough to startle you.

You were sitting by the window of your house in the Victor's Village watching the gloomy clouds that piled up in the middle of the already dark sky mocking you.

Nature truly had a funny, mocking even, way of reflecting the life of the person.

The never-ending stream of tears continued to slide down both of your cheeks as your gace subconsciously traveled over to Finnick's house.

The light shirt that barely covered the rest of your body suddenly felt too tight. Your hair was a mess. It was blocking the way of you seeing the plate of fresh cookies that Mags gave you in the morning. They were delicious, you tried a few, but now they were just sitting untouched at the top of your kitchen counter.

Your gaze was still frozen onto Finnick's house as you thought of him.

You loved him so much you felt like your heart was going to explode.

Your thoughts were running a mile, your heart couldn't keep up with it. He was simply breathing, absolutely perfect. In a deeply sad way you understood why Snow was selling him. Who wouldn't want him? But your heart broke every time you thought of him like that.

A few days ago you saw him leaving his house, he had to leave the District to go to the Capitol to attend to some urgent matters. Yeah, right.

You had to hold your ground to not just run after him. Mags would kill you, you knew that for sure. She was already doing everything in her power to protect you both from the sex trafficking as much as she possibly could. But you knew that you would bring her and Annie in danger if you did anything reckless so you stayed put.

You stayed away from Finnick. As much as you could.

For a little while you stared to ignore him. It didn't work. He was pushing it and you exploded. You just wanted to keep him safe, as much as you could. That is why you did what you did.

That is why you told him that you love someone else. Even though for you there was no one else. You knew that Snow would punished all of you if he found out that you loved him. What he did to Finnick was already a nightmare scenario, a nightmare scenario that didn't avoid you.

You tried to sleep, but you had yet another nightmare about your time serving the needs of the wealthy people of the Capitol and you broke down.

Now as you longingly looked at the house of your love and as you cried you felt like you were suffocating.

As you lifted your arm to whipe away the tears stains on your cheek your shirt rose up a bit showcasing the bruises on your legs. A reminder that you were not good enough for anyone. Let alone a kind and gentle soul like Finnick was.

Now I'm wondering if I ever wanted to hold you

It never mattered if I owned you

'Cause you'd let anybody with a body control you

And you know it too

A knock on your door in the middle of the night startled you to no end. You rubbed your eyes a little bit, trying to get rid of the sleepiness that still lingered.

Your plain white T-shirt felt like another skin glued tightly to your body from the sweat in which you woke up from yet another horrifying nightmare that was caused by the memories from your time in the arena. You knew that it would haunt you forever.

You dragged your feet across the hard wooden floor in your new home. After what felt like an eternity, you finally reached the door. You placed your hand on the door handle, the coldness of it sending shivers down your spine as you opened the door.

You felt a gasp getting stuck in your throat as you saw the person standing right outside your door.

Finnick.

"You can't do this to me." Finnick said lowly, his tone dripping with agony and something else that you couldn't quite put a finger on. "How dare you say what you said?"

"Finnick..." you started to say. "I-"

"Do you not love me?" You felt yourself freeze as he said that.

He got a little closer to you. The shirt and jeans that he wore were completely soaked from the rain outside. The rain that the storm brought. You felt like you couldn't breathe. The only sound that reached your ears was the sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks by the coast.

"You- you now how I feel about you, Finnick." You stuttered out as you said it, feeling very self-conscious at that moment.

"I don't think that I do." He leaned his head down, the raindrops that took their place in his dirty blonde locks sliding down onto your face. "I poured my heart out to you."

"Finn-"

"I told you that I loved you." Finnick said, slowly backing you up against your own door. "Yet you said nothing back."

"I..." you stuttered, thankful for the darkness outside that covered up the blush that made itself known on your cheeks. "Finnick, I can't..."

"Just say something!" He grabbed your shoulder, rising his voice as he gripped you a little firmly, but not enough to hurt you as he shook you a little trying to get you to say something that will make sense. "If you don't love me back just say it. Break my heart so that I can finally know if all of this was worth it."

"I told you already." Your voice continued to shake even though you tried to appear calm. "You know how I feel about you."

"So you do love me after all."

"I told you. You know-"

"Why can't you just say that you love me." The look that Finnick gave you just continued to break your heart. His grip was stills tight as you spoke.

"I want to protect you, Finnick." You told him, your breath getting caught in your throat. "That's why I can't say anything."

"Than show it to me."

You got me feeling like I been too mean

And everything that I say I believe

Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve

And fuck like a demon

Do it like nothin'

I am disgustin'

I've been corrupted

And by now I don't need no help to be destructive

I've been gone

Yeah, I've been on this road too long

The raindrops continued to knock against the window of your bedroom, the moonlight that barely made itself present because of the thick dark clouds was the only sorce of light in your house expect for the fire that burned in your fireplace in the living room behind the closed doors.

Finnick hovered above you in the bed as the lightning cracked somewhere in the sky brought you comfort.

You were once again covered in a thin layer of sweat because of the intense heat not because of the fire, but because of the heat that Finnick was providing as he rocked slowly into you, reaching deeper that you thought was even possible.

Your hand scratched lightly on his back as he gripped your hips a little bit, staying on top of you while making sure that he doesn't crush you with his weight.

You could practically feel his hot breath near your face as he marked your neck relentlessly.

The only sound in your room were the ones that you two were making.

You reveled in his gasps and you were sure that he did the same with your continuous moans. His forehead leaned against yours, both of you trying to catch your breaths as you kept up the rhythm that Finnick set.

It was just the two of you. No people from the Capitol, no pressure. No constant praying eyes that were watching your every move. No one had to know about this but you two.

You were glad. Because you never felt safer in your entire life than at this moment, foreheads and lips pressed against each other, giving all of your love to each other.

One thing was for sure, you would kill anyone who used Finnick against his will... only if you could.

The more that you give away

The more that you have

More that you give away

More that you have

The more that you give away

The more that you have

The more that they take

TAGLIST:

@randomgurl2326 @caroline-books @hellonheels-x @livingdead-reilly @thecrowdedstreetin1944

#Spotify #lilith #halsey #imagine #fic #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg movies #coriolanus snow #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #thg finnick #finnick odair #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #songfic #angst #fluff

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wildtobio · 3 months

Text

Between Cheers and Silence

Finnick Odair x reader

During the Victory Tour, you and Finnick Odair navigate the pressures of the Capitol. Starting as distant acquaintances, your bond grows stronger as you find solace in each other's company.

The train sped through the districts, each passing landscape a reminder of the world beyond the arena. You sat by the window, watching the scenery blur past, your mind drifting to the events that had led you here. The Victory Tour was supposed to be a celebration, but for you, it was a constant reminder of the lives lost and the battles you wish you never fought.

Finnick entered the compartment, his presence a stark contrast to the solitude you felt. He sat across from you, his gaze assessing.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his tone neutral.

You sighed, not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s hard. Every district we visit brings back memories I’d rather forget.”

Finnick nodded, understanding but maintaining a certain distance. “We have to put on a brave face, for them and for ourselves.”

The train’s whistle blew as it approached the next stop. You and Finnick exchanged a brief look, bracing yourselves for the spectacle that awaited. The Capitol had orchestrated grand celebrations in each district, forcing you to relive the horrors of the arena under the guise of victory.

As you stepped off the train, the cheers of the crowd rang in your ears. Finnick’s hand brushed yours, a fleeting contact that grounded you momentarily. Together, you smiled and waved, playing the part of the victorious tributes.

The day was a whirlwind of speeches, feasts, and public appearances. By the time the sun began to set, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Finnick suggested finding a quiet spot away from the festivities, and you agreed, grateful for a break.

You found a small garden illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. Finnick leaned against a tree, while you sat on a nearby bench. The scent of the flowers filled the air, providing a brief rest from the chaos.

“This is better,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

You nodded, feeling awkward. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

Finnick was your mentor in the games and you are extremely grateful for all the things he did for you, from training you and giving you advice on how to handle the arena, to just being there for you when you got out, providing you a moment of peace similar to what you're feeling now. Still, he was much of a stranger to you.

For a while, neither of you spoke, and the distance between you was a reminder of the roles you had played: mentor and tribute, now victors thrown into the Capitol’s spotlight.

Finnick broke the silence first. “You know, it’s okay to talk about it. The Games, I mean.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. “I just… I don’t even know where to start.”

He walked over and sat beside you on the bench, the distance between you closing slightly. “We don’t have to start with the Games. Tell me something about yourself, something you enjoyed before all of this.”

You hesitated, then decided to share. “I used to love painting. It was a way to escape, to create something beautiful out of nothing.”

Finnick smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression. “Painting, huh? You don't seem like an artsy type of person.”

“What about you?” you asked, feeling a bit more at ease. “What did you enjoy?”

“Swimming,” he replied. “The ocean has always been my refuge. It’s where I feel free.”

You shared a small smile, finding common ground in the simple joys that once defined your lives. The conversation flowed naturally, stories of your pasts intertwining and revealing parts of yourselves that had been hidden by the trauma of the Games.

The night deepened, and the sounds of celebration faded into the background. In the quiet of the garden, you and Finnick found a moment of peace, a brief escape from the demands of the Victory Tour. He began to speak more openly, sharing moments of joy and pain that shaped him into the person he was now.

You listened, grateful for his openness. In return, you shared more about yourself, and the experiences that had molded you.

As the night wore on, you knew that the tour would continue, the challenges and expectations ever-present. But in that moment, with Finnick by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope.

And so, as the lanterns flickered, you and Finnick Odair embraced the fleeting tranquility, ready to face another day in the Capitol’s game, but no longer alone.

#finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x reader #fanfic #oneshot #☆wildtt

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skerban · 10 months

Text

Silence of Voices

𖤐 Peeta Mellark x Reader

[previous] | [masterlist] | [next]

II.

You were pushed into a room by a peacekeeper, now being separated from the other two tributes. They had told you that if anyone wanted to visit and say goodbye they would.

Yet you questioned who would visit you. The people of district 12 probably didn’t even know you existed.

You only waited and looked out of the single window, watching the people who were saved by luck, begin to walk away.

You scoffed and after some time the peacekeeper came in and grabbed your arm, escorting you out of the room.

As you stepped outside, you saw your ‘ride’ to luxury. Maybe you could spend your days savoring the food or not do anything and just await your misery. You wouldn’t give the Capitol what they wanted.

Getting in the small car was awkward, being put into the backseat, not being paid any attention by anyone up front. You noticed the woman in the middle was talking to the main two tributes, but you didn’t pay attention.

Then again, dying was coming your way, you don’t need to listen to a crazy lady run her mouth about anything regarding the Capitol.

However, you finally took a glance at the two tributes, noticing their out of mind state. You felt sorry that they were both picked, but hell, you couldn’t say anything.

After what felt like an hour, which was actually a couple of minutes, the car stopped. The side doors opened and you all were to exit the car. You slowly exited the car, watching the peacekeepers with narrowed eyes before turning to what was in front of you.

The gateway to death.

The metallic train shined in the sight of the sun, and the door was opened, ready to invite it’s new victims to the Capitol.

The woman beckoned you and the other two tributes to the entrance, making sure none of you were left behind.

The doors finally shut and your eyes widened. This was true luxury.

There were stacks of sweets and food, ready to be eaten. You normally don’t fawn over food but.. when you’re destined to die what was the point in not taking advantage?

The woman took her seat and you seated yourself next to her on the single seated chairs. You kept your eyes away from them as you looked at the trees flying past you as the train began to move.

You could hear her talking to you and the tributes, but you weren’t paying attention. Then again, you disliked listening to others, unless it was necessary.

You noticed she had gotten up and made her way to find ‘Haymitch’. Probably an old drunkard, you thought.

The awkward silence was cut by a voice.

“Have you ever met him? Haymitch?”

Your head shot towards the source, the source being Peeta.

You scrunched your brows as you cross your arms. You wanted to scoff at this boy’s actions.

“You know, he is our mentor and.. he did win this thing once.” He said, looking at Katniss.

Nothing but silence followed as Katniss kept her eyes away from his.

“So what if he did?” Your voice interrupted the silence.

“Who’s to say he can help us?” You hissed out.

“He—“ he started before i scoffed, “If he wanted to, he should be right here, with us. He should be telling us how to survive and not drinking his ass off.”

Peeta opened his mouth before closing it, turning his gaze away. That made the tension worse.

Before anything else could be said, the doors behind you opened and there the man who you assumed was your mentor stepped out.

He held a glass of what you assumed was alcohol.

He stopped in front of you three, scanning his eyes over you, before letting out a sigh. He moved the hand with the drink and let out a small smirk, “Congratulations.”

That was all he had to say, you thought, a disappointment he was.

You kept your gaze to the floor as you heard your new mentor ask about ice or whatever, you didn’t care.

After refilling his own cup, he walked towards you three, and sat down on the chair next to you.

Slowly turning your gaze towards him, that’s when you noticed his appearance. Honestly.. you weren’t surprised that this man looked like a frequent customer at a bar.

Peeta and Katniss’s eyes darted to the man, the boy sitting up straight and leaning forward.

“So.. when do we start? And.. and how do we get sponsors?” He rushed out, his brows furrowing and wanting the mentor to start helping them.

“Woah— so eager you are.” He gave a chuckle and brought the glass to his lips, going for a sip.

You grit your teeth before speaking, “Do you want us to die?” You hissed out, not bothering to be nice.

He swallowed a small portion of the beverage before looking at you, looking up and down, before smirking.

“You want real advice? You just let fate decide.”

You could sense the playfulness in his voice and that made you lean back in disgust. You wanted to at least make an attempt… without dying from something stupid.

“This is stupid.” You muttered under your breath before standing up, “I’m not going to deal with you when you aren’t even helping us.” You barked out, clearly upset about the mans foolish talking.

Everyone looked at you in silence, you could feel the awkwardness, and the only person who laughed was the man himself.

“Enjoy dying then.” He took another swig of his drink before you closed your eyes and made quick steps to the tail of the train, wanting to get away from them as much as possible.

If you thought hard enough, you could’ve probably heard the commotion that happened after you left, but you were to busy thinking logically.

You jolted awake when you felt someone pushing on your shoulder. Your eyes shot up to from the hand to the person who disturbed your sleep.

“Peeta?” You muttered out, looking at the blonde haired boy. He was out of his white reaping clothing, now in something more comfortable.

He gave a nervous smile before speaking slowly.

“Breakfast is being served, we didn’t see you in your.. room.”

You hummed before rubbing your eyes, looking at your surroundings. You furrowed your brows when you realized you fell asleep at the tail of the train. Letting out a small sigh, you got up and pushed your shoulder against him, walking past him.

As you made your way to the door, Peeta following behind, you looked over your shoulder and at him.

“Next time, just let me sleep.” You gave an irritated look, slightly glaring at him before making your way to where the ‘food’ was being served. You left him to stand there in silence, his mouth gaped.

I just wanted to say that this is a slowburn fic^^ let’s just see where the burning happens..

Taglist : @l4venderia, @mymadokamagica, @sturnlive

#peeta mellark x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #the hunger games #peeta mellark #team peeta

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cherrsnut · 8 months

Text

Hostage - Chapter 2

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for.

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 4.5k

Previous // Next

Chapter 2

The television was on. Very important Capitol hosts, by which Mr Flickerman was included, were wrapping up scenes of previous Hunger Games. Talking about their ‘favorite’ moments, arenas, and even victors.

You were sat on an armchair, your gaze fixated on the scene playing out. Two boys, fighting in a game of death. The hosts never mentioned their names, nor from which district they came, but the bloody moment when that year’s victor was messily cutting the other’s throat paralyzed you. The cut was done from an odd angle, and you murmured a curse when you saw the adrenaline of survival almost decapitate his victim. You cringed your nose and eyebrows, and with your surgical knowledge, you could bet your finger that, that Tribute could have been killed in a cleaner, faster, and more painless way.

You didn’t notice just how your air had been trapped against your throat. So when you released it, your chest felt emptier and cleaner from the bloody mess the hosts were laughing and joking about.

“Ok so, we need to prepare for the Games” Scarlett, the pinkish escort of District 4 appeared from behind you two, grabbing the remote and turning off the screen. Two more people trailed behind her, an older woman with uncontrollable silver curly locks, and a man all too familiar, especially to the civilians of District 4.

“But first things first. Let me introduce you to your mentors. This is Mags” Scarlett pointed at the short elder impatiently. Mags simply smiled brightly at the two of us. “You needn’t me to tell you, I know you already know. But still, I introduce you to Finnick Odair” To this Finnick turned up a smug smile with a silent chuckle rumbling just beneath his Adam’s apple.

Sacreltt went to sit at the crown of the large table. She was impatient and too upbeat, just like a kid waiting in line to ride a rollercoaster for the first time, it sickened you. You went to grab a chair, not before giving another glance at the victor from your District from two years ago. His bronze hair shined with the sun that started to set through the transparent clear window.

Scarlett called for tea to the nearest Avox girl. Specifying for English tea, with exactly two spoonfuls of brown sugar, and for the drink to be scalding hot. Then she grinned and looked at you and Vito again.

“Alright, babes. First things first, tell us about yourselves” Scarlett slightly tilted her head to the side. You noticed just how her makeup was still intact. It was rather simple compared to the other Capitol civilians you had seen. A pink tint with a golden shine added onto her lips, with an eyeshadow of the same hue. A purple eyeliner, as a means to contrast colors, curved around her eyes with the added cat tail coming off the corner of her eye.

You and Vito looked at yourselves, wondering just who to start with. Vito was the first to speak.

“Well, my name is Vito.” he seemed nervous, or perhaps he wasn’t prepared for the question.

“I work with my dad on my family’s prawn farm” he looked up at shyly Scarlett, and you had to focus on not getting distracted by how he nervously peeled onto the skin next to his fingernail.

“My dad, he trained me to be here…” Vito suddenly declared. Leaving you speechless, and questioning as to why he kept it hidden for so many hours. This changed many things for this year’s Hunger Games. And maybe, District 4 would claim another victor this year.

Scarlett’s eyes sparked up in excitement, and she clapped twice without realizing it. You were glad she was at least, happy about one of the Tributes since it's not like you could offer much more.

Finnick eyed Vito for a second before asking. “Your dad trained you?” a passing curiosity crossed his eyes almost playfully. Just then you could truly take in the treasure of a man he was. Sitting across from you, you could see his facial features quite well.

The tan of his skin perfectly complements his blonde hair. The way his cheekbones were so prominent it highlighted his eyes if that was even possible when his eyes were so green and lively like nature itself planted a seed, and a forest grew in the summer breeze inside. And still, it almost seemed hypnotizing just how you wanted to trace your fingers across his cheek, then down to his thin lips that were stuffed with the beautiful color of candied pink. His clean-shaven face revealed the otherwise cute face he had. Not hard looking or intimidating, but soft, and just like his eyes. He reminded you of the summer under the silhouettes of maple trees, of warmth and refreshing sunlight.

“Correct. He used to tell me about how he used to train, and how he wished to have gone to the Hunger Games. I guess he wanted me to live his dream” Vito explained, a perplexed look on your face very much visible to the rest of the people present.

He didn’t add anything else, and you forced a few blinks to take in what he said and try to comprehend as much as you could. Your eyes left to stare off into the wall for barely three seconds, with the only conclusion that some people didn’t deserve to have kids.

“What about you, birdie? Who are you?’” Scarlett spoke in a more reasonable calmer tone than before. But you still struggled to understand the people you are sharing a room with. None of them seemed to be the least concerned about what Vito just said.

You were more lenient with the victors, especially Mags. You supposed it wasn’t great seeing so many Tributes you mentored, just to be brutally assassinated in the arena, and you supposed she’d already seen her fair share of wild parents stories, all with with questionable parenting skills. And Finnick probably was still succumbed to what he had to go through two years ago.

But why was Scarlett so nonchalant about it? It was rather bitter having her in your surroundings at almost all the time. It wasn’t exactly that she was completely indifferent, but she was excited to see one of the most God awful things in the world, laughing along to the cruelty that many children were subjected to, an you would soon join into that statistic.

However, you knew you had to get used to her behaviour sooner or later. Even when everything seemed so nauseating, and you knew it was bad when you could taste the bile coming up for your throat. God, you hated this.

So you ignored your sentiments and carried on. Because now taking pity on the way he was raised was not the right moment. Not when the both of you had been thrown into the same deadly game, when anyone’s background means absolutely nothing to spare your life.

Even if you hate to admit it, Scarlett was right, we need to trace a plan, and we only have a day to take a look over every card we were setting on the table.

“Well…” You started. “You probably already know this, by my name is Y/N L/N. I’m fifteen and I’m a doctor” You took a sneaky look over Scarlett, seeing her energetic face come back, and you retracted a bit. “Well, kind of. I work at a herbal shop. It's just a lot of fishermen get injured during the day, they normally come in when they need immediate care” you explained.

“Immediate care?” questioned the escort’s sparkling eyes. You internally sighed, you could already predict this was going to be a prolonged conversation. Over something that woudn’t be much of use once you’d be dropped off in the arena.

“Yeah.” you confirmed, but you furher continued. “For instance yesterday, a group came rushing to my shop because one of them had slipped and fallen on the deck, hitting his head in the process. They were logically concerned when he wouldn't wake up, even more so when a big bleeding cut appeared from his head” you recalled. If it meant this talk would help in any way, you give away the details of your former life. Still knowing there was barely a chance for you to survive, you still played along the planning game, even when you’d already convinced yourself of your eventual doom.

“That’s a pretty big injury, you can take care of that?” now it was Finnick speaking, his gorgeous face directed at you. It was something being in the presence of someone whose beauty was ethereal, but them speaking to you was a bigger milestone. Your heart thumped hard, and you cursed at yourself for just how embarrassing you were being. You took a mental note, one which consisted of berating yourself infront of the bathroom mirror. It was fine being attracted to someone; it was fine to walk by someone and to instantly be charmed by you. But all in its context, yours was exactly of that in a few remaining days of your death penalty would be finalized. You were going to die.

You supposed then you mind must’ve churned itself. You already accepted this fate. You might as well give yourself the privilege to internally comment about someone’s looks, you at least had that last bit of freedom to do that, right?

“Of course. I also can take a look for infected wounds, just like finding antidotes to poisons. I especially like that one” You told him with a small smile appearing. Oh god, that smile. Right there and then was the evidence of his popularity in the Capitol.

You had to bite your tongue before any of your senseless thoughts spilled all over the table for everyone to hear your most inner provoking thoughts.

Then again silence to your gratitude. The only sounds of the railing echoing against the bullet train. You went to look over at Mags, and noticed just how quiet she was throughout the whole planning, and you supposed she fitted into a more calming human prototype, one where her peacefulness enhanced her rather ‘listener rather than a speaker’ personality type.

She realized your gaze on her, and she returned it with a small smile. With a continuous electric reaction that zip zapped it ways until it reached her gliting eyes.

That warmth her embraced you in stuck with you, and you coudn’t help but find her especially so meltingly cute. All the wrinkles were in full display, and it taught you that even after decades of experience, and traumatizing memories of setting foot in the arena, you could still smile just enough that Heaven’s doors would open up for you without further doubt of your light as feather soul.

But even in her gentle smile, and pure eyes, so pure it was easily to compare of that a riverbank flowing down a green mountain. There was still something behind her skull, a lurking darkness swimming in bitter water.

“I think I know why you look so familiar” Finnick changed to a new topic of conversation. He looked at you pointedly, scanning your every pore and mole hidden along your skin. And he nodded once he made up his mind, a sly smirk coming up to his lips. This had to be illegal.

It wasn’t fair just how easily it made you so jumpy, and you hoped and begged to whatever entity, whatever you were feeling wasn’t reflected on the mirror of your body.

“I’m pretty sure you bandaged me up once, I remember going to an herbal store when I was younger when I cut myself with a fishhook,” he said. His smile should absolutely be prohibited for being under some sort of national scale threat, because the way his eyes landed on yours with that slow creeping smile made your heart trip hard… several times. But then you had to keep reminding yourself. Stop. Being. Weird.

You needed to think straight, freezing your heart and mind. If you could you’d punch yourself, and open your eyes at what was at stake here. A few more slow breaths and you’d be able to consume yourself with reason, at least you tried to convince yourself of that. But it was hard, the screaming helplessness surrounding you like a heavy poisonous fog, choking and hurting you with the sole purpose to remind you it was just days away for you fight for your own survival; and then, Finnick was the whispering thoughts. He was the only thing taking you out from a self-absored battling arena, almost like a human stoned oasis. You never has spoken to him, at least not that you oculd recall, but if it meant a pretty stranger would be the one to distract your distressing thoughts, then so be it.

“How old were you though? Edna never let me touch her things until I was nine. Which quite frankly never stopped me from using it behind closed doors…” Finnick chuckled at that last comment. He was slowly removing the bitter taste left on my tongue with his sweet presence. But to you, it was beginning to be a little too much. Having his attention was considered a precious treasure in itself, and you weren’t blind as to why. The way he had some sort underlying flirt in his normal talk was starting to put you on edge. His very own voice was just like caramel that melted in your tongue, and there was no dial it tasted just like high-class pastries.

The very moment you realized that this was in his nature, you were able to calm down slightly. There was no point getting internally worked up when he didn’t mean anything further other than to make conversation. A sigh of relief escaped escaped your mouth.

“Is that so? I suppose it must have been Edna then…Edna was it?” he trailed off with a more relaxed smile. Yup, you were confident to state that his entire being was a nuclear weapon, and you should fear the day they’d try to put him in use, because you were sure all of Panem would be doomed.

It was increasingly becoming harder trying to talk to someone in a noirmal conversation with your running mind.

“Very much correct” You leaned back against your chair, to try and find a more comfortable spot. Vito gave an odd look at the exchange of words given between me and the victor, the very same you plasmated earlier. One of indecipherable shock, and you coudn’t blame Vito for the way he was feeling.

“I. Just. Had. The. Best. Idea” Scarlett stood up, she looked like she was talking to herself in her usual loud manner. Her abrupt pauses were very much loved and used in everyday form by the people in the Capitol, they simply loved that sweet exaggeration they coudn’t get over. “No one will see this coming,” she exclaimed in excitement, and unlike her she mumbled her words out. “Y/N, the Healer of our Capitol’s Darling” She made a movement with her hands, just as if displaying the front title from a big article, and every word that left her mouth, the more she fell in love with your marketing strategy she just came up.

“Well, actu-” you tried to put out a single sentence. But Scarlett’s ideas were much louder than the what hjappened in reality.

“If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes” She went to walk away, presumably to her room. So happily she was one step away from dancing around the salon car to her sleeping chamber.

You exhaled a sigh, not in the mood to refute Scarlett, so you let her go on with her planning.

“Well, as long as I gain sponsors, I suppose it’s alright for me then” you absentmindedly talked. You felt a yawn crawl out of your mouth, so you went to cover it while rolling your eyes to the window. You were pleasantly surprised to find the beautiful view of the night. The moon and the stars shone across the sea, painting an alluring picture over it.

“You tired? Maybe you should head back to sleep?” Vito’s voice is concerned. You looked at him, still in a slight trance from the yawn, and smiled briefly at him. “Don’t worry. I’m fine”.

Just then, the red clothing of the Avox came into view. She was carrying a ceramic tray, traced with golden line art. Placed on top, where the cute tea cup along with the teapot and and a differently designed cup for its special use of storing sugar cubes. You concluded the ceramic products were all bought as a designed set.

The large teapot had a trunk of that of the elephant you have only seen in adventure books targeted to children. You respected the artist’s innovative cheeky drawing on it. Many types of birds, which reminded you of the representation of the higher class of society, things like peacocks and cranes showing their beautiful feathers, all in the shimmering brushstroke gold. The five teacups followed suit with the same design.

Along with drinks though, the Avox seemed to bring an extra treat. Two layers of plates hung, and above were many pastries you’d never thought you’d be able to digest. Your eye had caught one shortcake specifically, one where the top was filled with freshly cut strawberries, glazed over with molten sugar, its provocative appearance rumbled your belly with eagerness.

Then after placing everything on the table, the Avox gave a knowing look and walked off with the tray, presumably to the kitchen, or perhaps to knock on Scarlett's room and give her the requested drink.

Your attention was back to the contents of the table. Not wanting to come off as rude, but very impatient to try them out. You looked over the people’s faces. Vito was reclined against the chair, a gloomy expression on his face, and you didn’t need to ask to know why.

So you stopped. And while your belly was moaning for that sugary treat, you ignored it. A sensation similar to guilt washed over your chest. You supposed you wished you felt like him, to be worried about the arena. He felt like he was being skinned by the tumultuous thoughts of his, and tlhough differently, you understood that emotinal pain. However, what set you and Vito apart was that since stepping your foot on the train, you had been accepting your impending death seantence.

Perhaps you hadn’t truly taken in the situation, maybe the idea you were going to fight in the arena was so disorienting, your psychology couldn’t fully comprehend it. It hadn’t connected the wires, and once you’d be face to face with the rest, you’d probably sink and drown in remorse for not taking this situation as you should have.

The sleepless nights you’ve been having since the first Reaping you attended left you wondering if you’d be trapped in this hunting competition. Maybe you exhausted your brain with so many different scenarios, that it had simply got used to the idea of your death.

Just maybe that’s why you took more importance of the delicious snacks you’d never imagined you’d taste, because this is more of a shock than the Games itself. And you could imagine for Vito, who has family and friends beside him, it was much harder to take in. Because for you, the only thing you were leaving behind were just physical, instead of Vito, which were the built relationships he created long his nlife. The memories, the feelings, and the what could’ve been in the future with their company.

You touched his shoulder, rubbed it slightly to get his attention. His dark-as-coal eyes roamed to yours, worried traces evident on the wrinkles he formed. He didn’t say much else, and he found himself being unable to utter a word, not knowing what to say. You gulped down nervously.

You didn’t quite know what to do in this type of situation. You normally would scurry off and cry alone, but that was because you were used to your lonely life. Edna was your only friend, even adopting as a grandma figure over the decade you had spent together. And even so, she wasn’t a very sentimental person, and you were unable to read off her emotions. Naturally, you eventually learned that side of her, and you kept repeating to yourself you didn’t need anyone to comfort you, that you were just fine to deal with yourself.

But for Vito it must be different, he grew up in with people surrounding him. When you climbed up the car that led you to the train, you were able to catch fragments of his family. His father was there along with his mother, a baby in her doting arms. Three little girls, all with the same hair color as Vito's, waved him goodbye, with tear-stricken eyes and red cheeks.

He always had someone to talk to when needed to share something, and even if he didn’t, he was used to the physical comfort you lacked.

He looked away, staring off to the nightly ocean. You forced yourself to be that source of comfort that his sister must have provided him, because his pitiful expression was simply just too much for you.

“I hope this isn’t strange-” you cut yourself. You got reminded of the way Philip comforted Emi earlier that day. And as he looked up to see what you meant, you got up from your chair and leaned against him. A quick peck over his creased eyebrow while you hand found stability from his jaw, your index finger pressed over his cheek. You never saw his look of surprise, and if you did it would probably make you turn back and awkwardly sit back down on your chair from embarrassment. But you didn't, so with your chin resting on his shoulders, you pushed him further into your embrace. Your arms wrapping around his waist.

You didn’t say anything, and you obligated your body to relax from the physical touch you had avoided for so many years, for his sake. Because Vito was the one who mattered right now, and not your foreign feeling.

You closed your eyes. Your arm brushing passed to hold the nape of his neck. “Everything will be alright” you whispered into his ear. Even though you were copying everything Philip said to his sister, you still meant every word from your beating heart.

He wrapped his arms around you, and in doing so he pressed himself more into your body, in an attempt to hide himself from the rest. His tanned hands went along to grab your shirt from your back. His breaths were becoming shakier, and in some instances you felt him hiccup into your shoulder, whilst also trying to control his ragged breathings. You drew circles around his back for more added comfort, tickling his back with the phantom touch of your fingers slowly flowing around the body of his back.

“You’ll be fine” you whispered again, brushing his ears with the warmth of your breath. You slightly removed yourself from him, finding more room to untangle yourself from him. You noticed how his grip on you had become stubbornly stronger. But you didn't mind. Not when you hand crawled up to his hair and cupped the back of it. Your fingers laced with his onyx hair. You faced him, giving him another peck of his cheekbone. And you found yourself with the salty only tears could make, no matter how salty the sea may be, you let his pure tears flow down your taste glands and welcomed it into your stomach.

He hadn’t cried much you realized, maybe just two tears, one for each eye. And while you brushed his head, you felt his breath deepen and exhale, trying to calm himself down as well.

You stood up, your fingers planting over his jaw and nape. Tilting his head upward to you. You could see the shine of his tear river going down to his cheek. A small smile, one you hoped to encouraging, all the while you dried his tears with your thumbs.

His eyes locked with yours, traces of humidity on his lashes as he looked up at you. A shining sclera evident with the way the light bulb reflected on his eyes.

“I’ll make sure of it. '' Your smile widens, showing just slightly your front teeth previously hidden by your lips of affection.

You traced a few messy hair strands behind his ear, and he leaned deeper into your hand’s touch. He suddenly got stuck to you. He missed the warmth your body provided him, how hidden from everyone he felt, and how it made him feel like a little child being protected from the world’s cruelty.

His head was pressed against your chest, and you only chuckled, a few tones lower than your usual voice. You pet his head, sliding from the crown of your head to his neck, just to put it back up, and repeat that move over and over again. You closed your eyes, and a closed-lipped smile appeared in your features, forgetting the upcoming Games. He needed you to be strong for him, and today, you’d protect him from whatever threat lurked behind the dark corners “I promise” you gave him an oath with the very intention to keep it.

The victors sat across from them looking at the two Tributes. Mags looked over at Finnick, and just repeated what you had just done, she placed her hand over his shoulder. She grabbed onto it tighter, her look reflected on his green eyes. Mags closed her lips and eyed him more intensely. Finnick’s frown was present, and he interlocked his eyes with his mentor. She gave him a small smile, and slightly nodded at her, reassuring she needn’t be as concerned about him.

Finnick played with his fingers as he watched the both of you. He just felt something break seeing the both of you, like the only line that kept him sane, was suddenly cut and he fell to a dark abyss, one filled with the monsters he dreams about. He gulped down hard. And something in him wished for your empathic arms to wrap around him. He for once wanted to feel small and well taken care of, he wanted your words to help him cope at night. But he regretted how that could be disturbing for eyes of others, he was your mentor, and you were a Tribute who was most likely going to die soon anyway. He lamented just then, just how many souls, as clean as the white feathers of doves, would be taken for the Capitol’s entertainment.

Mags kept her gaze on the child she had started to consider her only son. She felt troubled over him, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty she couldn't erase his fragile and hurt soul.

Previous // Next

Heyaaa, hope you're having a wonderful day bestiess. I hope you're liking this Hostage so far. Just wanted to say two things

I could start preparing a Taglist for you all if you want to of course <3

Second, the next chapters are going to be DEEP, like a lot of emotional turmoil, so ye, be prepared.

#finnick #finnick odair fanfic #thg fanfiction #finnick x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x you #the hunger games #thg #thg finnick #thg x reader

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sherwood-scribblings · 4 months

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Sunrise on the Reaping theories + thoughts so far (pt 1)

here's a collection of the most likely and most interesting head-canons and stuff I've seen, both fandom-made and my own

NOT MINE BUT EXPANDED & CONNECTED BY ME:

• Tigress pov, as an audience member, maybe she's Haymitch's designer

• we got a tribute pov, a mentor pov, now we could get an audience pov because of the themes of propaganda she emphasizes... we could also get multi pov if she wants to do smth crazy and appease all fans

• Unreliable narrator, perhaps screwing with the reader's head on what actually happened in the games, capitol editing footage out

• Perhaps Tigress observes the games and originally starts off oblivious to the truth but the more she watches and helps Haymitch the more she begins to see the truth, and so the capitol punishes both her and Haymitch for it

• Lucy Gray is midnight, Haymitch/Maysilee is sunrise, Katniss/Peeta is sunset (symbolic of the progression of the games. Lucy Gray wiped out and forgotten, Haymitch the escaped glimmering sliver of change, Katniss the blazing fire and finale)

• Maysilee wore the mockingjay pin in the arena but the capitol edited it out of all the footage

• Themes of light vs dark, truth vs lies, the audience starts out unaware and conflicted but comes to see how things really are

• Katniss parents could appear??? Maybe we'll see Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen fall in love??

MY THEORIES + THOUGHTS:

• (canon) The arena is an illusion. Flowers, water, fruit, mountains, animals. It's beautiful, heavenly, too good to be true, it doesn't seem real... well, it's not real. Everything seems normal and like you know what it is, but the Entire Setting is actually poisonous and deadly. JUST like the theme of propaganda and lies, she says the book is about. The arena itself is a meta layer to things not being as they appear.

• the cover will have a mockingjay and a sunrise or sun-flare, gold against purple

• the "sunrise" in the title is symbolism, for a person and a theme, likely symbolic of Maysilee Donner because of her kindness and humanity and spirit casting light in the face of violence and war (the reaping). A light the capitol would've snuffed out, to hide the truth. (I have a whole essay on this + maysilee's importance pls check my feed)

• Maysilee is the real mockingjay, and very important, not just a random dead background character who passed down the pin to Katniss. We know how Collins' brain works. Look at TBOSAS. Look at how she foreshadowed Lucy Gray as early as the first book.

• the mockingjay isn't just one person, but a symbol of resistance and goodness and freedom, that anyone can take on as a mantle, an idea rather than tied to one thing or person. Lucy Gray, Rue, Katniss, and likely Maysilee.

• a rebellion almost happened with the mockingjay pin and Maysilee and Haymitch and perhaps Tigress seeing the truth last minute, but the capitol snuffed it out and destroyed all the evidence of such a thing ever happening, including Haymitch's family and punishing Tigress, leading Panem and the readers themselves in the dark and at peace. Maysilee is the warm sun to bring the spark of a fire, her pin symbolically passes onto Katniss through her niece, thus passing on the resistance and legacy. ....symbolic of how the mockingjay had the will to survive, even when it was destroyed and wiped out.... It escaped and became stronger in the face of its enemies....

• ...for all we know, Katniss' dad didn't die in a coal mining accident, but perhaps was a rebel himself and the capitol planted explosions in the mines to get rid of him. we can't just blindly trust the narrative.

• If Haysilee is a parallel to Everlark, what if Haymitch's girlfriend is a Gale figure? This isn't just because I'm a haysilee shipper I'm built to be a multishipper I'm FIGHTING not to be biased I'm openminded, but i feel the haysilee content in my bones and it's definitely a possibility

• the capitol (and Snow) believes that humanity is vile, that humans will always give into instinct and fend for themselves, that you can't trust or love or anyone lest it lead to your downfall. So... If Ballad was about humanity's corruption, perhaps Reaping is about humanity's goodness (the bond between Haymitch and Maysilee, Tigress seeing the truth despite being a capitol/audience member, perhaps the Capitol cut the footage of that bond to prevent a rebellion like Everlark's relationship later induces)

• Most people are saying this book will be super depressing and focused on the capitol's propaganda succeeding to stop a rebellion, and I do agree, but, that doesn't cancel out highlighting themes of goodness and friendship but rather enhances them. Perhaps that very thing is what we're missing from the footage, what the capitol succeeded in covering up, raw humanity being the thing that defies their propaganda the most, and punished anyone who acted otherwise (Haymitch, Tigress...)

PART 2 IS COMING SOON to address the fandom discourse with my personal thoughts on whether this book will be about Haymitch and if we need more District 12.

and why Collins would logically choose to tell this story (regardless of pov because that could be anything at this point she'll upset someone either way)

#so many thoughts so little time #(we have an entire year its too much time)#i think some people aren't being objective enough in their theories or looking at how suzanne is writing this series as a whole #i want more unique stories and other districts too but if she's choosing to write the timeline haymitch won there's a reason for it #and it doesn't make sense to pick someone random we don't know like a career its too disconnected from the overarching story #these arent little spinoffs she's weaving together a wider picture of the entire story #yeah snow's pov was unexpected #but he's a major character we already are familiar with #she didn't choose lucy gray's pov bc we DONT KNOW HER #she expands on existing threads and story bits she's not gonna just pick a random story when she has MAYSILEE the og PIN OWNER #the hunger games #haymitch abernathy #maysilee donner #haysilee #sunrise on the reaping #haymitch's girl #suzanne collins #thg series #catching fire #thg analysis #katniss everdeen #everdeen #madge undersee #haymitch x maysilee #mockingjay #katniss and peeta #sotr #lucy gray baird #the hunger games headcanon #district 12

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

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Capitol Punishment VIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.4K (she’s also kind of long)

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

You laid on the cold, steel table of one of the styling rooms. They had stripped all the hair beneath your eyebrows, which was no longer very painful since you’d been “maintained” ever since you won 8 years ago. They had also taken care to clean you in scalding hot water and scrub your skin raw. They cut the dead ends of your hair off, keeping it long enough to reach mid back. You were sure Haymitch started fighting them as soon as he saw any kind of razor, tweezer, or wax.

Now you were just waiting for the doctors to come back with the results from your checkup. You had told them that they suspected you were pregnant and asked if there was any way that they’d be able to do a paternity test. They told you that if the father’s DNA was in their system they could tell you and that all tributes’ DNA was logged.

As the door slid open, you sat up eagerly. “Ms. L/N, you are in fact pregnant,” the nurse informed. “About six weeks along.”

“And the father?” you asked.

“Haymitch Abernathy,” she said plainly. You were sure Snow would be upset that you were pregnant with your husband’s baby but now that he was putting you in the games, you didn’t give a damn what he thought or wanted. You were also incredibly relieved it was Haymitch’s. You were never a kids person and had never wanted to have children but if you were going to have someone’s baby, it may as well be the man you love’s.

The nurse talked with you a little more about your labs, saying you were healthy and left. Next Cinna came in. “There’s my favorite mentor,” he smiled, greeting you with a hug.

“Cinna,” you replied with a smile. While you hand he weren’t nearly as close as Katniss and he were, you had very much come to appreciate his friendly face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, although I wish it was under different circumstances. Anyway here is your dress for the parade,” he turned to the door as the rest of the style team brought in your outfit. You were kind of amazed at how beautiful it was. It was a long, almost flowing, A-line, red dress. The bodice was covered in lace and featured a halter top neckline. They did your makeup dramatically with a dark red lip and a mix of reds and blacks for your eyes. As for your hair it was done in an intricate half-up, half down style. When they finally let you look in the mirror you thought you looked like an evil queen.

You were then brought to the chariots where about half the other victors were waiting. You looked around, observing your friends/future competition. Spotting red hair you realized it was Annie. You called over to her as you approached. She looked terrified until she spotted you.

“Y/N” she ran up to you as best she could in her mermaid-like outfit. She gave you a big hug which you returned.

“Where’s Finnick and Mags?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her scared look appeared again as she looked around frantically for probably the only two people in the world who brought her real comfort. You noticed she was still hugging you. You were probably a stand in for Finnick until he arrived.

“He’s probably still with the stylist. How are you two?”

“We’re good, or were until the games were announced,” she murmured sadly.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now,” you tried to soothe her. She wasn’t much younger than you but she was so small and fragile looking that you felt like you needed to protect her. “And I can guarantee you Finnick won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I,” you promised. Assuming Haymitch was right about a plan you were telling the truth. You’d fight to get this poor girl out.

“Annie?” you head a familiar voice call from behind you.

Annie immediately pulled away, recognizing Finnick’s voice. You smiled as you watched the two lovers reunite. You were sure that Finnick, like you, didn’t care about Snow’s rules about availability anymore. He was sending you to your death, who cares if the Capitol’s desire to fuck you was still high?

Soon enough the rest of the Victors were at the chariots, all except one. Haymitch.

Cinna was getting Katniss and Peeta ready when he came to you, the very last chariot. He handed you a remote. “Press this when Katniss presses hers. You’ll know when she does.”

“Wait where’s Haymitch?” you asked.

“I don’t know, probably with Portia,” Cinna explained. “I have to go, he’ll be out soon. Just make sure you look straight ahead, no waving.”

The avoxes were all ushering you into the chariots and you were sure they were frantically trying to find your partner because they were all running around. You were starting to actually get scared when the elevator doors suddenly opened, revealing Haymitch and Portia. He rushed to the chariot, pecking you on the cheek as he got in.

“Where were you? You scared me.”

“Sorry, got held up. I need to talk to you after.”

“I need to talk to you too,” you replied just as the chariots started to pull out. You took your husband’s hand, putting on a blank expression as Haymitch did too. The runway was so loud, there were so many people above you cheering. It wasn’t hard to look disinterested, you were disgusted with them for cheering as you were paraded around before you had to fight to the death.

About halfway down the runway Katniss and Peeta burst into flames. You pressed the button on the remote and out of the corner of your eye you could see Haymitch erupt into flames as well. As you approached Snow, you didn’t even bother to look up at him as the chariot rounded the end of the runway, bringing you all the way back inside where you had started.

You finally took in Haymitch’s appearance. They had cleaned up his beard so it was more cleanly cut. His hair had also been trimmed and washed properly. He was in a suit with no sleeves, showing off muscled arms, identical to Peeta’s. Both eager to hear what the other had to say you grabbed Katniss and Peeta and went to the elevators.

Just as the door was closing Johanna Mason stepped into the elevators. “Well don’t you all look amazing,” she snarled. “My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber, so she dressed us as trees.” She let out a scoff as she started taking the cuffs of her costume off. “I’d like to put my axe in her face.” She stepped closer to Peeta. “Help me with the zipper?” she turned around, not allowing him to answer as he awkwardly unzipped her costume.

You and Haymitch were holding in your laughs as Katniss made a face you couldn’t even identify the emotion of.

She thanked him as she stripped off the costume, standing completely naked in the elevator. The doors opened as you reached floor 7. “Let’s do it again sometime,” as she walked out of the elevator, completely shameless.

“Thank you,” Haymitch said.

You slapped his arm playfully. “See you later,” you called after her.

“Johanna Mason, 7, if you hadn’t figured it out yet,” you informed.

“Is she always like that?” Peeta asked.

You shrugged. “I’ve never seen her strip naked before today but yeah, she hasn’t ever cared. When she was here the first time she was screaming profanities all the way down the chariot line.” The doors then opened into the penthouse, you and Haymitch immediately headed towards your bedroom to hear what the other had to say. You both stepped into the bathroom for privacy.

“You go first,” you said, hoping this was about Plutarch.

“I was late because Plutarch came to see me. Y/N I was right. About a fourth of the tributes are in on the plan to get Katniss out. We’re gonna have to carry on like a normal game at first but Beetee is going to shut down the arena and Plutarch will have us extracted.” You could cry you were so relieved. Haymitch was smiling eagerly. “We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna see a world without the games. Just make sure you stay by me so I can protect you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And that news makes what I’m about to tell you better.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

Haymitch’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I kind of suspected but didn’t want to say anything.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doctors tested and they were also able to tell me that you’re the father.”

His eyes widened impossibly more. He gingerly pressed his hand to your still flat stomach. “You’re gonna have my kid?” he looked hopeful, excitement fortunately creeping into his expression.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You felt a few tears of joy slip. “I had never wanted kids but the thought of having yours? I want to raise this baby with you, Haymitch.”

“I felt the same,” he agreed. “This world is too fucked up to have a baby so that’s why we have to change it. God, I didn’t know it was possible to love you more,” he kissed you, his hand still planted on your stomach. You deepened the kiss, your hand meeting his.

That night you laid in bed in comfortable silence, more in love than you had ever felt before. “What should we name it?” Haymitch asked.

You mused for a second. “If it’s a boy, I wanted to name him Asher, after my father. And for a girl I thought about Maysilee?”

Haymitch pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I like that.” He paused again. “Should we tell people?”

“The world expects at least one of us to die in about a week. No point in telling people. Besides I think Peeta would jump off that platform before the timer hit zero if he knew I was pregnant,” you explained monotonously.

“Okay, so we won’t tell anyone,” your husband agreed.

The next day at the training session was fairly intense. All of the victors (except those suffering from withdrawal, insanity, and/or age) were trying to show off how still in shape they were. You spent most of the time observing until you did the hand to hand combat station. There were real trainers who would fight you and fake weapons that could sense what wounds they’d inflict in order to simulate the arena as close as possible.

Feeling like being a little bit of a showoff you decided to do it despite your newfound condition. You had made sure Haymitch wasn’t anywhere nearby as you picked up the fake knife and stepped on the mat. The trainer gave you no warning as he suddenly attacked you, running at you with a sword. Fortunately you were still looking at him the entire time so you could easily dodge at the last second. As his momentum carried him forward, you swung your arm back, hitting him in the shoulder with your knife.

“Non fatal wound to left shoulder,” an automated voice announced.

He whirled around, swiping at you with the sword. As you were dodging you got closer and closer to the edge of the mat.

“Approaching boundary,” the voice informed. So you ducked under the sword, flailing your lugs until you caught his ankle, sending him to the ground. His sword fell which you kicked off the mat. He was up in a second though, lunging at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, trying to move out of the way but he managed to grab your arm, dragging you to the ground. You fell with a thud and before you could wrench your arm from his grip, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. He was grabbing at the knife in your hands which you were trying to keep away. You felt it scrape against both his and your arms, each time eliciting a “Non fatal wound to arm.” Eventually you managed to stab it through his hand as the simulator said, and bring it closer to you before you thrust it into his throat.

“Fatal wound to the neck. Simulation ended,” the voice announced. You looked over, noticing a few other tributes watching from their own training spots. Haymitch, however, was fuming over by the knife section.

“You’re awfully tough,” the trainer said, getting off of you. “Impressive, especially considering you won eight years ago,” he complimented.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking his hand to stand up. Now Haymitch was walking over. “I have to go,” you dismissed, meeting up with him. You felt like a kid again as you approached your fuming husband.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “You could’ve mis-”

“Shh,” you demanded. “And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!”

You were normally a very patient person, especially with Haymitch. You were sympathetic both when he was drunk and sober but you never took yelling, especially after you already apologized. You let out an indignant laugh. “I just apologized and you’re really gonna yell at me? Find me when you calm down,” you scoffed, walking off.

Haymitch was still angry as he watched you walk off. He had been chatting with Chaff when Chaff had told him to turn around. He was horrified to see you fighting with a man about twice your size. But he knew better than to interrupt so all he could do was stew in worry and anger until it was over. He nearly pulled the trainer off you when he got on top of you. Worried both about your safety and his fetus’. By the time it was done he was angry. Angry that you’d risk your pregnancy. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of so many people but he was so worried. He was honestly a little scared of how much he wanted that baby.

You made; your way over to Finnick and Annie who were making fish hooks together. She had a soft smile on her face as she weaved the feathers onto the hook while Finnick had a soft smile while looking at her. You really hoped they’d both make it out.

Finnick looked up, having noticed you. “Where’s lover boy?”

“You’re one to talk,” you sneered.

“It have something to do with your little show off session?” he asked.

“I wasn’t showing off. I was training,” you scoffed. “Besides, once again, you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean? I've been doing this the whole time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t fully intend to get in there with a trident.”

He scoffed, a look of mocking offense painted on his face. “I would never.”

You laughed, taking a spot next to Annie, observing her work. You spent the next half hour learning how to make fish hooks, occasionally glancing up to watch Haymitch. He mostly stuck to the survival stuff but tried some combat and weapons training. It pained you to watch him fumble in those areas. He definitely wasn’t the most unathletic tribute but he was far from the most athletic. And while you had faith in Plutarch’s plan, not every victor was in on it and athleticism was still very much a part of the game.

Eventually Katniss wandered over, making fishhooks with Mags until she migrated to the archery station. As more tributes went over to watch the newest victor in action, you followed too. You had seen Katniss shoot last year but with so many simulated targets at once you were impressed by how good she was. Everyone else was too as Mags clapped for her when she had completed her round.

You eventually headed back upstairs, not really sure what to do. You had done lots of weapons training, especially knife throwing which had been a skill you utilized in your original games. Knives were always guaranteed to be in the Cornucopia and being able to put distance between yourself and others made the most sense. You worked with a few other weapons, Haymitch giving you worried and disapproving looks the entire time. You got so sick of his looks you moved onto survival but got bored of that quickly so you just went upstairs to lay down.

Haymitch appeared in the doorway sometime later. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Thank you,” you said sitting up. You knew he was coming from a place of love and concern so you were done being mad. Besides, you had been a couple for so long that your arguments could almost always be resolved in a couple sentences.

“Half the tributes want to be our allies. They of course assume we’ll be allies with Katniss. Peeta too but mostly Katniss.”

“Okay well who of the potential allies know about the plan?”

“Wiress and Beetee, Finnick, and by association Mags and Annie,” he answered. “Although Enobaria wants Katniss too but she and none of the other careers know. And a couple others from 5 through 10.”

“Did Katniss say anything?”

“She wants Wiress, Beetee, and Mags. But no Finnick. I told them she’s still considering.”

“What about Johanna, Blight, Chaff, and Seeder? I thought they knew.”

“They do, they just don’t necessarily want to get on Katniss’ crazy train,” he explained, taking a seat on the bed and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That girl is a piece of work.”

You laughed a little. “She’s not that bad. Yes, a little volatile but so is Johanna and I like her. I like them both,” you added.

Haymitch hummed in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but fine. I think everything is fine,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I’m pretty sure fetuses can take a little knocking around. How would we have survived so long if they couldn’t?”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy. No getting punched in the gut,” he chided.

“Aw man, there go my dinner plans,” you jokingly whined.

“Shut up,” he chucked.

The next couple days were largely uneventful. You and Haymitch kept trying to convince Katniss to ally with Finnick or even Johanna but she refused, thinking that they’d stab her and Peeta in the back as soon as the biggest threats were taken out.

Eventually it was finally time for interviews the night before the games. With your permission Cinna tapped into the femme fatale look that had been part of your selling point your first games. It was a satin black dress with gold chains laid across the bodice and forming the straps. It had a high slit that came almost to your hip but your modesty was protected by delicate gold chains that held the top of the slit in place.

Your makeup was done dramatically again. Your red lips had been a part of your look the first games so Cinna had wanted to keep them this year. Your hair was done up in intricate braids with gold weaved through it so as to “not cover up too much of Cinna’s design,” one of the hair stylists told you.

You watched the other interviews as you got ready. You could see through all of them, whether they be extremely calculated or not, they were all a desperate cry to stop the games. Some were subtle like Cashmere and Gloss’ joint interview as “the family of the Capitol.” Johanna’s however, was not at all subtle as she screamed at the crowd and Snow for putting her back into the games. Some just made you outright feel bad for them. Like Annie and Finnick’s joint interview where she clung to his arm, hardly able to get out two words.

Eventually it was your turn. You stood in front of the stage entrance, trying to calm yourself down as Caesar introduced you. “Please welcome the winner of the 67th Hunger Games, Y/N L/N!”

You could hear the crowd erupt into cheers as the doors opened, blinding you. But you stepped out confidently nonetheless, eventually regaining partial sight. “Y/N, stunning as ever, wouldn’t you agree, folks?” Caesar began.

The crowd once again erupted into cheers. “You’re too kind Caesar.”

“I understand you have many sponsors who supported you in your original games and even after,” he explained. You hoped your face didn’t show it but you felt your heart stop. Was he really bringing up your torture in your very public interview? “Let’s hope they’re just as generous this year.”

“Oh I promise them I’ll make it worth their while,” you smirked into the microphone. You’ve been playing this game for a long time. What’s one more night?

“Now I have to ask as the mentor to the lovebirds of 12, is there anyone special in your life?” What kind of questions were these? You gave a polite laugh, shaking your head no. “Oh c’mon, really? With your looks? I find that hard to believe.”

“No not anyone,” you once again denied. “I’ve been on a few dates with some Capitol citizens but nothing serious. I guess eight years after the games still isn’t enough time to get over it.” You left the innocent look on your face.

It was sobering to the audience but Caesar quickly tried to bring the mood up again. “Well I just have a few more questions for you. We’re all very familiar with your protégée’s stylist. Tell me, are you working with Cinna too?”

“I am,” you agreed excitedly, giving them back the Capitol darling they had loved so dearly eight years ago. “No offense to my previous stylist but I think Cinna just gets me more.”

“I agree, this dress and the chariot parade dress suit you very well. And I have to say, you in flames? Breathtaking.”

“Aw thank you,” you smiled. “I’m sure Cinna appreciates it too.”

“Yes and we’re excited to see more of his work soon. Thank you Y/N, it’s been a pleasure. Give it up for Y/N L/N!” The crowd once again gave their cheers as you walked up the stairs, taking your place next to Chaff.

“Our next guest was the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Give it up for Haymitch Abernathy!” You watched as Haymitch approached, only able to see his back from your vantage point. “Haymitch, it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough in this context,” he laughed.

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be such an honor to win both Quarter Quells?” Caesar pressed. He probably already knew this would be a difficult interview for the Capitol.

“In theory I suppose. I’m mostly concerned about getting some of the younger victors out though.” The crowd let out cries of sympathy.

“How considerate,” Caesar said solemnly. “And tell us, what was it like to mentor our lovebirds coming up next?”

Haymitch pondered for a second, not quite sure how to answer. He has spent the whole night trying to decide if he’d tell the Capitol about your relationship. “Well I can tell you it wasn’t easy. Katniss can be a little headstrong.”

“Oh well we all know that,” Caesar laughed. “And Peeta?”

“He’s a very kind boy. They’re great together.”

Caesar laughed. “Yes well it’s nice to hear that from someone close to the couple. Now what about you? We’ve already heard from your original protégée about her love life, what about yours? We haven’t heard much from you in the past 25 years.”

Haymitch really thought about dropping a bomb like Peeta did last year but realizing how valuable your sponsors could be in the games, he thought better of it. “Not really. Y/N said that eight years isn’t enough time to get over being in the games. Twenty-five isn’t enough either.”

“Ah well I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Haymitch Abernathy!”

He joined you up on the platform, squeezing your hand quickly before turning his attention to Katniss as she walked out on stage. Her dress was beautiful, a little over the top but Cinna had outdone himself. The crowd was losing their minds realizing that was Katniss’ unused wedding dress. The audience was completely captivated by her, especially when she revealed the Mockingjay dress that Cinna had weaved into the wedding dress that Snow no doubt made her wear. A daring display of defiance that you unfortunately knew someone would pay the price for.

Next came Peeta with his suave attitude from last year. They spoke for a moment until Caesar brought up the unfulfilled wedding.

“Actually we got married. In secret,” he revealed. You glanced at Katniss as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately she kept her expression neutral. “We want our love to be eternal. Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if it weren’t…” Caesar pressed him. The entire Capitol was in the edge of their seats, hell you were too. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

The Capitol was shocked, you were shocked, the other victors were shocked, even Katniss was shocked. The audience was losing its mind, some even shouting to stop the games. You half wondered if Peeta knew you were pregnant. He made his way up to the stage, hugging Katniss. You still faced the audience when you felt Haymitch’s hand grab yours. Looking over you could see Katniss holding his other hands so you grabbed Chaff’s wrist. Once everyone was linked you all lifted your arms up. The Victors joined in solidarity against these games and the Capitol.

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

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