#n have not. read the hunger games I want to though

[nibeul]

there’s a lot of talk about Snow seeing Lucy Gray in Katniss which is true to an extent, but I think there’s a gaping flaw with a 1:1 comparison and it’s this: if Snow truly saw Katniss as Lucy Gray, then he wouldn’t have spoken to her the way he did throughout the series. elaboration under the cut because I have a lot to say

the most interesting thing about snow and katniss’s dynamic is that snow, on some level, respects her because he believes she is like him. Lucy Gray did not have that respect from him—he said it himself that he did not expect her to win the game, but that he hoped she would be successful enough that her appeal to the audience would boost his own standing:

“Coriolanus had never really considered her a victor in the games. It had never been a part of his strategy to make her one. He had only wished that her charm and appeal would rub off on him and make him a success.”

and another quote that makes his feelings toward her clear:

“Here in the capitol, it was given that Lucy Gray belonged to him, as if she’d had no life before her name was called out in the reaping.”

to Snow, Lucy Gray was always a means to an end. he loved her in the sense that he loved the success she brought to him, in a deluded manner where the power and her existence went hand in hand. Lucy Gray’s existence to him was as a tool and something to own, not as an actual person, and when we look at Snow and Katniss, that distinction isn’t there. here’s a quote from Donald Sutherland (Snow) that I find really interesting:

“Katniss Everdeen is the first person who has excited Snow, who has stimulated him. By the time you get into the, maybe the end of the second one, he's in love with her. Not sexually. No, my God, no, no, no, no: he recognizes in her everything that he could have been.”

In Peeta and Katniss’s relationship, through the eyes of Snow, Katniss is him, and Peeta—who is charismatic, knows how to play to the people’s heart, charms the capitol, etc—compares better to Lucy Gray. Yes, Snow places himself in the shoes of Peeta when he asks Katniss when Peeta realized her indifference (as he felt Lucy was indifferent to him), but it really goes the other way around. To Katniss during the first game, Peeta was a tool for her survival. For Snow, Lucy Gray was a tool for his.

despite this comparison, however, Katniss and Peeta are not what Snow and Lucy Gray could have had, but rather what Snow never was; even though the love between Katniss and Peeta was used as a tool of survival during their first game together, they continue to stick by each other and look out for each other as things get rough. Katniss is a survivalist, like Snow views himself, but she is also caring and loving and these are attributes that Snow never had (but someone like Sejanus did). Snow believes that humans are naturally violent, and he believes Katniss is like him, hence why he tries to prove that Katniss and Peeta are not in love at every step of the way.

when he is finally convinced of their love, he then views it as a weakness and punishes Katniss for it. it’s likely he hoped Peeta would kill Katniss, but I would also argue that he wanted Katniss to turn on Peeta too as he turned on Lucy Gray—another effort to break this love that he saw and warp it into something else. ultimately, we know this is unsuccessful, and I think that’s why the final conversation he and Katniss have went the way it did; he had lost at both games, the game of politics to Coin (briefly, though obviously we know he gets the last laugh with this one), and this game of love and identity to Katniss. Katniss is everything he was not, and it was at this point that he finally respected her enough to acknowledge that he lost.

[nezushi]

read a whole book in one day. i feel alive again

[sonicblueartist]

What about a one-shot or just a suggestive story where Shadow takes advantage of y/n?

A/n: I'm probably gonna get all the fans' attention with this one huh? I normally don't write anyone but Tails but I am making an expection for some reason today. Have a good read I guess! Idk why I write what I write today XD Sorry for the long wait.

I left you guys in a cliffhanger. hah! idk if I would continue tho

Masterlist

Pairings: Shadow x Reader

They/them // She/her // He/him // Other

Summery; Eggman made a new weapon out of Shadow. Let's see what it is

Warnings: smut, lemon, suggestive themes, blood, marking, biting, tearing flesh, attempted rape

Word Count: 1371

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

As your eyes flickered over him in fear, you were instantly struck by the sharp and scary aura emanating from his breathtaking violet eyes. Shadow stood before you, his chest heaving rapidly as if he had just completed a long and demanding marathon. His fur was damp, drenched in sweat, and his claws peeked out menacingly from his gloves. His fangs were visible, adding to the unnerving sight that confronted you. But what puzzled you most was the absence of any evidentiary explanation for his condition, except for one haunting phrase that echoed in your mind.

"What do you think is the most natural instinct of an animal, the most wild and scary one?" Eggman's voice resonated in your head, reminding you of his words moments ago. "Their bloodlust? Hunger to stay alive? Maybe. But there is something else that is much *more* dangerous and entertaining. 'The will to do anything to death for their mate.' "

The memory of Eggman's sinister revelation half an hour ago flooded your mind. You hadn't expected this game of catch to turn into something so disturbing. Though you had managed to catch your breath, your heart still raced uncontrollably, struggling to make sense of the unsettling situation unfolding before you.

Your eyes widened in fear as Shadow took deliberate steps toward you, raising the possibility of him falling victim to Eggman's trap, turning against his friends. A sense of terror gripped you, leaving you feeling trapped with no way to escape. Desperately, you scanned your surroundings, searching for an exit, but found nothing. You found yourself backed into a dead end.

"And to mate, of course." Your throat tightened as you heard Eggman's words reverberating in your mind. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—Shadow was hungry, thirsty for you. Eggman's twisted plans had successfully turned him, and now the true extent of Shadow' instincts became clear. No, this couldn't be true. Shadow wouldn't do this to you, would he? The shocking dishonor of Eggman's manipulation left you bewildered, unable to fathom the torment inflicted upon your friends.

"C-come on, Shadow. This isn't you," you started nervously, your voice shaking. "We both know that you don't wanna do this. Behave yourself! Think logically, like you always do! We're still in Eggman's base. He's playing with you, with your mind, your instincts! You are the ultimate life form, damn it! You can't just succumb to Eggman like that! There are Badniks running around, and if they find us, we're finished-"

Your plea was interrupted as Shadow forcefully pinned both his hands beside your head, a whimper left your lips in fear. A deep snarl escaping his lips as you attempted to slide away. Trapped between him and the wall, you realized the extent of his transformation. No longer the loyal companion you once knew, he approached you with predatory purpose, garnered by one sole instinct—breeding. You were left with a terrifying decision. Would you become the first to fall at his hands before the Badniks got to you?

After examining his prey's frightened face for a while, Shadow slowly lowered himself, his nose skimming along your neck. His actions mirrored those of a true animal, inhaling your scent as his salivating mouth revealed his primal desire for your presence. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the horrifying nature of the situation.

Attempting to muster the strength to push him away, you fought against his grip, but his strength surpassed anything you could have imagined. Like an iron vice, his grasp held firm, rendering your efforts fruitless. In spite of the predicament you found yourself in, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by Shadow' well-built form, his muscles flexing in the most hypnotic manner.

You quickly shook away such distracting thoughts, forcing yourself to concentrate on finding a way out of this nightmare. Every fiber of your being screamed for escape as Shadow began to suckle at your neck and shoulder, exhaling his hot breath in sporadic bursts. The sounds he made only served to further ignite the blazing heat that reddened your face, flooding you with a mix of desire and terror.

Suppressing a moan, you desperately struggled to redirect your focus, your mind racing for an escape plan. Yet, how could you concentrate on anything other than the overpowering dominance Shadow exhibited? Pressed against the wall by his scorching body, each breath and moan he emitted only served to remind you of the pleasure he was experiencing.

Amidst his sloppy kisses and teasing nibbles, you fought fiercely against the sensations threatening to consume you, trying to maintain your composure. However, as Shadow momentarily eased the pressure of his body against yours, he replaced it with his leg pressed against your groin, effectively preventing any escape. The mix of pain and pleasure elicited a whine from your lips, pushing Shadow to suckle at your shoulder with renewed vigor.

Finally, he got bored and withdrew from his sloppy territory. The room grew suffocatingly silent as he moved his fangs along your throat, gently biting a few places, feeling your heartbeat increasing. He licked his lips and shifted his attention to your other shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and sucking hungrily, leaving little marks. But it seemed like that wasn't enough for him anymore; he growled, as if yearning for something more primal.

With his fingers deeply entwined in your hair, he pulled, causing you to gasp, displaying your neck like a plate of meal to him. Without warning, he sank his teeth into your shoulder, his fangs piercing through your skin. Tears slipped from your eyes as you cried out in pain. He let your arms go and held you tightly from your waist, as you gripped his back for support. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth, and unwillingly scratched his back in pain. It felt as though his teeth were digging deeper into your shoulder, testing your limits.

Shadow let out a pleasured sigh through his nose, not yet satisfied. He continued biting harder than before, his eyes closed as he let out an animalistic growl. The realization that he could break your neck in half if he wanted sent a shiver through your spine. He sucked your blood with such thirst leaving you weak as you sobbed silently, drinking and swallowing it all as if he hadn't had a drop in weeks.

Before things grew any wilder, he pulled back, a string of blood and saliva still connecting the two of you. Panting for air, he tried to lick all the blood flowing from his mouth with his tongue, his breath hot against your face. Your blood flowed from your shoulder to your chest.

Satisfied with the mark he left on you, Shadow now went for your lips. Gripping your form, he forced his lips onto yours, connecting them. You hesitated, not wanting to taste the disgusting blend of your blood and his saliva. He pulled your hair once again, and when you whimpered in pain, he immediately seized the opportunity and engaged in a fierce kiss, taking your breath away.

Your heart raced as his hand wandered across your body in a manner both unnerving and inquisitive. He marked his territory, staking claim to every inch of your being. Your mind battled to comprehend the situation, as your body responded to his predatory touch.

Fighting the rising panic, you summoned your inner strength you managed to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt to distract him. As your lips collided in a feverish kiss, you hoped to manipulate the situation to your advantage.

To your surprise, he welcomed your advances. He tilted his head, letting out a low, carnal moan. Sensing that this could be your one chance to regain control, you decided to play along. You pushed aside your feelings of self-disgust and harnessed your newfound determination.

As you passionately kissed, your mind churned, searching for an escape plan. With each stolen moment, you became acutely aware of his animalistic nature, his primal desires, and his desperate need to assert dominance. Yet, instead of submitting to the imminent danger, an idea began to form in your mind.

[rynwritesreid]

A night to remember-Spencer Reid

A/N: Okay, firstly thank you for all the love on mind-games, honestly I might post the next chapter next week but I am not sure. Also, for some reason even if you @ is correct and everything, some times tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Summary: Spencer is back from prison, and he’s changed but not in all the ways you want. You discuss with Spencer something you’ve been wanting to try and he is willing to give it a shot.

Content: Post prison Spencer. Fem!reader. Mean dom spencer. Sub!reader. Pet names/name calling. Degrading kink. Overstimulation. Orgasm denial. Begging. Established relationship. Smut (and some fluff). Spencer asks a lot of time for your consent (as they should, especially if you are in BDSM dom/sub relationship). Begging. Sex toys. Virginal fingering. Handcuffs(slight bondage ig) 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

It wasn’t a secret that prison, and the whole Cat Adams situation, had changed Spencer. It was evident in the way Spencer carried himself, the hardened glint in his eyes that pierced through the darkness. The weight of his experiences behind bars had etched lines on his face, transforming him into someone unrecognizable.

 

He seemed darker; he didn’t seem to mind having to kill in order to protect anymore. He had told you on several occasions that he would kill for you, well his exact words were; “you I’d kill for you. I mean if anyone ever tried to hurt you, I would make sure that’s the last ever thing they’d do.”

 

Though Spencer had always been protective, this was new, and while the rest of the team knew what he had been through recently had changed him, they had no idea just how much it had changed him.

 

Spencer had also changed how he was at home; he was no longer ‘vanilla’, but he wasn’t exactly rough. He treated you like a princess; he would not let you go to sleep until he had at least made you cum twice. And while you loved this, you wanted him to be rough with you, degrade you, to spank you and to deny you the pleasure he so often gives you.

 

But you didn’t know how to bring this up with him. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or like he wasn’t good enough and that you weren’t enjoying what he was doing. However, you also knew nothing would change if you didn’t bring this up with him.

 

One evening, as Spencer cooked dinner for the both of them, you couldn't help but find the perfect opportunity to broach the subject. The room was filled with the aroma of his signature dish, a comforting reminder of the old Spencer, and you felt a pang of nostalgia.

 

As you sat across from him, you took a deep breath and began, "Spencer, I know things have changed since your time in prison, but I need to tell you something that's been on my mind."

 

He halted mid-stir, his knife-wielding hand trembling slightly. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to process the implications of your words.

 

"I want to try something new in the bedroom. I want you to be rough with me, to dominate me, to make me feel as if I'm entirely under your control. I mean don’t get me wrong I enjoy what you do now, but I want this, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

 

Spencer set the knife down carefully on the cutting board, wiping his hand on his apron before turning to face you. The look of concern had faded, replaced by a hint of curiosity and intrigue. He had always been good at reading people; this was no different.

 

"Is that all?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You want me to be rough with you? To dominate you?"

 

You nodded, glancing down at your own hands, fidgeting nervously in your lap. A sudden surge of heat filled your cheeks as you spoke, "Yes, Spencer. I want you to control me. I want you to take me in a way that I've never been taken before. I want to feel completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

 

It was a request he had never received before, but he saw the raw desire in your eyes. He could sense the urgency in your voice, and the hunger that was burning deep within you.

 

"Alright, but I need you to trust me," he said, taking a deep breath. "This will be different, and it might be intense."

 

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. You had never felt this way before, this desperate need to be dominated, to give yourself completely to him. The thought of it made you shudder with excitement.

 

“Well, we can’t do anything now, we need to eat, so you just sit there and look pretty for the time been while I finish dinner, okay?” Spencer chuckled under his breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The look in your eyes told him that this wasn't just some fleeting desire, it was something that had been simmering deep within you for quite some time. He knew that he had to tread carefully, as this was uncharted territory for both of them.

 

Spencer continued to prepare the meal, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that he had to show you the intensity and control you craved without truly hurting you. He needed to make you trusted him completely, and only then could he truly take control.

 

As dinner was ready, Spencer dished up the meal and served it onto the plates. Sitting down, he took a moment to observe you. Your eyes were filled with a mixture of anticipation and a slight hint of trepidation. He knew you were scared, but he also knew that you trusted him enough to explore this new territory.

 

"You have my word," he said softly, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you feel safe and cherished throughout this whole experience. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

 

You looked into his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at his promise. Trusting him was easy, you knew that. You trusted him with your life, and that was no small thing.

 

"Yes, Spencer," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I trust you."

 

He smiled; relief evident in his expression. "Good," he said, taking your hand in his. "Then let's eat, and we'll talk about what this entails later."

 

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. This wasn't just about trying something new; it was about exploring a side of your relationship that you had never dared too before. You knew it would be intense, but you trusted Spencer to guide you through it.

 

After dinner, you both sat on the couch, the dishes cleaned up and put away. Spencer turned to face you; his expression serious but gentle.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubts.

 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I trust you, Spencer. I know you'll take care of me."

 

He smiled, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "I won't let you down," he promised, his voice firm and reassuring.

 

With that, he leaned in and kissed you lightly, a tender touch that spoke of the trust and affection that had always been the foundation of your relationship.

 

You watched as he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, his lips lingering on yours. You could feel his hand gently brushing your hair off your face, his touch sending a shiver through your body.

 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense.

 

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for. You knew that it would be intense, that it would test your limits, but you trusted him completely.

 

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

 

Spencer slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a testament to the desire that was coursing through you.

 

He stood up, towering over you, his body tense with anticipation. You could see the change in him, the alpha male dominance that had been dormant for so long beginning to surface.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your heart racing. You were ready for this, ready to explore the darker side of your desires.

 

With that, Spencer reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

 

As you entered the bedroom, Spencer turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. He was no longer the gentle man you had known before, but a powerful and dominating presence that filled the room.

 

"Kneel," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

 

You quickly obeyed, your heart pounding with excitement as you looked up at him. He stood over you, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on your face.

 

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "And you will submit to me completely."

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself to him completely. He reached down and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

 

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his voice firm.

 

You did as he commanded, feeling a thrill of excitement as you stripped down to your underwear. He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your body. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

 

He took a step forward, touching your skin for the first time. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body.

 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

 

His hands moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently. You arched your back, thrusting your chest out to meet his lips, and he took the other breast in his mouth as well.

 

He stood up, undressing himself as he did so. You watched, mesmerized, as his body revealed itself to you. He was everything you had imagined and more.

 

He stood in front of you, his erection hard and ready. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped you.

 

"No," he commanded, his voice firm. "I decide when you touch me.”

 

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. You wanted so much to touch him, but you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

 

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and seductive.

 

You complied, your heart racing as you did so. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, and you were ready to give yourself to him completely.

 

Spencer stood behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You're mine, and I'm going to take you in ways you've never imagined before."

 

He slowly began to touch your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body. His fingers moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently.

 

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

 

"Yes," you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation.

 

As you spoke, you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. His erection was now pressed against your back, a reminder of what was to come.

 

He guided you towards the bed, gently placing you down on the soft sheets. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, your heart pounding with excitement.

Spencer climbed on top of you, his body hovering above you. He looked into your eyes, his expression intense and full of desire.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I trust you," you whispered. "I'm yours."

 

With that, he leaned down and kissed you passionately, his lips crushing against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, and tasting you, as if to mark his territory.

 

You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, matched only by your own. His hips moved against yours, his erection pulsing with desire, and you knew that this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when you would give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. You could feel the tingle of his fingers on your skin, a reminder of the journey you were about to embark on.

 

He reached down and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. You felt the rush of dominance that flowed through him, a primal instinct that had been dormant for so long but was now fully alive.

 

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "And you will do as I say."

 

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race even faster. You could see the animalistic hunger in him, the raw desire that couldn't be contained any longer.

 

He leaned down and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, causing you to moan in pleasure. You could feel the heat of his body against your own, and you knew that there was no turning back now.

 

Spencer's lips moved up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're going to love this."

 

You felt his erection throbbing against your thigh, a reminder of what was to come. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers along your side until they reached your inner thigh. You could feel the heat and desire radiating from his body, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin near your core, you felt a surge of pleasure and arousal coursing through your body. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more.

 

Spencer's hand continued to explore your body, moving lower and lower until he finally reached your most intimate place. He slowly slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that welcomed him.

 

You moaned softly, your body trembling with pleasure as his finger moved inside you. He pulled it out and brought it up to your lips, smearing your essence on them.

 

"Taste yourself," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

 

You complied, licking his finger clean, savouring the taste of your own desire. It only fuelled your desire for him even more.

 

"You taste delicious, don’t you," Spencer whispered, his eyes burning with desire.

 

With his other hand, he slowly pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him. You could feel the heat between your legs growing, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers continued to explore your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you like a tidal wave. You knew that you were completely at his mercy and that he was going to take you to places you never thought possible.

 

Spencer's hand continued to move between your legs, teasing and taunting you with its every touch. You were more than ready for him, your body trembling with anticipation, and yet he seemed to want to savour this moment.

 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming quicker and quicker as you felt his fingers slowly enter you again. This time, he didn't stop, pulling out and plunging back in, faster and harder with each thrust.

 

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire. "I want you so bad."

 

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

 

"I'm going to make you scream my name," Spencer promised, his voice low and sultry.

 

As he continued to thrust into you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm that was both maddening and intoxicating, you couldn't help but moan softly, your body arching in response to his touch. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second.

 

“You look so beautiful like this, surrendering yourself to me, letting me make you moan like the slut you really are.” He whispered; his voice filled with lust.

 

Your body trembled in response, your arousal increasing with every word. You knew that you were completely at his mercy, and you loved every moment of it.

 

Spencer's fingers continued to move inside you, pulsing rhythmically with his thrusts. You could feel his erection growing harder and thicker against your thigh, and you knew that he was close.

 

"I want to hear you scream," Spencer hissed.

 

Just as you were about cum, he pulled a way, a small smirk on his face.

 

“Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

 

You gasped, your body flush with disappointment but also anticipation. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was thrilling.

 

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he whispered, “and remember when you are begging for it, you asked for this, you wanted this.”

 

He slowly put his fingers back in you, but his pace no longer fast, it was slow, and it was deliberate.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, your body craving the release that he was denying you.

 

“Is that all you’ve got baby? And is this all it’s taken me?” he taunted, his lips still brushing against your ear. "You're going to have to do better than that, little one."

 

His fingers moved in and out of you, teasing your most sensitive spot, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to cum.

 

And just like before he stopped, he wasn’t going to give in even though it was killing him not too. Your eyes were pleading with him, begging him to continue, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Now if I remember correctly, you brought toys to replace me while I was gone, didn’t you?” he smirked, his eyes locked on yours, “I think it’s time to put them to use.”

Spencer’s eyes were scanning the room, trying to see where you might have put them, he knew it wouldn’t have been in any of the normal places. That’s when his eyes landed on the wardrobe, and he looked back at you.

 

“I can see that look in your eyes, baby. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Now did you hide them in there, princess?”

 

You nod yes, unable to form any more words as you feel a surge of anticipation and desire.

 

Spencer walks over to the wardrobe and opens it, revealing a small collection of sex toys that you had purchased while he was away. He grabs a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs, his eyes never leaving yours.

 

"I knew you couldn't resist," he smirks, his voice filled with victory. "Now, let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

 

He walks back over to you, the vibrator in his hand, and secures your hands above your head with the handcuffs. You struggle slightly, but the desire coursing through you is too intense to resist.

 

You watch as Spencer approaches you, his eyes burning with hunger. He runs the tip of the vibrator along your sensitive skin, teasing you mercilessly.

 

"This is going to feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His tone is commanding, and you have no choice but to obey.

 

He turns on the vibrator and presses it against your clit, and you let out a soft moan. The sensation is intense, and you can feel your body responding to it.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer encourages. "You're so wet, so ready for me."

 

He pushes the vibrator inside you, and you feel it pulsate against your inner walls. "Take it all, you slut."

 

Your eyes roll back as the sensation overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. Spencer smiles slyly, watching as you lose control.

 

"There's my good girl," he purrs. "You're such a dirty little slut."

 

He increases the speed of the vibrator, and you arch your back, trying to get closer to the pleasure. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body trembling with each pulse of the vibrator.

 

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop."

 

Spencer grins, his eyes locked on yours. "Not yet baby. I want to see you beg for it."

 

He pulls the vibrator out of you and turns it off, leaving you desperate for more. You look at him in desperation, your pupils dilated, your breathing ragged.

 

"Please, Spencer," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "Please, I need it so badly."

 

He smirks at your desperation, his eyes never leaving yours. "You want it?”

 

With a sly grin, he takes the vibrator and runs it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You can't help but moan softly, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Beg for it, baby," he commands, his voice a mix of desire and amusement. "Tell me how much you need it."

 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second. "I need it so badly, Spencer. Please, I'm begging you."

 

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's my good girl. You know exactly what you want."

 

And with that, he pressed the vibrator back inside you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. It felt amazing, better than anything you had ever experienced before. He continued to tease you with the vibrator, moving it in and out of you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

 

"Please, Spencer," you pleaded, your voice shaking with need. "Please let me cum. Please make me cum."

 

He smirked at your desperation; his eyes locked on yours. "You're going to have to beg for it, my dear," he said, his voice low and sultry.

 

But you didn't care. You needed this. You needed him. And so, you let out a desperate moan, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Please, Spencer," you pleaded, "I need it so badly. Please make me cum.”

 

You were past the point of no return, Spencer's commands and denial only adding fuel to the fire. Your body was on fire, desperately craving the release he was denying you. You knew you could take it no longer, and yet, you found yourself begging for more.

 

"Please, Spencer," you moaned, your voice pleading. "Let me cum."

 

He chuckled, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Not yet baby. I want to draw this out," he said, running the vibrator over your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged, your voice hoarse. "I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, a devilish look on his face. "But you're forgetting something, you asked for this. You wanted to be treated like a slut, but now you’re begging for me to make you cum?”

 

You knew you needed to beg for it. You needed to surrender to him, to let him have control over your body, your mind, your very being.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, "please make me cum. Please, I can't take it anymore.”

 

He took the vibrator and ran it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You could feel the pulsating sensation building up inside you, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged. "I need it so badly."

 

He chuckled; his eyes locked on yours. "You really are a dirty slut, aren't you?"

 

You nodded, your mind reeling with the intensity of the experience. Spencer did take some pity on you; he could see your eyes were filling with tears and he did love to watch you cum.

 

"That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice full of desire. "Beg for it, let me hear how much you need it."

 

You choked out the words, your voice rough with need. "Please, Spencer. Please make me cum. I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, aren't you the perfect slut?"

 

With that, he turned on the vibrator and ran it over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your hips bucking against the vibrator.

 

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice filled with command. “Cum for me, letting me see what I can do to you.”

 

And with that, you felt the orgasm building up inside you, closer and closer until you couldn't take it anymore. You let out a loud moan of pleasure, feeling the waves rush through your body as you finally succumbed to the desire that had been building up inside you.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer said, his voice filled with triumph. "You're mine, every bit of you, and you'll never forget this moment."

 

You lay there, panting and sweating, feeling completely spent. Your body was trembling, your mind was still reeling from the sensations you had just experienced. You felt like you had been pushed to the limit and beyond, but you also knew that you had never felt more alive.

 

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn't help but feel a sense of submission, a feeling of being completely under Spencer's control. You knew that you had begged for it, and you had enjoyed every moment of it.

 

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "That was incredible, baby. You'll always be my dirty little slut."

 

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride in the role you had played in this scene. You knew that you had given him exactly what he wanted, and that feeling of power was exhilarating.

 

“Now I am going to go get some water, because that was intense.” You watched as Spencer got up to go get some water, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for him.

 

You knew that Spencer was also going to need so aftercare, because that was his first time doing something like this, but you also knew you were going to have to drink before you could do anything.

~join the taglist~

~taglist~

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[seraphhskies]

a little game - ghostface (billy loomis)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Billy Loomis t. x Fem. Reader | Smut

Warnings: 18+, language, violence, fear, reader doesn't know he's an actual murderer, chase scene, knifeplay- starts off fluffy though!

Word Count: 2.1k A/N: I have quite literally never written anything like this before! I hope it's good and tysm for reading! If you have requests, feel free to lemme know & provide feedback!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had been a wonderfully normal evening. 

It was dark outside, raining slightly, and remarkably peaceful for a town that was being plagued by murder. You, however, had no worries as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend on the couch. 

You had called him over earlier that day, with the promise that the house belonged to the two of you. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you didn’t want to stay alone. 

You were nestled in his lap, Billy’s arms across your waist pulled you impossibly closer. Your eyes were fluttering shut as he pressed kisses to your jaw. 

“Mm.” You sighed, melting into him. 

The two of you were usually like this, all touch. Billy’s hands were on you in some form anytime you were around. 

But, the night had started innocently enough- believe it or not. Yeah, you may have dressed up a little for the occasion- but it was just a skirt. Nothing he hadn’t seen you in before.

Billy had brought food over, all grins as you opened the door. He’d even gone out of his way to rent your favorite movie and grab a few snacks you liked. 

A soft laugh broke the silence and your thoughts, coming from you. His hands squeezed your ass, a wicked smirk on his face as he looked at you. 

“Where’d you go, pretty girl?” He murmured, voice low and dark- sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Just thinkin’ about you ‘s all.” You responded, nuzzling your face into his neck. He hummed in reply, tutting playfully. 

“You have me right here.” He reminded you. 

You returned the favor by biting his neck, chomping down to catch him off guard. A startled sound left him, before his hand came swiftly down onto your ass.

You yelped, face turning red at the sensation. Billy’s hand rubbed over it soothingly, groping at your thighs as well. You shifted in his lap, getting a groan out of him as you ‘accidentally’ wriggled to get comfortable. 

His hands guided you along his lap. It didn’t take long for the two of you to grind against one another. You could feel the clothed outline of his cock, a whimper leaving your mouth as he guided your hips along it. 

As you found a pace, Billy’s head tilted back onto the couch. Both of you were panting and moaning quietly, and you were pretty sure he could feel how wet you were for him through your panties.

Then, the phone started ringing. Your eyes darted over, Billy’s attention also drawn in by the phone.

You frowned, irritated by the noise but decided to ignore it. 

“You gonna get that?” Billy asked, breathless as your hips kept rolling against him. You shook your head, and he nodded approvingly. His grip was tight on you, and you shivered as his eyes rolled down your body.

You must have missed the predatory gleam in his eyes. 

Unluckily for you, the phone kept ringing. The third time it happened you scowled, murmuring a soft apology and pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's lips, before getting up to answer it.

Billy didn’t protest, watching you with a dark hunger.

You answered the phone in the kitchen, back turned from your boyfriend. “Hello?” You asked. 

The caller greeted you with your name, and you frowned. “Who is this?” 

“Do you wanna play a game?” The voice asked, and you froze. It was dark and creepy, the question sending a shiver down your spine. 

“No.” You answered shortly, hanging up the phone. You sighed, a bit weirded out, but turned around with the expectation that Billy would be on the couch.

Only, he was gone. 

“Billy?” You called, arms wrapping around yourself for comfort. No answer. 

The phone started ringing again, but you ignored it. Instead, you began looking around the house. Maybe he was in the bathroom or playing a prank on you?

After about five minutes of no luck, you heard something. You froze in your spot, eyebrows furrowing as the sound of glass breaking came from up the stairs. In your bedroom. 

Hesitantly, you began to go up the stairs before you paused. You needed a weapon. Something to stop the intruder, especially if they had broken in. A terrified breath left you, and you settled on sneaking quietly into the kitchen. 

You rummaged around for a knife, confusion filling you when you couldn’t find the largest one in the butcher’s block. Had the intruder already been able to grab a knife? More importantly, why had you never seen them?

A sinking feeling was in your stomach. You grabbed a smaller one, clutching it tightly as you settled on going up the stairs. 

If it weren’t for your worry for Billy, you probably would have left the house by now.

You didn’t make a peep as you crept up the stairs. You kept your breathing even, listening cautiously for the next noise. The hallway was short. Just your room, a bathroom, and your father’s office were upstairs. 

There were only so many rooms they could be in, you reassured yourself. Your hand was shaking, but you ignored it. 

That’s when you heard it- a door closing. Terror filled your body as your eyes darted to your room. You should have just called the police, waited for them to do something. You hadn’t even thought about it until now. 

Then, the lights went off. 

You covered your mouth, barely muffling your scream. It was short, as you realized that the important thing was to be quiet, but managed to slip past your lips. You shoved yourself against the wall in the hallway, chest heaving as you tried to calm down.

Your name was cooed. You were frozen in horror as you saw the glint of a white mask in the darkness, barely visible. Of course, he saw you too. You gripped your knife tightly. A horrible, awful part of you was enjoying the thrill. 

No words were uttered as he began walking towards you. That’s all it took for you to take off sprinting- tripping a little down the stairs as he chased right after you. His pace quickened along with your heartbeat. 

Tears began to gather in your eyes as he talked to you. “Did nobody tell you it’s dangerous to run with knives?” He taunted, cackling as you slipped and caught yourself on the wall. It sounded so much like your boyfriend… but you screamed internally at yourself. 

Don’t stop running.

The door was right there, right in front of you- as you were cruelly ripped away from it. You screamed, flailing as you were dragged back against the man’s chest. Your own chest heaved with distress, eyes widening as a knife was held to your throat. The same one that was missing. 

“Hello, pretty girl.” He crooned in your ear. 

His hand was around your waist, the sharp edge of the blade pressed tightly against your throat. 

“Billy?” You panted, nothing but distress in your tone. You wanted to be relieved that it was him, wanted to feel that the heat pooling at your core was not as bad now. 

“Ding, ding, ding.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“You- you fucking asshole,” You huffed, realizing halfway that it probably wasn’t the smart decision. “You’re scaring me.” 

“That’s kinda the point, sweetheart.” There was an eyeroll in his response. “Don’t you wanna spice things up?” He teased, your breath becoming shallow as he dragged the tip of the knife down your clothed body.

You shivered. “What, was it too much for you?” Billy continued to croon beneath the mask. Your brows furrowed at the challenge, head screaming no- but the slickness pooling between your legs was another thing. 

“No,” You breathed, finally. 

You could hear the grin in his voice when he replied. “Good girl.” He cooed, voice dark and yet smooth as honey. He got rough with you almost immediately. 

You were more turned on by it than you’d like to admit. Yeah, you two had talked about things a few weeks ago- but you hadn’t expected him to pretend to be a killer and chase you. It was thrilling in a horrible, wonderful way. 

Billy pushed you onto the couch. “On your knees.” He demanded. “Put your hands up here.” You obliged quickly, spurred by the knife that was being guided down your skin. 

A moan left your lips as his free hand drifted to your cunt, rubbing you through your panties. “You little slut,” He chuckled. “You’re definitely enjoying this.” You whimpered.

An embarrassed blush crossed your cheeks, and you craned your neck to watch him over your shoulder. His finger traced over your clothed clit, another moan escaping as he drew tight circles. 

At some point, he grew bored of toying with you over your underwear. He brandished the knife, cutting them off of you. You gasped, biting your lip. 

A finger prodded at your core, entering with ease. You heard Billy’s dark chuckle at that. He began to move, inserting another two fingers before deeming that you were ready. You heard his pants hit the floor, the rustling of fabric, and a low groan as he stroked himself. 

You were aching for him at this point, whining and letting your head droop as his tip rubbed through your folds. 

“Please,” You begged. Billy was teasing, his mask tilting as you looked back at him. 

“Please what?” He replied.

“Please fuck me,” You murmured, and he sighed. He moved closer, but didn’t do as you asked. Frustrated, you pushed your hips back. He responded with a swift smack to your ass, pulling away. 

“Please! Please just-” You cried, having needed him all evening. “Please fuck me.”  He gave his approval in a groan, the desperation in your tone getting the message across. 

He slid into you with ease, a loud, satisfied moan rewarding him. “Shit-” He cursed, sinking into you. “So fuckin’ tight.” The comment went straight to your core, and you clenched around his cock. 

Billy pulled you up, gripping your waist in one hand as he pulled you flush against his body. Your eyes fluttered shut, pleased sounds leaving your mouth as he pushed in deeper. He fit inside you perfectly, his cock somehow always managing to hit the perfect spot. 

He began to move, giving you just a second to adjust, before he was rough with you. His knife, which had never left his hands, was held at your throat once more. He dragged in and out of your walls deliciously, the sound seeming to echo in the still dark room. 

You felt so good, moaning prettily for him as he absolutely ravaged you. He was fast, and far from gentle. The grip on your waist was sure to leave bruises, and there was no doubt you’d have trouble walking tomorrow. 

The knife would scrape just slightly on your throat, a high pitched whine escaping you as you leaned back- the man growling in your ear at the feeling.

You were dizzy with want, one hand gripping onto whatever part of his body you could get. The other drifted to your clit, your hips bucking backwards as you began to rub circles. 

“There you go,” He groaned in your ear. “Gonna cum on my dick, pretty thing?” 

“Y-yes!” You whined loudly, hoping your neighbors weren’t home. 

“Come on,” Billy encouraged, slamming into you a bit faster. “Cum for me.” He growled, digging his free hand into your skin. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, body shivering as you did exactly what he said. You managed out a weak “Fuck!” before you were cumming, Billy groaning as you squeezed his cock- walls fluttering around him. 

The pleasure rolled over you in waves, nearly dizzying in its intensity. You were a shuddering, moaning mess as you came undone for him. “There you go, sweetheart.” He encouraged, voice sounding strained.

Billy wasn’t far behind, his hips beginning to stutter and pace quickening. He didn’t ask if you wanted him to pull out, instead slamming his cock as deep as he could into you. You could feel the way his cock kicked, emptying into you. 

The knife dropped from his hands, grip loosening a bit as he allowed pleasure to consume him. You were panting, a soft hiss leaving your mouth when he finally pulled out.

“Holy shit,” You breathed, twisting into a more comfortable position. You could feel the slickness in between your thighs worsen, panties ruined and skirt doing little to hide the view. 

Billy removed his mask as the power fluttered back on, giving you a wicked grin.

[chevyslate158]

Coriolanus Snow x FemReader: Halls Of Obsession 18+

A/n: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this dark and twisted story! 😈 Just a heads up, this is 18+ content, so please proceed with caution! ⚠️ I want to make it clear that I do not condone the relationships or behaviour depicted here. It's purely for fictional exploration especially seeing as Coriolanus Snow is typically a darker character. 🙅‍♀️💭

Also, if you're into more intense, mature themes, feel free to check out my other series, Pleasantries of 'Love' (Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader) 💖, with Chapter 1 just uploaded yesterday! ✨ And if you're into the Hunger Games AU, don’t miss Threads of Freedom (My OC Archer Brown x Fem! Reader, 15th Hunger Games AU) featuring a Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth) face claim!

Thanks for reading, and happy indulging in these darker stories! 💋 Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Stalking, obsession, control, mental manipulation, emotional manipulation, gender dynamics, misogyny, unhealthy relationships, delusional Coriolanus, gaslighting, dark themes and power imbalance

Coriolanus leaned casually against the wall near the entrance of the university hall, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp, taking in every detail of the bustling crowd. Students hurried past him, eager to escape the confines of their lectures and dive into the freedom of the evening. Yet, amidst the sea of faces, his eyes sought only one. Her.

She emerged from the crowd like a ripple breaking the surface of still water, her presence commanding his undivided attention. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows caught the soft strands of her hair, turning them into a golden halo. She moved with an unassuming grace, her focus seemingly elsewhere, clutching a notebook to her chest as if it were a shield.

Coriolanus’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he watched her pause to greet a classmate, her laughter light but fleeting, like a secret carried away by the wind. His fingers flexed against the wall, the urge to step forward warring with his disciplined restraint. Patience, he reminded himself, savouring the game he had constructed in his mind. He would make his move when the moment was perfect when she least expected it. For now, he was content to remain a shadow, watching, waiting, and unravelling the threads of her world piece by piece.

The girl he had been quietly observing for months. No, not months almost a year. It had started innocently enough, or so he told himself. He had noticed her during the first week of classes, her presence standing out in a sea of anonymity. She had been sitting in the back of a lecture hall, scribbling furiously in her notebook while everyone else seemed content to zone out. There was something about her intensity, the way she seemed so absorbed in her own world, that drew his gaze again and again. By the end of that week, he knew her schedule by heart.

At first, Coriolanus had convinced himself it was nothing more than curiosity. The first time he noticed her was during a philosophy lecture. She had slipped into the room quietly, her posture rigid yet unassuming, as though she wished to blend into the background. But she couldn’t. Not to him. There was something magnetic about her serious, reserved, and entirely indifferent to the exhausting theatrics of campus life. While others vied for attention and alliances, she seemed untouchable, consumed by a world far removed from the trivialities of their peers.

That moment lingered in his mind far longer than it should have. He found himself searching for her in every lecture, catching glimpses of her bent over her notes, her pen moving with precision. There was a stark elegance in her solitude, a defiance in her silence. It was intoxicating.

Weeks turned into months, and that initial spark of intrigue began to fester. Curiosity became a fixation. He would loiter outside her lecture halls, under the guise of coincidence, timing his movements so that they would pass in the corridors or share fleeting moments in the library. He began to rearrange his schedule, reworking every detail of his routine to ensure their paths would cross—no matter how insignificant the interaction.

It became a ritual, one he both dreaded and relished. His heart would race at the mere sight of her, a mix of longing and frustration knotting in his chest. The more she remained oblivious to his growing obsession, the more insatiable it became. Coriolanus found himself consumed by the idea of her, his thoughts dominated by questions he couldn’t shake. Why didn’t she notice him? Why was she so immune to the charms and status that others bent over backward to acknowledge?

And as his fascination deepened, so too did his desire for control. She was no longer just a girl; she was a puzzle, a challenge, and in his mind, something meant to belong to him.

Coriolanus couldn’t stop himself. He memorised her patterns down to the second with an almost obsessive precision the way she tilted her head when lost in thought, the quiet hum she made under her breath when she believed no one was listening, the books she checked out from the library, and even the routes she took when walking home. Each detail was like a puzzle piece, slowly forming a picture that only he was privy to.

But it wasn’t enough. Observing her from afar no longer satisfied the gnawing need within him. He wanted more. Needed more. To know the thoughts that danced behind her quiet demeanour, to hear her voice directed at him not in passing politeness but in something personal, something real.

The rational part of him whispered that this fixation was dangerous, but he silenced it with ease. She had become his constant, his obsession. The world around him blurred when she was near, her presence sharpening every sense to an almost unbearable intensity.

It was no longer about curiosity or fascination. It was about possession. She didn’t know it yet, but she was his. She belonged to him in a way that no one else ever could. And soon, he would make her understand that too.

Today, as on every other day, she carried a precarious stack of books in her arms, her steps purposeful and unwavering. She exuded a quiet determination that fascinated him. Even from this distance, Coriolanus could anticipate her route to the library, as always.

His girl was so predictable, yet he found comfort in that. She was like clockwork, her movements steady and deliberate, her routines as unchanging as the sunrise. He couldn’t help but admire her devotion to her studies, and the way she treated her academic pursuits with the same reverence others reserved for religion. It wasn’t just intelligence it was passion, a drive that set her apart from everyone else.

Look at her, he thought, a faint smile curling his lips as he leaned casually against a column. My smart little girl, always so diligent, so focused. She doesn’t even realise how special she is, how different she is from the rest of them.

Her obliviousness to her own allure only made her more captivating. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself, yet she held it effortlessly. The way her brow furrowed in thought, the way she hugged those books as though they were her armour against the world it all made him want to pull her closer, to strip away her defences and show her that she didn’t need to carry everything on her own.

He pushed off the wall with an almost lazy grace, slipping seamlessly into the flow of students. To anyone watching, he would seem like just another young man heading toward his next task. But every step he took was deliberate, calculated. He kept a discreet distance, his sharp mind tracking her every movement without drawing attention to himself.

As she turned the corner, her destination clear, Coriolanus quickened his pace. The library loomed ahead, its heavy oak doors propped open for the last wave of students filtering in. He adjusted his stride, ensuring he reached the entrance just moments before her. The timing was everything, and he had perfected this act of apparent coincidence.

When he arrived at the library door, he paused, hand resting lightly on the wood, as though debating whether to enter. In truth, he was waiting. He could hear her measured footsteps drawing nearer, the faint shuffle of pages as she adjusted her books. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, a predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She doesn’t even know I’m here, he thought, the thrill of the moment making his pulse quicken. Just a little closer, my girl. So close now.

He could almost feel her presence before she emerged into view her scent, faint but distinct, the quiet hum of her energy that seemed to surround her like a shield. He waited, eyes fixed on the door, anticipating the exact second she would appear. When she finally rounded the corner, there was a brief moment where their gazes could have collided. But she didn’t look up.

She approached, her attention focused straight ahead, her gaze unwavering. Coriolanus moved, pulling the door open with a practised ease that felt almost natural. He stepped aside, his hand lingering on the door as he spoke, his voice smooth and refined.

“After you,” he said, a trace of a smile curling his lips.

Startled by the unexpected gesture, she glanced up, her expression softening into polite gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quiet yet melodic, like the soft trill of a bird at dawn. Her gaze lingered on him for only a moment fleeting, yet enough to send a rush of heat coursing through his veins. And then she was gone, slipping past him and disappearing into the tranquil, book-lined expanse of the library.

Coriolanus’s pulse quickened, though his face remained composed, the perfect mask of indifference. Inside, however, a storm brewed. Her voice echoed in his mind, the simple thank you reverberating with an intimacy that left him dizzy. He followed her inside, his fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe, savouring the faint warmth it seemed to hold from her touch as he let it swing shut behind him.

The library was hushed, serene a cathedral of knowledge but to Coriolanus, it became something else entirely: a sanctuary for his obsession. Every creak of the floorboards beneath his polished boots felt like a ripple in the stillness, his every step calculated as he trailed her. Not too close. Not yet. She moved with purpose, her figure weaving through the maze of shelves like a shadow, each movement deliberate yet effortlessly graceful.

When she finally settled at a table near the large bay window, he stopped in the shadows of a nearby aisle, his gaze sharpening as it latched onto her. She placed her books in a neat stack, the delicate arc of her wrist as she adjusted them nearly unbearable to watch. Her brow furrowed slightly as she began to read, her lips parting just enough to hint at the silent rhythm of her thoughts.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. There was something maddeningly intimate about seeing her like this unguarded, immersed, unaware of the effect she had on him. The light streaming through the window cast her in soft hues, making her appear almost ethereal, and Coriolanus’s mind began to wander.

What would it feel like to shatter her calm? To lean in close enough that she had no choice but to notice him, to look up at him with those wide, unsuspecting eyes? Would her voice tremble if he spoke her name, the way it trembled in his imagination when he was alone late at night? Would her lips part with that same subtle allure if he dared to touch her hand, her face, her—

He clenched his jaw, tearing himself from the spiral of forbidden thoughts with an exhale that barely masked his frustration. She was so close, and yet impossibly out of reach, a cruel tease to the hunger he hadn’t yet dared to confront. For now, he would remain in the background, watching, waiting, letting his desires simmer beneath the surface. But in the dark corners of his mind, a vow was forming: one day, she wouldn’t be able to ignore him. One day, she would be his.

He selected a table nearby close enough to observe, far enough to avoid suspicion. Sliding into the chair with careful precision, he arranged a few books in front of him, meaningless tomes chosen at random, mere props for his façade. The titles didn’t matter. What mattered was his vantage point. From here, he could watch her uninterrupted, unnoticed, and unchallenged.

The sunlight streaming through the window painted her in an ethereal glow, bathing her features in soft, golden light. It was as if the universe conspired to highlight her beauty solely for him. She reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her slender fingers moving with effortless grace. Her focus remained entirely on the book in front of her, her lips faintly parted in concentration.

Coriolanus’s gaze lingered, hungry yet controlled, devouring every detail of her quiet movements. The curve of her neck as she leaned forward, the delicate furrow of her brow it all felt impossibly intimate, as though she were sharing secrets with him alone.

In his mind, she wasn’t just a girl. She was the girl. Perfect. Untouchable. The embodiment of everything he yearned for but could not yet claim. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was an ideal, a symbol of something greater. When he allowed his imagination to wander something he often indulged in when it came to her he could see it all so clearly.

She would sit beside him one day, poised and dignified, her quiet grace commanding a room in ways no words ever could. She would be the First Lady of Panem, the perfect complement to his rule. Together, they would project an image of power and unity, a vision of perfection that the Capitol would idolise and the districts would fear. He allowed himself to dream of her walking at his side in the Capitol’s grand halls, her every movement an echo of his control. Our control, he corrected himself.

And when the time came, she would bear his children his heirs perfect extensions of their union. She would be a doting housewife, tending to their home, and raising their children with all the love and care he knew she had in her. In the public eye, she would be the epitome of grace and motherhood, always poised, always revered. Yet she would still remain vital, her presence indispensable as his First Lady, supporting him, shaping the image of Panem's future with every carefully crafted word and action.

Why would she need anything else? Coriolanus thought darkly, the edges of his mind sharpening as the fantasy took root. Why would she want a career, a life outside their shared vision, when her true purpose would lie at his side, nurturing their family and cementing their legacy? Her talents and her intellect could be better put to use in other, more appropriate ways. A career would only distract her from what truly mattered: him, their children, their future.

No, he would make sure she saw it that way. He would make her see it that way. After all, who else could offer her a life so perfectly tailored to her? She won’t need to dream of anything else, he mused with a quiet, satisfied smile. Her place is here, with me, where she belongs.

And yet, here she was, utterly oblivious to his existence. The thought stung, a sharp reminder of how far he still had to go. But it didn’t matter. She would notice him eventually. He would make sure of it.

She’s mine, he thought, his fingers curling around the spine of a book he had no intention of reading. She just doesn’t know it yet.

His fingers brushed the cover of the book in front of him, though he made no move to open it. His attention remained fixed, darting between her and the room around them assessing the space, the people, the exits. Each detail was catalogued each movement of the room mapped in his mind. Nothing was left to chance. This was no fleeting infatuation it was an obsession, controlled, deliberate, calculated.

He knew more about her than he should. Her favourite coffee order, the way she always sat in the quiet corners of campus, lost in her thoughts, with the world completely unaware of her presence. And there was the subtle, almost imperceptible habit she had twirling her pen between her fingers when her mind wandered, a small gesture that somehow made him feel as if she were revealing a part of herself to him. Even though she had never spoken more than a few words to him, these details felt like secrets, intimately shared, as if they were his own.

The minutes stretched into hours, the soft hum of the library wrapping them both in a cocoon of stillness. To her, it was an ordinary afternoon another in a long line of study sessions and quiet solitude. But to Coriolanus, it was an intricately choreographed performance. Each movement, each glance, each breath was a part of his game, a carefully measured step toward embedding himself into her world.

He didn’t need to speak to her not yet. The thrill, the power, lay in the waiting, in the quiet observation, in learning everything there was to know before making his move. One day, she would look up and realise he had always been there, patiently building the foundation of something inevitable.

His lips twitched into a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her. This was just the beginning. Soon, the pieces would fall into place, and when the time came, she would have no choice but to fall in line. She was his. He had already decided. This was only the beginning.

[societyfolklore]

Quite Escape

December Daze Writing Challenge - Cabin-core!

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Summary: Tired of the constant noise, drama, and surveillance at the Avengers Compound, Loki and you decide to sneak away for a much-needed holiday retreat. Their destination? A hidden cabin.

Word Count:  2k (ish)

Warnings: / Warnings // Explicit Content // 18+, Minors DNI, smut, Fluff , fingering, Unprotected sex, praises kink. Not Beta read.

A/N: First fic! Woo! (my first entry for @the-slumberparty december daze challenge too)

The compound was never quiet. Even on the rare occasion when the team wasn’t actively fighting off a galactic threat or managing interdimensional chaos, the constant buzz of voices, clattering of tools, and Tony’s penchant for blasting Christmas carols at full volume filled every corner. It was starting to get the best of you.

As you leant against the kitchen counter, watching the snow drift lazily outside the window. It was beautiful, serene—a stark contrast to the chaos behind you. Thor’s laughter boomed from the living room as he and Clint argued over some game, while Tony’s voice carried through the halls, complaining about his latest invention malfunctioning. No matter how hard you tried to enjoy your cup of warm coffee nothing seemed to work.

“Do they ever stop?” you muttered under your breath pinching the bridge of your nose. You just wanted to enjoy the moment.

“Mear moments, think I’d do anything before coming to see you. Think I prefer you insufferable colleagues?” he replied with a faint smirk. “Though it seems I’ve chosen my moment poorly. Even this sanctuary isn’t immune to their noise.”

“Unlikely,” a smooth voice purred from behind you, arms coming around to wrap around your waist, his mouth planting soft kiss into your neck.

“When did you get back?” Turning in his arms. He looked like he belonged in a painting, with his raven hair framing his sharp features and his green eyes glittering like the northern lights. A warm smile spreading onto your face.

“No kidding,” you muttered, gesturing toward the living room. “I just wanted one quiet holiday. Is that too much to ask?”

Loki tilted his head, his gaze narrowing thoughtfully. “Perhaps not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Pack a bag, darling. We’re leaving.”

“What?” you asked, startled. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere… quieter,” he said cryptically. “Unless, of course, you prefer staying here with the Asgardian jester I have for a brother and his band of merry fools?”

“When you put it that way,” you said putting down your mug on the counter “how could I refuse?”

*~*~*~*~*

Loki’s ‘somewhere quieter’ turned out to be a snow-covered cabin nestled deep in a Norwegian forest. The journey had been seamless, thanks to his magic. One moment, you were standing outside the compound; the next, you were surrounded by towering pine trees, their branches heavy with snow.

“You conjured this?” you asked, marvelling at the cozy cabin. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and warm golden light spilled from the windows, illuminating the pristine snow.

“Actually, no. Surprisingly didn’t have to do any magic for this one, just stole one of Stark money cards.” Loki sly smile spread across his face.

Inside, the cabin was even more enchanting. A roaring fire crackled in the stone hearth, and the scent of cedar and cinnamon filled the air. Thick rugs covered the wooden floors, and a plush sofa sat invitingly near the fireplace. Loki had actually out done himself, the fact this had all been done with out magic by ‘mortal means’ made it all seem that little nicer.

“This is amazing,” you breathed, shedding your coat and taking it all in.

“Something like that..” You let out a long sigh looking over at him before you found Loki’s lip crashing into you with a hunger he’d been keeping at bay until now his hand went back to cup the side of your face his tongue sliding against yours as you allowed it entry as the kiss deepened as growl coming up from his chest as he pulled you into his lap, hand going under the soft sweater you wore. “Gods I missed you..”

Loki shrugged as though it were nothing. “I’m glad you approve.”

Excited hands squeezed his arms, the decorations, the fire, even the smell of the place at a feel swelling in your chest that made your feel like you were living out some for of dream. Like stepping into a holiday movie and very soon your arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, I definitely approve.”

“I aim to impress, darling,” he said, smirking running a hand across your cheek, his blue eyes staring down into your with that same intensity that made heat floor your cheeks no matter the situation. No one looked at you like that. “Now, you sit in front of the fire. I’ll get us something to drink, alright?” His thumb running over your bottom lip before pulling away leaving you a little breathless and only able to nod, picking up your bag and heading to the bedroom.

Sitting down on the couch you started to relax when Loki returned with two glasses of wine handing you a glass and putting his own down going to put your bag away, letting your relax and take in the cabins Christmas décor, the green garlands, the tree by the large windows, the lights twinkling, but mostly the enjoyable silence that only the crackle of the fire that filled up the place,  When Loki came and sat back next to you it was almost a startle shock.

“Loki…”

“Gave you a scare there?”  his hand taking the wine glass from you putting it on the coffee table, pulling you closer on the couch. “Too use to all that noise back at that ‘madhouse’..”

“Missed you too.”

“Been too long love..”

He was kissing her again quickly pulling your sweater from you so he you get hands onto your skin the fire casting a lovely glow across pale skin as Loki mouth moved to your neck making her squirm on his lap her skirt riding up as his hand went to her thigh sliding up smooth skin, before his warms wrapped around you dragging you down to the rug in front of the fire, his hand making short work of the rest of your clothes as he ground himself up against her.

His mouth tasting along collarbone like he couldn’t get enough of the way your skin tasted on his tongue.

“Loki.”

The needy whine in your voice would of made you embarrassed if it have happened around anyone else, not Loki though, it only made him smirk against your skin as he kept kissing. Your hands started pulling at his shirt, the tremble in your hands as heat pooled in your stomach as you undid buttons the raven hair god pulling away sitting up to pull his shirt off his shoulders looking down you.

“So beautiful..”

"Such a good girl, responding so well to my touch"  He drew fingers along the wetness that had gathered along your folds. “Already so eager.”

His hand pushed your legs apart kneeling between them his hand running down  your body stopong briefly to cup and squeeze at your breast before drawing lazy figners down your stomach. Your breathing getting tighter in your chest as need built. “So needy..”  

Loki drew his hands down his loves figure, you breath grew increasingly filled with want. With each small touch creating small explosions on your delicate skin. The once cool undertone of your was now more reddish, heat building in your blood. He watch as your eyes gazed up at him with desire. His eyes only seemed to shift as he watched the beautiful girl squirm with his firm touch between her legs.

“Loki I-“ you were cut off as he pushed two long fingers up inside into you “Auh!” Slick walls closing down tight at the invasions. The world stopped.

“So tight..” He curved his fingers.

“Oh god..”  the sensation of his fingers pressing up against the spot along your front wall has you bending upward on the rug pushing slightly into his hand.

“nghm” you whimpered before moaning as his thumb started moving in slow circles on your clit.

“That’s it darling, those are the noises we like isn’t it?” His voice purred triumphant.

“That’s in darling, been a while.” Loki started to scissor his fingers pushing your wet wall open for him. “Mmm? Make sure you’re all nice a ready do we?” the sensation made you ache grabbing at the rug as your hips rolled into him hand, breathing hard as he watched your come part on the floor, that same hungry look on his face.

“Such a good girl, always giving me every perfect little noise from that pretty mouth of yours..” He crawled up over you his body pressing down as his hands hooked around your thighs, while you pushed hiair away from your face.

“Breathe darling.” He leant forwards pressing kisses into your throat, his teeth grazing over your exposed throat as his fingers pulled in and out of you at the steady maddening pace. It took everything in you to remember to breath as the sensation built the knot in your centre. Your walls fluttering and closing down on his fingers sending pleasure into your blood each time. “That’s it, let it happen..let me see you cum.”

The knot snapped and like a wave of heat spilt out over your skin as you panted through the bliss bought on from his figner Loki still moving them drawing out the sensation until your back settled back on the rug and he pulled them from you, his hands going to his own pants pulling them down freeing himself.

“I.. Loki, I need.”

“Oh we’re not done yet Presious.” He didn’t give you time to recover before you felt him pressing against your entrance, “Not when I’ve waited so long, and she needs her King..” He pressed in, the stretch of him causing a slight sting as he pushed you back open again, a long moan coming up from your throat.

“Loki..”

“I know what you need.” More of him pushing deeper, his hands pushing your thigh up giving him a better angle, you were helpless against him on able to let him take what he wanted from you. The feel of him filling your overwhelming. “You were made for this, made for me were you Darling.” He moaned into your ear, “say it darling..”

“I- made for you.” You got out as he finally fully sheathed himself in your wet heath, the act drawing deep moans from both of her, Loki’s hand running through your hair as your went down his back and arms. “God, I missed this..”

“So have I.” He slowly started to move, taking his time. Drawing his hips back in long fluid motions ensure you felt each inch, keeping himself pressed up into places that made you cry out his name. He pulled back to watch you arch and moan under him on the floor the glow of the fire making this all the more perfect for him. “Yes, darling. Just like that. Moan for me, let me hear you.” Your hopes rolling into him as his met yours.

“Made for me, such a perfect girl for her King.” He ground his own eyes shutting for a moment to control his own desire building as he felt your walls tighten and squeeze him. “So warm, so tight.”

“Loki please.”  You whimpered again hardly able to breath let alone think enough to form a real sentence.

 “mgnh..” Your whined not quiet able to speak yet. “I’ll try” It was still hard to breath “to be more mindful.” You got out as Loki groaned into your shoulder the fire cracking.

“Close already darling? Miss me that much?” He picked up the pace moving harder above you grunting as he pushed himself deeper, thrusting with the same need you had for him. “Oh pet, Norms yes, like that. Oh yes darling.”

“Loki,I mmmgh.”  You got louder  he moved harder, fingers sinking into his back as the knot formed larger and tighter and he moved inside you. “Loki, I god Fuck… FUCK!”  the sensation of being filled by him ached and made it hard to breath and before the world shattered under you. Your legs shaking as your climax pulled you apart. Your core clamping down on him like a vice in hot sharp spasms making your pant and moan. “Erugh!”

“GODS!”  

The sensation of you closing around him like you did had Loki coming apart, grunting and moaning into your ear as he thrusted sloppy ruts through his own climax as he spilt into you groaning. “Gods, darling..” He panted resting on his elbows his forehead pressed into your shoulder while you tried to catch your own breath “you’ll kill a man doing that..”  

[jhkfan123]

you're losing me | coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x !fem reader

in which: after a work trip, y/n finds coriolanus with another woman

warnings: angst, conflict, cheating, shouting, panic attack, no happy ending (only read if you want to depressed)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i'm actually not sure where this came from but i am lowkey proud of the writing.

"you say 'i don't understand' and i say 'i know you don't'"

you were so excited to come home early. surprise him. bring home his favorite dinner for him.

you had been gone three days now. it was a trip for all the interns at the job you had been interning at. in fact, you were studying your favorite subject. you were desperately looking forward to actually starting your career with the people you were now working with. but they had let you come home a day early. because today was your birthday, and you wanted to spend it with the love of your life.

with the bag of food in your hand, you opened the door to the penthouse. it was dark out, and there were no lights on, so you flipped one on. he was not in the main room, so you placed the food on the kitchen table and began to search for him. you checked the living room, nothing, so you headed for your bedroom. from under the door, you could see that the lights were off, which had you thinking maybe he wasn't home. nevertheless, you opened the door.

you shouldn't have. you should have stayed on your regular path. you should not have come home early, then you could have lived with him blissfully unaware.

but you did. you opened the door. and you found him, with clemensia dovecote. giving her kisses in places he hadn't given you in a long time. he quickly stopped when he heard the door creak open. the two of them immediately started shuffling around, and you slammed the door. you gazed at the closed door for a moment, realizing what you had just seen. then you ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. you slid down on the door, and began to breath very heavily.

every time you tried to capture your breath, you would lose more air. every time you tried to breath in and out, in and out, in and out, you just choked. you felt warm tears stream down your cheeks, which sent you into another spiral. you ran your hands through your hair and tried to get yourself together.

you had been dating him for three years. three years. three years. and now he throws it all away? since senior year. the two of you had been dating, since before the 10th hunger games. He went away to district 12, and when he came back, he came running back to you.

you never thought this of him. he was protective, and jealous, and seemed to be obsessed with you.

on the bathroom floor, you tried to calm down. you tried the only thing you knew.

five things you can see: the floor, the sink, the toilet, the shower, the candle on the counter.

four things you can touch: the cold floor, the towel hanging low on the rack, your own arm, the drawer near you

three things you can hear: the buzz of the air conditioner, your breath, and shuffling in the hallway. that didn't help

two things you can smell: the lingering scent of the candle from when it had most recently burned, and the scent of your body wash in the shower, even though it was faint

one thing you can taste: the salty tears now running into your mouth.

you could now take slightly deeper breaths. you realized you would have to go out there soon. maybe you would wait two minutes. maybe clemensia would leave.

clemensia. you hadn't even seen her since graduation. you thought he hadn't either. clearly that was wrong.

the two of you had a strange relationship. you were always jealous of her, but for some reason, she was always jealous of you too. anything you would do, she would do better. and anything she would do, you would do better. it was a constant battle to be on top.

you thought you had won. you got the guy, the grades, the job, everything. now you weren't so sure.

you took one final deep breath, attempted to balance and get yourself up. you unlocked the door, and almost opened it. but then a knock was heard from the other side of it. you opened the door and saw coriolanus with his head down. you pushed past him and made your way for the kitchen. he began to walk behind you.

"hey, i-" you heard. you pivoted on your foot and stopped abruptly. he jumped back.

"what the fuck, coryo." was all you could get out. he winced at his nickname. "really! clemensia dovecote!" you felt tears stream down your face again.

"look, it didn't mean anything" he sighed out.

"that's all you can come up with? coryo," he looked like he hurt more each time you said his name "then why would you do it in the first place!" you shouted. you didn't mean to, but it wasn't your decision. it just happened.

"i," he began to stutter. you could tell he was trying to make up excuses.

"please don't make excuses. be an adult." you said. you closed your eyes to get the remaining tears out.

"i don't know." he responded. you sighed with immense disappointment.

"yes you do. yes you do." every time you were stressed, you had a habit of repeating yourself. it was comforting, hearing yourself. "you wouldn't-" you took a deep breath. "you wouldn't have done it if you didn't have a reason." now he took a breath.

"she had been reaching out to me a lot recently. i didn't tell you anything because i didn't think it was anything. then-"

"how long." you asked. he looked up at you as you interrupted him. "how long have you been with her." you desperately wanted to know. "how long have i only been loving half of you. how long have i only been loved by half of you" you asked.

"i swear, i swear it was only tonight." he said. that actually made it worse.

"coryo, it's my birthday." you choked on tears that were now streaming down your face again.

"i, know. i know." he seemed to be kicking himself. he attempted to get closer to you, but you backed up. now the two of you were on opposite sides on the island.

"what did i do." you asked. double the amount of tears were coming down now. "how badly did i screw up that you did this."

"you did nothing, my love. it's my-"

"do not call me that." you cut him off. he nodded in acceptance that he didn't get that right anymore. he didn't get any part of you anymore. you could have swore you say his eyes get teary, now.

"she came on to me." he explained.

"you could have got her off. but you didn't. you kissed her. and you kept kissing her. and you took your shirt off. and that's the image i walked in on. do not put this on her. yes, she shouldn't have done that, but it's your responsibility, coryo. it's your responsibility to tell her no." now a tear did stream down his face as he listened to you. "so i ask you again, what did i do?" you felt yourself getting weak. you were so disheveled and out of it that you hadn't realized how hungry you actually were.

"you didn't do anything." he responded, fairly quickly.

"then why!? why would you ever do this!" you shouted again. snot getting everywhere and your vision become more blurry with each tear.

"it just happened. you didn't do anything. and i'm a horrible person and i know this is a horrible situation and you don't deserve this at all, but please, believe me, when i tell you that i love you." the words stung you like an alcohol wipe on an open wound. the words felt like a stab in your back, like a stab in your heart.

he made his way over to you again. you were to weak to back up. you looked up at him, your vision allowing you to just barely see his silhouette.

"coriolanus, i don't even know if i can believe you anymore." you crumpled this time. the tears all came out at once. you began to sob, and then your legs gave up. you fell to the floor in agony. you felt coriolanus grab you, and you didn't move. you had no energy to. but how could he even allow himself to touch you like this?

he got down onto the floor with you, and held you around your chest while you sobbed. he didn't say anything. he was probably lost in the smoke of his guilt, that had now flooded the entire penthouse.

the warmth of his body would have normally felt comforting, like cuddling in a warm blanket. but not now. you were ice cold. shivering from your hunger, and your tears. not even the heat of his body could melt the quickly freezing heart you had for him.

it felt like hours passed before you finally managed to see your surroundings. when you managed to finally calm yourself down enough to stand, you moved yourself away from coriolanus. then you sat. both of you, at the island.

the two of you were silent. the two of you had nothing left to say. the two of you had nothing left to do. all you could do was do the next right thing. and in your mind, that was to go somewhere. anywhere but here.

"i'm leaving." you got up, took a second to gain your balance, you still hadn't eaten after all, and grabbed your bag.

"it's freezing out. please, stay." he begged. his eyes were also dried out from the tears he shed.

"i walked here, earlier. i can walk back." you replied.

"where will you go?" he asked. you thought. you had moved in with him after graduation. his home was the only one you knew for the last three years of your life.

"i'm going to go stay with a friend. and then, i am going to come back, in a few weeks, and get my stuff. move out." you laid out your plan for him. you saw another tear fall from his face.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"coriolanus, i'll be fine." you began to make your way towards the door. then, you paused. a single tear flowed down. "i will miss you, though. i hope you know that." you said. you refused to turn back. you refused to look at him. if you did, you thought you might go running back to him. if you did, you would never look away again. so you opened the door.

"i'm always going to love you. and i'm always going to be here. for you." he said. your heart begged you to look back, but you couldn't. not after that.

and, even though it slowly broke every part of you. you steadily closed the door behind you.

[hysteria-things]

CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE LITERALLY ANYTHING FOR NATE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 (preferably smut) BUT IM LITERALLY BEGGING PLEASE (no rush💗💗 love ur work)

SINFUL DESIRES (part one)

read part two here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it feels like every day there’s a blowout between you and nate. however, something changes when all of a sudden he’s knocking at your bedroom window.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, teasing, some praise/degradation, pet names (pretty), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy!), stomach bulge, possessiveness, cream pie, ROUGHHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,172

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is low key toxic LMAO but it’s okay cause nate’s a cutie patootie.

thank you anon! hope you like it❤️

for some reason when i listened to this song it make me think of this fic, even though i would never picture him like this at all😭

tap tap tap.

“you cannot be fucking serious.” you curse softly, placing your phone on the bed as you get up and head over to the window.

it’s no secret that you hate nathan doe, and he hates you too.

your parents are close with his, but nate has always been a little shit.

ever since you two were kids, he’d pick on you. you’d understand that it was friendly banter since he’s, y’know; a boy. boys do that.

but it was never like that with him.

you unlock your window and open it, staring at the boy squatting on your roof. he’s in a t-shirt and gray sweats, his hair damp from showering.

“are you kidding right now, nate?”

“can i come in?” he asks, already making his way through your window.

you roll your eyes. “i mean, you already are.”

he stands in the middle of your room with his hands in his pockets, looking around. “what do you want?” you groan.

he snaps his head toward you. “what? can an old friend not visit?”

“you hate me.”

he raises his eyebrows and glances down your body. “i didn’t see you at the game today.”

“i’d rather die than go to a lacrosse match,” you say. you guys are standing across from each other, and it’s weirdly comforting. you two would be trying to fight right now, but even if you were you’d be too tired to.

“what do you want, nate?” you repeat, this time more harshly.

“why do you always have a fucking attitude?” he snaps.

there it is.

you scoff. “stop with this nice act. i shouldn’t have even let you in.”

“yet, you did!” he says with a high voice, taking his finger and pointing upward.

“fuck you.”

“you wish.”

you squint your eyes at the boy. you should’ve pushed him off of your roof when you had the chance.

“i’d watch that mouth if i were you, y/l/n.” he now points at you. “it can get you into big trouble.”

your next two words were meant to be in your head. “make m—”

in one stride, nate pulls you in by the throat and smashes his lips on yours. you would think you’d want to pull away but no. you kiss back with hunger.

he pushes you against your bedroom door, not breaking the kiss as he lifts the bottom of your band tee to push his fingers inside your underwear.

he pulls away to make eye contact with you as he starts to rub your embarrassingly wet clit with his fingers. he smirks when he realizes this is all from him.

you fight every fiber in your body to not give him the satisfaction of giving you pleasure. not even a lip bite or a buck of the hips, even though you want to.

so. fucking. bad.

he continues to rub at a decent pace. “why so quiet now? cats got your tongue, pretty?”

“don’t call me that, asshole.” you spit back. “i hate you.”

he chuckles under his breath. “seems like it.” he mocks.

the heaving of your chest gets faster when you feel the knot start to form in the pit of your stomach. you curl your hands into fists that are on your sides when you feel wetness drip down your inner thighs. nate scans your face until he figures out what just happened. “came already? my fingers weren’t even inside you. that’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“shut. up,” you say through gritted teeth.

you look down at his sweats without thinking, seeing the imprint of his boner as clear as day. he leans to your ear and takes his hands out.

“feel how hard it is, pretty?” he jolts his hips into your clothed pussy. “it’s all because of you. i can never stop thinking about you, you know that? you’re engraved in my mind and i hate you for it. i always get off to what you’ll look like wrapped around my cock.”

your bottom lip quivers from his words. you don’t know what to say; the only thing you can think about is what you need. you need him.

he starts sucking a mark into your neck while untying his pants and pulling them past his thighs.

he lifts you, your legs dangling at his sides. he moves your panties to the side and starts to enter you slowly.

you pinch your lips together when you feel him all inside of you.

he groans at the feeling. “better than i’ve imagined.”

his thrusts start small but he gradually gets faster to the point where he pulls back and slams back in. you bite back your moan.

“so stubborn,” he whispers, taking your bottom lip out from your teeth with his thumb.

one thing to keep in mind is that your parents are sleeping just across the way, but you can’t seem to hold it in any longer.

don’t do it… don’t do it… don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoit.

“oh, god, nathan!” you cry out, immediately covering your mouth.

“there she is,” he says. he somehow makes himself go deeper.

“fuck, nate. fuck!” your noises are muffled by your hand.

you look over his shoulder at the window, realizing you never closed it. even though your room is on the second floor, people can still see and hear you.

nate turns his head to see where you are looking at and smirks. he takes your hand off of your mouth.

“don’t hide your sounds. i want everybody to know who makes you feel this good.”

you whimper and look down, seeing how he fills you from the bulge in your tummy with the movement of his thrusts. your mouth drops slightly at the sight. “see how well i fill you up, pretty? see how good you take my cock?”

you whimper again and grip his shoulders, dragging your nails down his upper back. “how long has it been since you’ve been fucked this good?”

“a l-long time.” you moan in pleasure as he hits that spot inside you. “right there, right there! please don’t stop.”

“whose is it, y/n?” he starts. “whose pussy is this?”

“y-yours, nate. it’s all yours.” you cry out. “i need to cum. please let me cum for you.”

you keep blabbing out nonsense as he fucks the living daylights out of you. “gonna cum inside this sweet cunt so you know it’s mine. you’re all mine, pretty. don’t ever forget it, yeah?”

“yes. yes!” you repeat. “i’m all yours. all yours, nathan.”

he kisses you as he spills every drop inside of you. you soon after gush around his dick, legs shaking and toes curling as you do so.

he sets you down and holds you by the waist so you don’t stumble over from all of the stimulation. he holds you in a tight hug and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

then, the light in the hallway flicks on and you hear footsteps.

“y/n!” your dad bellows. “what the fuck is going on in there?!”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby

[lotus-n-l0ve]

may i request a gun smut to feed my desires :< a wife!reader would be cute..

Look at me, shamelessly answering after months 🫣 honestly speaking, I have tried to write something with this so many times before but I just couldn't. My smut game is really bad 😮‍💨

TOUCH OF DELIGHT

— Gun Park x Wife!Female Reader

Its Not Smut It's Romance.

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : Just gun and his wife fucking.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Smut, kissing, slight cockwarming, inappropriate language, unprotected sex, 633 words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // LOOKISM MASTERLIST

DON'T PRESS [KEEP READING] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

The spacious room is dimmed with just the golden light of the lamps. Uncountable petals of red rose scattered all over the bed and floor. Gun sat on the fluffy bed with his back resting on the headboard while you straddled his lap. Your naked limbs entangled with each other, feeling each other up. His semi hard cock resting comfortably between your warm walls.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Your whisper cut through the silence of the night.

Gun hummed with his ever so deep voice as he admired you and let you do whatever you wanted. Your fingers caressed under the raven void for eyes. Only you could look at him, possibly the most dangerous gangster of Japan, and think of him to be adorable. Other people wet their pants at even a mention of his name.

Can't blame them though. After all you were the only one with whom Gun left himself so vulnerable. You could stab a knife through his chest and he would still believe that you did that to protect him. He just trusted you that much. Though his trust did not come easy. After years of hurdles, tears, angst and undying love did you two became one.

You held his cheek with both hands, placing feather-like kisses on his closed eyelids. His sturdy arms that were wrapped around your waist descended to grasp your hips on the side. Butterfly kisses drifted down to his swollen lips before taking his lips in a long, passionate kiss.

Gun returned the kiss with equal hunger. Your walls clench around him, making him groan. Gun tightened his grip on your hips and raised you up before slamming you down on his hard cock, making you moan embarrassingly loud in the process. The previous orgasm worked as lubricant as his dick slipped in and out smoothly.

Your moans mixed with his heavy grunts. It was not enough. Gun raised his hips desperately, meeting you in the middle. Seeking for relief. Frustrated, Gun slammed your back on the bed and hovered over you.

“Get ‘n your fuck’n knees.” Gun sneered, lipping his cock out. Though before you could move he flipped you like a sack and brought your ass up in the air and pushed his cock all the way in.

“Ah— gentle, Gun.” You yelp but your throbbing pussy said otherwise.

Gun held your hips and snapped his against your ass desperately. Stretching your wall real well. His heavy balls slapping on your clit and sending shivers down your spine.

“So fucki’n tight even after cumming that much earlier?” Gun taunted through clenched teeth.

A smack lands down on your ass, forcing a mewl out of you. You bury your head further into the pillow and clutch the bedsheet in a death grip. You were a babbling mess, too fucked out of your brain to make any sense since the night began. All you could do was moan and beg for a release.

“Fuck, fuck- Yuzuru, I can't—”

The soft moan of his name sent a rush of adrenal straight to his dick as he picked up the speed. That vein wrapped around his cock rubbed your inside making it harder for him to last.

“Come for me sweetheart, won't ya?” Gun hissed into your ears

Your toes curled up as he shot hot threads of seeds in your pussy, combining with your cum. Gun stayed in you for a few minutes. hysterical panting of you two filled the room. As his heart calmed down Gun pulled his dick. A whimper left your lips.

Gun stared at the white fluid oozed out, running down your tights and dripping onto the sheets. He scooped the liquid spread on your lips and shoved them back in your cunt. Exactly where they belong.

LIKED IT? THEN PLEASE LEAVE A LIKE, REBLOG & COMMENT. IT WOULD MEAN A LOT AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE LIKE THESE. THANK YOU ♡

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

[moethewriter]

Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too. 

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.  

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

-

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta. 

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair. 

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

-

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.” 

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.  

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him. 

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

-

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.” 

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.” 

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

-

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned. 

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts. 

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started. 

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation. 

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you. 

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail. 

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing. 

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay. 

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

-

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged. 

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

“That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

[topperscumslut]

Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed (Sejanus Plinth x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) is the victor of the 9th Hunger Games and the beloved girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow, though she’s secretly in love with his best friend (in this au the hunger games progressed more quickly, for example mentors were already present before the 10th games etc etc). title inspired by Hot Freaks’ Puppy Princess!

Warnings: not much rlly tbh, a wee bit of angst but mostly FLUFFY FLUFFFFF. might write a smutty sequel if this does well (or just if i feel like it lol) but even then it would be more fluffy smut, like sweet love making rather than getting absolutely railed lmao yk? (i probably will so stay tuned if u like this and lmk if u wanna be tagged!)

spoiler free apart from references to coriolanus x lucy gray!!

ok actually it is a pretty good amount of angst nvm lmao

Word count: 2k

You sigh as you run your fingers over the tattered poster, so shiny and new only a year before, reading the now barely legible words. (Y/N) (L/N) Victory Tour, In Honor of the 9th Hunger Games, Arriving Soon in Your District. You remember your victory tour all too well. Despite the traumas you had endured as a victor, you’re grateful for how far you’ve come. Sure, you still have nightmares of your games every now and again, yet even still you have the best fate a girl from District 3 could ever hope for - you had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect love story. A doomed romance from the beginning; star crossed lovers, one might say, a Capitol boy and a District girl. When you had arrived at the Capitol for the 9th Hunger Games, near certain you had no chance of winning, your dashing mentor Coriolanus Snow had immediately taken a liking to you. He took you under his wing and coached you through your games, and when you had miraculously emerged victorious and returned to the Capitol, he decided that he wanted you for his own, and who were you to say no? Not even a few weeks before, you were just another girl from District 3, completely unknown, barely scraping by. Now you had been thrust suddenly into a lavish lifestyle with a handsome suitor to boot, adored by all of Panem; the nation’s sweetheart. After your games, you could have left it all behind. Sure, you would never be granted total anonymity being a victor, but you could have gone back to your beaten down home in District 3 and lived a relatively quiet life. After all, it’s not like the Snows had the finances to buy your freedom from your district and turn you into a full fledged Capitol citizen.

But the Plinths did.

You never particularly enjoyed Strabo Plinth as a person, but you couldn’t help but be grateful to him for what he had done for you. You had, however, immediately taken a liking to his caring wife, as well as his juxtaposition of a son, Sejanus, who clearly took more after his mother. In contrast to your rugged, analytical lover, Sejanus was gentle, complex. The two of you had become fast friends while Coriolanus had helped you prepare for the games.

And so before you knew it, this was your new life. At first you were anxious, concerned that your becoming a Capitol citizen and Coriolanus associating so intimately with a girl from the Districts would be seen as an act of rebellion and put you both in danger. However Coriolanus assured you that the nation loved you, both as an individual and as a couple. Sure, it was unexpected, yeah, it broke the (admittedly unwritten) rules, but that’s what made it oh-so fun to watch. Because at the end of the day, the games weren’t a competition - they were a show, and everyone loved an underdog.

There was only one minor flaw. You had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol, yes, but it wasn’t the one you had so publicly given your heart to.

Your relationship with Coriolanus was practical, and that was about the only positive thing you could truthfully say about it. Neither of you were particularly wealthy or powerful individually, but together, you had potential. If you could keep all of Panem tuned in to your epic love story, you could almost certainly ensure mutual survival. You offered Coriolanus the opportunity to be known as not only a mentor to a victor, but a lover as well. And though nearly a year later his eyes had started to wander, the dapper blond had been quite infatuated with you when the courtship had begun, and Coriolanus was notoriously possessive. While his family was in the midst of financial hardship at the current moment, becoming a Capitol resident gave you the opportunity to get by still much more comfortably than you had in your impoverished home district. And who knew what volatility Coriolanus was capable of if you had rejected his advances? You had been coaxed into this very moment and had no other option but to grin and bear it. After all, all the girls you knew back home would kill to be in your position. A handsome sweetheart, financial stability courtesy of the Plinths, and the whole country all but worshiping you. Coriolanus Snow had offered you not only fame and fortune, but more importantly, security. Safety, in return for your undying affection.

Coriolanus was sweet at first. Charming, for sure. He was certainly attractive, yet he had never really had much of an effect on you. Maybe it was simply intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that he could never compare to his best friend, Sejanus Plinth.

Kind, pure Sejanus. The type of boy that, unlike Coriolanus Snow, truly made your head spin. The chemistry between you and Sejanus was unspoken, yet undeniable. However, you had already reluctantly sworn yourself to Coriolanus, and knew running off with his best friend would certainly put both you and your not so secret admirer in a treacherous situation. Sejanus Plinth was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take.

What stung the most was that in any other situation, it could have worked. Sejanus was certainly more wealthy and influential than Coriolanus, not that that was what truly mattered to you. If you had been just a bit more fortunate, you could have had the boy you truly loved as your mentor and still have the same security and more that you were now so gracefully granted, if you had simply found your way to Sejanus before Coriolanus had set his sights on you and claimed you as his own. But unfortunately for you, your current romantic relationship was one built upon the grounds of survival rather than love.

If you were fully honest with yourself, you never truly loved Coriolanus - well, not romantically, at least. There was once a time where you had loved him as a dear friend, but in the time you had known him, he had become cruel and vitriolic. You knew from the start that he had always had it in him to become this way, though you had always naively hoped that he wouldn’t, that he would control himself, but the poison within his soul had soon taken over his cold, uncaring heart. He had become hardened by the misfortune of his family and gradually more complaisant in the ways of the Capitol, as well as secretly resentful of the great fortune of his supposed best friend and honorary brother Sejanus.

Now just over a year since you had met, the 10th Hunger Games were nearing to start. You had heard the whispers of Coriolanus sneaking around with his newest mentee, your replacement in more ways than one, Lucy Gray Baird; however it never bothered you. Lucy Gray knew that your relationship with Coriolanus was nothing more than a facade, and the two of you had become unlikely friends. You weren’t sure just how much of his affections for Lucy Gray were genuine, or how much was motivated by a desire to flatter her in an attempt to gain another victor to further his own career. Though Coriolanus’s mood was recently heightened by his new lover, he was still resentful of being assigned such an impoverished district for two years in a row and was prone to fits of rage over this perceived insult. While your home of District 3 was never much of a spectacle, Lucy Gray’s District 12 was miraculously even more down trodden, the poorest district of them all. You couldn’t help but wonder if this assignment was actually made to compliment Coriolanus, to show that if he could made a diamond in the rough out of you, that perhaps he could do the same for Lucy Gray.

As you sit alone in Coriolanus’s bed, still running your fingers gingerly along the photograph, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sejanus?”

“Oh, hey. Is Coryo around?”

You shake your head. “He’s out right now.”

Sejanus’s jaw tightens at your response. “With her?”

You nod unenthusiastically and can see the disgust and anger wash over his face as he makes his way over to you.

“It’s not her fault, Sejanus. She’s actually really sweet.”

He sits down on the bed next to you, careful to leave enough space between the two of you as to not make you uncomfortable. “I know it’s not. It’s his. Does it really not bother you at all?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re better than me, (Y/N). I don’t know how you put up with it. If I truly loved someone, it would kill me to see them with someone else.” He’s subtle, but you can tell exactly what he’s implying.

“Well good thing I don’t have to see it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sejanus looks sympathetically at you for a second, blissfully unaware that his kind, beautiful brown eyes are making you melt, before noticing the poster in your hand.

“Is that-”

“Yep.” You shiver, remembering your games, the things you saw… “I don’t think it ever occurred to him, the things I had to do in there.”

“It occurred to me.” He gently places his shaky hand on your knee, carefully surveying your expression to make sure you’re okay with the contact, to which you nod slightly, nearly involuntarily. “Look, I’ll say it since no one else in this screwed up place will, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You bite your lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach once again as he gives you that look and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Your boyfriend could come home any moment, after all, and you quickly compose yourself, breaking Sejanus’s gaze. “It’s okay. I won. It’s the Hunger Games. It’s an honor.”

He inches carefully closer to you before speaking up again, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “(Y/N), you don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shake your head in denial. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that light in your eyes that I love so much since you’ve left the arena? Why don’t you care that he’s always off with Lucy Gray? Why are the rules different for you than they are for him?”

And suddenly it hits you all at once. Sejanus is right. If Coriolanus is sneaking around with your friend everyday, even when they aren’t training, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to him? What do you owe him when all he’s ever done is keep you like a bird in a cage?

You don’t stop yourself, you don’t even think as you lean in and kiss Sejanus. He gets over the initial shock quickly and melts into it, cradling your body in his arms and pulling you in by the small of your back. You both pull away at the same time, not quite sure what’s gotten into you, but whatever it is, you like it.

“Coriolanus has never kissed me like that.”

“Go figure.”

His nerves kick in once again as he starts to stutter an apology before you shut him up by kissing him softly again.

“Since I first got to the Capitol… Sejanus, nothing here has felt right, except for you.”

“I could say the same about you,” he muses as he leans in once again, kissing you slow, both of you pretending the moment could last forever. If only…

[har-rison-s]

fear or endearment | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: hello people of tumblr. yes, i'm getting on the train of writing for coryolanus snow (save me). he's just so writeable before the 10th games, i feel. after that i lose any touch with him, honestly, idk. bad man. welp! enjoy this little short blurb i thought of while i was at work yesterday (no connection, tho, just day dreaming). happy reading &lt;3

warnings: none except snow's manipulative, calculating personality; this is pre-10th games snow btw

word count: 1,894

gif credit goes to owner &lt;3

“you only like me because i bring you free stuff,” she says, her lips wearing a smile that holds the sadness of the half-joke she just made. it’s only an ironic way of saying the truth, and she thinks him a fool not to admit it. her hands get busy with carefully emptying the messenger bag full of food leftovers and pastries that the kitchen in her house deemed as unworthy for her family.

“not true,” coryolanus says with a gentle shake of his too-perfect head, eyes looking at her instead of raking over the gifts she’s brought. they’ll keep him and his family away from hunger for a week at least, if they plan carefully, “i like you regardless of that.”

she shakes her head with more conviction. it’s one thing to lie to himself about it, it’s another to tell the lie to her face. her face that has seen the brutal truth in people, her eyes that can see through any facade. it’s the reason she doesn’t watch television unless she absolutely necessarily has to – the facade built up around the ugly truth makes her sick to her stomach. “oh, yes, and my dream is to become a peacekeeper.” her sharp tongue responds.

coryolanus considers her words and the sarcastic look on her face, the faint grin she wears. he doesn’t like being confused, and yet she makes him feel that way very often. sarcasm is her companion in every conversation, and coryolanus suspects he might be one of the only people in the world she shows her bare soul and heart to, and even then she shows very little. her rebellious nature, though, is what makes him worried for her. sometimes he thinks he ought to follow her in her ways, even though it wouldn’t be easy. it would also be going against everything he’s fought so hard to have, and would continue to fight for.

coryolanus shakes his head in confusion, his cheeks blushing just the faintest tone of pink and curls trembling along with his head movements. she laughs fruitfully at knowing she made him confused, her head hanging back for a moment. she closes her bag, its contents emptied on coryo’s kitchen table, and looks down on them. “i know you wonder why i say things like that,” she looks up at him again, and coryo nods, his lips bit back in a faint smile, “can’t help it. must be some security mechanism in me, to joke or draw irony in serious matters.” she shuffles herself onto the table’s surface, now getting the view of coryo in front of her instead of having to wring her neck around every time to just look at him standing beside her. coryo nods again and smiles wider. “sometimes i want to shut up, but i just can’t seem to. and that tends to get me in trouble quite a lot. you know that well.” 

ah, yes, her rebellious nature that gets in the way of her education and reputation up-keeping. he might just be her only friend at school, because no one wants to associate themselves with such a rebellious girl as her. sejanus has been nice to her, but coryo guesses he lacks the courage to talk to her. coryo makes a grin and takes a step closer to her. her genuine eyes find his again and she searches them for some bit of truth. it’s hard for most people to guess what he’s thinking, but not for her. “i like you for that,” coryolanus tells her, and she furrows her eyebrows because by looking into is eyes she knows it’s the truth that he’s telling.

“hmm,” she just hums in surprise, “i know it upsets you, too. and that you worry about me, and that’s why you get me out of trouble, even if you don’t have to. you and your perfect attendance and grades, perfect attitude.” she counts off, and it almost sounds like she despises him for all these things. coryo shakes his head, eyelids fluttering while looking at her still.

“you of all people know how imperfect i am,” he says, “look where i have to live,” he gestures around the kitchen. but her smile drops, “it’s almost nothing compared to your place.” 

“where we live doesn’t say much about us,” she responds, “so many people at school think i’m this spoiled princess of the capitol living in my great mansion with mother and father.” she rolls her eyes. “only thing perfect about me are my grades, and even they are being pulled down because of my attitude.” she sighs. coryo nods, understanding, and stays close to her. “i’m really a rebellious child whose parents hardly have patience for. it’s not like i try to get into trouble, it just so happens that my opinions don’t go well with everyone else’s. i know i’m not the only one, but i might be the only one with guts to say those opinions.” she shrugs. “you know that associating with me can get you into trouble, too.”

coryo nods. “but it hasn’t this far,” he responds with a kind smile as the two of them look at each other. she wishes she could respond with a smile half as true as his current one, but her character has been beaten down. her eyelids flutter and she looks down at her hands. 

“why do you get me out of trouble, then? why do you worry about me?” she asks quietly. “we both know you shouldn’t.” 

“you don’t believe me when i say it,” coryo says, reminding her of the beginning of their conversation. she looks up at him again, chin raised. he’s wounded by her disbelief. 

“what?” she asks in half a whisper. coryo tilts his head, his facial expression saying that his answer should be obvious. his hand hesitantly reaches out to hers in her lap, gently coating her intertwined palms. she’s almost forgot how to breathe. he’s never touched her hands before. it’s always a hand at the small of her back, on her shoulder, arms around her. never the hands. it almost seems like he was saving them for... something.

“i like you,” coryo says just as quietly, hand over hers and eyes looking at her, this intense emotion suddenly between them in the air, “not just for the free stuff. it’s the depth of your heart and kindness,” one i know i’ll never have, “and your courageous nature.”

she smiles. “you have courage, too, coryo,” she tells him quietly, and finds herself lost in him now that he’s so close to her. his ice-cold heart warms at her using the nickname for him. she intertwines their fingers now, raising the formed knot higher between them, so that it would enter their line of vision. coryo looks at it, and his heart lurches in his chest, making him feel nearly on the point of fainting, “you do,” she says again, “you just need to... channel it in the right direction.” she utters in a the quietest of whispers. 

coryolanus doesn’t dare a make a noise even though his throat is dry and he needs to clear it, but he fears anything louder than a whisper might ruin everything, even his heart feels like it’s hammering too loud in his chest, “like this?” he asks in a faint voice, and she furrows her eyebrows at the weird question, but doesn’t get to doubt it because coryo is pressing his lips to hers, adding even more value to their moment together. 

for a person who is always able to calculate things to come, she is surprised because this she didn’t calculate at any point. but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t waited for him to do this, to take a next step, for at least a few weeks now. her courage faded away any chance she had to do the same, to be the one who takes the first step. 

she grips his hand between them even harder, and her other hand goes to cradle the side of his face, but after the first few kisses their hands untie and she uses both of hers to hold his face, while coryo is too shy to touch her. she pulls away, both of them out of breath, and they look at each other. stunned. thrilled. without words to say about what they just did. 

“yeah, like that,” she finally breathes in response, always having something cheeky up her sleeve, “only...” she takes both of his hands in hers and places them on her waist, where they fit nearly like a magnet. coryo breathes a quiet sigh of relief, it was where he thought of embracing her, but somehow lacked the guts to do so. looking at each other, she nods at him and coryo makes a small smile. “i know you like me now,” she says quietly, and coryo even chuckles, “you wouldn’t be so nervous about me otherwise.” 

he nods, succumbing to the defeat of her cracking him, and stands between her legs that dangle off the side of the table. his hands on her fit right in place, both of them feeling that they’re always meant to be there. “sometimes, uh...” coryo shakes his head, a little nervous to say what he wants to, but she urges him on with her hand on his cheek serving a comforting touch, and he blushes when he looks at her, “sometimes i don’t know if i like you or i’m scared of you.” he admits.

it makes her laugh out loud, as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard someone say. her head hangs low, and then rests against his chest once her laughter has started to subside. coryo feels embarrassed that he admitted that now, but he wraps his arms around her nonetheless. he knows she means no harm. 

she looks up at him, hands on his chest, and gets real close to his face again, “you better figure it out real soon, coryo,” she tells him, “i don’t want to be with someone who’s scared of me. i want them to be with me because they like me.” she says truthfully and coryo nods. he’s never really been around a girl or woman who’s made him feel like she has. it’s hard to explain, but her rebellious nature, her unpredictability are what scare him, but also what endear her to him. make him like her so much. makes his heart jump out of his chest when she speaks against a professor or simply flees a classroom. 

“i like you,” coryo assures her, “and i’m glad you want to be with me, too.” he says and they smile at each other. she nods at him and leans into his chest into a long embrace neither of them really want to get out of. 

coryolanus is scared of the consequences of her actions, scared for where it will make him end up. but life with her has colour. he doesn’t exactly want to give that up because he might get in trouble. he finds a way out of it with his wit and charm, anyhow. whatever problems she could get him into by being herself he can easily get out of, so maybe taking risks isn’t that deadly of a thing. not for her.

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part 2

[daintyys]

needy

MDNI - fem!reader x coriolanus snow, 1k words, angst, swearing, non-descript masturbation, needy coryo, intentional lowercase, lmfao i hope its not obvious but i need to reread the book

an: this is literally AWFUL but i needed to post and i didn't want my first post in a while to be smut. i'm taking asks for coryo and sejanus! if u want me to write anything just ask me!

he's into you. he hates to admit it, but its true. when you're assigned as partners for a project, coryo doesn't know how to act.

coriolanus snow had a problem: he was too observant. whenever you were around, he couldn't stop himself from watching your every move. he disgusted himself, honestly. how perverted he was, being obsessed with a girl he hardly knew. how even more perverted he felt as he rushed home from the academy, straight to his bedroom, needing to fuck himself to the thought of your face. you were too pretty not to think about, he had to rationalize with himself whilst cumming on his sheets.

the professors at the academy were being tough on their students, as the end of term was drawing near. coriolanus constantly found himself buried in projects, textbook readings, and presentations. he wasn't worried though, his grades were perfect, he had exemplary attendance, and had never turned in a late assignment. all he had to do was get past his exams, and then it was all over.

history class was no exception. professor demigloss assigned an 8-page essay analyzing cassius heath, the winner of the first hunger games, and it was to be done with a partner.

demigloss was notorious for not letting students pick whom they wanted to work with, so it was no surprise as he began to read out the pairings for the essay.

coriolanus was bored. he knew all about the first games, and certainly didn't give a damn about cassius heath. he was 8 when the games happened, his father had just been killed, and he understood they were made to punish the districts.

what finally got his attention was hearing your name, along with, ironically, his. he looked up quickly, turning his head toward where you were seated. you stared back at him, flashing him a smile. fuck, coryo thought. just his luck.

the essay was to be done outside of class, so coriolanus gathered all his courage to stop you in the hall after history.

when the bell rang, he ran straight for the door, and stood outside it to wait for you. he clutched the strap of his satchel, palms sweating and knuckles turning white.

you exited the classroom, and coryo's breath hitched. he'd never been this close to you before, even if it was just 10 feet. he cleared his throat and you looked up. "y/n." he greeted, sounding colder than he had intentioned.

you approached him and smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. coryo quickly wiped his palm on his jacket and took your hand in his, shaking it. "i'm afraid we've never actually spoken before." you noted, taking your hand back. "you seem to be right." you answered his agreement with a nod. this was awkward.

"so, y/n, when should we plan to do this essay?" coriolanus queried, running a hand through his unruly hair. you cocked your head. "tonight? my place?" you proposed, opening your satchel to retrieve paper and pen to write your address.

coryo nodded, feeling his neck begin to sweat. "great," you affirmed, handing him the paper. "just come over after class lets out." with that, you walked away, leaving coryo dumbfounded.

he had been quiet, cold, and he was disgustingly clammy. stupid, nervous, guilty, girl-crazy coriolanus.

when school let out, it felt to coriolanus like it had been days since he'd seen you. he took out the paper with your address, admiring your handwriting. your hand had been small and soft... he wished he could touch you again.

covering the growing bulge in his pants with his satchel, coryo made his way to your apartment.

coriolanus deeply regretted all those times he'd jerked off to the thought of you. he never thought he would actually have to talk to you, and yet here he was. how could he look you in the eye? he hardly knew you, and you hardly knew him.

you lived in a nice building, and your apartment was close to the top floor, with a fantastic view of the city (which wasn't really much to look at). coriolanus knocked at your door, pushing his hair out of his face.

you opened the door after a moment, out of the academy uniform and wearing an adorable floral sundress. "coriolanus!" you smiled, opening the door further for him to enter. he walked into your apartment, admiring the interior.

"you have a very lovely home, y/n." he complimented, placing his satchel on a bench next to the door. you blushed at his remark. "it is lovely, isn't it, but it's quite far from the academy. speaking of which, you didn't walk all the way here, did you?"

coriolanus paused. neither him nor tigris had a car, so there was no way for him to be driven somewhere, and he hated asking for favors. "i like walking," he lied. "i get to see the city." you smiled, guiding him to the study. "there really isn't much to see." you joked.

the two of you sat close to each other at the desk, legs brushing against together every few minutes. you both read your textbooks, compared your finds, and drafted the essay.

you found yourself admiring coriolanus. everything you'd heard about him seemed to be true. he was a genius, sickeningly handsome, and one hell of a writer. every time you made eye contact with him, you could feel your heart pounding in your throat.

there was definitely tension between the two of you, your bodies grazing each other, feeling the other jump every time you touched. coriolanus struggled to focus on the task at hand, resisting the urge to kiss you. you noticed this change in him.

"coriolanus, do you like me or something?" you joked, eyes skimming your textbook. coriolanus paused. "i tolerate you." he deflected, face burning. "well you hardly know me!" you giggled, eyes bearing into his.

"that's why it's easy to tolerate you, y/n." he smirked, blue eyes glistening. you rested your head on your hand, studying his features. coryo pretended not to notice, his heart beating rapidly as he acted like he was reading.

you smiled at him, and bit slightly down on your lip. you hardly knew this guy, so why were you trying so hard to get his attention?

coriolanus met your gaze, looking from your eyes to your lips. "i want to kiss you, y/n." he ventured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "oh do you?" you giggled. "yes, i do." coryo sat up straight, turning his body towards yours. you looked up at him longingly, mouth slightly ajar.

he gently cupped your face, rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "i need to kiss you." coryo clarified, his cock straining against his pants. "then do it." you purred.

so he did.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance⁵

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader, Katniss Everdeen x platonic!reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: LONG, brief descriptions of torture, mentions of forced prostitution, exploitation of minors, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, violence, murder, sick games, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, grief, and unhealthy coping mechanisms Words: 24K

Masterlist | Part 6

a/n: so here it is! 5 days later than i said, but it's here! and um, had the same problem w my hotch fic, but tumblr only allows 1000 blocks per post, so i had to cut this short. i'll be posting the rest w the ending shortly, but for now, enjoy! ly!

As far as you knew, love and pain were one and the same. You weren't sure exactly when this fact had been established in your mind; maybe it was with your mother, when she hugged you as she cried. Maybe it was with Finnick as you stood from the sidelines and watched him be in love with another woman. Maybe it was that love, the love Finnick and Annie had, that made you realize it, a love between two people who could never be together. Maybe it was the star-crossed lovers on TV, having no choice but to fake a love that they were too young to know.

You were too young to know it, too.

But the pain aged you, made you into a person you didn't know, a person you didn't like. That's how you knew that Finnick would never love you. 

How could he love you if you didn't even love yourself?

How could he love you if no one else did?

You knew that—oh, you knew that so well. But your heart couldn't handle that right now, to accept what your brain already knew. That's why you were avoiding Finnick at all costs, why you turned him away the other night. He had the power to turn you into putty in his hands, and you had to be stronger than that right now.

You had a nation to save. You didn't have time to save yourself from drowning. 

As far as you knew, the revolution was going along smoothly. It'd been about two weeks since you all went to 2, and in that time, Coin and Plutarch had been strategizing, planning out their next moves. For now, you were recuperating, adjusting to life in 13, which was easier said than done. 

You barely slept, often ending up in the training room late at night when it was supposed to be closed. The guard knew, you think, but he never came out to stop you. Sometimes, Katniss was already there by the time you arrived. Neither of you questioned it.

Something told you she couldn't sleep, either.

Couldn't. 

Wouldn't.

You avoided common areas during the day, doing everything in your power to steer clear of the beautiful blue eyes you once adored- still adored. You didn't want to see Finnick Odair. You didn't want to see the victor of The 65th Hunger Games. You didn't want to see the charming playboy. You didn't want to see the convincing actor. You didn't want to see that boy who loved to swim as a child. You didn't want to see the hopeful soldier. And most of all, you did not want to see Finnick, your Finnick.

Because he wasn't yours.

And he never was.

You didn't say it out loud to her, but a part of you thought that maybe Katniss knew this. Maybe she was learning to read you just as you were learning to read her. So you'd end up eating in one of your rooms together, away from everyone else. Sometimes Johanna would join you, only sometimes. Things were different now.

You could tell that she wasn't used to this, and she didn't want to get used to it. It was always you, her, and Finn. And now, you couldn't stand to be around him for reasons you couldn't tell her.

But you think maybe she knew, too.

Maybe a part of her always did.

Sometimes Prim would join you. Katniss' cold exterior would melt and she'd smile larger than you'd ever seen just with her sister's presence. Primrose was innocent and sweet, too sweet for this world. She didn't know it—you didn't talk about these things—but she gave you a little bit of faith in humanity, day by day.

And seeing her and Katniss together gave you a lot more than just a little bit of faith. Seeing the way they were with each other made you wonder how things would've played out if you had a sister, a sibling to care after, a sibling that could've grown up with you, been there with you through your childhood before you stopped being a child.

In a way, you were glad that it was only you, that there wasn't another person who had to share in your pain. But sometimes, you thought, maybe it wouldn't have been so painful if you weren't alone.

Katniss was lucky. And so, you told her that. But unlike that day in the training centre, you didn't tell her out of spite or to taunt her. You told her because she was lucky, and she deserved to know that.

"You know, I used to be jealous of you," you said. The brunette looked up from her food, brows furrowed while your eyes were still trained on the door that Prim had just left from.

"Jealous of me?" She echoed, confusion lacing her voice. A ghost of a smile grew on your face.

You're lucky, you know.

How so?

"You have a family that really loves you, that beautiful sister of yours. At the time, I would've killed to feel a love like that, a love so unconditional." You thought of their mother and your smile widened ever so slightly. She may not have been mother of the year, but she was there. And, really, that's all you ever wanted. That's all anyone could ever ask for. "My mom was, uh... she was never really like that, I guess." You chuckled a bit. "And you already know how our relationship ended up."

The room was silent. The sound of the vent lightly thudding in the background was the only thing you could hear, accompanied by your song. Sometimes, around Katniss, the song got quieter.

And sometimes, around her, it got louder.

After a moment, she spoke. "You have that, Y/N."

Not expecting her to have responded, you turned to her, meeting her eyes staring at you intently. "Hm?"

"An unconditional love," she repeated, her eyes soft as if she were afraid of setting you off. "You have that."

At her words, the smile on your face dimmed. Finnick.

You're my world, Y/N.

You blinked the memories away, trying your best to ignore his face flashing beneath your eyes every time you did so. It was surreal, almost, to think that it was his eyes were what kept you anchored while you were in the Capitol.

And now his eyes kept you anchored as you tried to swim away.

You sighed. Katniss was still so young. She didn't live the victor's life long enough to understand, and you were glad she didn't. There were some things that she never had to experience, things she never had to know, things about you that she couldn't conceptualize, so you tried to put it all into words.

Even though you knew that no words could ever convey what you'd been through.

"I can see why you'd think that, Girl on Fire, but Finnick and I were never... fireworks."

"He told me."

Your head shot up at her reply. You waited for her to add something more, to say she was joking, but the punchline never came. Your breath got caught in your throat. "He told you?"

She hesitated, looking half like she regretting saying anything. "He told me about how you guys started." She paused, letting your thoughts run wild, memories swimming through your brain the same way you used to swim through district 4 waters. 

Can we- can we just be together tonight?

"He loves you, Y/N."

What do you mean? We are together.

No, I mean- can I- I want to hold you.

A small, humourless laugh left you, the same laugh you held back when you met young kids, telling you they wished they could have a love like that. You held back the laugh and the tears and didn't tell them that they should be saving their wishes for something better.

The Prince and Princess of Panem.

If only the kingdom knew that this story didn't end in happily ever after.

If only they knew this wasn't a love story at all.

"No." You looked back up at her, smiling bitterly. "No, he doesn't, Katniss. I'm sorry our act was so good that it actually fooled you." It almost fooled me, too, you thought. But you'd been dancing long enough now to know better.

Y/N, I swear to you on everything I believe in that I'm telling you the truth.

It's impossible.

I l-

"It wasn't an act," Katniss cut your thoughts off, latching onto your hand tightly. You resisted the flinch. "I could tell you loved each other—anyone could."

Her eyes were desperate, and you couldn't figure out why. For some reason, she believed in what she was saying. She believed in this love, this love that did not exist, but why wouldn't she? Nobody knew what happened behind closed doors. Nobody knew that you and Finnick only started dating to try and save yourselves from the something that was something bigger than you. Nobody knew that he called out to Annie when he had nightmares.

You weren't even sure that he knew it himself. 

"You underestimate Finnick's acting capabilities," you said, suddenly wishing you had a drink in your hand.

She was quick to reply. "You underestimate how much he cares about you." 

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The look on her face... she almost looked offended, appalled that you didn't agree with her. At the same time, she looked like she knew something you didn't.

But you knew a mountain of things that she didn't, that nobody knew.

So you didn't respond, opting to continue eating your food, pretending that this conversation never started. Pretending, pretending, pretending...

Katniss looked at you for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, before she looked back down at her food, too.

Eventually, you got up and headed for the training centre, conversation forgotten.

And she never mentioned it again.

You were walking down the halls when you saw her. You had just been to see Coin; she told you no, that you and Katniss wouldn't be going to the Capitol.

Part of you was angry. How dare she tell you that you couldn't do this? How dare she say no after all you'd been through? This was your fight. It was your right.

But the other part of you was amused.

Maybe it was going through The Hunger Games twice, or maybe it was just every other fucked up thing that'd happened to you in life, but you found her funny. It was laughable that she thought she could tell you what to do; you'd respect her for everything else, but not this. She couldn't tell you what to do about this.

You were going to kill President Snow with your own sword.

And nobody was going to be able to stop you.

That was the thought running through your head when you turned a corner, and suddenly you were face to face with a redhead you hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime ago.

Why would you do that for me? It was supposed to be me. Supposed to be me, supposed to me, supposed to be me.

Annie.

She stopped in her tracks, eyes going wide. She looked like she hadn't aged a day.

So why did it feel like you hadn't seen her in years?

Why did it feel like you were avoiding her?

Before you could answer your own questions, you felt arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly. Your body went stiff. It's Annie, you told yourself. So, after a few seconds, you hugged her back just as tightly. 

This was your friend. This was the woman you volunteered for. And more importantly, this was your soulmate's other half. 

This was Annie.

You heard her sniffling as she pulled back, voice cracking. "I've missed you so much. We've missed you so much, Y/N." We.

We.

You didn't know how to respond, so you did what you did best. You didn't say anything, just pulling her in for another hug. You blinked away the tears threatening to well in your eyes.

And Annie didn't know this. You may never grow the courage to say it out loud. But even though seeing her broke something in you, right now, she was helping you more than you're sure you ever helped her.

After seeing Annie, you spent the rest of the day together. For a day, you forgot about Coin, and Snow, and the revolution all together. You forgot you were the Princess. You forgot that this was the woman Finnick was in love with. For a day, you were just with your old friend.

You shared memories of district 4 together, ignoring the fact that it was all rubble now. You talked about her art, how she'd had so much time to create in 13. Part of you envied that, but the other part was just proud and happy for her.

She'd come a long way from the girl crying in your living room, inconsolable and repeating the same words over and over again. Her cheeks looked fuller and there was this light in her eyes that you never thought you'd see again.

You were enjoying yourselves.

Until she said it, and your bubble broke.

"I met someone."

At first, it didn't really register, and then your breath suddenly halted, but Annie was none the wiser to your state of shock, smiling and staring off.

"He's- he's perfect. He's everything." She looked back at you, her eyes twinkling. "I'm in love. Oh, I'm so in love with him."

In love.

With someone else.

You half-composed yourself, stuttering, "W-with who?"

"His name's Julian," she told you. "He's from 12. And I know I haven't known him that long, but Y/N, he's the one." She brought her hand out in front of you, letting you see a ring you hadn't seen before. And now, you were sure that your heart stopped. "He proposed. And I said yes!" she squealed.

You couldn't breathe.

Music filled your ears.

Annie was getting married.

And it wasn't to Finnick.

You realized you'd been quiet too long and mustered up some sort of smile. "Annie, that's- that's incredible. I'm-" shocked "so happy for you."

She was so delighted that she didn't notice your demeanour, grabbing onto your hand. "Y/N, I want you to be my maid of honour." What? She continued, "And Finnick's gonna be Julian's best man. I want both of my best friends up there with me."

You couldn't breathe.

But you responded, nonetheless, because your problems didn't matter. What you felt didn't matter. This was about Annie.

You plastered on a smile and lied, "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

Annie clapped and then went on and on about the wedding as the music just got louder and louder.

You're my world, Y/N, echoed in your ears.

Little did Annie know, your world just came crashing down.

You paced through the halls of 13 aimlessly, even though a part of you knew where you were going. Music thumped loudly in your ears, and even if you had no destination, your mind was only dancing to that music.

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing-

You ran a hand through your hair, heart rate speeding up. You didn't know what to think. 

There was a perfectly crafted image of what you and Finnick were in your head—and that image was nothing. You were nothing. You were "together" out of obligation, to protect your families. And now that your mother was dead and his family was safe, none of that mattered anymore. The picture was ripped to shreds and the frame had shattered to pieces. 

This image was sometimes foggy, and sometimes you may have gotten confused, but through all the smoke and confusion, you still knew what this was. It was all a part of the game, a game with no referees but a guarantee in death if you didn't play right.

And if your punishment wasn't death, then you'd wish it was.

You knew that better than anyone else.

But now, now Annie had taken all those shredded pieces and put them together without even knowing it, creating a picture that you didn't know how to interpret.

You didn't understand.

You saw the way he looked at Annie—you saw it the moment you met her.

Rapid knocks hit your door as you were fixing up boxes upstairs. You'd just moved in with Finnick and were organizing your things. You raised a brow, putting a box down and heading downstairs.

The knocks continued up until you opened the door. A girl with red hair and porcelain white skin stood on the other side, a pretty smile on her face. Your confusion only grew. This girl looked like she couldn't be any older than 16.

What was a pretty teenager doing at your door?

She spoke like she was reading your thoughts. "Hi! I'm Annie." You were taken aback by her bubbliness as she held her hand out for you to shake it. You looked down, scanning it before deciding on taking it just to be polite.

"I'm-"

"Y/N." She cut you off, then sheepishly pulled her hand back. "I- sorry, I just- everybody knows who you are."

You intook a sharp breath, doing your best to smile and thwart her comment. Everybody did know who you were—you needed no reminder about that.

She kept talking. "And you're, uh, you're Finnick's-"

"Annie?"

You turned to see Finnick walking up to the door, wiping his hands with a towel. He must've been in the kitchen, you thought.

Her nervous ramblings stopped as her smile widened. "Hey." She glanced back at you, brows wiggling. "I just met the girl." 

"Oh, uh- yeah." He awkwardly cut himself off, coming to stand next to you. And your confusion just heightened.

Annie held something out in her other hand that you hadn't noticed before. "Your watch," she explained. "You left it the other day."

His watch?

"Oh, thanks." He took it from her grasp, and you watched as their fingers brushed. And then you looked up at his face and saw a sparkle in his eyes.

It was almost unrecognizable. No one had ever looked at you that way.

But you knew what it was.

And that's because you were starting to look at him that way.

They continued talking but you had tuned them out by that point, dull music ringing in your ears.

You should've known better.

Of course, there was a girl. A girl who was sweet, kind, and pretty. A girl who was nothing like you. 

The girl Finnick loved.

He said something to you, asking if he could walk her home. You just nodded. It wasn't a question, no matter how he phrased it.

Annie said goodbye to you and then you watched as they walked out the door, almost forgetting to shut it behind them.

You put a hand on your chest, something akin to a laugh leaving you.

Someone had told you that you were heartless once.

That was funny.

Because, at that moment, you felt your heart hurting just fine.

The memory made your eyes foggy and your breathing irregular. You were hyperventilating.

If Annie was getting married, then what was that? What was that memory? What were all the looks, smiles, and sleepless nights? What were the past eight years for?

What the fuck did any of that mean? What was that supposed to mean to you?

Was he letting her get away— after everything?

Another part of your brain whispered, what if he never had her in the first place?

No. No.

You changed course, walking to the training room. You weren't going to think about this anymore. Thinking about this only made your head spin, spinning the record faster.

If that record spun any faster, it just might break. 

And you had no idea what'd happen then.

Soldiers filed out of the room you stood in front of, each saluting you as they went. You gave a nod back, resisting the urge to say something. You knew that, no matter what you said, they were still going to treat you like royalty.

It was better than your treatment in the Capitol, you supposed.

But, to the better part of you, this treatment was just a stain reminding you of the blood shed.

Plutarch stood at the end of the soldiers' line, ushering you inside. "Princess," he greeted, putting his hand on your back.

You ignored the disgusted shiver that went down your spine, greeting him back. "Heavensbee." You glanced at the greying woman seated at the long table. "Madam President."

"Y/N." She got up, shaking your hand. "Lovely to see that you're doing well."

You gave her somewhat of a smile, or at least hoped that you did, but didn't say anything.

The three of you sat down after the unpleasant exchange of pleasantries. You would ask where Katniss was, but she already told you that she'd be going to see Peeta. You didn't ask to come with her.

Not yet.

Besides, you knew that she needed this. They needed to talk.

You didn't know what happened when you guys came back, what happened between them, nor did you fully know what they did to him in the Capitol, but if it was anything like what they did to you, then it was bad.

Coin's voice broke through your thoughts. "I think the only thing left to say... is thank you."

You looked up at her, spotting the look on her face and realizing that you weren't going to like the rest of this conversation. "I need to be in the Capitol," you stated, adding, "Katniss and I."

Coin was shaking her head before you even finished your sentence. "No, you have done your job. You've been very successf-"

"There is no such thing as success until Snow is dead." At my hands.

Alma pursed her lips, no doubt at the fact that you interrupted her. You'd apologize, but you really didn't have the time or energy to care about that right now. You'd been apologizing for your presence for years, respecting every Alma Coin or Capitol resident that came along. 

You were done.

"And that will happen," she affirmed. "But you need not worry about any of it." You opened your mouth, but she kept going. "You've helped unify the districts in a very short amount of time, for which I thank you, but now we just want you to rest. And to heal."

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She was pushing you aside.

"The last the rebels saw me, I was lying on the ground with a bullet in my chest."

Plutarch took your attention. "Y/N, we won't let this momentum go to waste. We'll shoot more propos, right here in 13, showing them that you're alive."

"No, I should be down with the troops-"

"It'll be like being on the front lines-"

Coin interjected, "As far as the soldiers know, you survived a bullet to the heart." Her voice was earnest, but if you knew any better, which you did, then you knew to look past her voice to the calculation in her eyes. "I think they'll understand why you're not with them."

You held back a scoff. "And Katniss? What's the excuse for her?"

Coin's resolve only hardened, a smile appearing on her face, a smile you didn't like. "Look, Y/N, when we win this war, we'll fly you both in for the surrender. We'll need you for the ceremony." She paused, nodding to herself. "You're very valuable to us."

Valuable.

Like an artifact.

You thought of saying something but thought better of it, hiding your true thoughts like it was second nature to you—and it was. You nodded, smiling back at her. "Well, whatever it is you need me to do, I'll do it." The lies flowed from your lips smooth as honey.

You got up, shaking her hand once more and bidding your farewell to the both of them. As you left the room, the thousands of things that'd been on your mind left and only one thought remained.

You were gonna watch Snow take his last breath, and you'd be the one to have taken it from him.

No matter what.

Annie's wedding came faster than light, making you break your promise to yourself not to think about it. With Finnick across from you on the stage, it was impossible not to think about it.

You could feel his gaze burning into you, but you ignored it—at least, that's what it looked like to him. To you, you weren't ignoring anything. To you, he was at the forefront of your mind.

Hell, even as Annie walked down the aisle, Finnick was all you could think about. Your relationship, or lack thereof, was all you could think about. The day you met, the nights in the Capitol together, the days when you lost a tribute, the dinners, the nights you slept together, the times he'd kiss you without a camera in sight, the way he calmed you down during the Quell— your whole life together.

SImultaneously, the stolen glances at Annie flashed through your mind, too. The way he'd call her name as he slept, the way he fell apart when her name was called in the Reaping, the way he broke down with her in your living room, the way he'd kiss you for the cameras and then go to see her later that day.

What were you supposed to make of that?

A part of you thought it was comical. There was an entire revolution happening, the weight of the crown and Panem on your shoulders, but with just the simplest thought of Finnick, all of that dissipated into thin air and got magnified at the same time.

He had the type of power over you that a shepherd had over his sheep.

Did he know that?

Annie's voice sounded, breaking you from your trance. "From this day forth, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. I promise to love and cherish you each day."

You looked towards them, seeing her hands intertwined with the boy's, sincere smiles on both of their faces and love-crazed looks in their eyes. They looked at each other like it was just them in the room. "I, Julian Cinder, take you, Annie Cresta, as my wife from this day forth," he proclaimed, quiet resolution in his voice. "Whatever happens from this point onward, together or apart, we will always be united. One life, one purpose, one destiny."

"You may kiss the bride," the officiator told him. Julian didn't need to be told twice, reaching downward for Annie's lips immediately, kissing her gently. 

Applause overtook the room. You wiped at a tear underneath your eye before joining them, clapping and forcing a smile. 

You were happy, you were so happy that Annie was in love and that the boy she was in love with loved her just as much. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you were crying out of happiness.

Your tears weren't happy tears. 

Julian's vows were beautiful. The love that they shared was more beautiful than any painting you had ever seen, any song you had ever heard, any place you'd ever been to. And it was real.

It was beautiful.

But it was more beautiful and real than anything you'd ever get to experience.

As the reception started, you didn't stay long to watch the newlyweds' first dance. Music started playing, but it did nothing to silence the music already playing in your head.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one leaving the wedding early.

Your heels clicked rapidly against the floors, silent footsteps following you. You had just made it to the hallway your room was in when you were spun around.

Like a reflex, you automatically brought your fists up without even thinking, about to swing when you saw the perpetrator.

Finnick.

You lowered your fists, bringing one hand to your chest and breathing heavy. You couldn't tell if your reaction was from being touched or from being touched by him.

He held his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth, but you weren't letting this happen again. Not during these times, not today, not now. Maybe not ever.

You couldn't.

You went to turn, but this time, as if he'd learned from last time, his hand latched onto your arm. Your heart rate sped up, and suddenly, there was a pit in your stomach.

Was it butterflies?

Or was it fear?

You tried pulling away your arm, but his hold was like steel, unrelenting. "Y/N, we need to talk-"

"No." You refused to meet his eyes, pulling your arm harder, seemingly for no reason.

"I need to talk to you."

You shook your head. "No. We-"��Fuck. "We have nothing to talk about."

"Yes, we do-"

"No, we don't." Water built in your eyes. "I have nothing to say to you." Liar.

"Y/N-"

"Stop it."

"We need to-"

You exploded. "You let her get away!" You looked up at him, and just like that, the dam in your eyes broke. Because the look on his face split your heart in two. "You-" your voice cracked "you let her get away."

Finnick went silent. His hold loosened, but you didn't notice. You didn't even notice the tears in his eyes. 

His voice was no louder than a whisper. "Y/N-"

You cut him off. He wanted to talk, so you would talk. You had enough things to talk about that it'd make your voice go hoarse, enough words stuck inside to you to fill scrolls and still have something left to say. "A-After everything, you just let her go- just like that."

"Y/N, baby, please-"

"Why," you asked, but your words sounded nothing like a question—and they weren't. You were demanding the truth, not asking for it. You wanted to know why. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you."

Your breath was knocked out of your chest. 

And for the first time since the Quell, the first time since you met Finnick—the first time since when you won The Hunger Games, the music stopped entirely.

And then it picked back up like it never did before. 

The music was loud, swirling around you like mist, like you could feel it, like it was pushing you to dance as your feet were glued to the floor. Finnick just stood there, staring at you helplessly. He said it so quickly that you almost thought he didn't think about it—did he? Did he think about his words before he said them? Did he think about the words that had the power to break you and build you up?

Did he think about the words that made you feel like you were alive and dying all at the same time?

Three months ago, you would've been overjoyed to hear him say that—to hear him say anything like that. But now it just felt cruel.

So your response was like nothing you would've ever imagined.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Finnick's face dropped. A part of you, the part of you that got butterflies when he said what he said, felt bad. That part of you felt terrible. That part of you wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and for him to love you.

But the other part of you had learned that Finnick being happy and loving you did not exist in the same universe. The other part of you wanted to make him happy but had already accepted that love was not in the picture. This other part of you would go to great lengths to make him happy, like volunteering for deadly games and adding gasoline to the fire that was this revolution. But this part of you refused to pretend anymore.

You weren't going to play anyone's games anymore.

Nothing like the Finnick you once knew, he stammered, "I- I said I love you."

You scoffed. "Love? You think you love me?" 

His eyes narrowed, like he was getting angry. "Yes, Y/N, I love you."

Your eyes hardened, tears no longer falling. "Oh, is that what this is? Are we in love now?" He opened his mouth to speak but your sudden laughter cut him off.

Someone told you that you were heartless once.

Wasn't that funny?

You went on, "So, the sleepless nights I had, waiting for you to get home—was that love?" You stepped closer to him. "The nights when I knew you were with her, the nights you'd hold onto me and I could still smell her, the nights when you called. out. for her in your fucking. sleep.—is that love, Finnick?" You paused, laughing again like you were crazy, and maybe you were. "I didn't even know that we were in a relationship, let alone in love."

He shook his head rapidly with conviction, looking like you had just stabbed him. "No- no, I was never with her, not like that-"

"Oh, of course not-"

"You're talking about it like it was all bad! It- it wasn't, I- I fell in love with you, Y/N." He moved his hand up from your wrist to grasp your hand, picking up the other one and holding it, too. And for some reason, you let him. "What about the nights we spent together, the days in, the dinners, the last eight years-" he cut himself off, breathing heavily and staring into your eyes. "You can't tell me that we weren't in love."

Finnick's blue eyes were like a whirpool, sucking you in yet again. He looked like he truly believed in what he saying, so much so that you almost believed it, too. You wanted to. You wanted nothing more than to believe that your time together meant something, that he felt the same way you did. 

If you were still that same woman, you would've believed it. But even she was a swimmer.

You were not going to be sucked into his whirlpool. Not again.

Not after it tore you apart last time.

You snapped, "It was fake! All of it was fake!" You held back onto his hands, tightening your grip. Finnick's eyes may have been a whirlpool, but yours were a storm. "I remember that; it was my idea. And I am sorry- I am so sorry for the years I have stolen from you, but I had people to protect back then" mom "and I don't anymore." You stepped closer to him, if that was even physically possible. "Don't you get it? I have lost everything. But I never lost you." You shook off his hands, and even as such anger coursed through you, a tear raced down your cheek. "You can't lose something you never had in the first place."

Finnick recoiled. For a moment, he looked sick until he regained composure, reaching for your hands again but you quickly stepped back. "Y/N-"

"You know, you're half right, though." A humourless smile came to your face. "We may have never been in love, but I know that I was." And I still am.

Without waiting for him to respond or giving him the opportunity to suck you in again, you turned and quickly went into your room, locking the door as soon as it closed.

You ran for the toilet, expecting vomit to rise. You sat there, waiting for it come, but nothing came up. Suddenly, you errupted into laughter, the kind of laugh that made your stomach hurt, and then those laughs slowly turned into loud sobs, tears running down your cheeks.

You're fuckin' heartless, 4.

Oh, how funny that was.

Maybe they were finally right. Maybe you were heartless now.

Because your heart had just been ripped out of your chest.

You didn't leave your room the rest of the day, except to congratulate Annie and go to the training room later at night. Katniss met you there, dull. You didn't ask her what happened, and she didn't ask you, either. You sparred and pretended that the last few hours didn't happen, that Finnick didn't let the woman he loved get away, that he didn't say what he said.

You already cried to yourself for hours. You didn't need to reflect on it anymore.

You were fine.

"No, you hold it with both pointers facing outward, like a bat." You corrected the position of Katniss' hands on the sword. She may have had a gift for the bow, but anyone with eyes could see that, that wasn't the case for swordsmanship. My God, she's helpless.

She scoffed, "You're acting like I'm inept. I can wield a sword just as well as you can shoot an arrow."

"Sureeee."

Katniss rolled her eyes but continued doing what you were telling her to do. She said she was curious. Little did you know, curious meant terrible.

Once her hands were in position and she was holding properly, she took a swing. You held back the urge to wince. She wasn't that bad, but it was pretty damn bad. "No, see- you can't swing like that. Way too slow, not enough force—have you seriously never wielded a sword before?" You grabbed one, holding up it and demonstrating. "You swing like this. If you swing the way you're swinging, then you're not gonna be able to slice anything."

"C'mon, this'd knock someone down."

"Well, the goal isn't to knock someone down; it's to kill them on impact."

"What, so you went into your Games with the mindset that you'd just kill immediately?"

You intook a breath, your bubble of pretend breaking. No, that wasn't what you went into your Games thinking at all. After a moment, you responded, "No." Pause. "I actually didn't think I stood a chance." Katniss went silent, but for some reason, you kept talking, eyes on the wall. "I would've been the youngest that year, but um... Bay was younger than me. And he wanted a longer life, a better life, so I fought for him. It was him and my mom." And now they're both dead. You cleared your throat, turning back to look at her and faking a smile. "So I decided ruthlessness was the only way to survive in there. And then when I got out, it wasn't ruthlessness that kept me alive; it was being royalty." You chuckled.

Never would you have ever imagined this being your life when you were younger, that you'd be Princess. But here you were, alive and well.

Or at least as well as you could be in your position.

Some had it worse.

You were fine.

You turned, about to move on and keep going when Katniss' voice broke the silence. "Aren't you tired?" You turned your head back to her to see the sword hanging from her hands, a look of exhaustion hiding behind her seemingly empty eyes, despair in her undertone. "'Cause I am. I don't know about much anymore, but I know that I am tired."

You stared at her, this time really looking at her. It was so easy to forget how young she was, that she was practically still a child. You supposed that a victor just grew into their role.

You did.

You were just fifteen.

After a moment, you lifted the corners of your lips as best as you could, trying to genuinely give her a smile, even if you could barely bring yourself to. "I am tired, Katniss," you affirmed. Despite the contrasting look on your face and the feeling in your heart, you didn't feel tears form, not for this; you had accepted this by now, and as wrong as it was, she needed to, too. "But it is not ours to be tired."

You turned around, not turning back this time until you'd replaced your sword for a bow. You turned back, switching Katniss', too. "Here," you said. "Let's switch back to the archery since you're shit with the swords."

She looked at you for what felt like forever but was really only a few seconds. And in those few seconds, the illegible book that was Katniss Everdeen became crystal clear, scibbled writing turning to print. A million emotions ran through her eyes: exhaustion, anger, devastation. But a single emotion rose above all, and you knew this because you lived it: the thirst for blood—a thirst that could only be quenched once you accepted that you were thirsty at all.

Finally, she looked away, nodding. "Okay." She looked back up. "But I'm not shit at anything."

A breath left you, like a weight that'd been lifted off your shoulders. You were back to normal. "Whatever you say, Everdeen."

And then, just like that, you resumed, and everything was fine again.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it never was.

But that wasn't the point.

In this reality, if you said something was nothing, then it was. If you were supposed to be the Princess and lead a revolution, then that's what you were going to do. If you said you were fine, then you were fine.

Weren't you?

Whatever you say.

You and Katniss retired to your rooms after a few rounds of shooting and one round of sparring. You made it all the way to your door, but never opened it. Your feet kept moving, moving past your room and all the others until you made it to the nuclear weaponry.

You weren't going back to your tonight.

Or ever.

They were shipping supplies to the Capitol tonight from hangar 2. This was your window. Coin didn't want you in the Capitol on the frontlines, but that was exactly where you needed to be. You couldn't let someone else fight your fight. You needed to do this.

You'd said your goodbyes. You just saw Katniss, and though Johanna may not have directly said it, she knew you were leaving, too. She was the one who even told you they were leaving tonight. Peeta was getting better; he wasn't totally there yet, but he was getting there. Annie was happy, finally happy, living the life of her dreams amongst the nightmare you all lived in. Everyone was accounted for.

And Finnick... well, you'd said goodbye to him, too.

It was time.

You crept past any guards with ease, only stopping to pick up your go bag. Like a snake, you made your way through the many bombs and missiles, ignoring the fact that there was a metaphor in there somewhere. Just as the hovercraft opening was closing, you jumped in, rolling on impact.

Once the door closed, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Boxes and cargo filled the room, but it was otherwise empty. You let go of a breath you didn't even know you were holding. You were in the clear.

Might as well settle down, you thought. It was a long way from 13 to the Capitol.

You sat down in a corner, despite having the place to yourself, and brought your knees up to your chest, momentarily closing your eyes. You weren't gonna get much rest in the next few days, but you couldn't sleep now and risk not waking up. Yes, you were tired.

But tired was not a possession that someone like you could own.

You opened your eyes, opting to distract yourself by looking through your bag. 

You were lucky Katniss didn't question the absence of your sword in the training room earlier, nor did she notice that some of your shared arrows were missing along with your crossbow. That was because everything you needed was in the bag: weapons, gadgets, and clothing. But none of that was of any real importance to you.

What you pulled out wasn't one of the many pristine articles in the bag. It was damaged. The paper felt delicate in your hands, fragile. It was peeling, ripped around the edges, but maybe that was just because you brought it with you everywhere.

A photograph.

A photograph of yourself when you were younger. Before your father died. Beforen your mother went crazy. Before your name was pulled in the Reaping. Before you killed ruthlessly to survive just to end up wanting to die, anyway. Before you met a boy that made you want to live.

You were still a child here. Your smile was real, tugging at your full cheeks. You don't remember the exact day this was taken, but you remember that you were happy.

Tears threatened to reach your eyes, but you blinked them away. You used to pull out this photo to make yourself feel better, but now it seemed to have the opposite effect. Now, it just reminded you of everything that you'd lost.

But that was the point.

You didn't pull it out to cheer yourself up anymore. You pulled it out for that reminder, to remind yourself what you were fighting for. 

Your childhood was stolen from you. Every good thing you could've possibly ever had was ripped away from you, all because of who you happened to become, all because of the world you happened to live in.

You'd be damned if you'd let another child go through what you went through.

If you had your way, no child would ever go through that again.

And you would have your way.

No matter what.

It wasn't long enough before you felt the hovercraft lowering, the pop in your ears telling you that you were landing. It wasn't really noticeable. You'd felt worse pains in your life.

You peeked your head out as the door opened, quickly turning back and intaking a shaky breath. It was a full crowd out there, and you could bet your ass there'd be cameras.

"It's okay," you murmured. "You can do this." You'd been through two Games, forced sex work, and President Snow's personal torture. A crowd was the least of your worries. 

However, this time was different. This time, you weren't gonna walk out there with a smile. You weren't gonna twirl or make your sleeves go up in flames. You weren't gonna dazzle anybody.

No.

This was real.

This wasn't a show anymore. It was still a game—a different game, but a game, nonetheless, and you were nothing if not a great player.

You could remember your first Games like they were yesterday.

"You're fuckin' heartless, 4."

You laughed. "Oh, am I?" You swung at the boy's torso with your sword as he narrowly dodged it. "That's not what the papers are saying," swing, "are they?"

The boy and you danced around each other in a circle, danced, and danced, and danced, but only one of you would walk away singing. 

"You killed her," he spat at you, anger and desire shining in his eyes—the desire for revenge. "You killed Myrto."

You scoffed, "What, was that 6's female tribute? Be glad I made it quick." You swung again, this time cutting flesh, resulting in a hiss.

You were acting. Dancing. You knew Myrto's name and you knew she was from 6. You knew the names of everyone in the arena, but pretending not to made it easier. Pretending you didn't see Myrto hug the boy in front of you when you were at the Capitol made it easier when you snapped her neck.

Myrto and Spyros, 6's promising tributes. They were close. But he shouldn't have let her go off alone. He shouldn't have let you do that, even if you were doing her a service. Nobody in here would've given her as quick of a death as you did; many wouldn't have cared about the light in her eyes. Despite Spyros' words, there were many that were more heartless than you.

Or so you told yourself.

He swung back at you as you sidestepped, countering with a swing of your own, metal hitting metal. He looked you dead in the eye. "She was scared of you. She saw you kill that guy with your bare hands and was terrified the same would happen to her."

You leaned in, sneering in his face, "That guy came at me first, and then he touched Bay. You don't touch what's mine."

"And what? The crown is yours now, too?"

"Yes." Without another second to waste, you lifted your sword and plunged it into Spyros' stomach before he could blink. His sword slipped through this fingers in shock. A flicker of remorse flashed through your eyes. "No hard feelings, but I need to go home."

You ripped your sword from his skin, looking away andletting him fall to the ground. A few moments later, the cannon sounded ,and you knew he was dead. 

A sigh left your lips. Twenty-two down.

One to go.

You shook yourself out of your reverie, shaking your head as if you could still feel the blood on your skin. Blood seemed to consume your thoughts. Theirs. Yours.

No more.

"No more innocent blood," you whispered to yourself. It was funny, almost. You could remember wanting to win so badly, and then as soon as you got out, you wished you let Spyros kill you. If you did, you wouldn't be living with this guilt. You would've never been sold, you would've never gone through what you went through at the Capitol. And you would've never met Finnick, either.

But you couldn't decide if that's really what you wanted.

With one more deep breath, you walked out of the hovercraft, dragging your feet that felt like boulders and forcing yourself to go forward. The cold air of the Capitol hit you like nothing else, as if knives were biting into your skin, but you'd felt worse.

No one recognized you immediately, but soon, murmurs followed. You kept your eyes on the ground. "That's her," someone whispered. "That's the Princess."

Eventually, the crowd went silent and so you looked up, being met with every face in the area. All eyes were on you.

They were rigid, like statues, until one person got down on one knee. Your eyes darted over to him. Even from so far away, you could see his eyes. You saw admiration, respect, and gratitude, but most of all, you saw hope. He bent his head down, bowing. Suddenly, everyone followed. Men, women, and children collectively got down and bowed.

For you.

Your breath was taken away. You didn't know how to respond, but whatever words you were going to say died on your tongue when Boggs came into your line of sight. 

"Y/N," he greeted, the slightest bit of surprise lacing his stoic voice. "President Coin didn't tell me you'd be meeting us."

"I know," you said, and you said nothing further than that.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but after a second, Boggs nodded, softly telling you, "Come on." You followed him wordlessly, meeting Commander Paylor again before she went up on stage.

She was a good speaker, that you could tell, but you weren't truly listening. The crowd clapped and cheered but you were motionless. You could feel Boggs' eyes burning into the side of your head. He must've thought you were crazy, and maybe you were. 

You were fixated on the one thing you'd wanted more than anything else, so it was a bit difficult to pay attention to speeches, no matter how good they were.

After Paylor's speech, you followed Boggs out of the area to where you were stationed. Now that he found you, it only made sense that you'd work together. You could use the ammo, anyway.

You got to your post, still not really focused on anything, but then all of your distraction flew out the window when you saw a head of brown hair, not in a braid but in a ponytail just as similar.

Katniss.

So you weren't the only one with the idea of sneaking out.

"Great minds really do think alike, don't they?"

At the sound of your voice, Katniss turned around and a smile graced her face, and this was one of the few times you'd ever seen the sight. "Y/N," she breathed, and in three strides, she was embracing you in her arms.

You tensed but soon reciprocated the hug, basking in the irony that you once thought you'd never befriend this girl. Yet, now, she was the only one who stood by your side.

You hugged for a few seconds before letting go—both of you could only handle so much affection—but she held onto your shoulders. The smile was still there, but it had dissipated. It wasn't so bright anymore. 

She nodded towards a tent, and you nodded in response.

You needed to talk.

Katniss led you into an empty tent and you both sat down. The time for pleasantries had passed—the gun on your hip and the sword hitting your leg had reminded you of that.

Out of habit, you glanced around the small tent. There wasn't much except for the little she'd laid out, along with her bag, stuffed with food. You nodded to it. "That's more food than I've ever seen you eat before."

She barely looked up. "Tryin' to be prepared-"

You cut her off, humming. "C'mon, Katniss." You shook your head. "Don't insult me."

Finnick was hard to get a read on these days. Johanna wasn't the same, and Peeta barely showed emotion. But if you knew anyone, it was Katniss. You were Katniss. So you already knew what she was planning.

After all, it was the same plan you had.

She finally looked up at you. "I'm gonna be fine, Y/N."

"Of course, you are," you affirmed. "'Cause I'm coming with you."

She sighed, "Y/N-"

"Be smart, Katniss. If you're going off alone, you need backup." You left out the fact that your plan involved no backup, either. "Besides," you added, "you know I want this just as bad as you." Maybe even more.

She stared at you for a few seconds after that, maybe a minute, before she eventually nodded. A sigh of relief left you, but before you could get anything else out, your names were being called.

"Y/L/N, Everdeen." Your eyes went to the woman outside of your tent. "Come meet your new unit."

You got up, crouching under the tiny tent opening and walking out until you were with everyone else, the woman who called you right in front of you. She sized you up with a stony expression.

"I'm Lieutenant Jackson," she introduced herself. Her voice was as emotionless as her face, though you recognized a hint of irritation in her eyes. "And I want to introduce you to your squad." She pointed to each person as she went. "This is Second Lieutenant Mitchell, best sharpshooter in Panem. These are the Leeg sisters, first combat division. And this is Corporal Homes."

You nodded to each of them in greeting, even though Homes and you had already met. Jackson introduced all of them to you, but not you to them; though, you supposed it was unnecessary. By now, everyone in Panem knew your face.

You went to say something, but as a familiar face came into view, you forgot whatever it was in a heartbeat.

Finnick.

Katniss' words echoed your thoughts. She left your side and made her way over to him, but you were frozen in your spot. "Are you with us?" she questioned, her back turned to you but her smile audible in her voice. 

"Looks like it," he responded, wrapping his arms around her. You looked away, feeling the phantom sensation of his arms around you, your feet stepping synchronously with the song that was back playing in your ears.

Love? You think you love me?

Yes, Y/N, I love you.

Involuntarily, your eyes travelled back to them only to see blue eyes already pointed your way. Your mind shouted at you to look away, but your eyes couldn't follow the instruction. This was your first time looking at him without tears filling your eyes.

And, God, was he beautiful.

Was it his face that shocked you or was it his presence? Was it your history or the chapter you were in right now? Did it matter?

All of the questions you had went unanswered as Boggs entered the canopy. "Gather round," he ordered, forcing you to peel your eyes away. Your unfortunate love affair would have to wait.

If you could even call it that.

"Squad 451, you're my unit." He looked around at you, the so-called 'best of the best.' And while you were the best, in many ways, you weren't truly put together because of your skills. Katniss had a way with a bow, and you and Gale were next in line in that area. Finnick and you had both mastered close combat. Mitchell was a sharpshooter, and everyone else had miles of experience. But that still wasn't why you were chosen.

He continued, voicing what you already knew. "Each one of you is elite in some form of combat. But we are a non-combat unit, so we'll be following days behind the frontline troops." Katniss and you shared a brief glance.

"You're to be the onscreen faces of invasion. The Star Squad," a woman declared, arms crossed. Cressida, you think her name was. You met her in the Capitol once. She was almost gonna direct a show for you and Finnick, and you thank the heavens every day that it never happened. "It's been decided that you're the most effective when seen by the masses."

It appeared that you and Everdeen weren't the only ones with qualms about this regime. "So we're not gonna fight?" Gale spoke up.

Boggs' reply was swift and prepared. "You'll do whatever you're ordered to do, soldier. It's not your job to ask questions."

He held his tongue and nodded, an affirmation leaving his lips, respectful but clearly reluctant. And why wouldn't he be? You were fighters—all of you. Kids thrown into the arena or the streets. This wasn't about pride, though, so you understood the establishment's point of view on this one.

But it wasn't about pride for you.

It was about revenge.

"Our instructions are to shoot propaganda footage on the battle-scarred streets of the Capitol." Boggs went on to explain that, even though you were a propo team, you were still in the middle of a war zone. "It is likely that we'll encounter both active pods and Peacekeepers." He paused. "You're considered high-value targets to the Capitol." His eyes momentarily darted over to you, making you stiffen. "In the event of capture, you'll be given a nightlock pill." Another pause. "A poison that acts immediately."

You felt Katniss' eyes on you as Jackson passed the pills around, the glare of scissors flashing through your mind, beautiful scissors that never got to kiss your skin.

My hair. It's- I want to cut my hair.

I'll help you.

You took the pill and stowed it away, ignoring her stare. You were thankful for her interruption that day in the bathroom, but you'd gone this far without mentioning it and you'd go a lot farther in the same state. 

As far as you were concerned, that day never happened.

You're not suicidal, your brain whispered, and you vehemently agreed. But if things ended the way you wanted them to, the way the way they were supposed to, then dying wouldn't be too bad.

That nightlock could go a long way.

"Our unit has been given a Holo, a database that contains a detailed map of the Capitol and a list of every known pod." That caught your attention, making you look up at the device he placed on a container, a hologram of the Capitol shooting out with little orange indicators everywhere. "These pods can trigger anything from bombs to traps to mutts. We cannot move without this device. There's no guarantee that our database is complete; there could be new pods that we're not aware of. Because we don't want the Gamemakers to know we have this intel, it has a self-destruct on it. You flip this switch, say nightlock three times, and it blows itself and anything within a ten-foot radius." He paused, making eye contact with each of you and enunciating slowly. "Stay within our unit. Even with the Holo, it is likely that new pods have been set. Whatever they contain, they are meant to kill you."

Fuck. 

You glanced at Katniss to see her already looking your way, clearly thinking the same thing that you were. If you wanted to stay alive long enough to kill President Snow, then you needed that Holo.

Without meaning to, you consequently glanced at Finnick, seeing that childlike glint in his eye that you hadn't seen in ages; albeit, it had no place in war.

But that didn't mean that you didn't miss it.

He leaned towards Katniss and you like nothing had ever happened, making you tense. It was almost like he was playing a game, and you suppose that's exactly what it was because, not a second later, he spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The 76th Hunger Games."

Explosions went off in the distance that you tried not to be affected by, smoke and rubble surrounding the once pristine Capitol. It almost looked the footage you'd seen of 12—you imagined the other districts were the same. As you stood there and filmed propos, it almost looked like home.

Almost.

You stopped in an abandoned restaurant, sitting down to rest. You didn't really feel like resting, but it was nice to stop and strategize.

Katniss and you sat off to the side, away from everyone else, but you could feel eyes burning into the side of your head, eyes that were likely blue. It took everything in you not to look his way.

"We're not getting across this minefield," you remarked.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "Not without that Holo. And we're not gonna get it off him while he's awake."

You nodded, repressing the urge to glance over at Boggs to avoid suspicion. "Let's make sure we're on the same watch tonight, then."

Allies until you weren't. Same team until the time came.

Just like The Games.

The sound of wheels on rubble made you stand up simultaneously, hand on your weapon in quick succession. "Is that Peacekeepers?" someone said.

Jackson radioed something into base before putting her walkie talkie away and ordering, "Stand down, everyone. It's friendly."

You snorted. Friendly was a nice choice of words. But it made you wonder who could possibly be there that hadn't already shown up. Johanna, maybe, you thought. Then the door opened and the person that walked out wasn't Johanna at all.

Peeta.

Katniss drew an arrow from her quiver automatically, making you press a hand to her shoulder. She held the bow down but kept the arrow; you think that if you hadn't stopped her, she would've shot that arrow instantly—and you didn't know if you could blame her.

That Golden Boy that walked into the Quell never came out, nor did Panem's troublemaker from 7 or the Princess. You were changed. And you were fucked up, you knew that—you didn't need a therapist to tell you that. But you were broken before; Peeta wasn't. 

You could still hear his screams when you closed your eyes, entangling with the beat of the music. You danced to those screams in the Capitol for weeks on end. 

And then they hijacked him. President Snow was the Devil, and he collected Peeta's soul like it was pocket change, turning him against the love of his life. 

You saw what he did to her. She never talked to you about it, but the rings around her neck and red in her eyes were impossible to miss when you came back. 

So, no, you didn't know if you could blame Katniss for wanting to shoot him, but none of you could let her do that. Because, if she shot hijacked Peeta, she'd be shooting the Peeta with a heart of gold, too.

He walked towards you slowly, soldiers behind and around him as you all stood with baited breath. He mumbled something to himself quietly that you couldn't make out, eyes trained on the ground as if wishing it'd swallow him whole.

He walked until he got too close and Katniss pulled back her bowstring. You widened your eyes, whispering, "Katniss-"

"Okay, stop," Gale warned, holding up one hand like he wanted to keep the peace but the other was on his gun, finger on the trigger. How convenient would it be if he finally got a reason to shoot the only other competitor he had? It nearly made you scoff.

"Hold up, everyone relax." You froze at the voice, seeing Finnick walk forward with his arm held out to the rest of you, like he was holding you off. You couldn't spot even the slightest hint of hesitation in his actions.

He continued to walk towards him, even as Boggs ordered Jackson to cuff him. Only then did Katniss lower her bow. You gave her a cautionary glance but didn't say anything more, following her back inside. She kept quiet about you and Finn; the least you could do was offer her the same luxury.

Back in the restaurant, Boggs explained that they wanted to add Peeta to the propo, show Panem that he was on your side now. 

But he wasn't.

You knew that. Katniss knew that. And President Coin certainly knew that, too.

A message to The Mockingjay.

"He's not in control of himself," Gale said, a blank look on his face.

"I say we schedule an around-the-clock watch on him," Jackson proposed, as if Peeta wasn't ten feet away, in perfect earshot of the conversation. "The Leegs 'til 1700, Homes and Mitchell 'til 1900."

Katniss startled you by her quick intrusion. "Give me a watch."

Clearly, the others weren't expecting that either, judging by Jackson's head tilt or the brief flash of emotion in Boggs' impassive demeanour. "And if it really came down to it, you think you could shoot him?"

"I wouldn't be shooting Peeta," she replied, her voice cold as ice. "'Be killing a Capitol mutt."

She didn't mean that. She really didn't. You could still remember how hysterical she was when she thought Peeta died in The Games. She loved him. But he didn't know that. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peeta's eyes fall to the ground. "I'm not sure that kind of comment recommends you for the job either, soldier."

Boggs cut in, "Put her in the rotation." Jackson looked up at him, then he walked away. There, said and done. Katniss wouldn't have been Katniss if she hadn't followed him outside, but you didn't tag along for the questioning.

You stayed inside, walking away from where you sat with Gale to another area in the building. His thoughts were loud, too loud for your own. Peeta was here now, and that changed a lot for him. It changed a lot for Katniss, too, and you.

Because, now, you were stuck here.

There was no way you'd be leaving now.

You were on your own in a secluded part of the restaurant, thoughts filling your head the way water filled district 4 one summer in your childhood, an unstoppable flood. That flood didn't leave any part of the district unaffected, and now you could feel this flood taking hold of your brain—and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"C'mon, Y/N. We all know this is a sham. I mean, I've never even seen you speak to Finnick Odair, and now you're dating?"

You rolled your eyes at the Capitol's 'Favourite Son,' your disinterest doing nothing to deter him. Augustus Braun was nothing if not persistent, especially when it involved you. He won the year before you and thus made it his mission to pursue you ever since, so when revealed that you were dating Finnick, it clearly caused a stir.

You tried to brush him off. "I don't know what you want me to say, Augustus. I didn't see it coming either; it just happened."

"It just happened?" he echoed.

"Yeah. I mean, you can't control love." The words sounded so faux coming out of your mouth, even to you. It was times like these when you wished Finnick was here; he was a much better actor.

"That is so bull-"

Another voice interrupted. "Augustus."  You both turned to see Cashmere, one of his mentors, walking toward you, a feline smile on her face. "Leave the lady alone. You know we only fight when The Games are going on."

When The Games are going on, she said. You could be friends all year round, but as soon Reaping Day hit, that camraderie ceased to exist. Regardless, you were never close with victors from 1 and 2. You couldn't really trust anyone that would volunteer for those games just to bring glory to their name.

You had that glory. 

And you would do anyhing to give it back.

"Aw, Cash, I was just talking our princess here," he nudged your shoulder, "about her make-believe relationship." You wanted to punch him.

She laughed. "Oh, but the Princess wouldn't dare lie, Aug. She's too good for that." Some would call the look in her eyes a star's twinkle. You called it a malicious glint hiding in plain-sight. She turned to you. "It's the truth, isn't it, Y/N/N?"

You plastered on a fake smile that looked more annoyed than anything. "Of course, it is. What could I possibly gain from lying?" There it is.

The glint in Cashmere's eyes disappeared. She looked to Braun, but he didn't share her glance. He didn't look any different, but you knew that she got it. Because she knew what you could gain from lying.

All the same things she could gain, too.

So you watched as she put on a smile and defended you. "I believe her." Augustus' groan was loud, but it was inaudible to you as you silently thanked her with your eyes. "Now tell us how you and your prince met."

"Could I get a penny for your thoughts?" A voice broke you out of your trance, a voice you recognized all too soon.

Finnick.

Here he was, trying to talk to you, as if he didn't just let Annie walk away. As if he didn't tell you he loved you. As if he didn't just upend your entire world.

You didn't want to speak to him. You thought you made that clear already, and you did, but he was ignoring that. He wanted to talk to you, so he was gonna talk to you, regardless of your feelings.

You didn't look at him as he walked up to stand next to you, continuing to stare out the window. The destruction outside matched your mental state, grey and ruined, but it was still the Capitol, the same way you were still the Princess.

And he was still the Prince.

The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "Do you remember how we said we met?"

You were met with silence, not because he didn't remember but because he did. After a beat, he responded, "I do." You felt his gaze burn into the side of your head.

A humourless chuckle left you, false memories lighting up behind your eyelids as you blinked. Of course, he remembered. He had it memorized just as well as you did—he was the one who came up with the story.

You might've been the storyteller, but Finnick was a better liar than you could ever dream of being. He lied so well for years. So when he goes and tells you something like he loves you, that's all you can remember.

That he was a liar.

"We said that we met in the Capitol," you recalled. You had a reminiscent smile, but your eyes that were trained ahead of you betrayed the façade; you were bitter. "I wasn't watching where I was going; I was nearly hit by a bus, but you pulled me back last minute, saved me." Another laugh. "I was oh so grateful. You told me that you already knew me, that you'd seen me around before and you'd been working up the courage to come speak to me." You shook your head. "And then there: screen fades to black, and the rest was history, right? Love at first sight—God, they loved that, didn't they?"

"Y/N-"

"But it wasn't love at first sight," you cut him off. "It wasn't really love at all."

Finnick went to put his hand on your shoulder but you jolted away, finally turning to look at him. For a moment, it was like looking into a mirror: his eyes were sad, too.

But why? This was his story. Were his own lies getting the best of him?

Yes. They were.

With that realization, your eyes hardened. "We didn't meet that way. We were not in love—there was no love story. This is not a love story, Finnick," you emphasized, stressing every syllable of every word, your voice nearly cracking on his name. You averted your eyes, composing yourself and taking a step back. "So I don't want to speak to you for the rest of the time we're here."

"What? Y/N, I just-"

"Please respect that." Whether he was gonna abide by your wishes or not, you didn't want be stick around to find out.

So you walked away, leaving him there just like every other time it was just the two of you. It was funny, almost—it was always just the two of you, but now you couldn't handle it to be alone with him.

Perhaps that was because you knew you were right. This wasn't a love story. 

It was a tragedy.

And this tragedy wouldn't have a happy ending.

You wondered what it was like to live in the Capitol, to be born into a life where food and shelter was always guaranteed, a life where you could raise children knowing that they wouldn't be taken from you by a slaughter that rich people would call a game.

A normal life.

Those kids went to school and made friends, they fell in love because they wanted to, not for survival. 

You wondered where those kids were now, as their home was turned into a warzone. What were they thinking? Were you the bad guys in their mind? Did they even understand what you were fighting for?

You heard Snow had a granddaughter. You wondered about her, about how she must've felt. And then that caused you to wonder... was evil an inherent trait? Was it like a disease that somebody had to be born with, or was it something that bred over time?

Suddenly, the sound of somebody sitting across from you at the table cut off your train of thought. When you looked up and saw Panem's Golden Boy, you found your answer.

Maybe evil wasn't an inherent trait, but good had to be. Because Peeta Mellark had the most pure heart you'd ever seen, so pure that Snow had to work twice as hard just to taint it, that his love for Katniss was so strong that it persisted—even if he didn't realize it yet.

Good had to be natural.

You had to believe that.

You greeted him softly, but not too soft. "Peeta."

He took a minute before responding, seeming to take in your appearance. "Y/N." Pause. "You look different."

That nearly wrestled a laugh out of you. "So do you," you replied, followed by a quirk of your brow. "But that's not why you're here to talk to me, is it?"

It wasn't.

You had a feeling he'd be coming soon. It was only a matter of time since he arrived. When you got out, the first thing you wanted was to talk to him, too. The only thing that stopped you was the white, locked room that kept him detained.

His room and yours were right next to each other in the Capitol.

That changed things.

You didn't expect him to speak so soon—you certainly couldn't find the words—but before you knew it, he was asking, "How do you do it?" He didn't need to explain further.

How you do this. That's what he was asking.

Peeta had trouble with eye contact since he arrived, but right now, he was looking you right in the eye, awaiting an answer you weren't sure you had—pleading for it. How did you do it? Were you doing it at all?

You wanted to give him the perfect answer, the same answer you were still seeking, but that wouldn't be fair. You didn't want to lie to him.

You were sick of lying.

"Honestly?" you questioned. "I don't know if I even know what I'm doing. Haymitch, uh, he told me I was still standing because I had to fight for the people that couldn't, show that them that they could." You paused, pondering over it. "And that's true. But there's more to it than that. It's not just about them anymore. It's about me, about us. I want-" you intook a deep breath, looking down momentarily. When you looked back up, it was with a new resolution shining in your eyes. "I want to show Snow that he didn't knock me down. And I want to make sure that no other pawn gets knocked down by a king and his crooked version of a game."

You didn't know if that was the answer he was looking for. You didn't know if that would help him—you didn't know if anything would.

But then you saw a look in his eyes, a new light that hadn't been there before, dim but present. It was accompanied by fear, but you could see it. A light shining through all the darkness. 

His voice was quiet. "Do you think we'll ever be free?"

You knew he wasn't talking about the war or the Capitol. He wasn't talking about Snow's hold on all of you. He was talking about the shackles of your own minds.

That took you back to the other blond boy you were accustomed to, his words reverberating through your head. We will never be free, Y/N.

Not long ago, you believed that wholeheartedly. The thought crushed you. You had accepted it as reality, that you were trapped and had nowhere to go, that this was your forever.

But maybe it wasn't.

"Yeah," you replied. "I think so."

You couldn't sleep that night. It would've been better if you had a shift taking watch—that way, you would've at least felt useful, but you didn't. 

You weren't sure if it was a matter of if you couldn't sleep or wouldn't. Every time you tried to close your eyes, you were brought back to places you didn't wanna be, saw things you didn't wanna see.

That's why you were lying on your side, facing the wall instead of the ceiling. It was harder to sleep that way. And it also meant you didn't have to look at Finnick Odair.

You told him you didn't want to speak to him. Meanwhile, you loved him an unimaginable amount, so much so that he consumed your thoughts, even as you were in the middle of a war, hiding out in an abandoned restaurant as the enemy wanted your heads on a platter.

The enemy.

You thought of Coin then, how she sent Peeta here knowing it'd cause chaos, knowing it'd just bring both of the lovers grief.

Wolves liked to masquerade as sheep.

Maybe the enemy was closer than you thought.

In your own thoughts, you didn't even notice the stirring of limbs until a raspy and hushed voice sounded. "Katniss?"

Your immediate reaction was to stiffen, but you quickly stopped yourself from doing anything to give up the fact that you were awake. Because that was Finnick's voice.

He sounded just like that whenever he woke up.

You didn't see the brunette, but you already knew she wasn't sleeping either—though, chances were, she wasn't hiding it. "Yeah?" she muttered.

There was a beat of silence. You wished you could lift your head to see what was going on. It wasn't like Finnick not cut to the chase. Then again, you supposed it also wasn't like him to give spontaneous admissions of love.

Eventually, he got to it. "Do you and Y/N have a plan?" It almost sounded like his voice was filled with genuine curiosity.

Now it was her turn to respond. The turning of her gears was nearly audible to you. She couldn't tell him the truth, that you were really here to kill Snow and not to shoot propos. "Yeah, it's this plan."

There was no pause this time. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Well, it's what I'm talking about," she bit back.

You knew she had more questions than this. You knew she was wondering why he was asking her and not you, wondering whatever it was that happened between you earlier or even back in 13. 

She had questions.

But out of respect, she would never ask them.

"I'm worried about her." Oh.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. It seemed that Finnick continued to surprise you with every encounter, even though this wasn't an encounter with you at all. His voice got quieter, but he still spoke with purpose, the same purpose you watched from a video out of a box where he exposed Snow for the monster that he is.

He always did have a way with words.

You just weren't used to hearing those words about you. Not without a camera shoved in his face or eyes glued to your forms.

"Y/N?" she asked, even though she knew who it was. "Don't be. She's the strongest person I've ever met." Oh.

Katniss defended you without a second thought, and for some reason, that was surprising. It shouldn't have been, but it was. You weren't used to friends or people to coming to your defense. Johanna was one of your closest friends, but you weren't with her enough to ever get used to it. Katniss, on the other hand, was someone you felt like you'd known your whole life.

Maybe because you had.

"I know that," he responded, almost offended she'd think he didn't. "Her strength is incredible- enviable, even." Pause. "But I still worry about her." Another pause. "If anything happened to her, I- I don't know what I'd do." 

Your breath hitched.

I said I love you.

Katniss must've been thinking of what to respond but Finnick barely gave her a chance. "Just- look out for her for me, okay- and I'll do the same for you." There was another pause, and then a shuffle, and then silence. "I have your guy. And you have mine."

It was a wonder you didn't make a sound.

A few seconds passed by, then she agreed. "Deal."

And when you got up a couple hours later after no sleep, you pretended the conversation never happened.

The team was walking around looking for a good spot to film when your first pod was found. 

"Split. Take cover," Boggs ordered. You did as he said, retreating to the right pillar with Katniss, Gale, and Cressida as he threw a random rock into the walkway. Immediately, shots went off, loud and repeated.

You ducked your head into your knees, covering your ear with one hand while clutching onto your bow tightly. They're not people; they're just guns wired to go off, you reassured yourself. Somehow the thought of real people was scarier.

And that thought was scary in and of itself.

The guns went off until they knocked down a structure ahead of you yet you were still wary, even when Boggs gave the okay. "All clear. Gale, Homes, with me. Leegs, take the wings."

You slowly stood up, now holding onto the arrow with both hands just so your hands wouldn't shake. Katniss shot you a look, not needing to speak. You okay?

You nodded, sending her one of the same nature. What about you?

She nodded back. And even though neither of you were entirely convinced, you both still dropped it.

When you turned to your left, you saw Peeta still on the ground, empty rifle in hand, hitting his head against the butt and mumbling to himself under his breath. He sounded like a madman. That's when you turned to Katniss again.

For a second, she almost looked like she was gonna go over there.

And then a bomb went off.

You jumped, nearly losing your grip on your weapon. Katniss went running despite Jackson's call of her name. You wanted to follow her but it was like you her cemented to your spot. Your eyes were stuck on the floor, ears ringing.

Please, please- no- no!

You harshly shook your head as if it'd shake the thoughts out of your head, and then you booked it in the same direction, ignoring Jackson's protest. 

Turned out that you'd only spent a few seconds losing it. You crouched down next to Katniss while Gale went straight to look at his legs. You didn't look get a good look at them—you tried not to—but you didn't think they were even there anymore.

"It's okay," Katniss muttered, even though she knew it wasn't the truth.

He's gonna die, you realized.

Boggs realized this, too. "The Holo," he croaked. "The Holo."

You widened your eyes, going to grab it while Katniss held his hand. He pressed some buttons and used all of his strength to tilt himself upward, panting, "Unfit for command. Transfer- primary security clearance-" He looked to you, eyes wild yet resolved. "Say your name."

If you thought your eyes couldn't get any wider, you were wrong. But you didn't have time to question this decision or get him to explain his choice, so you spoke without realizing what was happening. "Y/N Y/L/N." Your breathing got faster. "What did you just do?"

He didn't answer you, just looked at you with the strongest stare a dying man could muster. "Y/N, don't trust them-" his eyes darted to Katniss, "n-neither of you. Kill Peeta if you have to. Do what you have to do." He stopped talking then, but his eyes were still open.

"Boggs?" No response. 

You tried. "Boggs?" No response, either.

He was dead.

Katniss gently set his head down. You just stared at him, taking shallow breaths.

He was dead.

Homes was still trying to triage his wounds—he didn't even realize it until Gale said the words out loud. "He's gone." It was almost compulsive of him to repeat it. "He's gone."

There was a collective moment of silence. Boggs was willing to put his life on the line for this revolution, and he did it. Now he was dead.

Weren't you all just dead people walking? Soldiers, just waiting to fall into your own carefully curated traps. And perhaps that was exactly why you were so okay with it.

A part of you knew you were already dead.

In the silence, groaning suddenly became audible to you. With a slight turn, you saw it was one of the Leegs. The blast hit her, too. When the other Leeg saw, she immediately got up and went to tend to her sister, but on her way, she stepped on a tile that sunk down on her weight. Her eyes went wide, but it was too late. 

Immediately, large gates that you didn't even know were there started to close in on the areas between buildings, effectively encasing you in the courtyard. In the blink of an eye, oily black tar was flooding down, billowing between the buildings.

Someone screamed. "Go, go, go!"

You took off running, the others not far behind you. Gamemakers were creative. You didn't know what that was, but you knew that if it didn't obliterate you first, it'd drown you.

You were running to higher ground, Katniss right next to you when you saw her being yanked away out of your periphery. You spun around to see her on the ground, just barely rolling out of the way as Peeta slammed his rifle down on the ground in a flurry of rage.

"Finnick!" she yelled, but someone else got there first, tackling Peeta to the ground before he could try hitting her again. You were there right after, pulling her off the ground and then holding her back from running into the sludge when Peeta pushed Mitchell in.

A net shot out of the ground with his body in it. Finnick came rushing before Peeta could come back to finish his task, holding him back.

"Come on, come on, Katniss, we gotta go!" You pulled her out of the way before the tar came crashing into you, running for the closest building.

Homes shot down the door. "Everybody, inside! Go! Upstairs! Go! Hurry up!"

You all went running up either flight of stairs, stopping in the middle just to see that the lower and upper half had been disconnected. You were stuck. And tar was filling downstairs at a speedy rate.

"Shit," you cursed.

You ran a stressed hand through your hair. On your right, one of the Leegs was moaning in pain, and on your left, Finnick was trying to calm Peeta down, holding him tightly. You looked away when he ended up pressing a needle into his neck, swallowing.

Now's not the time for memories, Y/N.

The tar continued to fill the building, making a bubbly sound that made you feel nauseous. "It's slowing down," Cressida noted. 

And she was right. It stopped just before hitting your landing, rippling at the stairs. You let out a sigh.

"Gamemakers are still putting on quite a show," she remarked.

"That they are," you mumbled—though, you were unsure it was loud enough for her to hear you.

Meanwhile, Jackson radioed in. "451 to base. Over."

"Hey, we better move," Homes cut in. "If Peacekeepers didn't know where we were, they do now. Those surveillance cameras caught us."

She just radioed again while you looked down at the Holo in your hand. "451 to base. Come in."

It was Gale speaking up now. "This is a bad spot. We need to move now."

"451 to base. Over." Jackson got frustrated, flipping her radio shut. "I can't get a signal," she said. "But I can get us back to base. Y/L/N, give me the Holo."

For a second, you didn't even know she was talking to you. Whether it be the shock or just the fact that she had barely spoken to you this entire time, it didn't register. When it did, you met her eyes looking at you expectantly. "Y/L/N, what did I just say? The Holo. Come on, let's go."

Boggs' words resounded in your head as all eyes turned to you. Don't trust them.

Your grip on the Holo got tighter. You didn't break eye contact as you told her, "Boggs gave it to me."

Jackson paused her movements, stopping to give you her full attention. "What are you talking about?"

Katniss backed you up, stepping forward and closer to you at the same time. "He did. He transferred Y/L/N his security clearance. Homes, Gale, and I saw it."

Jackson's gaze was unwavering, her voice colder. "And why would he do that?"

You were a great liar. When you were younger, you wanted to be a storyteller, so it made sense when you grew up to spin lies like clockwork. A liar, an actor, a victor, a dancer. You came up with a lie quickly. "I'm on special orders from Coin."

You maintained her stare as she questioned, "To do what?"

"To assassinate President Snow for all of Panem to see." 

It wasn't too far-fetched of a lie, but you had a feeling that no matter what lie you gave, Jackson wouldn't have believed it anyway. 

"I don't believe that for one second," she deadpanned. "As your new unit commander, I order you to transfer security clearance to me. Now."

Allies could only last so long before survival and power came into play, and you were in the Capitol. Power was the only thing that was important here. But this wasn't about power. 

This was about the people.

You weren't gonna let anything or anyone get in your way.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The 76th Hunger Games.

You kept your voice soft as you asserted, "I apologize, Lieutenant Jackson, but I cannot and will not do that."

Jackson stared at you for a second, almost like she was challenging you to redact your statement. When you didn't, she reached for her side. Guns were immediately drawn before she even pulled hers.

You were staring down a barrel as Katniss, Finnick, and Gale had their weapons pointed at her. One of the Leegs had a gun pointed their way, too, while everyone else just stayed still, glancing between you.

It almost surprised you when Finnick was the first to speak, and you didn't know why. "Woah, now," he warned. You could hear the smirk on his face in his words, so similar to that dangerous boy in The Games who laughed at any obstacle. "Let's not be too hasty."

Jackson ignored him, doubling down. "I'm not asking you again, Y/L/N." Her glare was menacing. "Give me that Holo."

She may have shot you then and there when she saw you weren't gonna cooperate, but before you could find out, Cressida was stepping in front of you. "She's telling the truth." What? 

She continued, "Plutarch wants it televised. He thinks if we could film the Princess assassinating Snow, it'll make the Capitol surrender before the casualties get too high."

"Look, while we're in here pointlessly arguing, there's 100 Peacekeepers on their way here right now to confirm that we're dead." Finnick's voice was rugged as he cut in, impatient. But only you could detect the undertone of worry.

Jackson seemed swayed but not swayed enough. Her grip on her gun didn't falter. You had to say something before there was a bullet in your skull and this was all for nothing. This couldn't all be for nothing.

"Boggs wanted this," you pressed. "And he wanted to help me."

You saw the waver in her eyes despite the gun still raised for your head, and you knew you got to her. You maintained her stare, silently pleading that she'd put it down. Eventually, she did.

You let out a short breath you didn't know you were holding. Jackson looked down, and then she nodded. "Alright, soldier." She looked back up at you. "Holo's yours."

You nodded back to her in thanks. The tension in the air didn't fully dissipate, but the guns had all now been lowered. Gale went for the stairs, cautiously stepping down on the first step to see nothing happen. In the time you were arguing, it appeared that the sludge had dried.

He turned back to the rest of you. "I don't think we're gonna leave any footprints. We should move now. And those cameras outside should be covered up the oil."

From next to the Leeg in the corner, Castor interjected, "She can't move forward like this. Her leg is too bad. We have to evacuate her." She hissed and whimpered as he spoke. Then he realized what words lingered in the air, the conclusion you all had reached but didn't want to voice. 

You had to leave her here.

At the realization, an apology was tumbling out of his mouth, but the girl's sister cut him off. "I'll stay with her."

Jackson reassured her, "As soon as we make contact, we will send somebody back. I promise you." Katniss' stare was so intense you could almost feel her thoughts.

If we make contact.

"Alright, everybody move out. Let's go!"

Any guilt you had for leaving the Leegs there had to be diminished; you had to focus. You and Katniss moved out side by side. In the background, you heard Finnick asking Peeta if he could walk.

Gale was right; the cameras outside were completely shielded by the tar. It had dried up everywhere like frozen ice—your own little winter wonderland. Except, in this wonderland, you had nightlock instead of potions that made you grew taller, guns instead of playing cards, and the mad hatter was a ruthless dictator trying to kill you all.

What odd music you had in wonderland.

But you danced anyway.

The net with Mitchell's body hung over you like a cloud, but none of you had time to pause and pay your respects. Gale and Jackson led the flock. You got far enough away from the building you were in to another in the same vicinity.

He shattered the glass with the butt off his crossbow. He and Jackson went running in first, checking the place to see if it was empty. Your immediate task was closing the curtains, but once you turned around you were stunned by the house's sheer beauty.

It wasn't a family home—you could tell, but it was so big for one person. Holographic walls, a decor mirror, a lavish velvet couch and matching armchairs surrounding a block television protruding out of the ceiling.

Not even your house in Victor's Village had been so luxurious. Even the curtains looked like they cost a year's salary from back home.

"Wow," a voice drawled. "Well, didn't we get lucky?"

Finnick's sarcasm was so familiar you went to roll your eyes, but the sound of tires on the ground cut you off in motion. Your guard flew back up as you discreetly peeked out the window.

Peacekeepers. Dozens of them. Big cars, too. All of them armed, and all of them going for the building you were just in.

You didn't have time to make the connection. They just started firing.

Oh, God.

Finnick's voice was now devoid of anything unserious. "It's the Leegs."

Oh, God.

Those shots might've been enough to kill them. But if they weren't, then the missile they launched certainly was.

The building came tumbling down, falling to pieces as you all simultaneously fell, too, crouching down. You felt your heartbeat strong, rattling against your ribcage, hearing it beat in your ears, mingling with the beat of the music.

As soon as we make contact, we will send somebody back.

That was a lie.

They were dead.

You weren't even sitting with information for a minute before a beep sounded, followed by the fanfare. Slowly, your head lifted. 

MANDATORY VIEWING. ATTENTION ALL PANEM RESIDENTS, the screen read. Soon, the blue sreen faded into Caesar Flickerman, and you were clenching your jaw, white hot anger running through your veins and electrifying every part of your body.

"You've got to be fu-"

"Good afternoon, I'm Caesar Flickerman," he cut Finnick off, resulting in a scoff. You could imagine him rolling his eyes, too. "Here with our continuing coverage of the defense of the Capitol." Now you rolled your eyes.

Every single word Caesar spoke was complete and utter propaganda bullshit. You wished now that you would've decked him when you had the chance, given him the finger and told him to go poke and prod in someone else's life.

He was nothing more than a mutt at Snow's disposal.

"Today, as our Peacekeepers valiantly hold off the rebels, our story... takes a surprising twist."

Following his statement, footage of all of you played from when you were running away from the oil. "Y/N Y/L/N, the girl we once deemed our Princess, and Katniss Everdeen, our once favourite daughter, have now infiltrated the city with some of the victors, whose names are all too familiar." You rolled your eyes again at Caesar's deliberate pacing and dramatic word choice. 

This was the man who once nearly praised you on a daily basis. He's the one that made that God awful nickname stick. Yet here he was now, turning his back on a group of people he once claimed to cherish.

Had you become too human for his liking?

"Finnick Odair and Peeta Mellark." He emphasized Peeta's name with careful precision, just as he came on screen, pushing Katniss to the side and trying to bludgeon her to death. You intook a sharp breath, glancing to Katniss first; she was already looking at Peeta. Her eyes were now more betrayed, like seeing it on TV was different, and his eyes were still glued to the screen, like he couldn't even believe he did it.

"Hm. Clearly, some alliances don't last forever."

Katniss' eyes slowly flickered away, and without really thinking about it, you grabbed onto her hand, squeezing it tightly just to show her you were there. She surprised you by squeezing back with the same force.

Caesar's voice suddenly got more smug. "Take a look at what happened just a moment ago, when our Peacekeepers cornered the former Princess and her band of foolish rebels. Whatever arrogance brought this treacherous girl back to us, you are about to witness a great victory, not only for the Capitol, but for Panem."

Video of the destruction from across the street played onscreen. You watched yourselves supposedly go up in flames.

Supposedly, you were dead.

"So there you have it. Y/N Y/L/N, Panem's Princess, a girl who inspired so much violence, seems to have met a violent end herself." A light chuckle escaped you against your will. You were dead? "Stay tuned for more information. Caesar Flickerman. Thank you."

Caesar ended with a smile that was so creepy it was comical. You felt like laughing again, but decided that propbably wasn't appropriate. Jackson didn't like you very much as it was, likely because of the title Caesar so eloquently gave you.

Royalty. You didn't feel so royal lying in sheets with men old enough to father you, men that were fathers.

Somehow, you didn't feel so royal lying on a cold metal slab, either

"So now that we're dead, what are we gonna do?" Gale questioned.

Peeta spoke up. "Isn't it obvious?" All eyes turned to him. No one had expected him to speak—it was his first attempt since nearly killing Katniss and actually killing Mitchell. "The next move is to kill me."

Katniss took a step forward, but you don't think it was concious. You don't think anything about what she felt toward that boy was conscious.

His voice was wrought with guilt. "I murdered one of our squad members." He paused as if trying to come to terms with it. It was the first time any of you had even acknowledged it. "Katniss is right. I'm a mutt. And it's only a matter of time before I snap again." They made eye contact for a second until he broke it, looking away. "I'm not in control. I need a nightlock pill, so I can die when I need to."

Gale's interruption was sharp and honest. "If it gets to that point, I'll kill you myself." You got the feeling he'd do it regardless.

His admission sliced through the room. He got up moments after, walking to somewhere else in the large townhouse. It was really so big that you didn't understand how it could still be called a townhouse. Kids back home would call this mansion.

You didn't let Gale get lost in it, though, standing up and following him to the kitchen. He entered the pantry; you were right behind him, closing the door.

You narrowed your eyes. His face was impassive but you could see the slighest bit of surprise in his eyes. That just pissed you off even more.

From the moment you met Gale Hawthorne, something didn't feel right. It wasn't that he was a bad man, just that you knew he'd be willing to do bad things for a chance of the right outcome. And you could understand that—you understood him most of the time, but that was out of line.

So you told him that. "You didn't need to say that to Peeta. Not like that." 

He scoffed. "I said what needed to be said. No one else would-"

"You twisted the knife, Gale!" you loudly whispered, eyes now narrowing into slits. "It's called compassion—try it."

"You heard him, Y/N—he's a mutt," he argued, not bothering to match your low volume and throwing his arm out, nearly knocking over a box of cereal in the process. "What kind of compassion does he deserve?"

At that, you took a step closer to him. "You have no idea what it's like." You pointed your finger in his face, consumed by anger. Anger for Peeta, for that boy you saw on TV with Finnick who was willing to kill himself for The Girl on Fire. For the boy who was nervous to meet you. For the boy whose screams you heard for nights on end. A fire burned in your eyes, a fuse now lit that couldn't be contained. "It was hell here. Peeta, Johanna, and I went through hell. You can't expect him to be all fine and dandy after that. And I know how you feel about Katniss, I do. I care about her, too, Gale—she's my person, and so as her person, I am telling you that knocking out the competition won't score you any points with her. Let her come to the decision herself." You went to turn but then added, "And leave Peeta alone."

You didn't want to see the guilt painted all over his face after that, opening the door and leaving him in the pantry by himself.

You weren't excusing what Peeta did, but you knew that he needed time. He needed the time to find himself again. He wasn't the same person. And neither you were you.

You may not have known it, but you needed to find yourself again, too.

The lot of you sat in the living room of the house for some time, waiting it out until it was safe to move. Until then, you ate marshmallows and other little treats stashed in this person's home.

You eat like this, you'll believe anything, Gale had said, and you thought he was right. If you lived like this, grew up like this and were born into this life of opportunity and opulence, then you were sure that you'd believe almost anything, too.

But genocide? you wondered. Perhaps the sun shines brighter here.

Perhaps it blinded them.

Suddenly, the fanfare started, making you all look up to the TV to see the Capitol logo fade into faces—your faces. A showcase of your deaths, like you were fallen tributes.

Finnick's face came onscreen. You heard his snicker from somewhere in the room. Then came you. You shook your head at the ridiculousness of it all.

Didn't they know? You were still dancing.

You'd be dancing until your song ended with Snow's dying breath.

After Peeta and Katniss' pictures played, the montage transitioned into Snow's face. An involuntary shiver overtook your body.

You heard his voice before he even started speaking.

Oh, sweet girl. I will make you wish that you died in that arena.

"So, Y/N Y/L/N, a girl we gave the world, a disgrace to our nation, is now dead. And Katniss Everdeen, a poor unstable girl with nothing but a small talent with a bow and arrow, joins her in the ground." He sounded pleased of himself. "Neither of them thinkers, nor leaders. Simply faces, plucked from the masses—a silly girl with a crown and a deranged one with a song."

You scoffed at the smugness in his tone. A silly girl with a crown. It was funny that you weren't laughing.

"Were they valuable? They were extremely valuable to your... rebellion. Because you have no vision, no true leader among you," he lectured. "You call yourself an alliance. But we saw what that means. Your soldiers are at each other's throats-"

Snow was cut off from his rant by random glitching. Not random, you realized. Your lips curved upward just the smallest bit. Beetee.

Alma's face graced the screen, replacing Snow. "Good evening," she greeted. "For those of you who don't know me, please allow me to introduce myself. I am President Alma Coin, leader of the rebellion. I have interrupted a broadcast from your president in which he attempted to defame two incredibly brave young women." She paused, collecting herself. "'Faces, picked from masses,' he called them. As if any leader, a true leader, could be anything else."

The emotion and conviction in her voice nearly made you believe she actually liked you. "I had the privilege of knowing a small-town girl from the Seam in district 12, and a girl from the water in district 4, both of whom survived the Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell—and rose up and turned a nation of slaves into an army." Her voice raised at the end; she sounded like she might cry. "Dead or alive, Y/N Y/L/N and Katniss Everdeen will remain the faces of this revolution. They will not have died for nothing."

From the seat beside you, Katniss muttered under her breath, "I had no idea I meant so much to her."

You huffed a barely-there chuckle. "Me neither."

Coin continued, "Their vision and ours will be realized. A free Panem, with self-determination for all. And in their memory, we will all find the strength to rid Panem of its oppressors." She took a breath. "Thank you. And be safe."

The screen then faded to pictures of you and Katniss, a whistle playing in the background. It was from The 74th Games—it belonged to a girl named Rue, you think. You could remember watching her hide away from everyone in training, knowing that she wouldn't last.

A 12-year-old girl, sent into the arena to die.

That thought spurred you into drive. You got up. "Snow is in his mansion," you said. "Where is that?" You placed the Holo down on the coffee table, pressing a button and watching it illuminate with the Capitol's hologram.

The others gathered around you. Cressida pointed to spots on the map, informing you, "That's us. That's the City Circle. It's at least, 70- 75 blocks north."

That appeared to catch Finnick's attention. "75 blocks?"

Without thinking about it, you responded, "Nobody knows we're alive. This is our chance." Your eyes met his, and just then did you realize that you were talking to him. You quickly averted your gaze, switching the topic. "These buildings," you pointed, "Do these look over Snow's gardens?"

Cressida was unsure. "I..."

"They do," Castor replied.

"Well, if he goes outside at all, we could get a clear shot." You glanced to Katniss who nodded back to you. It was undecided between the two of you who'd get to deliver the final blow. You wanted to, so badly, but if there was anyone who deserved it just as much, it was her.

When the time came, you'd decide.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves here. Whether they're looking for us or not, we are pinned down," Jackson cut in, subsequently instructing you to hit the middle button to scan for pods.

When the map lit up, you sighed. "That's just about every ten steps."

"Yeah, and that doesn't even show the new ones," Gale reminded you.

Finnick's voice was tired. "So we can't go anywhere in the streets."

"And the rooftops are just as bad," Jackson added.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pollux tap Castor, pointing his finger down. Realization dawned upon his face. "There might be another way."

Tunnels.

Unanimously, it was decided that you'd take Pollux's suggestion. He said he knew the tunnels well, and it was a good way for you guys to go undetected.

So you packed up what little you had, strapping yourself with weapons, and grabbing the Holo. And just as quickly as you all were there, you were gone, slipping into the night.

The tunnels were huge and spacious. It was surprising that you'd never been down there once, that there were still so many parts of the Capitol you hadn't seen. It didn't feel that way after sleeping in so many Capitol beds.

If that could be called sleeping.

You walked with the Holo in hand, navigating your way through. Everything was fine until you heard the sound of a train's engine. 

Like lightning, you all ran to the side, hiding behind the wall and out of the train's sight. You exhaled once it passed. You could only pray it didn't catch a glimpse of you.

But prayers couldn't be enough. You turned to Pollux. "We're too exposed here."

He nodded then gestured forward with his hand. You let him take lead, following him to a door. The door opened to another ladder that you went down without further question.

It was darker, and there was half-dried up liquid all over the floor, but one quick check of the Holo told you that this place was clear. For the time being, at least.

Smoke went off in one of the hallways that spooked you, but it was fine once you realized that it was just normal smoke. You could still remember that smoke from the Quell, how it felt as it licked your skin.

But you're fine, Y/N. You're not there anymore.

You willed yourself to believe this was a war, not a game. 

You refused to be someone's chess piece any longer.

You eventually came across a little tunnel where Jackson suggested you rest, electing herself to take first watch.

You sat down, glancing at Finnick and looking away before he could notice. Your eyelids got heavier. It'd been nearly two days since you last slept.

You were tired.

No, you were exhausted.

Unknowingly, your eyelids started to droop shut. It wouldn't hurt to get a few hours of shut-eye, you reasoned. You needed to be sharp for what lied ahead of you.

So, within a matter of seconds, you drifted into an abyss of nothingness.

"Y/N, my dear, it is so lovely to see you again."

A smile was etched onto your face, like you were a puppet and the puppeteer that stood before you controlled your every move. The puppeteer made you extend your hand and shake his own. He pulled at your strings and got you to sit at the chair in front of his bureau.

Then he forced your mouth to open, spilling rehearsed pleasantries that you didn't actually mean. "President Snow, it is always a pleasure."

It wasn't. Nothing about meeting Snow in his office was pleasurable to you.

He sat in his red chair that was akin to a throne, higher than you. It was a reminder—a reminder that, even though you had won your Games, and even though you now basked in riches and fame, you were still beneath him. You were still beneath every person in the Capitol you would ever meet, and he sought to make sure you'd never forget it.

"Pleasure," he repeated. "That's an interesting word, isn't it?"

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he was getting at. "I... I suppose so."

He hummed and just took to staring at you. Was his goal to make you squirm under his gaze? You were certain it was, but you didn't. You kept your cool and maintained his stare. Whatever President Snow called you in for, you were determined to show you could handle it.

You wanted him to like you.

And what a mistake that was.

"Y/N, I am sure that, by now, you've been made aware of the... infatuation people have with you," he started, tilting his head like it was a question. It wasn't, but he did expect a response.

"Yes, I've heard chatter."

He tilted his head again, feigning interest. "What kind of chatter, dear?"

You swallowed. What did he want you to say? Somehow, it felt like no matter what your answer was, this was a trap. "I- people liked my performance, they like my personality. They think... they think that I'm-"

He cut you off, "Captivating? Note-worthy? Attractive?" His last adjective elicited another swallow from you. The word sounded slimy coming out of his mouth. "All-encompassing, Y/N, you are desirable."

Trap. This was a trap. Still, you questioned, "Desirable? What does- what does that mean?"

He didn't answer you, going back to his stare from earlier, but this time it spoke to you. You know what it means, his eyes read. But you didn't. You didn't want to.

You were regretting coming here. You wanted to go back home to lie in your bed, curl yourself up in the covers you never had as a child and sleep. You had a doctor now, one you could afford, that prescribed you medication just to sleep; you wanted to use it right about now.

Then Snow made you wish you had just downed the whole bottle when you had the chance.

"I have a deal for you."

A deal with the devil.

And soon enough, you were stuck dancing his dance 'til the end of time.

"Y/N." 

You were shaken out of your dream by someone tapping your knee. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jackson crouched down in front of you. "It's your watch," she informed you.

You nodded, masking how thrown off you were by standing up, moving to go sit toward the opening. Your legs felt shaky against the ground, but you willed them to move.

You ended up sitting across from Peeta. Finnick was right next to him, his head lulled forward, eyes closed. Good, you thought, they both deserved the sleep.

Finnick always had trouble sleeping in high-stress situations. He had trouble sleeping regardless, sometimes more than you. You caught him awake more times that you could count, nursing a glass of something strong and staring at nothing instead of trying to sleep.

You should've known this time would be no different.

You were staring at the opening when you heard his voice. "Y/N?"

Instantly, your head snapped toward his. His head was upright now, no longer lulled over, and his eyes weren't closed—they were trained on you. A shaky breath left you, from being either startled or frustrated.

Why can't he ever leave well enough alone?

You opened your mouth to reiterate what you already told him, but he was faster. "I know." He paused, staring at you in that way you hated. His voice was quieter now. "I know. You don't wanna talk to me."

"So then why?" you asked, pleading for him to tell you the truth. "Why do you keep doing it?" Why did he insist on continually hurting you?

You were already in love with him. He already had your heart in the palm of his hand, so why did he feel the need to crush it?

It was already broken.

There was something about Finnick's expression you couldn't decipher, something that almost looked pained, and that pained you, too. For a moment, you almost thought you were spared, that he'd pretend to go back to sleep and you'd pretend to believe it, just like old times.

But when was the universe ever so kind to you?

"I do remember the night we met," he revealed. His eyes were sincere; you wanted to look away, but yours were locked on his. The two of you had never talked about this before. "The- the real night. But that wasn't the first time I saw you." He paused, swallowing. "I saw you win. I saw you back home. I saw you in the Capitol dozens of times, but- that night... I don't know what changed. You always looked beautiful, but that night you looked like an angel, Y/N." Your throat tightened, water welling up in your eyes. And then he went in a different direction. "But you were drinking. You looked... sad. And I- I wondered to myself, how could such a beautiful girl be so sad?"

You had to cut him off. "Finnick-"

"So I went up to you," he continued, ignoring your protest. "I had to. Something pulled me to you like a- like a magnet. And up close, you didn't just look like an angel anymore—I saw a goddess. A goddess whose voice dripped of all things sweet and bitter at the same time." He sounded breathless, his eyes glazed over like he was reliving the memory just as you were. "You enchanted me, Y/N."

You were speechless. You didn't know if you could speak even if you had the words. It was almost certain that, if you spoke, you'd cry.

Not once did he look away. Not once. God, he looked like he meant it. And that just made it hurt all the more.

"That was the night we met," he affirmed. "I remember the pretend, but the pretend isn't what I thought about while you were gone. What I remember best isn't the pretend." His gaze got heavier. "It's everything real that we had."

Real.

This felt real. And the tear that raced down your cheek felt real. The hoarseness in his voice felt real. The weight on your chest felt so real that you almost thought you were suffocating.

Do you want this to be real, Y/N?

Yes, of course, you did. A part of you did.

But did you really?

If this was real, would that make the pain easier to manage?

You didn't get to finish that thought. You didn't get to respond. There was a thud far off, something dropping in the water that caught your attention.

Simultaneously, both yours and Finnick's heads turned to the opening. It was complete and utter darkness—there was nothing there.

Then another drop. That made you brace your bow, your other hand going to wipe your cheek. Your eyes suddenly felt much drier.

Finnick got up before you could, going to the opening. You shot upward right after. "Finnick."

He held back two fingers without turning around. "Hold on. Just let me check it out."

You didn't listen, following him into the cavelike tunnel with the Holo turned on. It began chiming immediately, but the light you shined everywhere didn't pick anything up but dirty walls.

If you listened hard enough, it was almost as if you could hear your own name being whispered and bounced off the walls, drawn out purposefully.

You tilted your head and closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds entirely. Water droplets and Finnick's footsteps could be heard, your own breathing, and then you heard it again.

Y-Y-Y/N.

Your eyes flew wide open. "Do you hear that?"

Finnick turned to you but then a shuffle from back inside the tunnel interrupted whatever he was going to say. 

"Katniss."

Both of you turned back to see Peeta waking up, the others not very far behind him.

Jackson, who you couldn't see, questioned, "What is that?

Peeta came to the answer faster than either of you, rushing, "We gotta go. We gotta get outta here now."

"Keep your voice down-"

"Mutts! They released mutts!"

Shit. You quickly re-entered the tunnel. "Pollux, what's the fastest way out?"

Without another word, Pollux was up and leading the way. Gale stood next to him, shooting an incendiary down the path before you went down. 

Fire. Clear. It was safe to continue. You walked slowly, Jackson covering the back.

There was another tunnel on your left. Fire. Clear. Nothing.

On your right was a much more narrow tunnel, ending in a very small opening. The rest of you lit up the way while Pollux crawled in. Nobody spoke as he checked the area. It was silent except for your laboured breaths.

Then you couldn't even hear that. Your breath hitched as he went out of your view. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10-

Ten seconds. Ten seconds and then he was back. You exhaled as he came back into sight, signalling that it was clear to come in. 

Gale and Katniss went first. Then you, then Finnick, Peeta, and the others. Jackson was the last to come in. She shined her flashlight on the path you came from until she decided it was okay to enter.

As soon as she put her flashlight down, your stomach dropped.

No-

Jackson spun around, revealing dozens of mutts with pale, slimy skin and grizzly teeth. They didn't have eyes, but you saw their claws as they took her to the ground.

You gasped. Katniss immediately drew an arrow and shot at the opening, launching an explosion that sent you both backward into the water.

"Go! Go! Go! It's mutts!"

You took the hand that was outstretched to you without even looking at who it belonged to, and in a flash, you were up and running. Peeta screamed, "Pollux, lead us out of here!"

You ran like hell, but the mutts caught up to you. Briefly, it registered to you that there could've been tens and tens more.

One knocked Castor into the water behind you, leaving Cressida to scream his name. You barely noticed Finnick shooting one at your side as you knelt down, drawing an arrow and shooting, lighting them up like candles.

But Castor was still there. He was screaming. 

"Y/N, come on, move!" 

Finnick shook you out of your stupor, grabbing you and practically dragging you upward. That removed you from your trance, sending you running.

You were going straight until another horde of mutts came your direction, forcing you to turn to the tunnel on the left. They're coming from all sides.

You stopped as you ran into a larger area, spinning around and firing another explosive arrow into the tunnel you just came through. There was a ladder here—you just had to fend them off long enough to get there.

Katniss and you stayed on the ground, firing arrows left and right, trying to stop them from getting inside. She turned and one jumped down at her, leading you to shoot at it. She shot one coming from behind you; you shot one from the front.

But they were fast. You didn't see one coming until it was coming right at you, too close for you to fire. Your eyes widened as it pushed you against the wall; the only thing stopping it from mauling was your bow cushioned between it and your body.

Reflexively, your free hand went to the sword on your side. You raised it into the air and brought it down right on its neck, simultaneously kicking it away from you. Just as that one was gone, another came running from your right. You stabbed without a second thought.

Another got too close from your left. You hit it over the head with your bow, backing it with enough force to snap its neck. 

Too slow, you realized, quickly sheathing your sword and hanging the bow on your back, replacing it with the 9mm strapped to your thigh, promptly shooting the mutt in front of you.

You spun, seeing Katniss trying to fight off a mutt on top of her. You shot it with precise aim, killing it immediately.

Before you could even go to help her up, you were being knocked to the ground, your gun flying out of your hands.

You shuffled backward on the platform using the heels of your hands, eyes wild with the realization that it was right in front of you, but then just as it was about to come down on you, it was impaled from behind, a familiar trident glinting in the light.

A sigh of relief escaped you as Finnick threw the mutt to the ground, swinging at the next one like clockwork. That gave you the second you needed to get your bearings. You unsheathed your sword a second time, running up and covering him, slashing away at mutts on auto-pilot.

Your feet moved with a mind of their own, dancing with relentless determination. Finnick and you stood back to back, killing mutts like it was nothing.

The area was almost empty; just about everyone had gone up the ladder already, everyone but you, Finnick, and Katniss. She was on the ground, a mutt in front of her. You ran to her, sinking your sword into it and tossing it away before pulling her up. "Go, go, go!"

She followed your direction, running for the ladder. You hacked away at another one just as you heard Finnick scream, "Katniss!"

Immediately, you spun around, watching him throw his trident at a mutt trying to pull her down. Shit. He was weaponless.

A mutt crashed into him, and you wasted no time to pull out your second gun, shooting it in its centre. You ran to him, shooting two more on your way, and pulled him up. "Come on! Let's go!"

He rapidly nodded back to you, and you booked it, him running behind you. You made it to the ladder, climbing up like your life depended on it because it did. You were almost there when you heard Finnick scream, a mutt biting into his shoulder, but he stabbed it and pushed it to the ground.

You made it up to the top, looking down to see him up two-thirds of the way when a mutt jumped up and grabbed his shoulder. Your eyes went wide. "FINNICK!" 

He lost his grip, and your hand shot down at the speed of light, grabbing his. You surprised yourself at your own strength, pulling him up. Katniss quickly reached down to help you.

You don't know what the sound left you was; it was like a sob. He's okay. He's okay.

But if you were one second later, he wouldn't have been.

Without thinking about, you threw your arms around him. He reciprocated immediately, hugging you just as tight. Another sob left you. He's okay. He's okay.

I love him, and he's okay.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on! Let's go!" That brought you back to your senses, making you let go of him despite every bone in your body that said not to. "Keep moving! Keep moving!"

Katniss shot an arrow down the ladder just to slow down any mutts that'd follow you, and then the three of you were off once more.

You ran into the train station, and immediately, you were met with bullets flying your way. Not mutts this time. Peacekeepers.

Katniss pulled you behind a pole with her, soon realizing there were Peacekeepers attacking from the side, too. She shot an arrow at them, causing them and the escalator they were on to explode.

We have to run. It was either run or stay there to die. You pulled at her sleeve; she got the memo, running with you to the side.

One of the lights flickered before shining even brighter, like a spotlight. You soon realized its purpose when Messalla ran underneath it and was instantly vapourized, becoming nothing more than ashes.

Cressida stopped, her mouth falling open. You had to force yourself to yell at her. "Keep going! Keep going!" She got out of her shock and then started running again.

You didn't have time to stop and mourn over the life lost.

You raced through the station, shooting behind yourself periodically and dodging the light traps as you went.

But that wasn't enough. Not enough to satisfy the sick fantasies of a Gamemaker.

The ground behind you broke, and then it was coming at you like wave of rubble, forcing you to run faster than you ever had.

With all of your might, you jumped onto the platform, breaking your fall with a roll. Panting, you got back up, and you would've kept running had you not heard Cressida scream Peeta's name.

You turned around, seeing Katniss already running toward him. He was knelt forward, hands covering his ears. She crouched down next to him. "Peeta, we have to keep going!"

"I'm a mutt-"

"We have to keep going!"

 "I can't keep control!"

"Yes, you can-"

"Leave me, I'm a mutt!"

Katniss kept wrestling against him. "Look at me!" She grabbed his face into her hands. "Look at me." Within a split-second, her lips crashed into his, kissing him like he wasn't breathing and needed CPR.

Anyone watching could feel the love she had for that boy.

You glanced at Finnick to see him already looking at you, then you promptly looked away. This wasn't about you.

When she finally pulled away, she was nearly begging him. "Stay with me." And when you saw the look on his face, you knew that she got to him.

"Always," he whispered.

Katniss nodded, and then she pulled him up and you were running out. It was snowing when you got outside, a thin layer covering the ground. 

"I know where we are!" Cressida shouted, turning back to you. "I know a place. Up those stairs!"

You followed her, running up the stairs and passing a portrait of Finnick on the way, the words WANTED written on it in bold. There were likely similar ones all around the city. Your theory was proven correct when you ran past another post, this time with your own face.

Cressida ran forward to some dress shop, banging on the door. It almost looked like it was empty until you saw someone's figure behind the pixelated glass.

A woman opened the door and you all immediately ran inside, Cressida exclaiming, "Shut the door, shut the door!"

Katniss immediately raised her bow at the woman, drawing an arrow until Cressida assured her it was okay. While Finnick and Gale went to secure the perimeter, you stayed and examined the woman, getting a good look at her.

She had a tiger pattern tatted, framing her face and going down all the way to her neck, with whiskers. The orange, furry coat she wore completed her appearance. She looked familiar; you just couldn't pinpoint from where.

Cressida walked up to her. "Tigris, do you remember me? I'm with Plutarch's underground." Tigris just stared at her blankly. "We need your help."

In the background, someone shouted that it was clear. You watched as Tigris' eyes then locked on you. She didn't stare long before she acquiesced, leading you to another part of the shop. The boys met you on your way there.

She lifted a quilt off the ground, revealing a hidden trap door. It opened to a flight of stairs, and then the puzzle pieces suddenly clicked.

"I- I know you," you said. "You were a stylist in the Games."

She paused, removing her hood. "Until Snow decided I wasn't pretty enough anymore." Her hands ended up on her hips.

Pretty enough. That was all shades of ironic to you. How could such an ugly man decide what was beautiful?

Your mouth moved on its own accord. "We're here to kill him."

Tigris was impassive, but if you looked hard enough, you could see the slight curve of her lips.

You went down the stairs. She closed the door once the last of you was down. You were cemented to your spot by the stairs, listening to the sound of Pollux cry. His brother was dead.

The Leegs. Jackson. Castor. Messalla. Even Finnick almost died, and you don't know what you would've done if that happened, if he died due to decisions that you made.

This was your fault. This wasn't a game, but you played it like one. Now everyone that was dead was dead because of you.

Cressida said something about Gale needing stitches, along with Finnick. Slowly, you turned around, swallowing. This is my fault.

The words came tumbling out of your mouth. "I made it up." All eyes went to you. No take-backs now. "Everything." Your voice cracked. "There- there is no special mission from Coin, it's just- it was just my plan." Don't cry, Y/N. Don't cry. You don't deserve to cry. "Everyone that's dead is dead because of me—I lied."

"We know," Cressida said. "We all knew."

Your brows knitted together. They knew? "Wh- the soldiers from 13?"

"They did, too." They knew. "Do you really believe that Jackson thought you had orders from Coin?" Her voice wasn't accusatory, nor was it intended to be hurtful. It was genuine. She looked down. "She trusted Boggs and he clearly wanted you to go on."

But why? Why did Boggs trust you? Why did she lie for you, and why did any of them go with your plan?

"We had your back, Y/N." Your eyes darted to the new voice, meeting Finnick's blue eyes from across the room. His voice was soft, just as soft as it was earlier before the mutts came. "Always have. Always will."

Tears came to your eyes. Don't cry, Y/N. You sniffled. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I-" you cut yourself off. Don't cry, Y/N. You turned to Pollux. "I'm so sorry, Pollux. I'm so sorry."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry-

"Glimmer. Marvel. Mags." You looked to the side, seeing Peeta with his eyes trained on the ground, reciting, "Clove. Wiress. Rue." He looked up at you. "Bay." Your breath hitched. Bay. "What do all those deaths mean?" 

You couldn't answer—because you didn't know. That was a question you'd been asking yourself since you were thrown into the arena at 15.

"They mean that our lives were never ours," Peeta said. "There was no real life, because we didn't have any choice. Our lives... belong to Snow, and our deaths do, too." 

Finnick's voice echoed in your head, words playing in your head that you had thought about a thousand times before. We will never be free, Y/N.

"But if you kill him—if you end all of this... all those deaths, they mean something." 

Your will was broken, a tear falling down your cheek against all your best restraint. Meaning. Every death since you were reaped for The Hunger Games and every death that came before it, they could all have meaning.

"Cinna. Boggs. Castor. Jackson. They chose this."

Katniss spoke up from beside you. "They chose you, Y/N." You turned to her, seeing the silent words that lied in her eyes. She nodded, as if confirming it for you. She was giving it to you.

Snow's death. It was yours.

So it was decided. You would kill President Snow. You would put an end to this, and you would give those deaths meaning. 

No matter what, even if it killed you. That didn't matter.

Your death would have meaning, too.

You were dressing Finnick's wound, wincing every time he hissed like you could feel the pain yourself. He didn't deny you when you sat next to him, a first aid kit in your hands.

You stitched him up like it was muscle memory, which it was. Your father taught you. I'm not always gonna be here, Y/N, he said, so there are some things I need to teach you so you can take of yourself. And your mother.

And you did. You took care of yourself and her for six years. Then you took care of yourself out in the wilderness in The Games, going as far as to kill people just to stay alive. When you got out, you continued to care of your mother, even as she refused to look at you. You sold your body and gave up your innocence so she would stay safe; you gave her your home.

Now where was she? She was dead.

But Finnick wasn't. He was still alive. He could've died right before your eyes, but he didn't. You couldn't let him die.

Your mother, she died without the two of you ever reconciling. You refused to let that be the case for you and Finnick. All of the grief and trauma between the two of you, it would be resolved. It had to be. Or, at least, it'd be as resolved as could be possible. 

Maybe there was too much too broken to be fixed. Maybe Finnick Odair and Y/N Y/L/N were doomed from the start.

But at least you had this. You had goodbye.

All of a sudden, he spoke up. "The plan was always to pull you out." You stopped what you were doing, your hands freezing in their place. "You were never supposed to be in The Games, Y/N. The Reaping was rigged."

"What?" Shock laced through your voice.

"You were supposed to stay in 4," he told you. "You were supposed to stay home, and then people from 13 would come pick you up." A breathless chuckle left him, one that you were sure hurt his ribs. "You were never supposed to volunteer."

Memories flooded your head.

Why would you do that?

Finn-

Why would you volunteer?

You intook a sharp breath, realization hitting you like a truck. The hiding away at the gala, talking to Plutarch, the way he wasn't surprised when the Quell was announced, the sheer anger he had when you volunteered. And then the insistence that you would be fine, that you were both gonna make it out of that arena.

Except you didn't.

"So that plan changed. Johanna was supposed to cut your tracker, but she didn't get the chance. Then Katniss shot the force field, and I-" his voice cracked, "I wanted to find you, but I couldn't move."

Stop. "Finnick-"

"I was gonna tell you." He turned around, facing you. "After The Games, I was gonna tell you that I loved you. But then they had you and I couldn't. But I do, Y/N." He grabbed onto your cheeks, and you let him. His eyes begged you to believe him. "I love you."

A shaky breath left you, the words reverberating through your head. I love you.

He loved you.

And this time, you believed him.

You rested your forehead against his. "God, I-" say it. "I love you, too."

In a heartbeat, Finnick's lips collided with yours. You didn't even have to think about before you kissed him back, your lips moving together in unison, dancing to the song you'd danced to for years. You realized this was your first time kissing him since the Quell, and you realized just how much you missed this.

Whenever Finnick kissed you, you felt loved, even if you knew he didn't love you.

Except this time, you knew he did.

When you pulled away, you couldn't help the smile that came across your face. When you opened your eyes, you saw that his face was no different.

This. This was what home felt like.

Even if you might not feel it again, it was nice to visit just one last time.

"When, um," you paused, running a hand through his hair. God, I missed this. "When all this is over, we can talk about everything."

His grin got wider when you thought that wasn't possible. "Okay. I can wait—I'd do anything for you." Your smile got a little hollow. I hope you let me die.

You were lying. You knew you wouldn't be here to talk about everything—you'd be dead by then. But you wanted to just have this, this one last moment. You wanted one last moment with Finnick, doing what the two of you did best. Pretending.

So you pretended everything was okay, and you made promises you couldn't keep.

"I love you, Y/N Y/L/N."

You smiled. "I love you, Finnick Odair." You'd love him to the end of time. You loved him to death. Soon, he'd realize that.

Goodbye, Finnick.

I love you.

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons @hnslchw @unholyhuntress @aclmagic @gloryekaterina @ayme301 @lem0ns77 @kisskittenn @onlyangel-444 @moonagedaydream505 @spderm4nnnn @satellitespeirs @glitzcute @iammirrorball @corpsebasil @forever-sleepy-sloth @omwtkydttfym @divinelovers @maggiecc @i-am-a-simp1 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @nelliereadsstuff @how2besalty @dreaminglandsworld @eilaharmonia @catvader101 @lexa138 @h0neylemon @dakotali @hermionelove @theseerbetweenus @whosscruffylooking @yourdailymemedelivery @emma-andrea1 @s1lngwns @meenyminymoes-blog @roxi-reid @rattertatter @sunnybunnyy2 @just-levyy @amaranth-writing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @joshhutchersonisdaddy @my-name-is-baby @hehehe13356 @quazsz @chloecharms23 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thehairington86 @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @ment1tavoid @hereliesme @tayrae515 @mottergirl99 @blackdxggr

additional a/n: ru happy i didn't kill finnick?! it was very tempting, guys, but i had this planned out from the beginning. ALSO, bc i am skeptical that every tag on this taglist works, here is an additional taglist of everyone new that has asked to be on it.

[libertyybellls]

silver soul !

pairing; finnick odair x fem reader

summary; you’ve been reaped for the 68th annual games,as you say your goodbyes you realize the ocean is not the only thing you are leaving behind.

contains ; ANGST, sadness, unconfessed loves.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you’re sitting atop the smoothest rock nearing the shoreline, too close to be dry but too far to be soaked. the air is cool despite the season. something somber lays in the air- as if nature can read the silence between you and finnick.

oh, finnick.

you wait for him to speak, for him to say goodbye and let you go. let you move onto your impending doom. but he doesn’t speak- he doesn’t even move. no noise is emitting from him, you’re not even sure you can hear his breathing- the typically obnoxious huffs and puffs he exudes are gone and he remains next to you in these final moments on district 4- refusing to speak.

he’d prayed to any god that would listen for the 68th hunger games to have mercy on you. he wouldn’t give just an arm and a leg for your safety. he would give anything that belonged to him to ensure that you’d return home, back to him, back to whatever you two were in.

he could’ve crumpled to the floor when he’d heard your name called, when nobody had volunteered. why you? why not anyone else? anyone but her.

“i’ll be okay.”

you couldn’t promise that, you knew it was a lie, you’re only 16, you have nothing to depend on getting you through the games.

“i’ll be your mentor. i’ll find you sponsors. let me help you.” finnick pleads, his eyes lowly looking into yours.

it is only then you want to break into pieces in his arms. you want to sob. you want to retreat back to your family, back to his safe presence. he looks so pure with the sparkle of grace in his eye, deeply at variance to the picture that’s been painted to the capitol. his altruistic belief in you when even now, you are certain you won’t make it far in these games, gives you a rush.

you don’t respond to his desperate offers. you only look down to your lap- at your dress playing with the simple garment. you laugh breathily, “what are the odds.”

‘not in my favor’ he selfishly thinks. he may still have a life whether you win or lose this game- but will he be alive? will he have his anchor?

he shames the world, shames the capitol, shames all of the people who sat back and let you walk onto that stage, shames the game makers who would ever let you step foot in that arena. he needs you to be okay. this world is cruel, cruel to do this to his girl.

“please trust me, i will get you out of these games. you will be a victor and we can live in peace, y/n.”

he sins. he lies. he deceives. straight through his teeth. no matter the outcome you will never live in peace once your out of this. you will never be the same girl.

you think back to his own games. though he has yet to directly say his nightly terrors, his daily horrors, the acts he’s committed that he will never say as he looks into your loving eyes. the capitol has not had lenience on this boy, only a boy, but with troubles of a man.

there is no outcome of this predicament that either of you favor. no scenario in which the world grants you the rest you deserve. you want to scream, cry, pour your heart into him. let him fully consume every fiber that holds you together, all the words you’ve never yet said to him lay heavy on your heart. now it is your turn to stay silent, to lose all oxygen in your lungs, let the blood leave your face. but your voice fails you, “i trust you finnick.”

i trust that i am safe with you. i trust that you won’t let me die. i trust that i will make it back to you. i trust you.

he pulls you into him, his cheeks are wet, there’s a lump in his throat but he does not speak. he simply holds your head onto his chest- his fingers lock into yours as if that’s where they were made to lay.

your words continue to lie dormant in the back of your shared minds- but you let the angry waves speak for you. the greying sky share your sadness, the cold drops of water that reach your legs will bring you back to life- rejuvenate your soul ties. this is the peace you’ve been granted- this is all that is fair in your life.

only in this moment will he have you as you are now, in his arms, still so fragile but he holds you intact.