#mockingjay AU

[petriwriting]

Limitless. (Hunger Games AU)- Theodore Nott X Reader ~ PART 1.

Summary: Reaping day becomes the worst day of your life.

A/N: experimenting with AU's as of recently. The Hunger Games is one of my favorite book series' from when I was a kid. Also This image (Found on google) was PERFECT. Surprisingly this came entirely from an engineering book I've been reading about an old Italian architect. I incorporated some HP Characters as well. anyway. I tried to follow the lore and whatnot from the books and movies. I took inspo from the first book and catching fire a lot, but It wanted it to be fun!

The day before the reaping was solemn and quiet. Workers went to job sites the same way they always had, children played in the streets, and business continued as usual. Despite the normalcy, there was an unspoken darkness in the air. In the dark times, Theodore Nott was your source of comfort. He didn't live far from you, in fact rather close. Your families were acquainted, and you had grown up going to the same school almost all your life. He was friendly and familiar. You knew just where to find him too. He turned to you and smiled softly. "Hey," he said. you gave a small wave and sighed a relief. "How's the apprenticeship going?" you asked cheerfully, hearing from him was always nice. 

"It's alright, I am learning how to apply mortar this week." He said. The boy had grown up around construction sites, his father being a mason himself. He was now of age to learn from his father's profession, something he would inherit one day if he did well. It could make him decent money, enough to support a family comfortably. "That's good." you said. 

"How are you holdin' up?" He asked you, and you had no clue how to respond with a truthful answer without sounding like an anxious mess. 

"I've been better." you say, the words hang in the air, Theodore nods at you with an understanding glance.

after a few moments you bit your lip in anticipation. "so," you began slowly. "Are you ready for the big day tomorrow?" you said finally. "As ready as I could be." He said with a shrug. 

"That's better than being terrible," you retorted.

"Oh, definitely," Theo agreed. After a few more moments, he said, "I wish people didn't celebrate it so much. " You folded your arms.  "I wish people didn't have to die." You said pointedly. "We could always run away." Theo joked slightly. "Yeah," you laughed sarcastically. "And go find a cave to live in?" 

"Maybe," he said. "a cave might become a lovely home if I had you by my side." 

His words make your cheeks flush. "you are home." you wanted to say, but didn't.



Part 1.

Reaping Day always made you sick to your stomach; just the very idea of the Hunger Games was sickening. you knew the outcome was eventual, but it remained a scary thought. Luckily you hadn't been unfortunate, being born and raised in the wealthy District 2, where careers would typically volunteer for any reaped kids. It was always very early in the morning, despite snow or rain or clouds. It always happened early. and It was typically the worst part of the day. Your District was littered with games protesters, but given how close you were to the Capitol, they were usually arrested or taken away before gaining the public's attention. Peacekeepers scattered the city in larger numbers this time.

This was controversial, as there was a group in the inner city of the district that advocated for the absence of careers, encouraging the potential dangers of volunteering yourself away to die. They regularly rallied and protested. They believed that children should not be bred to die. In a twisted juxtaposition, The local authorities of District 2 began publically punishing those who opposed the careers. The Governors of District 2 believed that having children volunteer was a smart tactic that would win the favor of the Capitol, and bring pride to the district. You tried to brush the anxiety off and put on a brave, but forced smile. The air was slightly heavy, thick as if you could feel everyone's grief with a sporadic chilly breeze. That day always felt exhausting. Even with the strong Capitol relationship your District had, (Some workers would be shipped to the Capitol relatively young to help build their defenses, something you worried Theodore would have to do eventually, as he was his father's apprentice.) the Hunger Games were still unsafe and children would still die. All for nothing.

You had lived in the same old masonry building since you were a child, with a large brick fireplace that acted as the heart of the home. Without you, your parents would have to venture out to the outer city's dangerous streets to get more firewood this winter... The thought was unpleasant, so you pushed it away. The odds were in your favor surely. Even if you did make it out, you were hopeful you wouldn't have to, that you wouldn't be reaped to begin with. those who returned from the games never lasted long. They came back as different people. No soul was left unchanged by that tragedy. So if you made it out, you lost a piece of yourself in the Games regardless.

You headed to the reaping ceremony after bathing, dressing, and combing your hair. you stopped for a moment of mindfulness, to steady yourself for the day ahead. Then, proceed towards the house of your closest friend from your childhood. You always walked to the reapings together. Theodore Nott, an only child, son of the Capomaestro, or as some would call his father- the 'Master Mason'. His family was somewhat wealthy, they lived comfortably, enough for a relatively modestly sized home with a lavish garden. You knocked on the door gently, to see Theodore standing in his nice new leather shoes. He smiled softly, and you embraced him in instant need for comfort and feeling warm and safe in the boy's arms. He smiled at you and brushed his hand through his slightly messy hair. He looked tired. 

"Hi," he said. you smiled softly. "You look nice," he said. "Thanks, Teddy," you said, using his nickname, one that was a rarity between the two of you. It was a special term of endearment.

"oh!" he chimed suddenly remembering, "I have something for you," he said, reaching over on the coat rack by the door to grab a navy blue coat with multi-colored buttons. He held it out for you to grab. You took the fabric, it was sturdy, and nice quality.

"It was my mother's, I want you to have it. No good in the closet nowadays anyway." Theo said. He tensed up whenever he talked about his mother, who had passed away when he was very young.

 "Theo, I can't." you insist. It was probably inevitable you would be cold with the morning breeze in the sweater you wore, but you brushed it off. This was something special, you didn't feel worthy of it somehow. "I insist," he says, holding it out for you to put your arms into each sleeve. You slipped the jacket on and it fit nicely. "Thank you," you whispered. Before you could change your mind and protest, Theodore's voice broke the short silence. "Shall we?" he asks, gesturing to begin your short walk to the ceremony.

When you approach the stage after signing in, your heart races. You see all the children of the District lined up, and the ones who had trained at the combat academy up in the very front. seeing familiar faces, your neighbors, your friends, people you know. You are flooded with emotion, and you take a few deep breaths, Theodore grabs your hand in reassurance as he had been standing by you. You swallow back the pit in your stomach. It isn't likely you'll be picked, you should be okay. You should be. The introduction to the games feels like a blur, something about war and peace and it falls into familiarity after the first few words. you are only focussed on the names, up until that point, you hadn't been reaped. you had not been selected, and you were safe. 

"You'll be okay," Theo said to you, hands intertwined. 

 You tried to use this to justify the anxious feeling, reassuring yourself as the speaker was finally ready to pull the names out of large concrete bowls. In typical Capitol fashion, the woman picking the names is dressed bizarrely. She has pink everything - from her fingernails to her eyelashes. You suddenly remember her name, from last year, or maybe the year before. Dolores Umbridge. As she walked across the stage you could tell there was a pink cat on the side of her dress, it looked peculiar and ugly.

"Now, to begin, our male Tribute of District 2 will be..." She says, prancing across the stage and grabbing a tiny red piece of paper. She clears her throat, before speaking loudly and clearly into the microphone. 

"Theodore Nott."

The boy you had grown up with, played with. The boy who would sometimes sneak food from his family's pantry to feed yours. The boy who you had seen grow from a stalky kid to a tall and tireless-looking young man. Your best friend, the one who kept you safe when it mattered most. You glanced at him, he gave a hopeless smile, a fake one. He was a smart boy. Someone had to volunteer surely? He was training to be a Brick Mason, like his father, those skills were more valuable than Capitol entertainment. You hoped and prayed to whatever was out there nearly every day he would age out of the reaping, and one day be shipped to the Capitol to work in the city with his masonry skills, where it was safe. Much like his father had. He would come back much later when he was old and gray and make his way back to you. That's what you always imagined for him, A good life where he was taken care of. You had never imagined his fate to be so unlucky that he would be rounded up and slaughtered with the rest of the tributes. 

your heart drops. unbelievable. you look around, waiting for someone with years of private training to volunteer, someone to save your best friend. You choke on your tears, unable to render any speech. after what felt like an eternity looking at Theo, his gaze fell and he was pulled away and onto the stage. You are terrified for him. No one has volunteered. How could they?  His grasp his pulled from you, as the peacekeepers escort him up onto the stage to be shown off like a trophy.

"And now, for the ladies," Umbridge says, reaping yet another poor and unfortunate soul. You grow pale, cold, and shiver. Shocked, so shocked that your eye's have filled with tears, yet nothing has spilled out. You are stood firmly in place, in total shock. You don't snap out of your haze until you hear your name being called. . . and more painful, the silence after indicating the lack of volunteers. 

No careers to save you. Your heart stops, and your hearing is loud, piercing, echoes of everyone's chatter. that is when you realize it's more than just losing your best friend, One of you would have to die. There was no doubt about it. you would have to die protecting this boy. You were dragged onto the stage, and both of you were introduced as the District 2 tributes. The crowd cheered solemnly in respect. Theodore pulled you into a tight embrace in front of everyone.

with his touch you finally snapped back into reality, everything had happened so incredibly fast you only had just then finally realized what was going to happen. Your parents wept for you, going away to die like some farmed animal. they were broken, and so were you. You even overheard Theodore's father wailing for the loss of his son, pleading with anyone who would listen. Everything felt like it had instantaneously fallen apart, causing you to see the fragility of everything around you. Umbridge wiped a fake-looking tear off her overly rosy cheek. The scent of cherry blossoms followed her as he smiled softly at the two of you standing next to each other. 

"So beautiful," she exclaimed, "The love of your family as you are ripped from their arms," she says, it's a condescending remark from a vile woman who lived in the Capitol her entire life. You want to slap the pink powder off her face, but elect to save your strength for the real fight. "So wonderful and so tragic. Makes me very excited for the games to begin!" she squeals. "Anyhow, dolls," she says. "Please board your first-class train to the Capitol," she says, ushering the two of you forward. 

Theodore walks closely to you, enough to bring you comfort. he whispers to you aside, while Umbridge is talking about the dining options and many 'luxuries' of the Capitol. "I'm really sorry," he says. you look at him and nod. "Promise me you won't leave me," you whisper, he nods at you again. "I promise," he whispered. 

"Excuse me are you even paying attention to me?" Umbridge folds her arms and turns around so abruptly that her skirt jiggles like jello. "Yes, we were listening," Theodore says finally, using the voice he only used when he tried to be professional. "What happens now?" you said pointedly. Umbridge sighed, "Since you don't care for my thorough review of the Capitol's many, many, accomplishments, I will leave you with your thoughts." She snaps. "Unfortunately there are no living mentors from previous games, so you will be consulting with Capitol experts when we arrive." She says. 

You look at her with an aggressive glare, maybe it was a defense mechanism. you had been through a lot that day. Luckily Theodore defused the tension slightly, he comforted you and that was enough. You were shaken and nearly lost your balance as the train began moving and a strange feeling filled your stomach. the feeling of fast transportation you had never been familiar or accustomed to. Umbridge rolled her eyes at your silence and muttered something about you being uncultured as she walked away towards the back of the train. The two of you were alone in the cabin for a few moments, looking at the ornate decorative motifs in the flooring and the faux chandeliers slightly above you. 

"What happens now?" you ask quietly. "I can't lose you." You whisper. Theodore ushers for you to sit on the plush velvet loveseat. The cushions feel like clouds, the Capitol's finest. in an exasperated effort, you rest your head on Theodore's shoulder as his arm slides around you. "I always imagined you would make it big in the Capitol, make lots of money, and support your family. That life would be good for you," you said finally in a sad tone. "I'm so sorry we ended up here. You deserve better than this," you said. Theodore looked at you sadly, with a gentle squeeze. "No matter what happens," He says after some thought. "I will do everything in my power to make sure one of us comes out on top."

His words sink in like the teeth of a gnawing animal, but it is correct. You try to find comfort in his words but are left empty. You instead sit there with him, probably for the last time. You enjoy his body warmth and the gentle rising and falling of his chest. A moment of calm before the true storm begins. Being only a very short distance from the Capitol, within an hour you have arrived, the train halts to a stop, you take a deep breath and look at him one last time before you are ushered into the city. "We'll make it out, I'm sure of it." he says in a reassuring tone. 

After Umbridge had paraded you around the building, a tour- she called it, you were both exhausted already. You were to meet with your training expert next, to discuss your training plan. He was supposed to show you how to kill others, and what weapons to use. Umbridge made it sound like a fun chat, something that would be enjoyable if it weren't for the probably of your death hanging over your heads. Your ‘training expert’ as they called him was Sirius Black. Since there were no living Careers from your District to properly mentor the two of you, you would share one. Sirius was a shaggy looking man, who had many tattoos and unruly curly hair. He greeted the two of you on the second floor, just up the stairs as you were escorted. You were both quiet, silently noting all the things about the Capitol you were learning. The etiquette, The mysterious social expectations, and the wild fashion. The two of you were taken aback by Sirius and what he said when you finally entered the private corridor on your suite. He had been droning on about weapons, finding water, shelter, and basic stuff. You noticed his speech become more casual once he was away from the other Capitol folks.

“Now, lets make this clear." Sirius says with a finality in his voice. "I’m not sure here to make you look pretty in front of the Capitol, your stylist will handle that. .” He said. The words rang in your ear like a melody. “I’m here to help you make an impression, which could very well save your lives.” He said. 

“How do outfits and manners save our lives?” Theodore asked him. You had been wondering the same thing but hadn’t spoken. “Well.” Sirius begins, “Looking good and entertaining the Capitol is the first priority. You make people like you, they can help you get out of there.” He said. He was somewhat cryptic. "Looking pretty is always a bonus, you are both young, attractive kids. You'll be fine in that regard. You need to be on your best behavior out there, It's acting, so be the character everyone adores." He said with faux jazz hands and fake enthusiasm. 

“How are we supposed to get out?” You asked. “One of us will have to die.” You stated the words hang heavy in the air. “Just do what it takes to survive. Both of you.” You rolled your eyes, it seemed like such trashy advice. "If they want the two of you to be tragic childhood friends who are forced to turn on each other, give it to them."

Sirius stepped forward. “I don’t think you heard me.” He says his tone has shifted. “Do whatever it takes.” He said. Whatever. It. Takes. The words repeated to yourself, turning each one over until they seemed strange.

“We get it.” Theo says. “We have to keep ourselves alive.” He said, you were slightly stunned when he said this, was he suddenly selfish? That wasn’t the boy you had been friends with. “I understand.” You said finally. “Good. Now you’d both be smart to get some rest. We'll talk more in the morning, yeah?” He said, before politely seeing himself out of your suite. 

You were left alone with Theodore. You turned to him, he had the same tired eyes as before. All this was so new and scary. “Theo,” you exhaled softly. “Can we just have tonight?” He asks. “No talk of the games, no training or fighting. Just us, like old times.” He says, somewhat asking and somewhat demanding. He was right though. You needed to spend time with him before whatever was going to happen happened. You felt that you owed him that at least. "Okay." you said. As you stood in the living room, the Avox servants prepared the dinner table for you, serving a fancy feast although it was pretty late in the evening. The Capitol was fattening you up to kill you, you felt like a farm animal waiting to be used for parts. It made you think you weren't so hungry, but as the scent of the roasted bird and fresh ingredients flooded your senses you couldn't help but listen to your stomach. 

"I don't think I've ever seen this much food at once before," Theodore says, he walks in front of you to pull your chair out, you sit down and he follows suit. "It does look good," you said eyes grazing the basket of bread rolls. A warm filling meal could be beneficial after all. "We might as well." Theodore shrugged and began filling his plate. Turkey, Ham, Chicken, Eggs, Salad, Pasta. Food was abundant there, and only the two of you ate it. After your first bite, it was delicious. Your growling stomach was soon soothed, and after you both ate there was a quiet acknowledgment after the Avoxes started cleaning things up after you. "Thank you," You said sweetly, the Axov just stared at you blankly. 

"You know," he says finally, Theodore's voice breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. "I Haven't had a nice meal like that since my mother died." He says, the words sting you, and you can't even imagine how he feels. "Yeah?" you encouraged. "Yes," Theo says. "She would make us pasta sometimes, would roll the dough out by hand. She loved it. My father kept some of the family recipes." He says. You smiled softly. He was sharing a vulnerable moment with you. "When I was younger, I used to dream about what it would be like to live here. So lavish, so free." He continued. "I never imagined the people here looking so strange," you said, earning a chuckle from Theodore. This was about the crazy Capitol fashion statements you had seen being escorted to the Tribute building. "They do dress... peculiar." He said. you shared another soft smile and laugh with him. "They do." you agreed. 

"When we get out of here," you caught yourself saying this. You knew that one of you would die, but didn't correct yourself. "I hope things can go back to how they were." you say. 

"I'll make it home to you, always." Theo said. "The Capitol can't keep me from the only person I've ever loved." He says. you flush, your cheeks warm. "I love you, Theo." you say. "I love you," He says slowly. "We will get through this, I don't know how but we will." he states. you take his hand that's rested on the table and run your fingers over his calloused thumb. It was a sweet moment, something you'd remember in the arena. You leaned forward slightly, his eyes trailed down to your lips, planting a gentle kiss on them.

[little-lynx]

THE PARTNERS

Ok, I have this AU in my head where Madge survived and made her way to D13 and became pretty important for the uprising (because of many things, ah, I wish I was better in English to write it all down but unfortunately it just lives in my head). And Plutarch got this idea to make Gale and Madge work together (and make propos of course) to show the alliance between the rich and the poor and how they could overcome their differences and prejudices and work together to achieve their goal and to build new shiny world. And of course it was a complete disaster at the beginning but… it ended up being unexpectedly successful partnership. On many levels, lol.

As you probably already know I have A TON of such AUs in my head and sometimes I just need to get it from there. So I drew this super quick sketch and now I feel better haha. Gadge is ❤️.

[javistg]

I truly have no words to explain how much I've missed this and how happy I am to be back here. Posting an update to my longest WIP.

This story has been my constant companion for many years now. Even when I completely stopped writing, it never left my mind. I knew I had left it in a good enough place, but it's still missing the end I so badly want to give it.

So, here I am, writing again. Posting one more chapter. Thank you for your patience, and for all the kind messages you've sent me through the years. They mean the world to me.

And now... here's the long awaited chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

One Victor, CH 26 is ready!

Propaganda.

"Peeta!" 

Swiveling around, Peeta barely had time to brace himself against the impact of Prim jumping into his arms.

"Thank you!" Prim squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you for bringing Buttercup back!"

Chuckling, Peeta lowered Prim to the floor. "You're welcome, Prim. I'm sorry you can't keep him in your compartment, but—,"

“Oh, that doesn't matter. He'll be OK. As soon as the kitchen staff realizes what a good mouser he is, they'll fall in love with him. It won't take long before he starts pulling his own weight and, in the meantime, Katniss will have to find him some scraps." 

Peeta nodded. It had taken some negotiation with the officers who had greeted his team upon their return from Twelve but, ultimately, they had relented. Buttercup had been allowed to stay outside of the main compound. He would only be admitted into specific areas to work as pest control. But Katniss was authorized to feed him from what she hunted.

It wasn't what Peeta had hoped for, but it was much better than leaving the old mangy cat to fend for himself back in what was left of the Seam. 

Peeta tilted his head towards the dining hall. “Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes! I'm starving!"

Want to keep on reading? You can find the rest of the chapter on AO3 and FF.net

Like my beautiful banner? The lovely @alwayseverlark made it for me. It was ages ago, but I still love it!!!

[spaceprincessem]

guys im almost done with the mockingjay au im gonna vibrate out of my skin

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii! I wanted to write a little something simple for Everlark and decided to lowkey mix two requests! “A kiss on the chest” and “Katniss learning what they did to Peeta in MJ and kissing his scars”. It was supposed to be set Post-Mockingjay but I instead made it a sequel to my “Peeta wasn’t hijacked in MJ reunion oneshot AU”. If you haven’t read it, it’s fine, the title right there tells you everything necessary to know 😂.

I hope everyone who reads this likes it! I loved writing it and I would really appreciate anyone who enjoyed this to like/reblog! It makes me so so so happy 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹. Also thank you to all my constant encouragers, you guys make my day with all your sweetness 🥹🥹🥹🥹.

Summary : Katniss learns more about what they did to Peeta in the Capitol and sets out to try and make him better. [Non - Hijacked Peeta Mockingjay AU].

-

Burned. Check mark.

Whipped. Check mark.

Starved. Check mark.

Shocked. Check mark.

Tortured (with water and [redacted][redacted]). Check mark.

I toss the file back onto the table where it was left by Peeta’s doctors, unable to stare at it any longer. Unable to stomach reading every which way Peeta was harmed while held prisoner in the Capitol. Again. I’ve already read it upwards of ten times tonight.

It never gets easier. Reading the extensive list of his injuries, reading the details they managed to pry out of him, visualizing what horrible acts were done to to him, listening to his doctors confer among themselves in sympathy and disgust, they themselves deeply disturbed by what he experienced at the hand of the president himself.

“Sweetheart, would you make up your mind?” Haymitch snaps. He’s in the worst mood he’s been in a while.

“Huh?” I furrow my brow and glare up at him.

“Either read that thing or stop messing with it.” He indicates toward Peeta’s file. “I’ve sat here and watched you throw it down and pick it back up a dozen times already. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic, Haymitch,” I say back but there’s little bite in my tone. I’m too preoccupied with the image of Peeta trapped in a freezing cold cell, naked and bloody and alone and terrified, and it’s driving me absolutely insane. It’s suffocating me, from the inside out. It’s taking up all of the space in my head, leaving no room for even bickering with Haymitch.

And Haymitch knows it too.

Of course, he of all people should be able to read me. After all, the same stupid file — and his crippling remorse — is undoubtedly what’s put Haymitch in such an awful mood in the first place.

“Just go see him, Katniss,” he murmurs, giving me a pointed look. “Go. You’re of no use to him just sitting out here, reading about what’s already been done. Get up and go see him.”

He’s right and I know it. As much as I hate to admit it, I know Haymitch has me there.

But still, I stall. It’s not that I don’t want to see Peeta. The opposite, in fact. Since his rescue thirty-seven days ago — not that I’m counting exactly — I’ve spent copious amounts of time with him. I’ve spent every waking moment that I could in his presence and as many of my sleeping ones that I’m allowed.

The doctors aren’t really thrilled about our arrangement there. They want to keep watch on Peeta as he sleeps, to watch and study and take notes and examine him further, but evidently it’s rather hard to analyze his nightmares with me wrapped around his torso all night, like a protective pretzel.

It’s not that I don’t want to see Peeta right now. It’s the fact that I don’t think I can look him in the eye, after reading exactly what those monsters Snow hired did to him, and pretend it isn’t all my fault.

“I don’t think the doctors are done with him…” I mumble, avoiding Haymitch’s eyes now.

“Cut the crap, Sweetheart.”

“Go away, Haymitch.”

“Go see the boy or I’ll find a way for you to spend tomorrow filming a propo.”

I glare at him again. “Would you stop?”

“Coin is getting hungry for some new ones.”

“Okay, fine, you win!” I exclaim, springing up out of my chair. “Congratulations, Haymitch. You blackmailed me into going to see my own boyfriend. Happy?” I hiss, kicking him in the shin as I walk past his chair.

Not hard enough to hurt him apparently. Not even hard enough for him to care. Instead he picks apart my wording with a smirk. “Your boyfriend? How darn cute.”

“Shut up,” I call as I exit the room.

The last thing I hear is him making loud, obnoxious kissing sounds in my wake.

-

I slip past the doctors, both the head and the medical, and beyond the nurses and supply carts and trays of food, into the room where I’ve spent more hours in the last month than I can count on two hands.

“Hi,” Peeta whispers softly as I close the door behind me. He’s shirtless, in bed and seemingly half-asleep already, laying on his side beneath the sheets. Waiting for me.

He looks so much better than he did the night of his rescue. His bruises are healing nicely, he’s gaining weight and muscle back, his hair is clean and curly again — thanks to me and Thirteen’s strong, medicinal shampoo — and his skin is starting to lose that scary, pale, translucent look.

But he’s still so hurt. He’s still injured — internally far more than externally — and I swear, I can feel my heart swell up and break into pieces just looking at him too long.

“Hi, baby,” I murmur softly, crawling beneath the blankets and folding him into my arms. Even with all the weight lost, he’s much too large for me to hold completely, so I make due wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist and stroking the back of his head tenderly.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, burying his face where my neck and shoulder meet.

A wave of guilt ripples through me. “Sorry I took so long.”

But he shakes his head, still having no room for spite in his body. Even after everything he’s been through, he’s still so sweet. He’s still so warm and kind and generous.

Well, towards me at least. The same can’t be said for his behavior toward Haymitch, who he blames for leaving us both in the dark about the rebellion.

“You were worth the wait,” he whispers. “You’re worth every wait.”

I feel myself blush and cover it swiftly by kissing his cheek. “How was your tests today?” I ask, smoothing his hair back.

He shoots me a sardonic look now and I giggle like a little kid. Every day when his dry humor peaks through the darkness, I get filled with ridiculous, unparalleled — uncharacteristic — delight.

“Still tedious as ever?” I murmur, rubbing his shoulder with my pointer finger.

“Boring as ever,” he mumbles before closing his eyes again. He’s clearly exhausted from all the probing they did today. And I know I should sleep too.

I usually sleep whenever he sleeps, wake only when the doctors make me leave, spend as much time with him as I can before getting sent away. But tonight I just can’t. I can’t make my brain shut off, despite the fact that at least half the compound is in bed, the other not far behind.

And of course, even tired as he is, even with everything going on in his mind, he still notices my distress.

“What is it?” He whispers, not even opening his eyes.

“Hmm?” I feign oblivion.

“Katniss, I can see something’s wrong.” He opens his baby blues, peaking down at me through his long, tangled up lashes. He has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a boy.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I reassure him, kissing his upper arm because it’s the closest thing within my reach.

“You saw my file?” He’s fully awake and coherent now, his voice much stronger than before. His tone leaves no room for question, even if I could lie straight to his face.

“Yes,” I whisper, feeling suddenly nervous he’ll be angry. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy to read it, I don’t know. The doctors left it out, I just assumed it was okay. “Are you mad?”

“No.” He chuckles lightly before moving his hand down to my hip, tugging me closer if even possible. “No, I don’t care. Read it as much as you want.”

He really means it too. He really doesn’t care if I invade his privacy, dig into his business and overstep my bounds. I don’t know if I’d be so generous if the situation were reversed.

Then again, going by the things I just read, he’s already been tortured and humiliated beyond belief. I doubt he has any concern for privacy left.

“You can ask me anything, you know,” Peeta says after a minute and I cup his cheek in my hand, shaking my head instinctively. I can’t ask him to talk about what they did. That would be cruel.

Instead I lean up and kiss him on the mouth, slowly and softly. Conveying every feeling I have for him, conveying every ounce of affection and gratitude and longing pent up inside me.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Peeta,” I whisper against his lips.

I feel his hand cradle the back of my head, massaging my scalp. “I don’t want to keep anything from you,” he finally says, resting his forehead against mine. “Not anything that you want to know.”

My eyes fall, breaking contact with his. I have questions, yes — understatement if I ever heard one — but I refuse to pry and I’m terrified to ask and I don’t even know where to begin after what I read.

But then something catches my attention. A thick, red, angry line, splayed right in the middle of Peeta’s chest. It stands out vividly against his pale skin and blonde chest hair and I can’t look away from it now.

“What’s this?” I murmur, running my finger lightly across the surface, clocking the way Peeta cringes a little at the contact. “Does that hurt?”

He looks at the wall behind my head for a long moment before nodding. “That’s from a whip.” He meets my gaze again before casting his eyes low. “I don’t remember what I did to earn it.”

“Nothing,” I immediately gasp, my head shaking and brows knitting together. The idea that Peeta earned anything that happened in that mansion blasphemous to my ears. “You did nothing, baby.”

“I know,” he agrees, pressing his lips to my forehead lightly. “I just can’t remember why they whipped me that day.”

That day. Because there’s so many days where he was whipped to choose from. Of course.

My eyes land on another mark, this one dark purple and almost circular, high up on his torso, almost on his shoulder. It’s not a bruise, although at first glance it could be mistaken for one. No, it’s definitely a scar. From what, I can’t tell.

I trace it with my thumb, rubbing it back and forth. It’s raised and rough to the touch, a little jagged even, like it never properly healed.

His hand comes up to touch my arm, almost out of reflex, halting my ministrations. “That’s from the early days,” he explains, with almost a touch of humor in his voice. “They were more creative then… and they had a lot of matches on hand.”

It takes me a beat to figure out what he means by matches. “Fire? Fire matches, Peeta?”

“Yeah.” He nods sheepishly. “Snow had a big supply evidently.”

“I will burn him alive,” I say through gritted teeth before I can think better of it.

“Calm down, firecracker,” Peeta laughs but I’m fuming. I’m fuming mad and ready to fight at a moments notice. I probably could even make a half-decent propo right now, the amount of venom coursing through my veins.

I encourage my own anger, feed it, in fact. Because I want to be angry. I want to feel this rage.

Because if I don’t, I’ll start crying. And that’ll only serve to make Peeta feel even worse. Which I can’t let happen.

I’ve already done that too many times.

I don’t tell him any of what I’m thinking. Nothing good could come from that. Instead I search for a way to mask my anger, protect him from seeing it.

I stretch up and press a kiss against the corner of Peeta’s mouth, traveling to his chin, down the side of his neck and over his collarbone.

He responds by letting out a deep sigh, clearly enjoying the attention.

I journey further down his body until my lips land on his chest, exactly where his scar is.

“What are you doing?” He asks breathlessly, peering down at me now. “You don’t have to-“

“Let me,” I whisper, tracing it again with my finger. He shudders a little at the contact. “Let me make it better.”

I hear him swallow hard. “Okay.” He nods a little, quietly inhaling and exhaling.

I lean in slowly and press my lips to the mark, the whip scar, soft and tender.

I can feel him relax beneath me, deflating almost. I don’t sense any sign of discomfort, so I take that as my cue to continue on, kissing the same spot again and again, moving up and down the length of his wound, creating a circuit and following it repeatedly, waiting until he tells me to stop.

“Katniss,” he murmurs, sounding almost pained, like my name hurts.

“Yeah?“

“Thank you.” His voice is almost inaudible, almost a praise or a plea. Tears leak out the corners of his tired eyes.

I have to fight to keep my lip from trembling, to stop myself from crying too. Instead I crawl up his body, keeping my legs wrapped around his waist and fold my arms loosely around his neck.

“Let me kiss them all,” I say into his skin. My mouth travels across the top of his shoulder, my eyes closed, moving by the touch of my lips alone, not stopping until I land on his burn.

I press kiss after kiss into the bumpy, rough scar, until I feel Peeta’s breathing even out against me. I feel his heart beating against me and his chest rise and fall with mine, and an ember of hope that my method may be working grows stronger.

“Roll over for me,” I urge, keeping my voice as gentle as my touch.

“You don’t have to do them all,” he says but I can tell he’s enjoying this immensely. I can tell this helping him more than any treatment the doctors have recommended.

“I want to, Peeta,” I insist, no question in my tone.

Slowly and lethargically, he complies, rolling over so his back is facing me. I keep my hold on him, both my arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby animal clings to their mother.

He has a plethora of scars and wounds on his back. More than I’ve been able to stomach yet. Not once since his rescue have I been able to truly face the sight before me now.

I begin at the top, resting the palms of my hands on his shoulder blades, pressing my mouth to the center of his spine, to the back of his neck, the back of his ribs, anywhere with a painful mark or dark bruise.

I keep going, never tiring, as if I can kiss him better. As if my kiss can take away everything that’s happened, everything that I unintentionally caused and everything I ache to go back and stop. I kiss him like I can make him whole again. Like I can heal his fractured heart.

Eventually he relaxes underneath me, his breathing evens out again and he goes slack.

Even then, I keep kissing him. Even in his sleep, I refuse to stop trying to heal his hurt.

“I love you, Peeta,” I whisper against his arm, knowing full well that he cannot hear me anymore. “I love you and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you from this. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

My lips are still on his back when the doctors order me out of the room.

-

[3fluffies]

Fic Update: Songs of War (Hunger Games AU)

Songs of War: Sequel to Favors. AU of Mockingjay. The Second Rebellion erupts after destruction of the 76th Hunger Games arena and rescue of the tributes, but some of the victors and the rebel victors' families are in the Capitol's hands. Katniss, Haymitch, their fellow victors, and loved ones from home all struggle to make a difference in the chaos and pain of war and keep their eyes on the goal of true freedom and justice for the Districts. And even though it's been two years since Peeta suicided in the 74th arena to hand her the crown, Katniss still has him to lean on.

Chapter 1: Many More Meetings. Victors and former tributes awaken on the first morning in District 13 and wonder at the fates of their loved ones as well as their future now that Panem is at war. A few have reunions, including Katniss, who has the chance to talk to Rue and Thresh's families at last. Finnick and Annie steal some time away from Capitol eyes at last. Plutarch introduces Katniss and Haymitch to President Coin, Katniss is having second thoughts about the role the Mockingjay is expected to play in this revolution.

Enjoy! Discussion and debate joyfully welcomed, as are questions and criticism of all kinds!  Feedback! My kingdom for feedback!

[andorerso]

rebelcaptain + the hunger games au

When Jyn Erso was eight years old, her mother died and her father left to become a gamemaker for the Hunger Games. Adopted by Saw Gerrera, her mother's friend, she became Jyn Gerrera and was forbidden from ever revealing her true identity to anyone. Ten years later, it's Jyn's last reaping. Saw, the forgotten victor of the 32nd Hunger Games, had rejected every reward the Empire offered him, preferring to live as a recluse at the edge of the forest in District 12, as opposed to the luxury in the Victors' Village. It's been decades since anyone in the district even recalled that Saw was once a victor himself, but he had made sure to teach Jyn all he knew of self-defense and combat training. It's the only thing she has of him left since his passing two years ago. Now, Jyn just wants to get through her last reaping and survive. But when she hears the name of the young girl she trades with sometimes, Jyn doesn't hesitate to volunteer in her place. She has nothing to lose, except her life, and every reason to believe that with Saw's training, she has a chance at winning the games. A chance that 12-year-old Kerri Andor wouldn't have. Things get a little more complicated when Kerri's brother is picked as the other tribute. Jyn is good at surviving, but Cassian, with his quiet cunning and surprising talent with a bow and arrow, could be a threat. Not to mention that Jyn knows he's the sole provider for his young sister and aging mother; a family who needs him. Who may die without him. Nobody is waiting for Jyn back home. When their mentor's plan to make them seem like star-crossed lovers triples the attention and sponsors they receive, Jyn is forced to play along with the scheme and pretend she has feelings for Cassian. Worst of all? She's not sure where pretending ends and where genuine feelings begin. The gamemakers say they can both go home if they're the last two tributes standing, but Jyn knows better than to believe the pretty promises of the Empire. Soon, she'll have to make a choice. Will she do anything to survive? Or will she let Cassian Andor go home to his family - even at the cost of her own life?

[liyliths]

.˚𓅆࿐ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 an aot au / inspired by the hunger games

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary: survive. that's all you've known you're entire life - to survive. survive district 12, survive the reaping, and survive the capitol. but when you're reaped for the 98th annual hunger games alongside levi ackerman, will you seize the opportunity of rebellion when it arises? the mockingjay is singing, dear reader, please choose wisely.

“Pretty.” A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. “You look pretty.” You turn around, but can’t quite come up with the right words to say. “Thanks,” you muster up, meeting the girl’s amber eyes.  “Are you ready?” The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn’t look like she wants to face the reaping either. “I guess so.”

pairings: levi ackerman x reader

contains: fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, hurt and comfort, semi canon compliant, character death, descriptions of blood, phycological trauma, rebellion, this is gonna hurt but be so rewarding, and any other warnings that come with aot characters/the hunger games universe

word count: 6.5k

playlist

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You've hated the capitol for as long as you can remember. You hate them for everything they've taken away from you. The people you've lost, the cruelties woven into everyday life, the way you've had to survive, and the games. The Hunger Games. Who came up with them anyway?

You know better than to ever dare say anything out loud about it.

It was all about control. After the thirteen districts were defeated in the rebellion, twelve remained. The capitol created the Hunger Games—a brutal punishment for the districts, forcing their children to fight to the death in an arena every year on the anniversary of the capitol's victory. The games are broadcast across Panem, turning slaughter into spectacle, while the people in the capitol sit comfortably with their champagne, watching children kill each other for their entertainment.

It was cruel. You hated how you couldn't do anything about it, how you couldn't save any of the innocent children sent to be slaughtered. All you could do was live with it. That's all anyone could do—and hope to hell they wouldn't be selected for the games.

You don't think the people in the capitol quite understand what the districts go through, especially in the slums of District 12. You can't remember how long it's been since you've been fending for yourself... it feels like that's how your entire life has been. All you know is survival.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, fidgeting with the collar of your blue blouse, styled with a neat beige skirt you borrowed from the mayor's daughter. Even though you've never been particularly close, a few years ago she was kind enough to offer you presentable clothing for this dreadful day every year. It became a tradition between you two.

Perhaps she pitied you, or maybe she is genuinely kind. Probably both.

The reaping was today. Today, they gather all the children from each district to their town center and draw two unlucky names from a bowl to fight to the death. You know better than to expect to see someone from twelve make it back from the games. No one in District 12 comes back.

"Pretty." A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. "You look pretty."

You turn around, but can't quite come up with the right words to say.

"Thanks," you muster up, meeting the girl's amber eyes.

"Are you ready?" The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn't look like she wants to face the reaping either.

"I guess so."

This was the last year either of you were eligible for the games, with the cutoff age being eighteen. The final reaping you'd ever have to endure. You're not sure if that's a relief or a curse because after this, you can't put your name in for extra rations anymore.

You've put in extra entries since you were twelve for more rations, or tessare. As they've stacked up over the years, your odds are now seventeen times worse.

That means nothing to lose, right?

One thing about District 12 is that it's never quiet. Usually, the bustling sounds of conversation come from the market, along with the sound of pickaxes against coal, and kids running around with the town strays. The only sounds you can hear today are the dread-filled footsteps of children and anxious parents walking toward the town center. Everyone takes their time heading to the reaping.

Not even the birds sing today.

-

The peacekeepers with ugly white suits stare, making sure everything is going smoothly. You see two girls holding hands. The mayor's daughter walks in silence beside you. Her father said his goodbyes, he said he'll see her for supper and she believes it. You know better than to tell yourself you'll be back, just in case the worst happens. Boys and girls alike between the ages twelve through eighteen file into the town hall after getting their identities verified by the peacekeepers.

Everyone is quiet.

After the children get checked in, everyone settles to their selective spots—the girls and boys in opposite sections and parents nervously waiting for their children on the sidelines. A tap on the microphone in center stage rings through your ears from the speakers, startling you amidst the silence.

"Welcome!" A lady beams with a twisted smile, excitedly surveying the crowd. "Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor."

You feel yourself scoffing at that. This lady recites the same shit every year, with the same bright ugly hair and outfit, although they change colors each time. You always wonder what she's going to wear next.

"Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the capitol!" The lady announces, shifting her focus to the projection screen strung up in the town center for all to see.

You tune the video out every year. You don't want to hear the capitol bullshit about "generosity" or "forgiveness", you find it rather ironic. If this was about a lesson for the districts after the rebellion, why carry it on for generations?

You don't think you'll ever find the answer to that, that is just how it is. However, one thing is certain—you know the capitol is twisted.

"Are you alright?" The amber-eyed girl whispers to you, genuine concern etched on her face. She is nervous too—you notice the way her hands fumble with the insides of her skirt pockets.

"I'm ready to get this over with," you lean over, whispering to the girl. You see her nod in agreement out of your peripheral vision. Soon enough, the bullshit video was over and the bright-haired lady's insufferable voice echoed through the town hall once more.

"I just love that!" The lady gushed, but was quick to move on to the next "exciting" order of business. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 98th annual Hunger Games!"

She paused, as if waiting for some sort of applause. She didn't get one.

"Well, as usual... ladies first." She flashed a bright smile, disappointment lingering on her face. It makes you wonder if she enjoys being the one picking children to be sent to the games, as if she should be praised.

You watch her waddle to the left side of the outdoor stage in her heels, oh-so-gracefully dipping her hand into the reaping bowl for the girls and filing through the pieces of paper with entry names. You look at the ginger next to you, she looks even more nervous than just a few moments ago. You want to comfort her, but before you can say anything, the capitol lady on the stage pulls out an entry and waddles back to the microphone.

Seventeen entries. Your name is entered in that bowl seventeen times.

The bright-haired lady awkwardly fumbles with the paper and squints through the sunlight beaming under the clouds as she reads the entry. She takes a deep breath before she announces the name. Everyone is holding their breath. It's quiet.

"Petra Ral!"

You think you can feel your heart stop.

The ginger next to you, Petra—froze in place. Everyone knew her as the mayor's daughter, which meant everyone knew exactly where to look for her in the crowd. All eyes were on her. You glance up to the stage where you saw her father, the mayor, stand up in his seat to protest, but was quickly blocked by peacekeepers.

"Come on up, dear." The bright-haired lady quips, beckoning the ginger to the stage with an oh-so-welcoming smile.

You glance at Petra, and your eyes lock with her amber ones. You think the look on her face might haunt you for the rest of your life.

She knows she's going to die in those games. You know she's going to die in those games.

The crowd around you and the selected tribute clear the way for the two peacekeepers marching toward the ginger. You can only watch as they grab the side of her arms and escort her toward the stage. She tries to thrash away from their grip, but it's useless.

She won't last a day in that arena. Between the careers, the mutts, and whatever else the gamemakers throw at her, she won't make it. It's not fair.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not...

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The words burst from your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. The peacekeepers stop in their tracks. It's quiet again.

"Oh! I believe we have a volunteer!" The capitol lady claps enthusiastically from the stage.

You feel a new set of peacekeeper's arms wrap around yours. Your limbs feel practically numb as they drag you up to the stage. You pass Petra as the other peacekeepers take her back to her place in the crowd. You don't even look at her. You have to stay strong. You know every camera in the town hall is on you.

It just shows the capitol doesn't care who gets picked for the games, mayor's child or not.

She has everything to lose. What do you?

"This is District 12's very first volunteer!" The bright-haired lady announces excitedly, putting her hand on your back once you bring yourself up the steps to the stage, carefully guiding you toward the center.

"What is your name?" She asks, her colorful eyelashes batting at you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Y/N L/N."

"Well now, let's have a big round of applause for our very first volunteer!" The lady requests, but no one follows her as she begins to applaud.

Your eyes lock with Petra's from the stage. Then, something unexpected happens. Three middle fingers of her left hand touch her lips, and she raises them to the sky. The rest of the crowd follows Petra, one by one, putting three fingers in the air as a salute.

You know what that gesture means. It's an old and rarely used sign of your district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.

You can tell the bright-haired lady doesn't know what to do at this point. She pauses for a moment, but quickly moves on. She's good at deferring. "Now, for the boys!"

This time, she doesn't take her time grabbing an entry, most likely eager to get the ceremony over with. She hastily waddles in her stilettos back to the microphone from the entry bowl, unfolding the paper and putting on a gleeful smile.

"Levi Ackerman!"

You watch the tension among the crowd of boys visibly drop, a collective sigh of relief settling over them, except for one. His posture remains rigid, muscles tight as all eyes shift to him. He's lean, with dark raven hair that looks vaguely familiar. His gaze darts around in disbelief as peacekeepers move in, gripping his arms. He brashly jerks against their hold, trying to break free, but it's no use. His expression shifts sharply, anger flashing across his face like a spark ready to ignite.

You wonder if he'll accept it—his fate. You don't even know if you have. No one from District 12 comes back from the games.

The black-haired boy is placed beside you as the capitol lady reapproaches the microphone after greeting him, rather cheerful. You think her voice might give you a headache. "Here they are, our tributes for District 12!"

You know what everyone's thinking. I'm sorry it was you, but I'm grateful it wasn't me.

You flinch at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder, turning to see the bright-haired lady grinning at you. "Well, come on you two, shake hands!" She says and takes a step back, allowing you to get a good look at the boy next to you.

Now that you've met his eyes, the unmistakable silver-blue irises staring back at you—you do recognize him.

He wasn't much better-off than you, he was an orphan too, fighting to survive in a world that gave him nothing. One night during a terrible rainstorm, the bakery burned a batch of bread, and that's when he saw you, hollow-eyed and starving. Despite his own hunger, he was able to salvage one loaf of bread out of the pigs pen and shared it with you after getting chased off by the bakers. He split it with you without a word, expecting nothing back in return.

You're forever grateful for that.

He is the first one to reach out his hand, his eyes carefully gazing into yours. You wonder if he remembers too. You raise your hand and return the handshake. You grip his hand, rough calluses brushing against yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. The bright-haired lady starts to speak again before you two can finish.

"Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Though, you both know your odds are fucked.

The guards escorted you and your district partner to waiting rooms inside of the town hall to say goodbye to anyone who might want to, usually family or friends. You're only given a handful of minutes, but you don't exactly expect anyone to walk through that door. Hell, you wouldn't even blame Petra if she didn't.

With your hand on the windowsill, you rest your weight against it, taking in these last few minutes until you're hauled off to the capitol. You know you aren't likely to ever see your home again. You know you'll miss it, the woods have always been home. Unexpectedly, the doors burst open and you're met with none other than the mayor's daughter, Petra.

"You didn't have to," you whisper. It's no use. Although you two were never particularly close, she still rushes up to you and scoops you into a big hug. Your arms reluctantly reach around her back, taking a shaky breath.

Petra pulls back from you, her expression almost in shock. "I thought—I thought I was... I don't know how I can ever repay you for this!"

You can't help but smile at her generosity. "You don't need to. There's no use anyway."

The ginger shakes her head furiously. "I've seen your hauls when you come back from the woods! You can hunt," she speaks quickly, she knows she's running out of time with you. "You can hunt, and you're a survivor. You can win this."

Your smile fades, and you feel yourself sigh. You don't want to let her get her hopes up for your return. You can't.

"Petra, you and I both know no one from District 12 comes back—"

"Don't you dare speak of such things. Make them pay," she interrupts, her voice lower. She nods, almost to herself, cautiously scanning her surroundings before reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a shiny pin.

She hands it to you—it's gold, with a bird in motion of flight in the center. It's a Mockingjay.

The Capitol originally engineered a mutation known as the Jabberjay, designed during the rebellion to eavesdrop on rebels and spies by recording and repeating conversations. However, the districts quickly caught on, using the Jabberjays to spread false information. Once they outlived their usefulness, the capitol abandoned them in the wild, expecting them to die off. Instead, the Jabberjays mated with female Mockingbirds, creating an entirely new species—the Mockingjay.

You're not quite sure what Petra meant by 'they', either, but before you have the chance to ask, or rather, thank her for the pin—a peacekeeper barges through the door announcing your time is up, and begins to escort Petra out of the room. You shove the pin in your skirt pocket, hoping to the gods the peacekeeper didn't see it, only able to watch as Petra gets dragged away from you.

"You have to try!" She says one more time, but this time, you give an optimistic reply, though you can't help but doubt yourself. "I will!"

As soon as you finish your sentence, the door is slammed shut behind the peacekeepers as they drag Petra out. You are left alone in the suffocating silence of the dim room once again, aside from the sound of your uneven breathing.

You hate this. You hate knowing that you're never going to see her or your home ever again.

-

You and Levi are hauled in a military vehicle to the bullet train along with the annoying bright-haired lady. You can't help but tune her blabbering out, and judging off the look on Levi's face, you think he's doing the same. After a short while, you are escorted onto the train that travels between the districts and to the capitol.

You'd never seen it in person, but it definitely exceeded your expectations. The train's shiny silver metal reflects against the sunlight, almost blinding you. It is infamous for the high speeds it travels at. You're not exactly sure how fast it goes, but you know it can reach the other side of the country within a day.

When you step inside of the train, you're met with the most luxurious interior you've ever laid your eyes on. There are sets of velvet furniture, walls adorned with exclusive wallpaper, paired with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A delicious scent overwhelms you, and your mouth waters at the next thing you lay your eyes on—food. Practically enough to feed the entire population of District 12 if rationed out properly.

There are pastries, plenty of fruit, along with a great selection of cheese and meats. The only time you've been able to eat meat was when you caught your own in the woods, usually squirrels or rabbits, but on rare occasions—deer.

The dark-haired boy beside you seems just as stunned as you are, both of you frozen at the sight of the food laid out before you. It feels almost selfish to have this much when everyone back in District 12 is starving. Guilt knots in your chest as you hesitate before slowly stepping toward the table overflowing with beautiful dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your district partner fall into step beside you, just as hesitant.

It's not fair.

You both eat anyway.

The first thing you reach for is a fresh roll of bread, still warm, its soft crust glistening with a light coat of melted butter. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Levi picking up a pastry—a cheese danish. You'd had the chance to try one once, traded by a kind woman at the market for a couple squirrels. To this day, you think it was the best thing you've ever tasted.

As you're stuffing your face with bread rolls, a bubbly voice chirps from behind you. "Pace yourselves, you two!"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It's not like she'd understand—raised in the capitol, she's so out of touch it's almost humorous. Nothing you can do about that.

"Good grief," a gruff voice follows after the sound of a door opening. You turn from the table to look at the man, his expression almost as unimpressed as you feel. "Let them eat."

The first thing you notice about him is the unsteady way he staggers toward you, followed quickly by the sharp, rancid scent of alcohol hitting your nose. He's drunk, no question about it. As he draws closer, you get a better look at him. Short blond hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes that flick lazily between you and Levi, sizing you both up disinterestedly.

"Congratulations," the drunkard slurs, snatching a glass from the nearby table, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he hovers over the selection of bottles. After a brief, careless scan, he settles on an amber-colored liquor, filling it to the brim without a second thought.

You and Levi exchange an uncertain glance before shifting your attention back to the man, watching as he stumbles toward a seat beside you. He drops into it with an exasperated sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before grandly gesturing for you and the dark-haired boy to sit across from him. Hesitant, but with little choice, you both obey, sinking into the stiff cushions of a square sofa.

The man says nothing—just sits there, staring at the two of you. You grow uncomfortable underneath his gaze, but before you get the chance to break the silence, your district partner does it for you.

"You're supposed to be our mentor?"

The drunk lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his drink before setting the glass down with a dull thud on the table beside him. From behind, the bright-haired woman pipes up, her voice demanding. "Show Hannes some respect! He's won these games before!"

You scoff under your breath. Respect? You're expected to put on your best manners while being shipped off to the Hunger Games—on top of discovering your mentor is a washed-up drunk? What a joke.

You doubt this guy will even try to be of any help, but it's worth a shot. You lean forward in your seat, raising an eyebrow. "So, what great advice do you have for us, Hannes?"

The drunk smirks. "Well sweetheart," he exaggerated, "the best advice I can offer you is to accept, deep in your heart, that you will not be making it out of that arena."

The bright-haired lady, whom you have yet to figure out the name of, gasps. "Hannes! Don't be absurd!"

Levi's jaw tightens, a scowl settling across his face as he stews in silence. Then, without warning, he shoots up from his chair, reaching to snatch the glass from Hannes' hand. You can only watch as the drunk resists, gripping the glass stubbornly until Levi yanks it free with more force than necessary. The amber liquid sloshes out, splattering across Hannes' white button-up, leaving dark stains that will definitely not wash out.

"Sober up, then we can have a mature conversation." Levi hisses, his glare burning into the drunk's hazel eyes.

Hannes lets out a frustrated huff, snatching the now-empty glass from Levi's hands before storming off from his seat through the automatic door, disappearing into another room. Shifting your gaze, you glance up at the dark-haired boy as he settles back into a seat across from you, looking surprisingly content after the outburst.

"What?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "That went well."

"He'll come around! I'll be back," the bright-haired woman chirps, her arms swinging dramatically as she strides after Hannes, disappearing into the other room and leaving you alone with Levi.

Silence settles between you. You don't know what to say to him—not that it would matter. You're both thinking the same thing anyway. Hannes was probably right. The odds of either of you making it back home are slim, between the careers, mutts, and whatever other nightmares the gamemakers have waiting.

"Do you have anyone back home?" You break the silence, solely in an attempt to escape your thoughts, even if it's just for a moment.

"No," he says without looking at you. "You?"

You purse your lips together. "Nope."

Silence suffocates the room once more. You figure there's nothing more to talk about at this point, it's just a matter of getting through the week until the games commence. You're not exactly eager to get close to Levi. What's the point? Neither of you are making it out of the arena. And even if you did, it wouldn't be together. One of you might turn on the other. The idea sounds ridiculous, but when it comes to survival, you can't doubt the intentions of anyone.

As your eyes drift to the wooden grandfather clock by the automatic door, you can't help but wonder—is there a way out? A way out of the games, a way out of the system. But after 98 long years of their existence, you're certain the capitol has thought of everything. Every possible scenario, every desperate attempt a tribute might make to escape—it's all definitely been accounted for.

-

Later, the bright-haired woman whose name you learn is Valerie, returns alone, clearly unsuccessful in coaxing Hannes back. To pass the time, she decides to give you and Levi a tour of the train. You can't even begin to fathom how much one room might be worth, let alone the entire bullet train. When she finally shows you to your bedroom, offering some privacy, you almost gape at the sheer luxury laid out before you.

Dark wallpaper with undecorated walls surround the room, with a chandelier reflecting a beautiful dim yellow glow in the center. The bed is massive, you figure you could fit about six people on there if they squeezed together, and the decor is nothing you've seen before, rich with details you can't even name. Off to the side, you have your own luxurious bathroom with unlimited warm water, along with a huge walk-in closet, its walls lined with endless amounts of clothing. It's overwhelming, to say the least.

You find yourself shuffling toward the bed laden with silk sheets, taking a seat as the canvas of the bedframe embraces you. As you sat, you felt something in your pocket prod at you—the pin Petra gave you. Carefully, you pull it out of your pocket, examining the details. You were never sure about Petra, but you suppose that maybe after all... she was the closest thing you had to a friend.

Your fingers delicately trace the pattern of the Mockingjay on the gold pin.

It brings back memories of simpler days, sitting beneath the trees, listening to the Mockingjays sing alongside your younger sister in the forest sometime after you both lost your parents. You remember it was her favorite bird—you'd listen to her hum melodies, and they'd sing the tune right back.

Those days weren't exactly simpler. Food was always scarce. Your mother wasn't around, and your father was always too busy in the mines to help with food. You managed, but once your parents were gone, it was your responsibility to keep you and your sister alive.

And it was hard. Really hard.

Your father had taught you how to use a bow and arrow. On rare occasions, he'd sneak you past the electric fence into the forest outside District 12, strictly forbidden territory, to hunt a few squirrels for supper.

Once, you snuck out into the forest on your own without his permission. When you returned with two squirrels in hand, proud of your catch, your father was furious. You knew it was because he was scared for you and your family, worried about what could've happened if you'd been caught. You understood the risks—but you also understood the consequences of coming home empty-handed.

You stopped sneaking out into the forest, and yes—your family barely scraped by. Once it was just you and your sister, you had no other choice for your survival to go back into the woods just to eat. Sometimes, if you got extra game, you would sell or trade it at the market, and that always helped.

The winters were always harsh. So harsh.

You and your sister were lucky enough to keep living in your parents' house, but luck didn't mean much when there was hardly any food or warmth. By the time winter crept in, the rations from extra entries were nearly gone, and the thick layers of snow drove all the animals into hiding. You were only thirteen, just a kid when you had to fend for you and your sister.

That was your only job—keep yourself going so you can keep your sister alive. Yet, you managed to fail.

The winter was particularly terrible that year, you and your sister were living off just about nothing. You had no firewood, no food scraps, and no warmth—just each other. But it wasn't enough. She fell ill and you did everything you could. You tried to access medical assistance, which was practically unheard of in District 12, so you did what you could with what little you had, trying to nurse her back to health on your own.

But it wasn't enough.

One morning when the sun rose, you went to wake your sister before you planned to go beyond the prohibited fence into the forest, desperate to find any signs of game. She had been sick—terribly sick, and deep down, you knew it. When you tried to wake her, gently cupping her cheek in your cold hands—you found no signs of warmth in her skin. You felt her hands. Her arms. Her body. Everything was frozen cold.

You tried to shake her awake. But she didn't stir. She never woke.

So yes, the capitol never did anything to you, but you've seen the way they've neglected your family, children, the homeless, the starving, exploited the districts—everyone. Even the privileged among the districts, such as Petra, the mayor's daughter—were not safe from the capitol. No one was.

It's not fair.

So yes, maybe they have done something to you. Maybe it is personal.

You remember Petra's words. "Make them pay," she said. You didn't understand what she meant back then, but now you think you do. You're not sure how, but you know you want to.

You need to make them pay.

-

"Rise and shine, dear!" A jarring voice ruptures you from your slumber, forcing you to rise from your bed with a gasp—only to see the bright-haired lady... what was her name again? Oh... Valerie.

"Breakfast is getting cold!" She adds with a sing-song voice as she draws the blackout curtains open, revealing the mountains you're passing through in flashes of speed your vision simply cannot keep up with. You groan as the morning light meets your eyes, covering your vision with your arm for some relief as your senses are overloaded.

She prances out of your room, only before adding in a quick, "chop, chop!"

That was the best sleep you think you've gotten in years. Though, today is the day you arrive at the capitol, one day closer to the games. You take your time getting up, you don't really care if your food is cold—food is food. You can't complain, long story short. Finding the bathroom connected to your room, you turn on the warm faucet water and splash it onto your face, refreshing yourself before you make your way to the dining room with the others.

When the automatic door slides open, you're met with Valerie who flashes a polite smile at you whilst sipping on a fancy cup of warm coffee, along with Levi and your bright mentor, Hannes, sitting at the wooden dining table. Your presence catches Hannes' attention, and he beckons you over to the table.

You grab a pastry before sitting down with the two of them. You're not sure what it is, but it's still warm, fresh out of the oven, melting in your mouth with the first bite. Sliding into a seat across from Hannes and beside the dark-haired boy, you catch the fresh, crisp scent of clean fabric—briefly comforting—before it's quickly overpowered by the sharp, bitter sting of alcohol wafting from Hannes, making you grimace.

You scoff, gesturing at the empty glass sat in front of the blonde mentor. "Really? Starting off your day strong, I see."

He chuckles at that, shaking his head lightly. "It's not the strong stuff dear, relax."

"Levi here was the one to convince the man to lay off, be sure to thank him." Valerie chimes in from across the room, sitting in a velvet chair as she sips her coffee.

You steal a glance at the boy beside you, meeting his sharp, silver-blue eyes. He's clearly holding back a scowl, though his face doesn't seem built for anything resembling a warm expression. You guess you can't really blame him.

As you settle in your seat, you're suddenly swarmed with enormous plates of food placed in front of you from the maids. There's eggs, sausages, and even pancakes with a side of syrup. They set two glasses of juice in front of you and Levi, and you can't help but give a small nod as a thank you when they depart.

You gratefully accept the plate of food set in front of you, digging into the pancakes first. They remind you of a Christmas morning long ago, when your mother had managed to gather the ingredients for a special breakfast. These pancakes don't taste quite like hers, but it's a rare treat nonetheless. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Levi beside you, silently forking a sausage and slicing it apart with precise movements of his knife.

As the two of you ate, Hannes couldn't help himself but watch you and Levi try and act polite before the abundance of food, because he too lived in District 12, starving like the rest of you. He knew what it was like, but he wouldn't judge the tributes that ate like it was their last meal, because likely—it was.

"So," you mumble as you chew. "You sober enough to try and actually help us out now?"

Your mentor can't help but stifle a laugh as he refills his beverage with some sort of new red colored alcohol—you have no idea what it could be. He simply ignores your question, reaching for a fabric napkin to wipe the few drops of alcohol he accidentally spilt on the table. You see an opportunity to get his attention.

If you want a shot at this, you'll have to make him realize you're serious about it.

Swiftly, your hand reaches over to Levi's table knife and you clutch it in a fist, plunging it into the napkin Hannes tried to lift. It gets pinned to the wood of the table just right between his fingers. Your mentor's eyes go wide, shock plastered across his face as if you've completely lost your mind. Beside you, Levi fights back a grin, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You hear a gasp across the dining room from Valerie, who slammed her almost-empty cup of coffee on the table beside her. "That is mahogany!"

You watch her get up and storm off to the other room. You're not even sure what that word is supposed to mean, but you realize she was talking about the wood that the table was made of.

"Well then, look at you!" Hannes raises his eyebrows, yanking his nearly punctured hand back from the table. "You killed a napkin."

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulls the knife from the wooden table, setting it neatly back with Levi's silverware. His expression shifts, growing slightly more serious. "You really wanna know how to stay alive? You get people to like you."

You don't respond, your gaze locked on his with quiet defiance. Hannes gestures to the center of the room, his patience thinning. "Stand over here. Both of you."

Reluctantly, you and Levi obey. He rises from his seat, moving to circle you and your district partner. Surprisingly, he's not stumbling like he was the day before. You guess he is in-fact a bit more sober, although it is just the beginning of the day. His eyes rake over both of you, scrutinizing every detail—your features, your posture, the tension in your muscles, examining everything visible on the surface.

"You're not entirely helpless," he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Once the stylists clean you up, you might even secure a few sponsors." He pauses, then smirks. "Though, you both have about as much charm as a dead rat."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Gee, thanks."

Levi's glare sharpens, but Hannes ignores it, leaning in slightly. "Listen, if you can agree to not interfere with my drinks..." His eyes narrow, reluctantly finishing his sentence. "...I'll help you, but you have to do exactly as I say."

You raise an eyebrow at that as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You turn to Levi, exchanging a quick glance before he turns back to face Hannes. "Fine."

"So what do we need to do first?" You ask. "How can we—"

"The first thing you need to do is comply with your stylists," Hannes starts, grabbing the glass left on the mahogany table to take a swig of his red drink. "We'll be at the capitol station in a few minutes, and you'll be put in their hands. You're not going to like what the stylists do, but don't resist."

You furrow your brows together, shaking your head in confusion. "But—"

"No buts, just trust me." says Hannes. He takes his glass drink along with a new bottle of amber alcohol, treading toward the automatic door to the other room, leaving you and Levi alone.

As the door slid shut, the windows in the dining room darkened. You realized you're in the tunnels of the mountain that lead into the city of Panem, just where the capitol and all of its citizens reside. The chandeliers in the room still keep it well-lit, but it is still dark enough to assume it's night if you weren't paying attention.

Both you and Levi can't help but feel yourself drawn toward the windows, tentatively walking to them. As you watch the tunnels blur past, a sudden burst of blinding light floods your vision, forcing you to squint against the harsh glare. When your eyes finally adjust, the sight before you steals the breath from your lungs.

You're in the heart of the capitol—a bustling city with modern buildings and skyscrapers stretching as far as you can see. It's overwhelming, far more vibrant and abundant than anything you've ever seen broadcasted back home. You realize now just how much you underestimated it.

The train begins to slow, and soon you're met with the sight of the capitol's grand train station—along with swarms of people, hundreds of capitol citizens gathered outside, cheering wildly as they catch sight of you and the dark-haired boy through the window. Their outlandish outfits are a chaotic blur of colors, so bright and jarring it's almost blinding. Each shade is louder than the last, a dizzying mess of vibrance that's almost too much to take in all at once.

You shake your head, watching as the swarm of capitol citizens wave and cheer at you while the train grinds to a halt. "I can't believe they look at us like we're..."

"Animals in their zoo," Levi finishes your sentence, his stoic eyes meeting yours.

"Yeah," you breathe, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the small pin tucked into your skirt pocket.

Levi gives you a slight, reassuring nod, his silver-blue eyes steady on yours. "You ready?"

You can't help but feel nostalgic at those words, remembering it was just yesterday when you told Petra you were ready to leave for the reaping. You thought you were. And even this time, you're not entirely sure.

"I guess so."

───────────────────────────────────────────

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likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[maysrinn]

Can we get our queen Lucy pregnant she would obviously be glowing 👑

The queen lives & rises…barely…👑

She’s ✨glowing✨

even when she says otherwise

District AU Lucy gray for u all~ she’s busy cooking the first little gremlin to completion

…Gotta get yet permission from president snow to show the first lady in public 🥀

[mariigoldzz]

I know the love triangle represented Katniss choosing between war and peace but like. I would have loved Gale and Katniss just being besties. Best friends who could tell each other everything.katniss would get home from the victory tour giggling and kicking her feet about Peeta with Gale nodding as he listens to her yap. Gale telling Katniss the tea that happened while she was away. Katniss watching her best friend slowly get radicalized and manipulated by Coin.

Katniss's best friend, who she could tell anything to, being the one who caused Prim's death in the end.

[hexsdexs]

More from my thg reread, mockingjay edition

The dialogue is UNHINGED. It's so unhinged that it's funny.

I think it shouldve been in the movies just how uncomfortable katniss was the entire time she was in 13. It makes much more sense.

When she finds her prep team and they removed their physical additions. Katniss describes them as an inflated balloon. When she sees a drain in the cell.

Gale is the worst. And not because of the love triangle manipulation. Because: Absolutely no regard for any civilians. Thinks katniss cares too much about her prep team. Effectively implying they deserve being imprisoned and katniss has to spell it out for him that it is over a PIECE OF BREAD?? Thinks katniss is causing trouble by asking for the victors to be pardoned. Wants to kill DISTRICT CIVILIANS in the nut in 2. Wants to kill capitol civilians. He's like actually a war criminal.

Katniss doesn't trust any of them except the other victors.

It's a significant moment that katniss and finnick see peeta's propo together in the hospital, where peeta tells her not to trust the rebels. Finnick then tells her to pretend they never saw it, and then they keep it from them for days. They don't even tell them. Katniss is the one to confront gale about it.

Katniss takes annie to 12 to pick from dresses, then upon describing how weird annie is on the plane, decides she loves her based soley on the fact that finnick loves her and katniss trusts him. It's slightly funny how she spend the entirety of cf thinking of ways to kill finnick and now he's her best friend.

Haymitch is katniss' dad. That scene when he tells her he will surgically implant her with an earpiece if she takes it off again?? 😭😭

It's significant that haymitch repeatedly calls katniss and peeta "the girl", "the boy". Effectively reminding everyone that these are CHILDREN

Katniss making johanna the pines because she doesn't have any possessions. 😭😭😭😭

Most importantly. Katniss and peeta, through and through, are what they wished they never would become. From the first chapter of thg to the last one in mockingjay, they are both pieces in a game. Once in the capitol's game in the original book, again in catching fire when they are the only ones kept in the dark about the rebels. And each in 13's games in mockingjay. Peeta is snow's piece against katniss, katniss is not useful to the revolution except as a pretty girl. She's a showgirl. Not part of the fight. She doesn't even want to be the mockingjay at all.

[thesunpersists]

Slutty Mockingjay

A Halloween & sitcom-inspired Everlark story

It has been three years since Peeta met this pretty girl in a (perfectly decent) mockingjay costume and he is ever so hopeful that he can see her again. But to go to the same Halloween party and find the potential love of his life, he has to overcome one big obstacle: his invasive, pig-headed, and painfully unromantic roommates. Inspired by the How I Met Your Mother episode "Slutty Pumpkin" (s01e06).

Read on ao3! 👻

[padfoot-lupin77]

A good two months after reading the hunger games, denial time is over and extensive fanfiction-like headcanons time is here, Finnick survives and goes back to D4 with Annie and ofc they have their kid and in the summer they both visit Katniss and Peeta in D12 and Annie helps Peeta with his episodes because, even though their cases of mental instability are vastly different, she still has some advice to give and also Johanna has moved to district 4 too because she’s now really close with Finnick and Annie and also she had no one back in district 7 and (I’m not sure how much sense this makes to the main part of the fandom but since I’m mostly in the Hayffie side I’ll throw this in here too) and Effie also comes in district 12 a few months later and ofc she stays with Haymitch and any time Finnick Annie and Johanna visit district 12, Jo and Katniss pull pranks on the rest of the group and everyone is just spoiling Finnick and Annie’s kid and they all live the closest to a happily ever after that they can

[javistg]

One Victor. CH 27.

One Victor CH 27 is ready!

I'm sure you weren't expecting this one so soon after the last one 😉

Let me know what you think. ❤️

Celebration.

Commander Boggs glanced around the room. “If no one has anything else to add…” Everyone remained silent. “Looks like we’re done here. You’re all free to go back to your schedules, thank you.”

Katniss, Gale, and Peeta waited for the room to clear. They were about to stand up when Cinna and Portia approached them.

“Hey, Peeta,” Cinna greeted. Focusing on the victor’s companions, he asked, “Katniss, Gale, do you have anything pressing on your schedule right now?”

The hunters shook their heads.

“Would you mind coming to our atelier? We could get those fittings out of the way.”

“Sure,” Katniss stood up, “no problem.”

Behind her, Gale grumbled something under his breath, but mimicked her motions all the same.

“Shall I go too?” Peeta asked.

“No,” Portia said, “we’re all done with you for now.” Leaning closer to him, she mock-whispered, “I’d invite you over, but we need to focus on their outfits, and we don’t have enough space to have guests.”

“Fine,” Peeta shrugged, “I can tell when I’m not wanted. I’ll just go look for some noble chore to occupy my time.”

Laughing, Portia patted his back and, with that, the hunters and stylists were on their way.

Want to keep on reading? You can find the rest of the chapter on AO3 and FF.net

Like my beautiful banner? @alwayseverlark made it for me.

[anime-villian-irl]

Okay so how do we feel about prim going non verbal and using twelves version of asl and no one else being able to communicate with her outside of peeta and haymitch and the Capitol hates this so they force her to write everything down because of course the Capitol doesn't have asl because they aren't "like that" so eventually the mere act of using asl is seen as rebellious so it's banned from the districts.

Or am I reaching too much?

@ladeedade

[ofseaglass]

Tease

After a long day filled with shopping and back-to-back meetings, you and Finnick finally retreat to your coastal home for some much-needed downtime. The atmosphere is electric as he pulls you tightly against his chest, his breath warm against the back of your head. As the movie flickers on the screen, you can’t help but savor the thrill of being in his embrace after such a hectic day. But there’s a playful edge to it all—he’s been teasing you relentlessly, and now it’s almost too much to handle. This moment, charged with anticipation.

It started at the grocery store. It was harmless, really. He was reaching to grab something from the top shelf but had gently wrapped his hands around your waist to move out of the way. Unintentional. Or so you thought.

When the two of you were in the line he left lingering touches on your arm and hips. And he knew what he was doing. And you knew that he knew when he glanced down at your slightly flushed expression and smirked in a way that told you all that you needed to know.

“Something bothering you, honey?”

He asked with faux concern. You shook your head and continued walking across the parking lot to his car.

While he was driving he had his hand slotted between your thighs. High enough to make you blush but just low enough to seem innocent. He would squeeze at every red light and you could see his smile from the corner of your eye and how it would widen every time your breath would hitch.

But hey. Maybe he simply didn’t know what he was doing.

Until the meeting, you had considered this possibility. But it all went down the window when you felt his hand slide up your thigh and under your skirt. You glared at him but he continued to appear tuned into whatever the conversation at hand was. But you heard the quiet chuckle he let out as he felt the dampness of your panties. 

This dick.

So as you lay with him spooning you, you figured it would be time for him to know how you felt. So you ground your ass back against his crotch. But he quickly wound his arm around your waist and cupped your hip.

“What do you think you’re doing, sweet girl?”

Which only seemed to piss you off.

“You know what you’ve been doing.” you retaliated as his hand slipped between your thighs.

He hummed in response. “Tell me. What’s been bothering you?”

You let out a huff of frustration. “You’ve been teasing me all day and now you won’t even let me-” you gasp as he presses his thumb against your clothed clit. “Fuck you.”

He smiled and nipped at your neck. “If you want me to give you what you want, you’re going to have to ask nicely.”

This was going to be a long night.