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[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 13

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 9.9k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn, @meandurdaughtergotaspecialthing, @innercreationflower, @kisskittenn, @xngelsau, @coriolanussnowswife Chapter Summary: I've moved the arena around a bit, but nothing major; nothing starts until day 2 1: Blood rain 2: Giant poisonous bugs 3: Toxic Fog 4: Monkies 5: Jabberjays 6: Beast 7: Unknown 8: Unknown 9: Fire 10: Flood 11: Unknown 12: Lightening A/N: this bad boy is 10k, one more chapter b4 we go into mockingjay!!!!!!

Present (XII)

THE ARENA; SECTION 5  (12:23 pm-12:59 pm)

The smell of freshly rained earth lingers around them as they traverse the jungle, and Finnick thinks of you.

During the countdown, he saw you. He locked eyes with you, and, stupidly, he thought that would be enough to tide him over. Just one last moment between the two of you before performing for the cameras. But if that were true, he wouldn’t have looked for you as soon as he reached the Cornucopia—before that, even. When he surfaced from the water, over Katniss’s shoulder as he grabbed a weapon, out of the corner of his eye when he was looking for Peeta; desperate for a glimpse of you. 

And when he finally found you—no, when you found him—your voice carried his name to his ears like a gift. He didn’t need to think; his body was automatically attuned to you like a compass. He had his trident poised and ready to defend you from whatever he considered a threat—a knee-jerk reaction. But when he turned, there was only you. 

You looked at him as though there was a taut rubber band between your bodies, and you had to use all of your strength to resist giving in to that pressure. The desire to run to you was instinctive.

What would that have accomplished other than showing Snow their hand early? It’s not like he could have swept you up in his arms like he wanted to. He couldn't hold you close and make you promise that you'd come back to him, whole, healthy, and his. Being that bold this soon in the Games would benefit no one. Not when you still had to be separated. 

He had almost stopped to watch and make sure you made it out with Johanna, but, as you subtly reminded him, he had to stick to the plan. Plus, seeing you drive your sickle through the head of a man at least two times your size definitely reassured him that you could handle your own.

Not that he didn’t know you could bring a man to his knees. He’s had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of your firm hand enough to—he shakes his head, scolding himself like a misbehaving dog.

Not the time, Odair.

Later, he tells himself, there’ll be time for that later.  

Even now, he’s thinking about how it felt to sleep next to you for the first time in years—head against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat as you hold him in your embrace. If he closes his eyes, he can feel sure fingers carding through his hair and dull nails scratching softly along his scalp. 

But he can’t close his eyes. No, he needs them open to dart between Katniss’s sprinting form and over his shoulder as they run for their lives through this fucking jungle. 

They’ve covered a good chunk of land in a relatively short amount of time. He’d say it’s taken them about ten minutes to cross a mile, maybe more. He’d be more confident in his estimate if they weren’t traveling up such a steep incline.

Around this point, Finnick decides they’ve put enough space between them and the Career pack that it should be okay to take a short break. He can feel Mags’s heart pounding against his back. Not ideal for a woman this close to ninety.

“Okay, hold up. Hold up.” He calls out, and they all come to a stop. He bends at the knee to help Mags down. “Okay. You alright now?”

He lowers himself to the ground, holding her hand as they sit down. “Okay?” He asks, and she nods, frail fingers gripping his tight as her other hand pats his bicep. Adrenaline makes her shake a little, but she waves off his concern. The four of them sit for a second, gathering themselves.

“God, it’s hot.” Peeta pants and Finnick senses that the oppressive heat might be more to blame than the hike. It’s like he’s choking on it; the air is so heavy that his nostrils don’t feel big enough to inhale it. He breathes in through his mouth and it’s only marginally better. He’s soaked. Something stings as it drips into his eyes and he genuinely can’t tell if it’s saltwater or sweat. “We gotta find fresh water.”

Water. Finnick looks around for any indication of nearby drinking water, listening in for a river or stream. He’d even take a pond. Water would be amazing, preferably without a high salt concentration.

Unknown insects chirp around them in unison; it sort of sounds like a snake. It’s so loud that he’s almost able to ignore the weight of Katniss’s stare. It’s not even like she’s glaring. It’s nearly bird-like how she appraises him—waiting for him to act like the predator she thinks he is. 

Three cannons fire in quick succession. The others look to the sky, but he stares at the tree over Katniss’s shoulder. Any one of those cannons could be you. He holds back a flinch at the thought. You’re not dead. No. No, you wouldn’t do that to him. He's only just gotten you back. And even after two years apart, the two of you are so deeply intertwined that Finnick’s sure his own heart would give out when yours stopped.

With a derisive snort and a shake of his head, Finnick says, perhaps a bit manically, “Well, I guess we’re not holding hands anymore.” His chuckle is met with disapproving silence. Too soon?

Katniss regards him with a look of contempt. Definitely too soon then. “You think that’s funny?"

No, not particularly. But what else is there to do but laugh at the absurdity of it all?

“Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. I don’t care about any of them.” He lies. Sometimes, it feels like that’s all he’s capable of. Even now, in the midst of this death sentence, he still can’t be honest about you. He can’t afford to be. Not until he knows you’re safe.

“Good to hear.” With a sly grin, Finnick observes Katniss taking a machete out of her quiver, seemingly more as a threat than a precaution. It’s promptly wiped from his face when she says your name. “Does she know that? If that’s the case, you should have killed her back at the Cornucopia. She didn't even have a weapon. It would have been easy for you.”

“She’s our ally, Katniss." Peeta attempts to caution her or maybe admonish her; Finnick doesn’t know. And he doesn’t care, honestly. Not with how focused he and Katniss are on each other. He can’t even acknowledge Peeta defending you, as odd as it is. 

Unbidden and without provocation, the mental picture of him killing you takes shape. If he wasn’t already so lightheaded from the moist air, he’d be nauseous at the idea. Is she trying to get a rise out of him by bringing you up? Is that what this is? Or is she���is she threatening you? Whatever the hell her angle is, whatever tactic she’s trying to maneuver, he won’t let a threat against you stand—empty or not.

“You know...Katniss. You really shouldn’t speak on things you know nothing about.” He shakes his head as he ignores Mags’s warning grunt, mouth curling in that frosty way of his that entices those stupid enough to mistake a predator baring its teeth for a smile. But Katniss isn’t stupid. This is a language she’ll understand—the language of hunting animals. Her back straightens. His remains deceptively lax. “I mean, can't say that’s ever ended well for you, can we?”

“Are you threatening me, Odair?”

“Threat—” He can’t help but laugh because, honestly. 

This is the girl they’re laying down their lives for? The girl you’re laying down your life for? Emphasis on ‘girl’, she’s far too naïve to be an adult. 

People like her—they're too busy fighting shadows to figure out what’s casting them. Too focused on watching their backs that they don't bother wondering why they have to watch it in the first place—and she’s supposed to lead them to salvation?

He wants to laugh. Instead, Finnick bites his cheek. Maybe he’s bitten into another pipe dream.

“No,” he scoffs. “I’m saving you.”

“Saving? Please, you don’t care about anyone but yourself—”

“Let’s keep moving.” Peeta rises to stand in between them, stopping to give Katniss a long look that she doesn't return, before marching forward and taking the machete with him. The two of them size each other up. For someone so emotionally stunted, her thoughts are broadcast clearly on her face. 

He can see her weighing her odds against him in a fight, whether her speed with the bow is any match for him and his trident, and Finnick’s weighing how much longer she can stand being a team player. He’s not cocky enough to not consider her a threat; she’s a fighter—but, then again, so is he. That’s not what’s staying his hand. Her survival is their only way out of here—not to mention how disappointed you’d be in him if you found out. He won’t be the one to snatch this chance away from you. Not unless she throws the first punch.

He subtly shifts his grip on his weapon into something more defensive, and she gives him one last withering look, or her version of it, before following Peeta. 

He wishes you were here with him. For several reasons, but in this particular moment, to show Katniss how wrong she is. Show her how much he does care about you and how much you care about him in turn. Is it childish that he feels the need to prove anything to a teenager? Maybe.

Probably.

Most likely.

He bends down to help Mags onto his back, scowling at Katniss’s retreating back. 

It’s definitely childish, but still. He sighs. You’d understand. All the more reason to wish you were here. He knows things were touch and go—more go than touch, really—between the two of you at the time, but would it have killed Haymitch to pair the two of you together? Johanna and Blight are more than capable of playing escort for those two brains.

To be fair to the other man, Haymitch had no way of knowing if Finnick would succeed in reconnecting with you.

He takes a moment to really think about it. Namely, how much anger you’ve been harboring over the past two years and the way you drove your sickle through that man’s skull. He tilts his head, squinting. What’s that saying about a woman scorned?

Pairing you together may not have killed Haymitch, but it certainly could have killed Finnick.

His train of thought is violently cut off by Peeta crashing head-first into the force field.

SECTION 11 (12:49 pm-1:12 pm)

“We’re almost at the edge of the arena,” Johanna calls down to your group, climbing halfway down the tree before jumping the rest of the way. 

“What does the arena look like?” Beetee asks, pushing his glasses up for what must be the tenth time since you all decided to stop and get your bearings. The sweat on his face provided no traction to hold them in place.

“One big ass circle and we’re almost at the edge. Other than the beach, there’s nothing but jungle.” She sighs, stomping over to where you sit on the ground. Beetee gives a clinical nod.

“How close is ‘almost’?” You ask, handing her axe back. 

“I’d say at most a quarter of a mile. We’re closer to the edge than we are to the Cornucopia.”

“What do’ya suppose’ll happen if we hit the edge?” Says Blight in his heavy district brogue, which is so different from any you’ve heard before. You had asked Johanna about it at some point—the contrasts of their voices. She explained that Blight was born further north than she was, practically on the border of Seven. 

It’s not like everyone in Eleven speaks the same, but at least some level of similarity can be distinctly found in Eleven—in the southernmost districts in general. It shares a likeness with Eight and Ten. You can sometimes hear the same notes in Katniss and Haymitch’s voices, but not in Peeta’s.

“Most likely? I’d imagine some sort of boundary or force field.” Beetee informs you all.

“Regardless. We won’t know until…” Wiress starts, trailing off as something you aren’t privy to catches her attention.

“—Until we’re upon it.” Beetee finishes for her.

You clear your throat. “I’d say it’s best we don’t find out unless we have to.” You drawl, dropping the Capitol accent you’ve been forced to assimilate for what you realize will be the last time. You replace the over-enunciation and grating lilt with slanted vowels and a melodic tempo.

“We can probably head in a little more and then cut to the left or right,” Johanna suggests and you realize she’s talking to you. Not just you in the sense of the whole group, but you specifically. You glance around. They’re all looking at you. It seems you’re the de facto leader.

When the hell was that decided?

“Right. Well,” you clap your hands, picking your sickles up as you rise, “let’s get a move on. We need to go further while there’s still daylight. Then, we'll find a place to set up camp."

Hopefully.

Blight takes the lead, getting a headstart at cutting through the tightly packed vegetation with his machete.

“C’mon.” You smile down at Wiress as you help her up. She returns it gratefully and Beetee offers her his arm before they trail behind Blight. As you and Johanna carry the flank, you eye the long gash along his shoulder blade that’s steadily bleeding. Your main objective is to get these two to the pickup point, but you’d prefer if you got them there in one piece.

Chaff had said he’d be teaming up with Woof and Cecelia. As well as the morphlings, if they can find them. Unlikely, since they’re masters of stealth. You remember how they didn’t stray far from the camouflage section. You had asked Peeta about the swirls of color on his arm while you were training and he told you it was supposed to be a sunrise that the female morphling painted. She’s apparently fond of them. With skills like that, you know they’ll only be found if they want to be. 

The morphlings. That’s like if you only referred to Haymitch as ‘The Alcoholic’. You scold yourself mentally for using such a needlessly cruel nickname for them just because everyone else did. Either one of your parents would’ve pinched the skin off of you if they knew that.

It's probably an odd time to do so, but you decide it’s high time you learned their actual names. Before now, you had very little reason to since you rarely interacted with them. Yet, even if they hadn’t been rebels, they still deserve the basic respect of being acknowledged as people, not just in conjecture with their addictions. You don’t expect to be BFFs after you make it out of the arena, but you’d like to, at least, be someone who knows and uses their real names.

“Thanks. For what you did back there.” Johanna takes you out of your musings, swinging her axe to and fro on her other side. “Taking that guy down for me. You didn’t have to.”

You scowl at the reminder, pretending to be focused on navigating your steps along the tricky jungle floor instead of looking at her. You didn’t want to think about that. How killing him was the first solution that came to mind. It’s not that you’re naive enough to think that talking him down was even an option. He wasn’t on your side. He wasn’t one of you. He had made his own bed of flowers by turning down Haymitch’s offer. But why couldn’t it have been Gloss or Enobaria that killed him? Why did it have to be you?

Why not you?

“I know I didn’t.”

“But you did, and,” she sighs, jutting her jaw to the side as if it’s taking a lot out of her to say this, “and I’d probably be so minced that the hovercraft would have to make multiple trips to get all the pieces if you hadn’t stepped in, so...thank you."

You smile at her awkward discomfort, ignoring the glances she shoots you out of the corner of her eye and acting oblivious to her increasing agitation.

“Are you gonna say ‘you’re welcome’, or what, asshole?” She scoffs.

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.” You knock your shoulder into hers and she knocks yours right back.

“I owe you one.”

You laugh. “God, I hope not.”

SECTION 5 (1 pm-1:34 pm)

The force of the blow is enough to send Peeta flying backward, knocking them all over so fast that Finnick can barely register that he’s not still standing.

“Peeta’s not breathing!” Katniss cries and it’s a blur of motion as Finnick moves into action, his body acting on autopilot. “Peeta’s not breathing!”

Prop Mags up against a tree.

Check for a pulse that isn’t there.

CPR.

Tilt his head at an angle.

Pinch his nose—a stiff hand to Katniss’s sternum—pinch his nose, blow air into his deflated lungs.

Ignore the arrow pointed at his head.

Put his body weight behind each pump.

Push his will into the unresponsive body. From his shoulders, down his biceps, and into the heels of his hands, to where Peeta’s still heart lies.

C’mon, Peeta. C’mon, c’mon.

“C’mon, Peeta!” He can feel the anticipation of the viewers boiling in on them from all angles, his hair standing on end as he tries to pump Peeta’s heart for him. If they lose Peeta, they lose Katniss. If they lose Katniss, they lose the revolution. If they lose the revolution, they’ll lose, they’ll lose, they’ll lose—“Come on! Come on!” 

He’s got no idea why they haven’t called it yet, why they haven’t blown the cannon, despite his heart stopping before he even hit the floor. Maybe they’re hoping, like he’s hoping, that Peeta will come. The fuck. On.

A small gasp, a cough and—

Finnick falls back on his haunches, hands on his hips and panting as the muscles in his arms buzz. He’s lightheaded again from supplying so much of his air to Peeta. And the heat isn’t doing anyone any favors.

“Be careful. There’s a force field up there.” Peeta huffs and Katniss chuckles, half-hysterical, before dipping down to kiss him. Finnick pauses in the middle of a much-needed inhale, watching the two with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, my God. You were dead. You were dead. Your heart stopped.” Katniss sobs as she drapes over Peeta, shrill and so resoundingly real that Finnick blanches for a second. He’s never seen her hands waver when drawing her bow, but they tremble now as they hold Peeta close. 

Huh.

“It’s okay.” He assures her, still smoldering and smoking a little. “It’s working now.” She helps him up, still sobbing. Or maybe choking? Choking on her sobs. Peeta looks upon her with concern. 

“Katniss?” Peeta prompts, starting to look increasingly panicked and Finnick can’t handle them both freaking out. 

“It’s okay. It’s just her hormones.” Finnick is slow to stand, looking them over quizzically. “From the baby.”

“No. It’s not—” She cuts herself off with more choke-sobs. There’s something here—something he couldn’t see before. Something he hadn’t considered concerning these two, concerning Katniss. That something is familiar. What does it remind him of? It’s nagging at the back of his skull. That staunch fear, the protectiveness followed by the open gasping relief. He recognizes it. Where, where, where—

“She can't possibly care about him that much."

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Of course, he recognizes it—that familiar, desperate love. He’s felt it.

Katniss glares at him, snotty and defensive, and he stares, mystified. He shakes his head, pulling himself from his revelation-induced stupor. The two lovebirds hug each other like they’re the only things holding each other up. And with their current states, they might as well be. To give them some privacy, he walks over to check on Mags and finds her knowing gaze. He can’t have been the last one to know this love story isn’t much of a story at all, right?

SECTION 3 (6:50 pm-10:20 pm) 

Finnick rolls his trident back and forth between his hands as they all wait for Katniss to come back from scouting in the trees. Mags cracks open and eats another one of the nuts Katniss has been using and substantially cooking by bouncing them off of the force field to show the rest of them where it is, considering she can hear it. He has no reason to believe otherwise; there’s no evidence to indicate she’s lying, but Finnick doesn’t buy that she can hear it just because of her hearing aid. If that’s the case, why hasn’t she mentioned it before now? He has no reason to call her out on it, so he won’t. Any advantage they have in the arena, the better. 

He can feel the water evaporating out of his body like a sponge being wrung dry. He feels like a beached whale. They can’t have been in the arena for that long, but the heat—it’s not the kind he’s used to. The sun in Four has nothing on this. He’s never been so thirsty before, not even in his previous Games. They all perk up when she comes back down, hoping beyond hope that she’s seen drinkable water. That hope is crushed when she shakes her head.

“The force field…it’s a dome. We’re at the edge of the arena.” She wipes her sweat-slick hair out of her face. "I couldn't find any signs of fresh water.”

They all sit in dehydrated silence. The human body can only go on for so long with no water. Food, while an amazing plus, won’t be a real problem for weeks. And between the nuts and all the fish they could catch, it’s a problem with a simple solution. Without water, however, they will almost certainly die in five days, with their organs starting to shut down in three. He's seen it back in Four. Dead men brought back from sea shriveled and arid. He always imagined it must be torture to be surrounded by all that water and unable to drink any of it. 

Now, it looks like he might find out.

And with that depressing thought, Finnick moves forward. “It’s getting dark soon. We’ll be safe with our backs protected.” Knowing the consequences of touching the force field, they’ll be able to use the arena itself as a weapon. “We should set up camp. Take turns sleeping. I can take first watch.”

“Not a chance.” Katniss scoffs.

He tilts his head.

He knows the heat is just making everything worse, only fueling his irritability. But he is so over her and this teenage snippiness. Peeta’s so easygoing that he honestly doesn’t mind his company; he can see how the two of you became such quick friends. But Katniss? She is a remarkably hard person to like. 

How much longer will she treat him like a criminal? As far as he’s concerned, the only thing he’s guilty of is giving her the impression that she has any authority over him.

Burying the blunt end of his trident into the ground, he uses it to leverage himself up.

“Honey,” he mocks, his voice long-suffering and chiding, like he’s explaining something that really should be common sense to a child who's a little behind the curve. Which, honestly, doesn't seem too far off. “That thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called ‘saving his life’. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would have done it by now."

He holds her eye before he rips his weapon out of the ground. He’s too tired to have a stupid argument over this, so he nimbly picks his way over to Mags so they can start making camp. 

-

When the Capitol anthem blares throughout the arena and the insignia projects across the sky, Finnick watches with rapt attention. He inhales sharply, watches, and waits.

Portraits of the dead flash beside the full moon. The man from Five that he killed, the man from Six, both from Eight, both from Nine, the woman from Ten and then…it stops. There’s the Capitol seal again and then nothing. No more portraits light up the sky; your portrait doesn’t light up the sky.

You’re still alive.

You’re alive . He knew that. He did. He did . He would have known, he would have felt , otherwise. After all, you had promised him, hadn’t you? In those scant few hours in the early morning before the Games, you both promised to do everything in your power to get back to each other. Promised to see this through, knowing what future waited on the other side—a future together.

He knew you were alive, but the confirmation is—

He lets out the breath he’s been holding, tension easing from his shoulders. 

“Seven,” Katniss says.

“Mhm.” He acknowledges.

Seven victors. His brows furrow. The two from Eight, Woof and Cecelia. The male morphling. All dead.

But he’s still alive. And so are you.

SECTION 1 (12:55 am–3:26 am)

In the white, spectral fog of the jungle, Johanna smacks something big and hairy off the back of her hand. Are the bugs even real?  

She wouldn’t put it past the Capitol to mutate them—control the mutts to crawl all over them and kill them in their sleep. But that’s too boring a death, too kind. Plus, it doesn’t make for good television. And eating bugs would probably make the audience more squeamish than child murder.

Thanks to you, they at least had something to eat. Berries, mushrooms, and, oddly enough, leaves. Not much, but it was something. But there was still the water issue—meaning there was none. They hadn't stumbled upon anything they could drink. No ponds, no rivers. Not even a fucking puddle.

She and you both agreed that there had to be water in the trees; it was too humid for there not to be. But with no way to collect it, they were shit out of luck. Luckily, depending on how long it takes to get here, they’re expecting a rain cloud. It was the only logical assumption after they heard lightning strikes not too far off. Makes sense. Short of a sponsor gift or the magical ability to make salt water drinkable, there’s little for the victors to do in terms of battling dehydration.

If this rain doesn’t pull through, she’ll be tempted to tell you to bite the bullet and request a spile or something. Though she understands why you haven’t done so yet. Just the thought of begging those simpering morons to empty their pockets to help keep her alive makes Johanna shiver and she doesn’t even have the same history with them that you do. Knowing your fans, they’d probably get off on you debasing yourself.

Johanna knocks her head against the tree she's leaning on. She offered to take the first watch because she needed time to think. It was smart of Katniss to want you as an ally. It's easier on Johanna's part too, because at least you can take care of yourself.

And, had the rebellion not been afoot, it would've guaranteed Finnick as an ally too. Maybe Peeta is the one who picked you because Johanna doubts the girl on fire is sharp enough to think that far ahead. Or mature enough to pull her big girl pants on and notice anything around her that didn't actually revolve around her.

Johanna is woman enough to admit that she's jealous. Jealousy is nothing to be ashamed of when it's entirely warranted. Katniss doesn't have to worry about losing her family, not really. Because the Capitol just adores them. Katniss doesn't have to worry about losing her self-autonomy, her dignity, her innocence while in bed with a stranger. Katniss hasn't lived with the grief of what she's experienced long enough for it to turn her bitter.

And yet, here they are, protecting her even if it kills them. No, Johanna reminds herself. They're protecting the rebellion. Katniss just happens to be the face of it.

It’s almost pitch black. Without the sun to shine through the dense tops of the trees, the moon could hardly pull its weight. But it’s been dark for so long that her eyes have adapted a bit. They slept closer to the force field than she would have liked, but she understood your logic. No one can sneak up on them from behind with the force field at their back.

She digs the sharp metal part of her axe into the dense ground, pulling it out, and hacking away again.

She looks over to where the others are sleeping, Nuts and Volts guarded on either side by your and Blight's sleeping bodies. At least they aren't completely useless.

Even if Katniss hadn't wanted them as allies, they would've had to guard them anyway. Haymitch made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that they're the brains of this operation. Or at least Volts is. She zeros in on the spool of wire he clings to in his sleep.

She isn't one hundred percent sure how they plan on busting them out of the arena, but it probably has something to do with that. Or at least, it better. He nearly lost his life trying to get it. And she nearly lost her head trying to get him.

They need to meet up with Finnick, but she has no idea where his group is. It's not like they can just bury their heads in the sand and wait for them to show up. The plan rides on them all being together at the pickup point.

A drop of water wets her scalp and then another. It, like everything else in this place, is uncomfortably warm—bordering on hot. But beggars can’t be choosers. The drops of water feel heavier, but that could just be her imagination.

Rain? Finally.

She’ll wake the others up once her vocal cords stop feeling like she’s starting a fire every time she talks. It slowly but steadily picks up—drops landing on her forehead and dripping down her nape. She tilts her head back and opens her mouth and the dry, cracking chasm that she used to call her throat trembles in anticipation of the oncoming relief. 

When it touches her tongue, she recoils. Thick, bitter, and metallic. It's only then that Johanna realizes the warm liquid isn't water. She holds out her hand to catch a drop and it stains red.

Blood.

And, as if the Gamemakers were waiting for her reaction, the sprinkling of rain turns into a downpour.

“Get up!” She screams, scrambling to her feet. “Get up! Get the fuck up!”

You wake up, alert, with your weapons in hand. Springing to attention like you were never asleep to begin with. When you see no enemy you can fight, your vigilance gives way to confusion. The other three are slower to rise until the blood starts pelting them like coins.

They stumble up, much like she did, but they don’t know. They don’t understand what’s falling from the sky.

“Don’t drink it—!” She tries to warn them and gets a mouthful of tacky, festering blood for her troubles. It’s thick and greasy and viscous and slippery, so the remnants of it stay behind when she tries to spit it out. It coats the back of her throat, creeping its way up her nose and slicking in between her molars. 

“Blood!” The last thing Johanna can see before her vision goes red is your blurry face going from stark relief to abject terror as her words fully sink in. “It’s–it’s blood!”

From then on, there’s no room for coherent thought. Instead, Johanna gets stuck in a cycle of gagging on blood, spitting it out, and heaving in the fucked up, muggy, contaminated air, only to start it all over.

She tries to shield her eyes, but the blood creeps underneath her hands like its goal is to take out as many senses as possible. The sound of it sliding off the top of the canopies and hitting the ground is deafening; it almost drowns out your attempts to call out to Johanna. But calls for each other are only answered with blood.

They all flounder about, tottering around on unsure feet. Johanna wipes her eyes and tries to squint around it. But it’s no use. Even if her eyes weren’t compromised, the blood falls so thickly that it curtains everything around her.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t realize she’s only seeing three red silhouettes instead of four.

She gives up on her eyes and works to save her lungs instead. She cups her mouth and nose, coughing and hacking so hard that it feels like her chest is on fire. She breathes through her nose and immediately stops when it burns her nostrils. She breathes through her mouth and it’s somehow worse to taste the sickeningly sweet iron-rich mist. She gags and breathes and gags again. 

She still can’t see, but she crouches down low, hands hesitant as she pats the ground. Trembling hands feel around for her axe, but, apparently, everything feels like an axe handle if your eyes are closed. She can’t afford to let another victor catch her in such a vulnerable position. She may be blind, but she refuses to be defenseless.

She doesn’t find it.

They must stay there, stumbling around fully blind and half-mad for hours before a masculine shout accompanies the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground. So loud it overtakes the sound of blood that isn’t hers rushing in her ears, the sound of the rain. They must have flown before they crashed, must have been thrown back to be that loud—the force field.

“Blight!”

A cannon fires. And then. It stops. All of it. The rain, the yelling, the torture. The heat and the smell remain, if not made worse by each other. Johanna can’t figure out which one is making her stomach roll more.

“Everyone—” she gathers the blood in her mouth, along her cheeks and tongue, and spits it on the ground with disdain. She can feel the frothing, light pink saliva, and drool dripping down her chin from doing the same thing three dozen times already. “Everyone alright?”

Surprisingly, the voice that calls back first is Beetee’s. 

“I–I managed to hold on to Wiress. Blight, however…”

She knows not to expect Blight’s voice and that’s a pain too tender to prod at yet. You, however, don’t respond. And, unlike Blight, there’s no reasonable explanation for your sudden silence. She calls your name, but there’s no reply. There is, however, a spark of panic in her chest right next to her heaving lungs. Johanna only heard one cannon.

She doesn’t know if the heat encourages it or keeps it at bay, but, just that fast, the blood is starting to congeal. Johanna pries her eyes open and it’s almost like they’re still closed. Now impossibly darker, the jungle is a nightmare. Made even worse by the fact that you aren’t here. She lurches up to spin in circles, shouting after you as Wiress keeps mumbling something. She staggers around, cutting herself off by coughing up the blood that’s managed to get into her chest. There’s nothing, no sign of you or where you could have gone. You are not here.

It’s like you disappeared.

A spotlight shines down on them—No, on Blight. On his cooling body. The hovercraft claw descends open-mouthed, dipping down to pick him up. Beetee pulls Wiress away before she can wander closer. Johanna watches as they take him away. 

Blight is thirty. Blight is a burly man with a big beard to match. Blight has a wife, a son. Blight’s from Zone Q, the same zone kids used to make fun of for the funny way they talked. Blight had always been kind to her.

Blight now hangs limp, covered in blood. Skin singed and smelling of burnt hair. This is the last thing he will ever be.

He’ll never see the culmination of the rebellion he was willing to give his life for. He wasn’t the sharpest axe in the, well, anywhere. But…it would have been nice to give him the District Seven sendoff he deserved.

She gives herself a shake. They need to find you.

“Come on, get up.” She waves the remaining two up with her axe. “Let’s go."

“Tick, tock.”

“Where?” Beetee attempts to look at her from under his blood-smeared glasses.

“Tick, tock.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our group has been dramatically cut from five to three—”

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock!”

“—And what the fuck is her problem?!”

“I think she might be in shock.”

“Right. Of course. That’s just fan-fucking-tastic.”

There’s an odd clicking coming from the right and some hindbrain prey instinct warns Johanna away from it. She practically drags her damsels in distress behind her as she scours as much of the jungle as she possibly can in the dark in her search for you. Down to where the sand starts, back to the edge, and then off to the left—away from the clicking. They can’t be as quiet as she would like to be, considering Beetee’s heavy steps and Wiress’s insufferable mumbling. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, fucking tock.

How the hell did she get stuck with Nuts and Volts, of all people? You and Blight have left her alone and now, Nuts is even nuttier than before, and Volts—

“I can’t—I can’t go on. I must, I need to rest.” Beetee gasps. She glowers over her shoulder at his weak form. He raises a hand before falling on his ass. She groans, stomping back to stand over him. Even in the low lighting, he’s a sorry sight. Alarmingly pale, even for someone from Three, he looks like he might faint at any moment now.

“And what the hell is wrong with you?”

“My wound—I believe I’ve lost a fair bit of blood.” He gestures minutely behind him, and she squints at his back. He grunts as she positions him a bit better in the moonlight and his entire left flank is warm with his blood. The wound hadn’t seemed that serious earlier, long but superficial. What does she do if he’s losing more blood than any of them realize? She isn’t trained in medicine and it’s not like they can just request some kind of aid. If you were here, maybe. They’d have much better luck getting a sponsored gift if you were the one asking for it. 

“Great. That’s just lovely. You know, this is exactly what we need right now.” She paces. Kicks a rock. Hurts her toe. “Fuck. Fuck!” Johanna drives her axe into a nearby tree, yanking it out to only hack at it again. They’ve been searching for you for over an hour and there’s no telling where the hell you’ve wandered off to.

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know! I don’t—!” She throws her hands up, not even bothering with rebuffing Wiress when she sways into her with her ‘tick, tock’ shit again. She groans, head hanging low. The plan has been monstrously derailed already and it hasn’t even been two full days yet. “I don’t know.”

Hopefully, you’re closer to finding Finnick than they are.

SECTION 2 ( 1:40 am-2:26 am)

You finally come to a stop, feet tripping over gnarled roots and fallen logs. You cough, blowing blood from your nose like snot. You’ve gotten far enough away from the rain that you can almost start breathing normally again. You look around you, turning in rough half-circles as you try to get your bearings. You’re careful to keep in mind the direction you’ve come from because the jungle looks the same as it has for the last mile and a half.

You want to rub at the stitch developing in your side, but you’re too afraid to take your hands off your weapons, even for a second. 

The blood rain was unexpected, cruel. You’d never seen anything like it. The Gamemakers must have gotten a real kick out of that, knowing how readily y’all were waiting for rainwater, knowing how thirsty you were.

The blood doesn’t behave like it should. It’s made your hair dense and heavy, almost oil-slick somehow, despite the frizz from all the humidity. It dries on your skin in thick, itchy patches. Not unlike the aloe vera paste used in Eleven to heal burns and the like.

There’s no telling if the blood shower is heading in your direction or not. Can you handle that again? That suffocating force clawing its way past your esophagus, into your stomach, into your lungs—hot and thick. The taste is still on your tongue and for a moment, you’re in the eye of the storm once more. Fighting to see, to breathe, to live.

You gag and you push it down, but the longer the taste of iron soaks on your tongue, the harder it is to stop it. You gag again, hard enough that your belly cramps up. Eyes watering, you rock forward, nails digging into the wood of the handles as scorching stomach acid claws its way up your throat. You throw up what little you’ve eaten, and you despair, because it may not have been much but it was something.

You stay that way, hunched over, panting open-mouthed as more spit forms rapidly in your mouth just to drip down into the puddle of sick you’ve already left. You’ll be even more dehydrated than before. Your chest burns with acid reflux, your nose runs, and your mouth pools with drool you can’t afford to lose. You want to cry. But you don’t have that luxury. You want someone to rub your back, but you don’t have that either. 

I wish Finnick was here.

You allow yourself that small moment of pity. You pull in a surprisingly cool breath before straightening up. You push your shoulders back, determined to march forward through whatever may be waiting for you because you know that on the other side, Johanna and the others need you. You walk forward, even though the idea of willingly entering that blood-filled hellscape makes your stomach lurch like a threat. 

The blood still proves to be an issue without the Capitol’s input. Some of it drips down your face and neck like sweat, damn near blinding you all over again. You can only wipe it away with the back of your hand so many times. You're still trying to find a way to keep the blood out of your eyes when you hear it.

It's like when a bug flies too close to your ear but louder. Buzzing and clicking that makes the hair on your neck stand, foreboding. 

You’ve never had much of a problem with insects, you weren’t allowed to. You can’t exactly claim ‘fear of bugs’ as a reason for not doing your job, even if you are six years old. After working around tracker jackers to pick various fruits, spiders climbing over you as you wade around the flooded cranberry fields, overzealous slugs as you pull carrots, to name a few, that fear dissipated. That’s not to say you love them, only that you’ve learned to work in proximity to them and ignore them if all else fails. You turn around, spinning in circles as the noise gets louder. You can’t ignore this so easily. You’re six again, trembling in fear as a peacekeeper directs you to a giant tree with an equally giant tracker jacker nest. That old fear makes a reappearance. It takes root, maturing from childish panic to fresh, genuine terror because something is coming toward you. 

You hear flapping, wings. Your vision is still blurred from the blood and you're in a particularly dark part of the forest with barely any moonlight, but you can see it. Some kind of bug hurtling towards you faster than you can run. It’s massive—mutated, most likely—close to the size of a wolf. You duck as it dives at you, bulky mandibles snapping.  

You’d rather fight the wolf.

It flies a few feet away before turning around and you curse the fact that you didn't pick up any long-range weapons. Where the hell is Katniss when you need her? 

You’ve trained for months. Your stamina, your dexterity, your core and upper body strength. But especially your hand-to-hand combat. Woefully, you consider how well that translates into fighting a giant mutt.

For a split second, you get the urge to hide. That animalistic impulse to find a small space to burrow into that the much bigger animal can’t get you and to find it fast. You’ve felt this before in Eleven and in the Capitol. It’s only fitting that you’d feel it here in the arena too.

It hovers in the air for a moment. It's almost as if it’s thinking. As you both regard each other, it begins to feel like it really might be thinking. Just how intelligent is this thing?

It’s a beetle; you can tell that much, which means an exoskeleton. You’ll have to go for the head, the eyes. There’s no indication that it’s about to happen, it just charges you. And you realize far too late that it'll be impossible to get a clear hit at its head. You lunge to the side, but you aren't fast enough. You yell when its pincer strikes you in the side. You pitch over, rolling along the ground. You barely manage the precarious balance of covering your head and keeping your blades away from your body.

It's not done with you. But down here, you have a better chance of avoiding its bite.

The blood makes your grip on the handles slippery. You flip the one in your dominant hand upwards and keep the other one face down as it gets ready to charge you again. You roll under it, slicing upward along its stomach as it flies over you. You're quick to stand up as it wavers in the air, wings stuttering the longer it bleeds.

You’ve both weakened each other, but neither of you is dead yet.

Your mind is quiet. Only one thought echoes in the abyss back to you.

The head. The head. The head. Go for the head. Go for the head. Take the fucking head!

It swoops down at you, wobbling in the air, but still clicking. You kneel down with your sickles turned outward and cross your arms in front of your face. You wait for it to get closer until you can see its head peeking over the gap your weapons leave and straighten your elbows, decapitating it. You close your eyes as black blood rains down on you and its head and body hit the ground with two distinct thumps.

Its body convulses on the ground and its head stays still, but you don't have time to check if it's really dead. Like the man from Nine. More buzzes and clicks come from your right and you're running before you even register that your feet are moving.

You don't look behind you, you don't need to. You can hear them, closing in on you. You just keep sprinting, lungs burning in exhaustion as you push yourself faster. You don't know where you're running to, but you know you have no way of fighting off more than one.

There's a hill a few feet ahead of you, and you prepare yourself to roll down. You throw your weapons to the bottom and cover your head as you tumble down, scraping yourself on stray twigs and rocks.

You scramble to stand up at the bottom of the hill and look up in time to see the bugs hovering at the top. They're stopped by what looks like a force field. But that doesn’t make any sense. You—you just came from there. Suddenly, they lose interest in you like you were never there to begin with and they turn around. They bump into each other as they fly away, probably on their way to swarm someone else.

A piercing scream comes from the direction the mutated insects flew off to. Better you than me, you think and regret it immediately. That could be someone you care about. Chaff, Johanna, Katniss, Peeta.

Finnick, your brain supplies. You shake away the thought. You don't have to worry about that because he promised you.

"He promised me. He promised me." You repeat to yourself in a whisper.

You stumble back into a tree, chest heaving.

Once the adrenaline rush passes, another problem presents itself. The blood on your body has grown cold, so it's surprising to feel a warm rush of liquid on your side. 

You look at where your jumpsuit is torn above your right hip. You stretch the fabric and see two holes about six inches away from each other. Twice the size of a bottle cap, one's a little above your hip bone and the other rests a little before where your back starts, both wider and deeper than you would like—but you don’t see muscle, which counts for something. They're rough, not perfect circles. Skin hangs haphazardly from them both, peeling away at the edges with jagged incisions going towards the middle. As if being punctured like a piece of paper wasn’t enough, they've been torn from the pincers still being buried in you and then violently ripped out after you fell.

Now that you're aware of them, they throb in sharp waves.

"Shit," you curse, breathing around the tears that bubble up from the pain. Your breaths are shuttered, halting. You're bleeding at a pretty steady pace and you won't last long with the wound out in the open. Especially if there's a creature out here that can smell blood. “Shit, shit, shit.” You whimper.

You scream as cramps rocket through your abdomen and the ability to be quiet is beyond your pain-addled mind, you can’t stop it. Luckily, it comes out of your dry throat more of a raspy croak than a real scream. You press a shaking, blood-soaked hand to your mouth anyway. You don’t know what other killer insects may be out here with you and you can’t afford to grab their unwanted attention just because you can’t control yourself.

Your medical knowledge isn’t extensive. Honestly, it’s a little below average for what’s expected in Eleven, but probably far more than what an ordinary citizen in the other districts would know. Not everyone can afford the services of doctors, especially if they live in the Shacks, so you were all taught how to help each other. You don’t know any of the fancy shit they probably teach in the academies, but you were taught how to heal with the land—old methods and practices passed down from before the Dark Days.

Your first thought is to clean it, but with what? You don’t even have clean water to drink. Your second thought is to pack it, if not with cotton then with aloe vera—it’ll ward off infection for a while, right? You have no way of disinfecting it, not by yourself and not with what’s available to you, so stopping the bleeding is the next best thing. 

This may not be your environment, may not be your plants, but you learned a thing or two while training Peeta in the Edible Plant section. This is the perfect environment for natural, as natural as the arena will permit, aloe to grow. But it’s still dark. You can’t go looking for it, not by yourself. And you aren’t desperate enough to start begging your sponsors for help. 

You sigh. You’ll have to settle for the bare minimum. 

You pull both of your sleeves down where they detach at the shoulder and even that little movement makes your stomach cramp again. You flinch as the muscles underneath the wounds spasm, pumping out more blood. 

You tie one end of both sleeves together, working past the hurt, and, God, does it hurt. But the pain is unavoidable. That’s what you tell yourself. That’s what you’ve always told yourself. You let your mind drift, taking you somewhere else.

The pain is unavoidable. The pain is unavoidable. The pain is unavoidable.

Sweat drips down your back, or maybe it’s blood, as you move the makeshift tourniquet around your waist. You lay a flat piece of the fabric on the wound and nearly black out as you tie the two loose ends in the back. You tie it again just for good measure, biting around a scream as you pull it tight enough to staunch the bleeding.

Your vision swims as you gasp in big gulps of air. Your hands shake from the pain and yet another adrenaline drop. Your legs feel weak, barely holding you up as you lean most of your weight against the tree.

You need a game plan.

Another canon fires.

You don’t know how long you sit there, eyes closed, head tilted back, pitying yourself. But by the time you decide to get moving, you notice something. Something’s…wrong. 

Everything sways when you move your head up. You blink nearly twenty times before your eyes can focus again. You feel warm. Not warmth from the humidity. Not warmth from exercise. But warmth from a fever, a sickness. Nausea creeps upon you and, fuck, please, you can’t throw up again—you can’t. An injury this nasty will certainly come with symptoms, but you shouldn't have this kind of reaction. You try to remember what kind of bug it was. You remember it was a beetle, but you rack your brain for what it looked like. Your muscles spasm around your wound, reminding you how open and exposed they are even when covered with fabric.

You’ve got two plugs taken out of your side, you’re covered in blood, both real and synthetic, you’ve been poisoned, and you’re alone.

Alone. There is no sound other than your labored breathing because you’re alone. That’s the worst part somehow. 

You’re slow as you lean down, wincing at the slightest movement, and snatch up your sickles. If just that is enough to sap you of your energy, then—

You can’t stay out here in the open where you’re vulnerable, no one to watch your back, no one to protect you. You’re an easy target, no help to the revolution like this. You take a few quick breaths to psych yourself up. You push off the tree, grunting as the smallest use of your abdomen aggravates the wounds. You hobble along, heading in the opposite direction of where you left Johanna and the others.

Hopefully, Finnick’s group is having better luck. 

SECTION 3 (3:17 am-3:28 am)

Finnick is sure that there are certain moments that he’ll remember for the rest of his life. His reaping, the first person he killed, meeting you. These moments, these entries penned into the book of his life, define him. They’re all weaved into a tapestry, sewn into a quilt that illustrates his past and blankets his future. Who he is today, and who he will be tomorrow, is shaped by these moments. He’ll remain irrevocably changed by these events. 

He’s sure this moment will be one of them.

The fog creeps behind them and he’s suddenly so glad you aren’t a part of their group. A spectral wall of wispy gas that observes their suffering with the same indifference as the Capitol does. Peeta is a solid weight on Finnick’s shoulder and he’s thankful for it. It’s a reminder, the weight of what he’s defending. He clenches his teeth against the fog's stray tendrils and their poisonous grasp, increasing his speed even as pain licks at his heels. 

“Fhinnic’ , Fhinnic’!” He skids to a stop, looking behind him at Peeta’s slurred insistence. He turns in time to see Katniss and Mags crash to the ground. He rushes over to them. Mags sits concerned next to Katniss who’s beginning to blister.

“It’s no use,” Katniss says. He kneels beside them and he can see she’s feeling the effects of the fog. Her left leg is getting stiffer and her face has begun to droop. “Can you take them both? Go on ahead, I’ll catch up.” The confidence in her voice is interrupted by the grimace on her sagging face.

Mags has been touched by the fog less than the rest of them, if at all. Probably for the opposite reason that Finnick seems to have the most damage, she’s small. By this logic, it should be easy for Finnick to carry her along with Peeta. It should be easy.

“My arms aren’t working. My arms, they aren’t—” From his shoulder blades down to his fingertips, the muscles in his arms are ruined. They spasm sporadically, jerking uncontrollably as they hang limp at his sides. He’s even relying on Peeta to hold onto his trident for him. “I’m sorry, Mags. I can’t, I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” He apologies. He keeps apologizing to her and he can’t see why, too focused on the wave of white threatening to seize them. 

It’s all so quick. Mags has realized what Finnick himself is too stubborn to acknowledge. There’s a heaviness in his chest that he tries to swallow around but it only spreads to his throat. His throat gets tight. His senses feel heightened, his heart beating faster, lungs heaving harder, but he’s still trying to find a way out of this. His mind is moving at the speed of light, determined to fix it, determined to row this impossible boat upstream—thinking about everything but the only realistic outcome here.

They never talked about this. Never discussed the possibility. A situation where he would ever have to—it just never, never came to mind. He never thought to imagine it. And yet, she’s taking off the bracelet she’s wearing—his bracelet that she wore as a token for him. The same bracelet he made under her roof, under her knowing gaze. She slides it up his wrist, tightening it before grabbing his face between her weathered hands. She places a gentle peck on his lips and that’s when he realizes she’ll be leaving, whether he’s ready to say goodbye or not.

“Mags? Mags? Mags!” Tears blur his vision as she dodders uphill into the fog. Katniss grabs his wrist, stopping him from going after her. “Mags! Mags!”  

“Finnick!” He can see her silhouette just past the veil of mist, convulsing violently before—a cannon fires. He sits there, desolate. He can’t tell if the numbness spreading through him is organic or from the nerve damage.

“Finnick, we have to go. We have to get outta here.” He’s slow to turn around and look at Katniss. “We have to go.” 

Finnick climbs to his feet, accounting for Peeta’s weight, as Katniss drags herself behind him. He sniffs once, twice, three times. 

Later, he tells himself, there’ll be time for that later.

A/N: 1.) Blight's accent is the Canadian accent - specifically Letterman Kenny 2.) reckon the covey (Lucy Gray's group) traveled to the north from 11 to 12 during the 1st rebellion and got trapped in 12 after they lost. the Seam now has a distinct accent that sounds vaguely southern. 3.) i headcanon there's no singular southern accent in 11, using this map:https://fineartamerica.com/featured/vintage-map-of-panem-from-the-hunger-games-design-turnpike.html?product=art-print you can see just how much southern land it covers. So that's a mix of Creole, Irish, Mexican, and deep south roots. I'd imagine the mix of Creole, southern aave, and Spanish makes for a very particular accent. but if I had to pick one, it's closer to the southern drawl than the southern twang. 4.) the capitol accent basically the transatlantic accent 5.) You and Finnick think the same, since it was his idea to sleep next to the forcefield and use it as a weapon. yall literally think the same. also finnick wakes up the same way you do in the book when katniss screams about the fog. 6.) in the book, Lucy Gray is quiet but cunning. She doesn't have the "girl bossified quirky" demeanor she does in the movie and I blame Disney for that. As such, she doesn't have the "loud and proud/nothing affects me/cocky without a cause" attitude in my canon. What attracted Snow to her was that survivor instinct he saw in her that he felt he had. Everything that made Lucy Gray interesting to him can be found in Star (and Peeta.) I think Katniss personality wise is so much like Sejanus's that it pissed him off. close enough to District 12, but not exactly. district eleven has the exact background that Snow wishes he had with 12. He has more control over Eleven, they're easier to control/oppress as opposed to the free-spirited District 12. With Star, he strives to fix what mistakes he made with Lucy Gray. my beta reader said "i agree honestly like i think thats also why people are misreading snow in the movie bc they don't actually understand lucy gray and therefore misunderstand why snow even liked her" 7.) eleven is mainly a black and indigenous North American (Canada, US, and Mexico) population

[pascalpvnk]

december & january fic recs list

hello! welcome to the second installment of my end of the month(ish) fic recs posts :) listed in no particular order, just as each fic was read! [once again, if your fic has found a cozy home on my tbr blog, don't fret! i will work through each one slowly but surely xx (divider by @saradika-graphics)

important post regarding TLOU + Neil Druckmann’s Zionism!!

heed all warnings according to each fic. if there's something on here that isn't your cup of tea and you don't want to read it, then scroll past. thank you!

fic rec masterlist // main masterlist

a * denotes smut (18+ MDNI!!)

drabbles

untitled [joel cares for you when you're ill] - @undercoverpena (soft!joel miller x reader) snooze - @tightjeansjavi (joel miller x f!reader) untitled [first date arm appreciation] - @softlyspector (joel miller x f!reader)

oneshots

Joel Miller

sweet thing* - @honeyedmiller (jackson!joel x sunshine!f!reader) study days with joel* - @bearsbeetsbeskar (joel miller x f!reader) joel nye, the science guy* - @endlessthxxghts (joel miller x afab!reader) love shack - @pascalispretty (joel miller x gn!reader) do you like it here?* - @/endlessthxxghts (joel miller x afab!reader) a burning desire - @/honeyedmiller (firefighter!joel miller x f!reader) hiraeth* - @/honeyedmiller (dbf!joel miller x f!reader) ripe* - @hier--soir (preoutbreak!joel miller x f!reader) teacher's pet* - @javiscigarette (joel miller x virgin!f!reader) the way he was - @cavillscurls (joel miller x reader) a lesson in condom sense* - @joeloverture (dbf!joel miller x f!reader) softness - @joelsgreys (post outbreak!joel miller x f!reader) texas hold 'em* - @sweetercalypso (joel miller x f!reader) yellow bird* [from whiskey sour universe] - @kiwisbell (joel miller x f!reader) sick days with joel miller - @/bearsbeetsbeskar (joel miller x f!reader) caught the bug - @mrsmando (joel miller x f!reader) warm me up* - @/tightjeansjavi (game!joel miller x f!reader) your heart, a sonnet - @kedsandtubesocks (author!joel miller x f!reader) will you show me?* - @eupheme (no-outbreak!joel x f!reader, joel x reader x tess) untitled request [body insecurity comfort] - @forever-rogue (joel miller x f!reader) like nothing matters* - @sp00kymulderr (joel miller x afab!reader) yours and mine, mine and yours - @morallyinept (no-outbreak!joel miller x pregnant!afab!reader) untitled* [body worship] - @/softlyspector (joel miller x afab!reader)

Frankie Morales

sweet treat [part I // part II] - @/mrsmando (sweet!frankie morales x f!plus-size!reader) worship* - @/tightjeansjavi (frankie morales x f!reader) birthday girl* - @ilovepedro (frankie morales x plus-size!latina!f!reader) pickup truck* - @luxurychristmaspudding (frankie morales x f!reader) end up here* - @inthe-dark-tonight (frankie morales x f!reader) hungry* - @/endlessthxxghts (frankie morales x f!reader) stalemate* - @joelscurls (frankie morales x f!reader)

Javier Peña

use me* - @palioom (javier peña x f!reader) knead - @/tightjeansjavi (javier peña x f!reader) nights are so starry, blood moonlit* - @janaispunk (javier peña x f!reader)

Misc.

blue jean baby* - @fettuccin-e (agent whiskey x afab!fem!reader) peeta mellark: your loser boyfriend* - @zombatss (peeta mellark x afab!reader) more than friends* - @gracieheartspedro (best friend!ellie williams x f!reader) let me be needed* - @/luxurychristmaspudding (din djarin x f!sex worker!reader)

series

i know it when i see it* [part six*] - @bageldaddy (pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader) catfish* - @/tightjeansjavi (fisherman!frankie morales x bartender!reader) cherry thrill* [lights*] - @hellishjoel (tattoo artist!daddy dom!joel miller x virgin!sub!f!reader) the checklist* [hot & cold* // take my breath away* // what's in the bag*] - @thetriumphantpanda (joel miller x f!reader) your needs, my needs - @/gracieheartspedro (cowboy!joel miller x f!reader)

so sorry this is late :') i was having so many formatting issues lmao. thank you all for sharing your wonderful fics xx

[dixonsbrat]

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[plus-size-reader]

Engaged

Not Really Goodbye pt.2

Peeta Mellark x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1692 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Peeta having to explain his engagement to you, the woman he loves

Part 1

——————————————————————————————————

Marrying Katniss hadn’t been Peeta’s idea.

Quite frankly, none of this was his idea to start with; not pretending to be together, lying to everyone he cared about, not getting engaged, not going on the tour. It was all stuff he’d been dragged into without even meaning to.

Unfortunately though, that didn’t make it any easier to explain the whole engagement thing to you.

This whole thing was too complicated to just break down, too dangerous to get out of, and even if he wanted to try, Peeta knew the truth. It was too late to get out now, no matter what he did.

Still, it would break your heart, just as it was currently breaking his.

Ever since the two of you were children, you assumed that you would end up being together. You had been inseparable all your lives, never going too far without the other, and your mother often joked that there were no better friends in the world.

That much had always been true.

It wasn’t until you got a bit older that you started really thinking about the possibility that there may never be no two people better suited for one another than you and Peeta were.

He understood you in a way that no one else ever had and being with him was as easy as breathing. By this time in your lives, you were sure that you would end up married, living on a farm somewhere.

Though, clearly, you’d been a fool to believe that.

News of the engagement reached you and the rest of the districts before Peeta and Katniss could even make it back, which meant that he couldn’t explain. All you could do was listen to the broadcasts and try to put the pieces together yourself.

Naturally, it hurt to imagine that everything you’d come to believe was a lie. However, you weren’t shocked that he would rather marry her.

She was incredible.

In all this time since he’d been whisked away to compete in the games, you could see just how much they had bonded. The games were broadcasted all over Panem and you would have had to have been blind to miss it.

Not only was Katniss a fellow victor, and the only other person who had shared experiences with him, but she was also stunningly beautiful and wonderfully strong.

It was something you could have never hoped to compete with.

You only wished, in your wildest dreams, that you could be like her if not for yourself than for his affections.

You wanted nothing more than for Peeta to look at you in the way that he looked at her, like the world started and ended with her, like every action from her could halt his existence entirely.

She had a power of him that you foolishly thought you had, before he went off to the Capital, but that was never going to happen.

You knew Peeta well enough to know that.

That was exactly why, when he did show up at your door trying to explain, you turned him away. If he loved her, and she made him happy, then you wanted him to be with her.

You didn’t want him to feel the need to apologize, which you assumed he was trying to do when he showed up outside your house.

Knowing Peeta, he just didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t want there to be any hard feelings between the two of you. If that was all he needed, there was no need for you to talk it over, you understood exactly what was happening.

You knew a man in love when you saw one, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

For whatever reason though, Peeta was adamant over what he wanted. He wanted to explain himself, and he needed to talk to you. This was all a huge misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he didn’t tell you the truth.

...And, at a certain point, you knew that you were going to have to hear him out. At the end of the day, you cared about Peeta and whatever it was that was so important, you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to hear what it was he needed.

���Peeta, I already told you, I get it” you huffed, opening your door to find him standing there again, waiting for the off chance that you would come out.

You had no idea what he was thinking, but there was one thing you knew for sure. He was going to freeze to death if he stood out here any longer.

“No, you really don’t. Please just let me explain” he begged, hoping that for the third time, you would hear him out. He just kept coming here, asking to see you, and each time he was met with the same answer.

Either you weren’t home, or you weren’t going to answer.

“Come in” you sighed finally, opening the door wide enough for him to pass through. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

You were doing your best to just save face, to keep him from seeing how much it had upset you, but you had started to accept it. You were coming to terms with what it would mean, with the fact of the matter, Peeta was going to get married.

Peeta was going to get married, and he wasn’t going to get married to you.

That was just what was happening and there was no use fighting it. If you could understand that, you didn’t get why it was so hard for him.

It seemed simple enough.

“Katniss and I are getting married, but it isn’t because I want to” he grumbled, rubbing his hands together lightly as he started to explain, doing his best to gather his thoughts. It wasn’t until he was in the heat of your home that he realized just how cold it had been, the warm air nipping at his skin.

You nodded, having heard this all before. You felt like you knew, felt like you understood what was going on, but Peeta was far from finished.

This wasn’t about him and Katniss, it wasn’t about a wedding, this was about the two of you and nothing more.

“What are you talking about? Why would you be getting married if you don't want to?” you asked, sitting down beside him on the couch, trying your best to wrap your head around what he was saying.

It didn’t make any sense to you.

For what reason, other than the fact that you loved someone, would you get married? Besides, you saw the way he looked at her while they were in that arena, you knew that he must love her.

That was all you needed to be married.

That was more than most of the people of twelve had and they made it work. Your relationships were formed mostly for survival, and in a desperate attempt to form some kind of life with what you’d been given.

“This is bigger than it seems, but I promise I can explain” he tried, gingerly resting his hand on your knee as he tried to make this work. You weren’t sure that you believed it, but it wouldn’t kill you to give him a chance to make you believe.

So, you settled in for one of the most complicated stories of all your life. Evidently, the events of the games, and what had happened in the capital, was bigger than you could have ever assumed.

It was bigger than both of you.

The more Peeta explained, the more you put together in your head, the more you understood. Of course he had to marry her, if he didn’t, there was no telling what Snow would do.

He had already threatened all of Katniss’ family and you were sure that he’d done the same to Peeta.

There was a chance they would kill you, if this didn’t go the way they wanted, and for Peeta, that was the worst thing that could happen. In all your lives, he’d only ever really had you and if something happened to you, he’d have nothing left.

You were the one. You were the one who came to check on him the night before the reaping, who combed his hair on the day of so he would look nice. You were the only one to come see him before he left for the games.

Every time he needed someone, it was always you there, waiting for him.

If he didn’t have you, Peeta didn’t have anything.

He hated the idea of doing this, of getting married to a woman who wasn’t you, of putting you through this but in the big picture, it was better than losing you. It was better than having to go through life knowing that you died because of a choice he made.

Having to do that would kill him.

It was difficult enough that the two of them had to lie to the world, that he and Katniss didn’t really care for one another in that way. Adding another element, or another person, in your case, would be far too much.

He hated this, but if it was what he had to do to keep you safe, Peeta wasn’t going to apologize for that. You were too important to risk, for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am. I just don’t have a choice” he huffed, using up all his breath in a hurried attempt to get everything he needed to get out before you started drawing your own conclusions.

...But you didn’t need him to say sorry.

You understood why he was going to do it.

Backing out of the wedding could end all of your lives and as much as you loved him, nothing was worth that. Similarly to Peeta, you figured that a life without him, knowing that he was alive, would be better than one where he died trying to be with you.

It was hardly a fairy tale, but real life rarely was.

[bruisedboys]

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[ilguna]

Whist - Chapter Three

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

Word Count; 6.2k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: not a finnick odair x reader. it’s a ‘what if’ series

–

“Today is your first day with the other tributes.” you fix Alyssum’s hair, and readjust Rigg’s clothing, “Make an impression.”

“The two of you may show off one important skill each.” Finnick says, “One thing that’ll stand you out to the gamemakers and make the other tributes want to be allies.”

“We’ll talk about how we’ll wow the gamemakers during the private session, later. I promise that if you use your good skill today, it won’t be a loss. The private session is typically for anything you want to keep a surprise from the other tributes.” you back up.

“Try out stations you don’t know anything about. This is your time to learn anything that you don’t have a clue about, or you’re shaky on. It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

The two of them nod, and after a few more pointers that Rigg probably won’t use, he’s the first to leave the apartment. Alyssum is a different story, she waits for you to tell her to go.

“Don’t psych yourself out today, okay? What you did yesterday is exactly what we’re looking for. Confident, smart. If you sound older and show them that you can fight, they’re going to want you.” you cup her face, “But do not stay with them the entire time. Go around and meet the other tributes too. Don’t stick with Rigg, let him do his own thing.”

“Right.” she nods, you let go of her face, standing up again.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, (Y/n).” she smiles, “I can go now?”

“Yeah. Make your skill count.”

“I will.” she goes down the steps, and Elysia trails after her loosely to show her the floor. She’ll only take the elevator down, and then she’ll go see the stylists.

Now it’s just you and Finnick.

“What’re you thinking?” Finnick asks, you look at him.

“I think we need to pay Haymitch a visit.”

The two of you spend the afternoon getting ready to leave. You take a bet that Haymitch is probably somewhere in the betting room, along with the other mentors. But just in case, you’ll take an elevator to the apartment and hope that he’s there first.

When Finnick’s gathered his bearings, both of you get to the apartment. Finnick knocks on the door, and you flip through the notepad, staring at the plans for today.

Talk to Haymitch, go see the betting room, then down to the stylists to help them on a few things. To tweak and make them to the tributes likings. After that, the entire day is up to you and Finnick to figure out a way to get Alyssum and Rigg’s scores to stand out.

“Could teach Alyssum a trick.”

“Alright, then what would we do for Rigg?” you ask, knocking on the door again.

“Have him make a hook or something. He said he was pretty good at that.”

You squint at Finnick, “We want them to stand out.”

“(Y/n), he doesn’t have the same training that Alyssum does. The kid barely knows how to hold a plastic sword correctly. He’s--”

Before Finnick can say the word ‘hopeless’ the door swings open to reveal Haymitch. He’s dressed fairly nice, a little hunched over. When he sees that it’s you two, he straightens up considerably.

“Odairs.”

You roll your eyes, “Abernathy.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised to see that he doesn’t have his flask in hand. Normally it’s always right there, even the cap is unscrewed. You bet that it’s on the inside of his blazer, always within an arm's reach.

“Just curious about your tributes.” you give him a nice smile, slipping your foot inside of the apartment. Just in case he does try to shut the door, it won’t be that easy, “Quite the show yesterday.”

“The stylists' idea. Wanted something eye-catching, different.” Haymitch notices your foot, and after a long look at it, he looks back at you, “Here to steal my sponsors?”

“No, I’d like to negotiate something, though.” 

Haymitch squints.

Finnick picks it up now, “We’re allowing Alyssum to make allies on her own, but if she does settle on Katniss, are you willing to work with us?”

“Doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

You slide your foot out of the way, crossing your ankles, “Just wanted you to hear our pitch, is all.”

“Katniss is a hard one to work with. Aly would have a better chance if she talked to Peeta.” 

“We’re not after Peeta.” Finnick says, “We want Katniss for a reason.”

“Her sister, right? You think she’ll show the same emotion for your sister?” Haymitch makes a face, “Fine, whatever. I can’t guarantee anything.”

“We just wanted something to fall back on, is all.” you stand up straighter, “See you later, Haymitch.”

You and Finnick go down to the betting area next. It’s a simple task, talking to the sponsors that are loyal every year. And since it’s only a couple of people, the whole task is over before you know it. Then, you’re heading to see the stylists, prep teams and Elysia.

There, you spend the rest of the evening messing with everyone. Laurel has decided that she’s going to play off of the princess idea, and give Alyssum a dress that stands out, very puffy. It might just consume her when she sits down for her interview.

Rigg will be given a simple blue suit that vaguely resembles the one he wore for the tribute parade. There’s not really much that the stylists can do for the male tributes. A suit is expected, and so that’s what’s given. Plus, what else would you give?

Right when you’re done with helping Beth with this crown, you have to go and get the kids. You thank them all for their company, and just like that you’ve left with Finnick. On the way to the room, Finnick holds your hand tightly. 

“While you were in the shower, Reed called.” Finnick says.

You look at him, “Why?”

“Mox can’t bring himself to get out of bed. The peacekeepers have visited the house two times already, wanting him to watch with everyone else. Reed keeps telling them that Mox is sick but neither of them can provide proof.” Finnick shakes his head.

Poor Mox. And Poor Reed, too. Mox wasn’t nearly this hopeless when you left, but then again, you were fifteen. You had eight years rather than just a measly five years beneath your belt. You also didn’t have a couple of mean-looking career tributes to worry about. 

They really don’t make the tributes like they used to. Back when you and Finnick won, they were fairly manipulable. They were easy to shape and form, and they weren’t nearly as solidified as they are now. Hell, Finnick was able to get you in, and then you were able to get Thyme in.

It was definitely more people than they had wanted, and yet they didn’t care at the time. As long as it made themselves look better, stronger, more desirable.

Now, they just want the glory of the win. And to get to that point, they have to be ruthless. They have to show the Capitol citizens a show they’ll never forget.

So, every year it’s just a continuation of it. All of them are trying to beat each other. One up each other, and when they do it, the next round is screwed. 

It makes it hard to mentor.

Anyway, Mox has lost hope. And you feel bad for Reed because he has to put up with it. He has to act strong for Mox, but you know he’s tired of it. Although, you can imagine that the both of them are pretty guilty, especially since you’re the one that’s getting her ready to send her off.

“Better keep that to ourselves.” you give Finnick a smile, “Not tell Alyssum, so we can keep her mind on track.”

He nods, he understands.

You and Finnick make it to the door right on time to see Alyssum skipping out of the training center, a huge smile on her face. Rigg is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Rigg?”

“Left early, said he didn’t feel good.” she says, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Just me the entire time, wasn’t too bad.”

You hold the elevator for Alyssum, making sure Finnick doesn’t head inside. For a second, Alyssum is confused, until Glimmer and Marvel are sliding past to get inside. You give Alyssum a wink, because this was your plan all along.

Cato and Clove come around too, you give the five of them a smile, “I’ll see you later, Alyssum. I’ve got to talk to your sponsors.”

You let go of the door, watching as the steel doors closed. And as soon as they do, you brush off your hands, turning to look at Finnick. He’s got a grin on his face, shaking his head at you, “Dirty, dirty.”

“Gotta cheat to get ahead. Wanna take the stairs?”

“Do we have much of a choice?” he asks, and the two of you slip into the fire escape staircase.

When you finally do get back to the apartment, Alyssum has a giant smile on her face, “They offered an alliance!” she heads towards you, arms out for a hug. You pick her up, spinning her around, “I told them I’d think about it and tell them in a couple of days!”

You press a kiss to Alyssum’s forehead, squeezing her tighter.

The next two days followed as the first training day did. You got up, gave your tributes a few pointers on how they should do things, and then they were off. You didn’t visit Haymitch again, but instead saw him in the betting area. You broke the news that he wouldn’t have to worry about an alliance, and he didn’t really seem to care.

After the betting area, came the time with the stylists. The dress has really come along, and today will be the finishing touches. Adding the accessories that they think would go with it, tweaking the size and whether or not it’ll fit.

You stopped picking the kids up from the training center after the first day, especially since Alyssum said yes to the alliance. She needs to get to know the careers on her own. But you’ve given her a few pointers on how she might back a cozy place in their mind, so they might even feel bad if they kill her.

She’s getting along well with Glimmer and Marvel so far, and from what you heard yesterday, Clove is beginning to come around faster than Cato is. It’s a little worrying, especially since it seems that history is repeating itself. But Alyssum said what you told yourself when you first saw the District Two tributes; they’re a lot meaner than they’ve been the previous years. 

It’s only natural.

Now, today is the private session. And you just spent the last hour trying to teach Alyssum a trick that would catch the gamemaker’s attention. Unfortunately, she’s still shaky at it, and not entirely sure if she’s going to use it. But Rigg on the other hand--has decided that he’s going to try out something with a sword.

You run your fingers through your hair, motioning to the space in front of you, “Show Finnick.”

Alyssum gives you a reluctant look, “(Y/n)--”

“Come on.” Finnick urges.

Rigg isn’t even here, he hasn’t been spending much time inside of the apartment. It seems like he likes to run off, and you’re hoping that’s going to come in handy inside of the arena. If he’s not going to make allies, he’s going to need to be able to run.

That and he doesn’t seem to trust you and Finnick very much. Finnick’s gotten as close as Rigg will allow, but it’s not that much. He won’t tell you what he thinks about the other tributes, who he wants to make allies with, what his special skill is or what he’s going to do for the private training session. It’s all radio silence on his side of things.

And you understand that he’s afraid that you’ll pass all of that information off to Alyssum or something, but it’s really not like that. All he’s going is putting himself in a position where you see him as unpredictable, and therefore unreliable when it comes to certain things inside of the arena.

If you can’t confirm or deny his plans to sponsors, and you have to admit that you have no clue what his motive is--besides making it out alive--then he’s not worthy of sponsorship. And since he’s literally twelve like Alyssum, it puts him at an even bigger disadvantage.

Alyssum picks up some knives, twirling it between her fingers. She nails this, it doesn’t cut her skin at all. Then, she draws her arm back wickedly, throwing the first knife from her finger. Quickly, she passes off a second to her right hand, to throw again. It takes her only half a second to get a new knife to throw.

By the time that she’s done, there’s three new holes in the wall, and she’s nailed two out of three of the tricks. You go down the two steps, onto her level of the floor, continuing all the way up to where the knives are. You pluck them out, weighing them in your hands.

“Are these too heavy?”

“No, they weigh just fine.” she says, looking at you.

You stare at the human diagram on the wall. It’s the exact shape of Elysia. She wasn’t too thrilled to have her body shape be the example of a target, but it was what you two need.

Stopping right where Alyssum had been throwing, you take your shot at it. The first knife she always throws is for the thighs, left or right, it doesn’t matter. You aim for the right one. The next she throws aims for the heart, and hers all varies around the same area. This would be a good, direct kill. You get that one without a problem.

The one that Alyssum can’t get right is the forehead. You give Alyssum a look, and she shrugs her shoulders. All the holes reside around the head, not even one has come close to hitting the bullseye. You throw the final knife, getting the head without a single problem.

“Take your time inside of the session. I get that we want it to be quick, but it’s okay to be slow.” you fix some of her hair, “Go at your own pace. The gamemakers won’t be bored by the time you go in.”

“Make sure to be confident when you walk in. Wait until they say you can start, and they’ll also dismiss you.”

“Be nice to not get on their bad side, but show a little bit of arrogance.” you say, “And if you’re sure that you can’t get the forehead in there, aim for the throat.”

Finnick nods.

“Alright.” she nods, standing up straighter, “I guess I should go.”

You kiss her forehead, brushing her hair back, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” she hugs you, and then Finnick on her way out. As soon as the door shuts, you’re leaving the area and heading for the cellphone. 

Finnick cleans up the wall as best as he can. But there’s a ton of holes in the wall, and the berry juice has left a faint stain on the white walls. Either way, Finnick dumps the materials, thanks the avox, and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.

You tap your feet slightly, leaning your head against the wall. It’s a long moment of ringing before the phone is finally picked up.

“(Y/n)?” a voice asks.

You raise your head, “Yes, who is this?”

“Caspian’s brother--Lucas.”

Lucas. Shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes and tan skin. He mostly roams around his house without a shirt, which always drives his mom nuts, but he never changes. Sweet kid, he’s turning fifteen this fall.

“What happened to Mox?”

“At the hospital, so is Reed, Caspian, my mom and Mags. He’s unwell, and last night he wasn’t too hot. Reed went to see my mom because he didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to worry you or Aly.” Lucas pauses for a moment, “My mom said that they should bring him to the clinic, and that’s what they’ve done. He’s… strapped down. Don’t want him to harm himself or anything.”

You close your eyes, trying to fight back the tears that are gathering. You pull the phone away from your face for a moment as you take a deep breath in, and then you place it right back up against your ear.

“You’re not supposed to be telling me this.” you say.

“Yeah, but Annie said it would be a good idea anyway. Want to talk to her?” 

“Please.” you look at Finnick when he comes out of the hallway.

He has his eyebrows raised, and you’re shaking your head, trying to tell him that it’s not alright back home. In fact, it’s what you feared. It’s in shambles.

“(Y/n), how’s everything in the Capitol?” Annie asks, “Is Alyssum doing okay?”

“Got herself an alliance with the careers, looks promising. If she does well on tonight’s score, then she’s got an official spot.”

“Good.” she says, and then moves on, “Reed doesn’t want to tell you anything, so calling back later won’t do anything. He won’t admit it, even if you tell him everything you know. I’m keeping an eye on the both of them. I didn’t know much about what happened until two days ago.

“Mom’s been keeping me inside a lot, afraid that I’d get everyone around me sick. Only a stomach bug, I’m better now.” she pauses for a long moment, “Sounds like Caspian is back with Mags. I’d give them the phone, but they’ll assume the worst. Instead I’ll just say you called to check up on Mox.”

“Yeah, it’s not the best idea.” you hold your finger up to Finnick, “Which means that you shouldn’t tell them about the career alliance either.”

“I won’t, promise. Call again after the interviews, we’ll all be here. Good luck, (Y/n). Give my best wishes to Alyssum, please.”

“I will,” you say, “Thank you, Annie.”

“No problem.” and then there’s a click.

You place the phone on the hook, taking in a deep breath as you look at Finnick, “Mox is in the clinic because they’re afraid he’s going to hurt himself. Reed and a couple of others are there to visit him.”

“Oh, (Y/n).” Finnick says, face drooping as he reaches out. You let him take you in a hug, squeezing him tightly as you cry into your shoulder.

--

“Sit, please.” Elysia begs, pushing Laurel and the prep team to the big couch that’s entirely dedicated to them. Pleurisy and the others are already sitting on that same couch, ready to go.

You’ve got Finnick to your right, and Alyssum in your arms on the left. Elysia gets her own private arm chair, and so does Rigg, all the way on the right side of the living room. He’s got his legs pulled up to his knees, and he refuses to talk.

“I’m nervous.” Alyssum mutters.

“It’s okay, Aly.” you rub her shoulder, “As long either of you got anything over an eight, we’ll be fine.”

Caesar then shows up on screen, and suddenly everyone is readjusting in their seats to sit up taller, lean forward or get comfortable. You don’t move. Just tighten your arm around Alyssum’s shoulders.

Starting with District One’s Marvel, he kicks it off with a nine. And this is when you know you can relax. If a boy like him is getting something so low, then it’s easy. Alyssum will be just fine. And since Glimmer gets the same score, you can let out a breath of air.

With Clove and Cato, they get ten’s, which was expected. For District Three, get averagely low scores, and for your tributes, you sit up a little more.

“District Four, Rigg Estridge with a score of six.”

You resist the urge to physically wince. Instead, you turn to Rigg with a warm smile, “That’s good, Rigg.”

He gives a timid smile, and your attention is turned right back to Caesar.

He has a smile on his face, looking up to the camera for a moment, “District Four, Alyssum Gallows with a score of--” he pauses on purpose, and the smile only widens, “--eight.”

You shake Alyssum’s shoulder excitedly, patting her upper arm a bit. She looks as happy as you do about all of this. The praise comes from everyone, directed to both Rigg and Alyssum. 

The next few tributes aren’t all that important, they all get around the same score, which only means that they hadn’t done anything outstanding inside of the training center when they had the chances. Not even their private sessions were good, it seems.

Then, it hits Haymitch’s tributes. First is Peeta, who gets an eight. It’s not that bad, it’s actually pretty good. Considering that the careers are always the ones to have a score between eight and ten, he basically qualifies. As for Katniss--she gets an eleven.

You hum, eyes a little wide. You can’t remember the last time Haymitch has got a pair of good tributes. You can only imagine that if his tributes win, it’s going to dig him out of his twenty-four year long streak of only losers.

“Regretting anything yet?” Finnick whispers, you turn to look at him.

“She’s only one person--two if Peeta sticks with her. Alyssum will be surrounded by four people, and she fits right in. I’m not worried about Katniss.”

You look back at the screen, only to see that Caesar is analyzing the scores briefly, until he hits Alyssum again. Then, he picks apart everything that he thinks might have happened, “Do any of you folks remember what had happened during the Gallows’ family interview?”

He then pulls up a clip from the interview. Alyssum was only three then, so little. But that’s not his focus. No, he plays a particular clip where they’re discussing your score;

“That’s a reasonable thought,” Caesar says, a few people in the audience agree, but it’s basically none, “What about her training score? A ten is a very big score, especially for someone who’s fifteen! I would never have guessed it.”

“Me neither.” Reed admits, “I thought she’d get something a little lower, but she always has a trick up her sleeve. She likely thought up some trick last minute that she knew would blow the gamemaker’s minds. And it worked just like she had hoped.”

“I bet she did that trick with the two knives.” Mox says, “Do you remember her doing that?”

Reed shakes his head, “Not really.”

“It’s a difficult trick to pull off, it takes a lot of practice. But if she did the one I’m thinking about, it’s likely the reason why she got one so high. It would be impressive to see her kill two tributes at once.”

After the clip, Caesar’s back, “It makes me wonder if Alyssum had pulled off that same trick that we were never able to see--or something similar! I hope we get to see it inside of the arena.” he winks.

It moves on after that, and Elysia shuts the tv off, turning to all of you, “How do you feel about a celebratory dessert?”

--

This week has been one huge blur. You still can’t believe that the interviews are tonight, and your sister goes into the arena tomorrow. The fact that she’s a tribute in the hunger games doesn’t seem real to you at all.

This has to be one big nightmare that you can’t escape. Your little sister, Alyssum Gallows, who is twelve years old and has only five years of experience and her name was only in the freaking glass bowl once is going inside of the arena. Nine years ago she was three, and you were in the arena, yourself.

It seems like there’s some unfortunate pattern when it comes to the women in the Gallow’s family. First it was your great-grandmother, caught and killed for her participation in the rebellion. Then it was your grandmother for not obeying the laws and standing up for herself when a peacekeeper was out of line.

Then it was your mother, not surviving childbirth. You came close to death a number of times, thanks to the arena. And right when you had thought your family has gotten off lucky--that you had finally managed to break the streak--it falls onto Alyssum. If the universe couldn’t have you, then it would definitely have her.

You know that after this, when you get home, you’re going to see the remnants of Reed and Mox. Mox will probably have to be medicated for the rest of his life, like Annie. Only time will make the wounds better, but they will never fully heal. Alyssum is the final product of your mother, and sometimes, is her.

Reed will throw himself into work. Maybe something dangerous, something that will get him away from you all for a good amount of time. Take week-long fishing trips, and only come home for a day, before leaving again. You can’t imagine he’ll be able to take the pity that everyone will be giving you, well.

And you can assume that the nightmares will resume. They haven’t just yet, but they will when you get back home. You’ll have to avoid the television for months in order not to see the recaps. As for the victory tour--you don’t think you’ll be able to hand it. To have to stand on a platform with your two brothers, barely sane and being held together with tape and glue.

Finnick will finally be able to see what it’s like to be a part of the family. Misfortune follows you all like the grim reaper. It was only a matter of time before the next big thing would happen. 

“Please get that look off your face.” Finnick’s voice is gentle, he reaches up to bring your chin a little higher, wanting you to look at him, “You’ve done a very good job this week. She’s got sponsors, she’s got an alliance, and a high score. You and your brothers prepared her well, just like you said you would.”

“I don’t want her to go inside.” you tell him, throat feeling thick. You look back to the door where she’s supposed to come out in a few moments, “I want her to stay.”

“I know.” Finnick says, pulling you into him. He wraps his arms around you, and you lean your head against his chest, reaching up to grab one of his arms.

You two of you stand like this, staring at the door. The second she comes out, you’re going to have to force a smile and give her more pointers about what she should do on the stage. For now, you get a long moment with your thoughts.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go home.” the words leave your mouth without a second thought to them, “Not because I can’t face my brothers, but I don’t think I want to see what they’ll become.”

“I’m here with you.” Finnick says, “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I know, I get that. But I can’t see them so broken and torn apart. Mox hadn’t even been like this for mom or dad. And Reed literally raised Alyssum and I…” you trail off, eyebrows drawing in, “I can face all the looks from everyone, and the funeral, and the apologies. But my brothers are a whole new thing.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, but his arms do tighten around you a little at the thought of all that. He probably forgot entirely about the funeral. But it’s really not only that. As soon as they retrieve her body, they’re going to do their best to restore what she looked like before she died, and you and Finnick are going to have to approve it.

Then you get to travel back home with her in a casket that the Capitol provides. Since she was a tribute, and she ‘served’ them, she’ll be in a white one, with a Capitol seal as well as a district one.

You frown now, “No, I don’t think I’ll go home.”

Finnick opens his mouth, but the door opens, and it reveals Alyssum in the biggest blue dress you’ve ever seen her in. She gives a bright smile, and you give one back. She twirls a little for you, holding onto her necklace to keep it in its perfect place. Then, she does a curtsy.

“I love it!” she laughs, coming out of the doorway to allow Elysia and Laurel to slip out of the room, “I’m like royalty.”

“Because you are.” you want to give her a hug, but it’ll have to wait until after the interview.

She looks like she did when she was a child. Playing pretend with the fairy wands and the pretend paper and plastic crowns. You never understood her obsession, but now seeing it in front of you, it’s because she was able to have a childhood. Thanks to you winning the hunger games, you brought your family out of poverty, and it was right in time for Alyssum to start playing with toys.

You almost feel guilty for taking it away from her so soon. She really only got four years before you all were on her back simultaneously. Then again, your early training is what’s going to save her. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“Alright, make sure that one of the first things out of your mouth is a compliment to the Ca[pitol. Like their people, outfits, the apartments that they provide, whatever.” you tell her, “I want you to act like yourself today, okay? Make them melt.”

“Right.” she smiles, “I guess I don’t have to lay it on too thick, then. Especially with this dress.”

You laugh, “You’re already halfway there.”

“Answer the questions honestly, but if you think that it’ll get you in trouble, don’t. It’s okay to lie, they’re not going to know the difference. Not if we’re all going to lie with you.” Finnick says, “If you don’t like a question, answer shortly, and then move on before he can ask you a second question about it. He won’t go back.”

“Three minutes on stage.” you hold up your fingers, “He’ll likely split it into three things. Family, the Capitol, and then either a message you can say, or something about yourself. If you ever get nervous, we’re in the crowd. Find us if you need someone to look at for comfort. But I’d really like it if you looked around the room.”

“I can do this.” she says, “I think I’m ready.”

“Follow Caesar’s lead, he’s going to make you comfortable.” Finnick says lastly, “He’s got you.”

You all go to the line in the hallway to see the other tributes. You wish Alyssum good luck, before heading off towards to retrieve Rigg next. He’s not excited, more nervous and scared. You tell him that he’ll do just fine, and drop him off next to Alyssum.

You and Finnick find your places in the crowd, taking a very special spot next to Haymitch. He doesn’t care that you’ve sat next to him, and he even offers his flask without a word. 

You take it from him, take a nice gulp, and then pass it off to Finnick while your throat burns. This has to be the Capitol stuff, the districts don’t even nearly have something this strong. Finnick sputters out a cough, and the three of you share a laugh because of it.

“Thanks.” you say.

“You probably need it more than me.”

Caesar introduces the show like he always does, for the audience back home. He starts off with Glimmer, who comes on stage in a short pink dress, her blonde hair curled and a wide smile on her face, waving to the audience. Next is Marvel, who easily tours over Caesar because of his height. 

Clove comes in with a red dress, looking mean and smart. She spends her time being sarcastic, but clearly winning the hearts of the people around you. In this time, Haymitch passes the flask over for another drink, and you take it without complaint. You’d rather be drunk than sober when Rigg finally rolls around.

Cato is dressed in a blue suit, and talks about himself the entire time. When the interview is finally over, you’re all relieved and happy to be watching someone who isn’t as full of themselves. Before you know it, the District Four tributes are up.

Alyssum comes up the stage, holding the bottom of her dress just barely up enough so that she doesn’t trip on it. She stops next to Caesar, and the crowd is absolutely in love. You can hear a few people behind you muttering about the dress, and then the crown.

“Wow!” Caesar gasps, “That is--” he backs up, trying to get a whole view of it. Alyssum poses for him, and even turns side to side to allow him to see all of it, “Amazing! Let me guess, you’re supposed to be a princess?”

“Yes!” Alyssum gives a big smile to the crowd, catching you and Finnick instantly. And just as you instructed, she looks out to other people, “Being here in the Capitol makes me feel so…” she stops for a moment, thinking of the word.

“Famous?” Caesar encourages.

“Famous! That’s the word.” she laughs--or more, giggles--at herself, “It makes me feel like I have some fans.”

Caesar gasps, “How could we not? I know I have been a big fan, ever since I saw you for the first time! And you were just a little toddler.”

Behind her, a screen changes to her on Reed’s lap during the family interview.

Alyssum covers her mouth with one hand, “Oh, that’s embarrassing.”

The crowd loves this, and soon, Caesar is encouraging her to sit down too. Following in the footsteps of the six people before her. When she sits, the dress almost consumes her entirely, but she’s able to readjust enough so that it’s fixed.

“Now tell me, Alyssum, what was going through your mind at the reaping?”

Alyssum presses her lips together, a clear sign that she doesn’t like the question. She fakes thinking for a moment, and then gives a shy smile, “I was upset that it was my first year of the reaping and I’d have to go inside of the arena. I thought I’d have a few more years until I would have to start to worry. But, it’s not like that anymore.”

Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Why’s that?”

“I have my older sister here with me.” she places her laced fingers on one of her knees, “Even if this is my last few days, I get to spend it with the person I look up to the most. Or, should I say people. Finnick is pretty cool too.”

She looks right at you and Finnick, giving a cheeky smile.

“Speaking of which, what is it like being in the shadow of her? Being constantly compared to her?” Caesar asks, this question is especially ironic because he’s the one doing it.

“Hard, knowing that I won’t ever compare. But kinda fun too, knowing that people were already familiar with me.” She says, “It’s like going somewhere, thinking it’ll be full of strangers, but instead it’s just family friends.”

“What a thoughtful way to put it.” Caesar says, and then smiles, looking out to the crowd, “what do you think folks? Are you a family friend?”

You wince at how loud the auditorium gets, but give Alyssum a reassuring smile. This is a good sign, a whole audience full of ‘family friends’. This seems to boost Aly’s confidence a little too, and she sits a little taller in her chair.

“You scored very high on your training.” Caesar says, and Alyssum nods.

“I did.”

He smiles at this, “Is there any hidden skills we should know of?”

Alyssum laughs, “If I told you--it wouldn’t be hidden!”

“Fine, do you think you’ll surprise us inside of the arena?”

Alyssum tilts her head with a sweet smile, “I think I might, but you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

The crowd is cheering now, and the buzzer is going off. It’s perfect timing, in your mind. Caesar and Alyssum stand together, he takes her hand in his, and encourages her to step forward. She gives a curtsy, one that’s much more graceful than the one she gave you and Finnick in the hallway.

The crowd is standing now, clapping louder. She gives one final wave, thanking them for their time, and then she’s leaving to go back to the hallway.

As everyone takes their seats again, you and Finnick are slipping out of the crowd, not too focused on Rigg. He’s made his intentions clear, you won’t bother trying to salvage something that doesn’t want to be salvaged.

In the back, Alyssum is twirling around in her dress, and the second her eyes land on you, she’s running over. You hug her tightly, with only praise rolling off Finnick’s tongue.

Now you only have to worry about tomorrow.

[pinkykitten]

Everything, Beautiful

The Hunger Games

Cato x plus size! female reader

Warning: bullying, curse words

Specifics: plus size reader, fluff, romance, angst, comedy, self conscious reader, race neutral reader, one-shot, pics

People: cato, katniss, peeta, your mother and father, bullies 

Words: 1,820

Requested: By @fyeahtaylorp (wont let me tag) Hi I love your writing I was wondering if I could have a plus size reader and Cato imagine? Maybe where he wins with Katniss and peeta and they meet on the victory tour in districts 12 or something like that?

Authors Note: this is my first time writing for hg and of course for this character. im a fan of alaexander ludwig especially in vikings cuz u know he daddy he a bear and he thicc. so this is when he a fetus so i hope u all enjoy and dont worry my darlings im trying to go as fast as i can with ur requests 💖💖💖

(not my gif! do not own!)

This was the day that the victors of the 74th hunger games were visiting your district. You have heard throughout town that the victory tour has gotten some people in trouble, hurt, or worse killed. You were not as excited as everyone else was, or how everyone else seemed. You hated the Capitol and everything they did to these poor kids. 

As you walked home from being at The Hob you stumbled across a group of kids, your age, that stared at you strangely. You noticed they started to cover their mouths to try to stifle their giggles, but you heard them. You knew why they were laughing. Unfortunately, you came out not being the skinniest of the family. You had curves and a little weight on you. Some things budged out or jiggled and that was not known in a place where everyone starved. You were also starving but your body was just made this way. People would always make fun of you, suggesting that you ate all District 12 foods, or maybe that you ate the Capitol as well. It always made you feel self conscious. 

You tried to walk past the group of bullies, holding onto your items, you clutched them to your chest, trying to not take notice of their laughter at you. 

“Its okay y/n. Lets just go home.” You comforted yourself as you finally passed them. Your shoulders relaxed as you felt the uneasiness wash away. 

Finally, you arrived at your house. Feeling exhausted from that long journey, you plump down on the sofa. Your father was there, reading. As you were about to take a look at the material he was reading your mother yelled for you. 

“Y/N!”

“Coming!” As you walk in the room your mother places a light blue dress on your bed. 

“Mom what are you doing?” Her face lights up seeing you. She places her hands on your cheeks. “Sweetheart, remember today is when the victors come to our District?”

You roll your eyes and fall on your bed, “mom seriously! This is not even the reaping, why do I have to wear this dress?”

Your mom gasps and hits your leg lightly, “young lady you will not think over my judgment. I want you looking nice today, show the Capitol that we too can have nice things.”

“Oh brother,” you groan, placing your pillow on your face. 

Your mother sits beside you and gently lifts the pillow, “Love, just please this one time, wear this dress for me.”

You thought about it for a moment, “fine!”

Your mother stood up excitedly and put the dress in your hands. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like on you!”

“Mom, okay I got this,” you gave your mother an annoyed look as she pushed you to walk faster to the gathering. You felt so...ugly. You didn’t want to make your mother feel bad by telling her you disliked the dress. For once all that you wanted to wear was like Katniss’s. She had the perfect body and the perfect face for all those expensive dresses. 

As you walked by the town people would get a look at you and laugh. They’d chuckle under their breath. You look down to the dirt, not wanting to look into their eyes. Every one was so critical. 

You all arrived and of course, your mother being your mother wanted to stand in the front. “Mom please can we not!”

She grabbed your arm sternly, “missy you should be happy that we get to sit so close. These are our victors. Show some respect.”

You rolled your eyes, “mom, you and I both know all you just want to do is be on camera.” Your mother did not answer and stood there waiting for it to start. 

The victors came out and gave their speech that was so unbelievable. 

“I know what you really think,” you muttered to yourself. Your father shushing you with a light jab to your side. 

One was named Peeta the other well she was famous, she was the girl on fire. She was Katniss. You used to know Katniss, not very well but be acquainted. As much as that boy was sweet to her he was no Gale, she was in love with him. Then you notice the other blonde. He looks, well he looks pissed. He is really tall and very muscular. He looks as if he can break bark in half. He then catches you staring and winks at you. You shake your head and start to actually pay attention. You were just imagining things. He didn’t really wink at you...did he?

Their little speeches ended and you got up with a satisfied grin, “finally, I can go home and take this table cloth off and read my book.” 

“It is no table cloth y/n, it is one of the new dresses at the market. I frankly like it on you,” your mother shook her hips sassily as she walked. You wish you were as confident as your mother. She was so beautiful and your dad was so handsome, sometimes you felt you were so hideous that maybe you were adopted. 

As you were walking away to your house the blonde tall victor kept staring at you. With a shrug you waved back and proceeded walking. “He’s probably looking at me wondering how did she get so fat? Or wow she looks as big as the Capitol!” Thinking to yourself as you feel more gloomy and sad. You change your clothes and do end up reading your favorite book. Well, it has to be your favorite book because your family cannot afford another. You’ve read it so many times already that you’ve memorized some of the words. 

Sitting on your bed, the quilt full of cushion, you felt at peace being in your home with no judgmental looks. You sat there for hours reading and reading until you heard your father’s call. 

“Yes dad?”

“Your mother needs bread and milk can you run to the market real quick to get it for us?”

You groaned and whined, trudging to your father. Your father copied your actions making you laugh. 

“Get out of here,” your father smiled as he shooed you away. 

As you were heading to the market you saw those same kids you saw earlier. They glared at you and laughed. You hugged yourself and proceeded to move forward. “Its okay y/n, you’re okay.”

You picked up the freshly baked bread and the cold milk and set off to home. The bread smelled so heavenly. It was so buttery and warm with a little crunch to it. 

“Hey girl,” one of the boys asked from the group. You tried to ignore them but they all circled you. 

“Guys I have to go to my house, dinner is almost ready.”

One of the girls cackled evilly, “you don’t need to go to dinner! You already look like you ate all of it!”

You could feel tears starting to sting your eyes. “Please guys. What do you want?”

“What do we want? I want you to know that you are nothing in this world. You are so fat and ugly that me telling you this makes me feel ten times better. Knowing that I don’t look as hideous and ginormous as you makes me so thankful.”

They all started to yell insults at you. “You don’t need this fatty.” They push the milk and bread on the floor. The bread getting all dirty and the milk crashing on the floor the glass breaking and cutting your legs. “No, stop that was for my family. I don’t have any more money left!” You tried to stop them. They laughed and pushed you on the floor as well. “Too bad then, huh? No you’ll probably lose the weight.”

“Why don’t you all just shut the hel* up?” A unfamiliar voice called out. They all looked up to see, “you’re one of the victors!” The blonde man grabbed some of them and threw them to the floor away from you. “If I ever see you mess with her again I will kill you! Trust me I’ve done that plenty of times!”

You felt embarrassed and just wanted to go home. You tried to clean the bread but it fell in mud. The milk was shattered. The glass in your skin. “Ouch,” you try to stand but wince to yourself. The man bends down and sees your injuries. “C’mon we need to go take those out.”

You felt shy and tried to look away, “its okay, I got this.” You try to stand up but you slip and he catches you. “I’ll take a look at them.” He carries you to a ledge of concrete nearby. “Hold on sir, I might be too heavy,” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp not wanting him to suffer carrying your weight. The man chuckled, “you? You’re light weight to me.”  You almost laughed as he carried you, you thought you were too heavy. 

As he placed you on the edge he took a look at your legs. Only a few small shards of glass were stuck on your leg. “Here we go,” he says as he sounds like he’s concentrating. You felt so bashful. A boy, a cute one at that, was looking at your thick legs! He tended to your wounds and teasing you kissed your injury. “You feel better?” He asks as he helps you stand up. You nod and with a small voice say, “thank you.”

“The names Cato.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it lightly. He has so many callouses and he has veins popping from working out so much. You gulp, “I’m y/n. Its nice to meet you, again thank you. You didn’t really have to do any of that.”

Cato shook his head, “they were hurting a beautiful woman, I couldn’t let them get away with that.” He sees that your items are broken and walks to the market. “Here let my buy those for you.”

You persisted in stopping him but he put his hand up and shook his head, “Its okay I really want to. Here.” He hands you the milk and bread and also something extra. 

“What is this?” You cheerfully ask, now feeling more and more comfortable with him. “Its a muffin,” he held one for himself and gave one to you. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you so much for this Cato. It means a lot to me. Not many people really like me or can’t stand to be next to me so just thank you.”

“No problem, and those people are missing out. But I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to walk with me?”

You chuckled and held onto his arm, “sure. What do you want to know about me?”

Cato gave you a boyish smile, “everything, beautiful.”

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @wtfisalltherandoms, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @andreaoreas, @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @marwantr

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[plus-size-reader]

Not Really Goodbye

Peeta Mellark x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1519 words

Warnings: This one hurt my feelings

Summary: Having to say goodbye to Peeta when he leave for the games

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You and Peeta had been nearly inseparable all your lives.

In fact, there had never really been a time that you were away from one another for more than a few hours. It just didn't happen, though to be fair, District twelve wasn't really big enough to put that much sizable distance between you.

You worked in his family's bakery most of the time, and when you weren't there, the two of you were at school together or walking the streets to pass the time. There wasn't much to do in a place mainly good for coal mining.

Still, when you weren't together, you were always thinking about the other.

Peeta was almost always on your mind, and while you didn't think twice about it as a child, that changed as the two of you grew older. The older you got, the more you realized that Peeta was more to you than your best friend, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

...And not remotely a secret.

It was common knowledge in all of District twelve that you couldn't survive without him by your side, and as far as you knew, you couldn't. So, when his name was called at the reaping ceremony, you felt like someone had shot a hole through your middle.

You could feel a pit in your stomach that would never be repaired.

All you could think about as you stood in the dirt, your hands folded in front of you, was what could happen once he left the safety of district twelve. You were terrified, having grown up every year watching the broadcasts.

No one in Panem was a stranger to the brutal sights that came out of the games but for some reason, you never thought that Peeta would be in any kind of danger. You just couldn't imagine your life without him.

If Peeta died, it would certainly kill you.

However, before you could spend too much time thinking about that, you decided that there was one other thing that was more important. All you could think about as they led him away behind those curtains was getting to him.

You knew that you wouldn't have much time to say goodbye before he was whisked away, assuming they would even let you see him at all. Nothing was guaranteed but you weren't going to squander that opportunity.

For all you knew, it was going to be the last you would ever get.

It took quite some time before you could actually go meet him, but when you did, it was an experience that you were sure that you'd never forget.

The halls were deathly silent as you walked toward his room, making quick work of the distance with fast feet. It didn't hurt that you were being ushered along by a rather pushy peacekeeper, who would probably keep you from seeing him if given the option.

None of them really cared if something bad happened to you, or anyone else in twelve. You were expendable to them, just more poor folk that they didn't want under their boot. Still, it was hard not to be a little grateful to them for letting you see Peeta one last time before he had to leave.

They didn't have to let you see him, but if nothing else, they gave you a few more minutes with him than you would have gotten before.

You expected to see Peeta's family within the confines of his room, but when you opened it, he was entirely alone, staring out onto the street through the window. He had no idea what the future had in store for him, but there was no use really wondering right now.

He'd figure it all out in time.

Though, thankfully, before he could delve fully into his upset and start overthinking, you cleared your throat behind him. Neither of you said anything at first, just slowly wrapping each other up in a huge hug.  

There weren't really words for what you were feeling right now, to be fair.

"Is your family on their way? I don't want to intrude on their goodbyes" you asked, worried that you would upset his mother if she arrived to you already there. However, before you could worry too much, Peeta shook his head.

His mother had been in already, and left without much to say which as far as he knew, was as good as it was going to get from his family. Really, he had just been waiting for you. Neither of you really thought this day would ever come.

Peeta could only imagine how you were feeling.

"What are you thinking right now?" he asked, gingerly brushing a single tear from your cheek. You had been periodically staring at the ground since you'd entered, making it abundantly clear to Peeta that you were trying to keep it together.

You were hiding something, but he didn't have to guess what was upsetting you like he normally did. You both knew what was wrong with you, but he knew that you needed to say whatever it was that was on your mind.

For all either of you knew, this would be the last chance you would ever have. As hard as that was the accept, it was the reality of the world you lived in and no one could do anything about that.

"I just can't believe this is happening? Are you sure you have to go?" you asked, your eyes screwing shut as you tried to keep the tears at bay. You swore that you weren't going to cry when you came in here, but you couldn't help it.

The two of you just had never been apart for this long and you weren't sure how it was going to go. Not to mention the fact that you couldn't be sure that he would actually make it back, which would make this the last time you would ever speak.

Overall, it was just too much for one person to handle.

"I don't have a choice" he shrugged, doing his best to keep it together for the pair of you. He was the one facing death but really, he felt more guilty for putting you through this, even if it wasn't his fault.

You just didn't deserve to go through hurt like this and it killed him that he really couldn't do anything about it.

"Just promise me you'll try and come back, okay?" you sniffed, practically begging him to do it, even though you both knew the chances were slim. District twelve hadn't won the hunger games in a number of years, and it just didn't look good.

Still, you just had to believe that he would be okay. It was the only chance you had, and even if it wasn't all that realistic, you didn't care. You were rather sure that you couldn't survive if you had to wake up to the news that he'd been killed, or sleep in the first place with such a mounting threat.

However, before you could think too much about what could happen to him, you were startled by a yell from outside the door. It would seem that the peacekeepers patience was wearing a bit thin from waiting.

"Hurry up in there!"

You jumped just a bit at that, but recovered quickly because you knew what that meant. You and Peeta didn't have much time left before he had to leave. It was far from ideal but just like most of what had happened today, there was nothing either of you could do today.

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever happens, it's okay" Peeta assured, watching you start to shut down once again at the idea of what was happening. It didn't even seem real for the most part, until you got those sick reminders that it was.

It wasn't.

It really wasn't, but you weren't about to tell Peeta that.

Instead, you nodded, wiping away the tears that had started to well up again. "Just be careful" you pleaded, snuggling into his waist again, holding him tight as if that would make it all go away. Of course, it didn't work, but you just had to try.

"It's time to go now, okay? I love you" he whispered, gingerly tilting your face up toward his own to get you to meet his eyes. Then, without really giving the action much though, Peeta leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

It wasn't something he ever would have done normally, or should have done given the circumstances, but he couldn't help himself. If he didn't do it now, he would never get the chance and as selfish as that was, he couldn't think about that.

Almost as soon as you separated, you were both taken in separate directions, very much against either of your will. Still, you did your best not to fight it, knowing that it would do no good. All  you could do now was hope that that really wasn't goodbye.

You wanted to make sure that you got the chance to tell him back, after all.

[plus-size-reader]

Human

Peeta Mellark x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1368 words

Warnings: none 

Summary:  Peeta falling in love with his stylist and spending all of his free time with her

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Each of the tributes had to be ready for their close up at any time. That meant that each one of them had an entire team of dedicated stylists and designers in their camp, constantly at the ready to make sure they looked their best. 

You, being a relatively fresh face in the capital, had been given the very tedious job of making sure Peeta Mellark, of district twelve, looked like a million bucks wherever he went. 

It was your job to make sure there wasn’t a single hair out of place when those cameras turned on. 

That being said, you never really got to know your clients all that well. It was about getting the job done and other than that, small talk really wasn't in the description. However, as soon as Peeta sat down in your chair, you knew that he was going to be different. 

He was nervous, having never done anything like this before and having only been in the capital for a few hours. He wasn’t sure how anything was done or what he was supposed to say but it didn’t matter. You found his anxious energy kind of charming, it was new for you. 

Usually, tributes came in here already arrogant and sure that they would win. It was sort of refreshing to see someone really acting human for once. 

...He was scared, and you couldn’t blame him. 

Mostly you two just talked while you slicked back his hair and brushed glitter on his cheekbones. Something was different today though, from the second he was in front of you, you could tell that something was really on his mind. 

Peeta was never this quiet. 

“What’s up today? You’re usually much more chatty” you hummed, running your hands through his hair a few times while you looked at him in the mirror. He was going to be meeting Caesar Flickerman today, and that was always a big deal. 

All of the capital would see him today, which meant that sponsors and fans alike would be tuned in. If anything was out of place when he walked out on that stage, it would not only be bad for you, but it would also spell bad news for Peeta. 

He may need their support out in the arena and you would hate to be the reason he could lose possible aid. 

...You didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. 

The more you got to know Peeta, the more you hated everything that was happening. It had never really affected you before, but you had never been close to tribute like you were with Peeta. Before him, the bodies in your chair were just that, bodies.

It had never mattered what happened to them. 

Peeta answered you with a heavy sigh, doing his best to figure out how he wanted to tell you what he’d recently realized. He wasn’t sure if he should ever tell you, but now wasn’t the time to rethink the way he was feeling. 

He could be dead in a couple of days anyway. 

“I really like you and I wanted to know if you’d want to come up to the penthouse for dinner tonight?” he tried, spitting out all the words at once in a great big jumble. He had been shot down plenty of times in his life but with you it was different. 

You made Peeta feel okay, like the world wasn’t about to cave in around him. 

It was a welcome distraction, all things considered.

However, you weren’t sure what to say. You made it a general rule not to ever get involved with any of your clients because it made things too complicated. 

Not to mention how difficult it could be to fall for someone who was going into the games. How were you supposed to fall in love knowing that in another few days, he could be dead? 

You just weren’t sure. 

Still, you wanted to go to dinner with him. 

Something about Peeta made you want to suspend all of the rules that you had for yourself and you couldn’t help it. You really cared for him, and there was no good reason to ignore that. 

Even if there was that added danger, or that added concern, that wasn’t enough for you to stop caring for him.

“Are you sure about that Peeta? Is that something we should really do?” you hummed, trying to talk to him at the same time as you brushed his hair. 

You hadn’t thought about this before, but now that it was out in the open, you wanted to talk about it. There was something going on between you and you either had to ignore it or do something about it. 

You were at a crossroads, and there was no going back to the way it was after that. 

It was a huge step, but toward what you weren’t sure. 

However, before you could completely lose your mind with nerves, Peeta stopped you. “I don’t see why not? I think that it could be fun” he grinned, turning around to look you in the face. 

He could see you in the mirror just fine but making real eye contact was different. It made him feel complete and there was no reason to avoid that, as far as he was concerned. 

From his standpoint, he was looking at a fight to the death and if he could face that, he could certainly ask out the girl that he liked. In fact, you were one of the best things to have come out of this whole thing. 

...He had a point. 

“Okay, sure. I’ll come up to the penthouse tonight” you agreed, smiling at him before turning him back around to make sure that he was put together before he went out on that stage. 

A good idea or not, it was worth a shot and you were in no position to try to avoid it. 

~ 

You weren’t sure how to feel as the elevator climbed the floors all the way up to the penthouse, excited for your evening with Peeta, even as stressed as you were. 

It was just Peeta, and you had no reason to be scared of him...even if you were feeling all kinds of ways about this evening. 

“Hey! I was worried you weren’t going to make it” he smiled, his grin widening more and more as he closed the space between the two of you. 

He had been waiting for what seemed like forever but now that you were here, it was all worth it. 

“I wouldn’t miss it” you hummed, reciprocating the hug that he offered you, only noticing the other people in the room when you pulled away from him. 

For some reason, you had been expecting it to just be the two of you when he invited you. Not that you could really complain about the other people in the space, considering the circumstances. 

You were lucky you were even allowed up here at all. 

“Well, I’m still glad you decided to come” he shrugged, reaching down to take your hand in his own gingerly. It wasn’t something he’d really planned on doing, but it just seemed right. 

After all, you were pretty much relying on Peeta to be your security blanket in this situation. He was the only person you were really comfortable with.

“Everyone, this is Y/N, my stylist” he introduced, pulling your chair out for you without missing a beat. It was sort of strange, to share an evening with so many strangers but you didn’t mind. 

You were just doing your best to enjoy your evening. 

All you did was wave to them in greeting, scooting over slightly as you waited for him to take his place at your side. “Would you care for some dinner?” Peeta offered, that same grin on his face as he looked at you. 

He was beaming from ear-to-ear, and that was enough to bring back your confidence in the situation. There was nothing bad that could happen right now. 

Right now, you two were just a couple of people having dinner and that was all you had to be, for once. 

[plus-size-reader]

Dress Up

Gale Hawthorne x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1101 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Gale falling for a really eccentric girl from the capital who is obsessed with taking him shopping and dressing him like a doll

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Gale didn’t have very much experience with the capital. 

Aside from seeing Effie Trinket every year at the reaping and hearing stories, there wasn’t much of it in the district twelve.

In fact, it wasn’t until district twelve got blown to bits that he ever set foot in the capital at all.

By that time, it was different than he’d ever imagined. It wasn’t nearly as light and whimsical as he’d always thought it was. 

With the rebellion on the cusp of explosion, there was a lot of tension between the people.

It was almost as if every single person he passed was holding their breath. No one was quite sure what to do, or what was going on.

Except for you.

When Gale first saw you, you were buzzing around the street like a busy little bee. Never in his life had he seen someone so full of energy, without a single care in the world.

You were incredible.

Everything in his life seemed dark and dreary until he saw you. It was as if that moment was a turning point for him. Meeting you was the thing that changed him for the better.

He no longer worried about Katniss, or the fact that she’d chosen Peeta over him. He no longer cared about the loss of his home, because you had proven something to him…

You helped him realize that home had nothing to do with a place. Home was a feeling, a feeling that you consistently gave him in the pit of his stomach.

Before long, you two were inseparable, even though you were completely different in every way.

Gale was the strong back upon which you built your foundation, and to him, you were the sun and sky. You were happier now than you had ever been in your life…

But the same couldn’t be said for everyone else.

Katniss,for one, couldn’t believe that Gale would ever fall for a girl like you. Your hair color changed every few days and you wore more fur and glitter than she’d ever thought possible.

In her eyes, you owned more fabric than had ever been in all of district twelve when it was still standing. 

It was pathetic, in her opinion, not that Gale cared. She had made her choice, and he had made his own.

...There was nothing she could say or do that would change that. Even if that meant putting up with all her not-so-subtle passive aggression. 

“Can you believe this?” she scoffed, watching as you bustled around the shop. Your arms were full of different fabrics, and patterns, none of which matched.

You were searching for the perfect outfit to dress him in today, something that the man in front of you had come to terms with a long time ago. 

Gale understood your love of fashion, and the importance of the whole thing in your eyes. Sure, he didn’t really get it but if it was going to make you happy, he had no problem acting as a mannequin for your passion.

Clothes were clothes, so why should he care if they were a little more elaborate than he was used to? The world that he was used to had disappeared before his eyes, so there was nothing keeping him for accepting the change. 

Personally, Gale would do anything to see that bright smile on your gorgeous face, even if it was kind of silly.

“It’s kinda sweet,” Peeta replied, not quite believing it himself. He’d never really pegged Gale as the dress up kind. However, he was glad that Gale seemed happy for once.

He’d never seen the other man smiling like that.

It was as if his attention was fully on you, watching with wonder in his eyes as you studied the various racks, searching for the perfect thing.

Nothing had ever, ever, made him as excited as you seemed to be when it came to all the different things in the shop. It made you so happy. 

The entire process had always amused him, and today was no different. Nothing would ever be more amusing to him than that. 

“Are you almost finished?” he teased, folding his large arms across his chest, his eyes still dancing back and forth on your moving frame. 

You had no idea what he was talking about. 

However, all you could do was smile, grinning at the man you loved with both arms full of fur coats, striped blouses, pressed pants, and more metal than anyone could ever need. 

It was absolute overkill but Gale just stood there, and accepted the process. In fact, once you had finally finished, he even decided to hold the separate pieces as you put it all together. 

This was going to be the most incredible outfit you’d put him in to-date. 

You were so excited. 

“I am nearly finished” you assured, even though you couldn’t have possibly been having a better time right now. This whole thing was your passion, and you weren’t going to mess around with it. 

...Even when it was just for fun. 

“Do you like this one? Or this one better?” you wondered finally, holding two pairs of wrist cuffs in each hand, unsure which would go better with his current ensemble.

 You always got caught up in the small details, but Gale didn’t mind. In fact, he even reached out to show you his wrists as if that would help…

And it did. 

As soon as he did that, you knew exactly what it needed and you couldn’t have been more pleased. 

“There! It’s perfect” you hummed, clapping excitedly as you surveyed the entire thing. Every piece was absolutely matched, and looked incredible on him, and it couldn’t have been better. 

You had outdone yourself. 

And, ignoring the eye rolls from Katniss and the laughter from Peeta, Gale admired himself in the mirror happily. Everything he was wearing didn’t make sense to him, and he would have never planned it out himself. 

...But he had to admit that it did look nice. 

It looked cool. 

“This is very nice, I think the cuffs were a nice touch” he allowed, adjusting them ever so slightly so that they were straight. You were very talented, and that was the most important thing. 

Though, Gale wasn’t sure how he would react if it ever looked messy, or if he didn’t like it. 

He would wear anything if it would make you feel good about it. Playing a little bit of dress up never killed anyone...even if Katniss did like to act as if it did. 

[plus-size-reader]

Caretaker

Gale Hawthorne x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1716 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Reader is Peeta’s best friend who bonds with Gale over the loss of their closest friends to the reaping. They really get close until Gale decides that he is gonna take responsibility for her. 

———————————————————————————————————

You walked down the path to the home of your best friend Peeta to see if he was finally ready to go. It was the day of the reaping in Panem, so everyone was rightfully full of anxiety and fear.

"Peeta" you called once inside, wiping your feet on the mat as you made your way through the small home. "I'm here" he called, telling you that he was in his bedroom.

As soon as you entered the room, you found Peeta standing there, checking his reflection in a dirty mirror. He looked nice, with his hair gelled and combed back but he didn't look like your Peeta by any means, you didn't like it one bit.

"Hi" he says looking nervous, though to be fair, you all were. Your reply was the same as you plopped down in one of the chairs closest to his closet. "are you ready?" you asked, earning a shake of his head. Peeta had his name in the drawing a few times but no more than anyone else in the long run.

You were going to say more but before you could, the siren started blaring through the center of town, telling you all that it was time to crowd around the square...the reaping was about to begin.

The two of you made it to the square with little trouble, filing up to tables where your fingers were pricked and you could be I.D'd to make further events easier. It was then time to separate into your respectful sides, males on the right, and females on left.

It was hard for you to separate from your best friend at first, due to the sheer fear you would never see him again but you weren't really given a choice,

They showed a brief clip on the history of Panem and then a decorated women with pink hair and an even more pink personality steps into the stage, droning on about this and that before moving over to the bowl holding all your names inside.

"Ladies first, as always" Effie announced, moving her manicured fingers around in the bowl before selecting a small white square and opening it in one smooth motion. "Primrose Everdeen" she called, sending a small blonde girl, you had seen around town, to the front of the group.

Suddenly a girl with long brown hair who you knew as Prim's sister Katniss rushed forth, screaming about volunteering in her baby sister's place. It was one of the most emotional things that had happened in a long time at a reaping but after a few minutes of initial shock, it was time to move on to the boys.

You sent Peeta a reassuring glance before you heard her speak the name into the crowd. Somewhere deep inside you, you knew that it would be him, you could feel it but every cell in your being was screaming for it to be a lie.

All of you had already lost so much, that it wouldn't be fair for the games to take away your best friend as well. Without the boy, you would have nothing.

"Peeta Mellark" she says, finalizing your greatest fear as you let out a strangled gasp. You could only catch a glimpse of Peeta before they pulled him away from the crowd and away from you completely.

~

All you could do was sit in the waiting room, hoping that they would bring Peeta around to say goodbye sooner rather than later. For now, the only thing you could do to amuse yourself was look at the guard with hatred burning in your eyes, until it got to be too much.

Peeta should have been here by now, and you weren't willing to wait any longer. "When can I talk to him?" you huff, standing up from your chair, only to be ignored by the man standing against the door.

"Don't bother"

The voice that answered you was a man, who, as best you could tell, was standing very close to you. You couldn't help but jump slightly as you turned to see a very handsome man there, standing  at least a half a foot taller than you were.

"I'm Gale" he introduced, gesturing to the seat next to him against the wall. You knew who he was, you'd seen him around but you weren't sure that he remembered you. It had been years since you two had talked, but seeing as the guards were useless, it couldn't hurt to talk to him a little bit to pass the time.

"Y/N, we used to go to school together" you introduce quietly, sitting down but making sure to keep your body in its own space, not getting too close to him. You were only sitting there for a few minutes when he sighed "Are you going to be able to survive on your own?"

His question caught you off guard, but still forced tears to well up in your eyes. You didn't know, Peeta was your best friend and without him, you basically didn't have anything else in the world.

About halfway through your pity party, you remembered that Gale understood where you were coming from. Katniss was his best friend and she was leaving too. "Oh God, Gale I'm so sorry" you whispered, hot tears threatening to spill again.

The man only shrugged, uttering three words that you were never going to forget as long as you lived. "Life goes on"

Before you could question him on what he meant by that, the door swung open, allowing for the different guards to escort the two of you into separate rooms, where you could be reunited with your loved ones before they were forced to leave.

You rushed into the room quickly, jumping right into Peeta's arms with so much force you nearly knocked the small man to the floor. "Hi shorty" he greeted sadly, his grip tightening as he held you, it was hard for either of you to believe that you were actually in this situation.

It was in this moment that you realized you physically couldn't think of a single thing that would help make him better. There was nothing you could do or say that would keep him safe or make the whole thing go away.

Luckily, Peeta knew you better than anyone and knew just what to say. "I will be fine Y/N, you just need to take care of yourself while I'm gone" he says, wiping the tears from your face slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before they pulled you off of him.

~

The man dropped you in a pile on the ground outside the door, not that you could care as you sobbed, not stopping until your head was throbbing and your face was stained with tears.

Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of a large hand on the curve of your back, and looked up to see Gale looking down at you. He had the same sad expression on his face that had to be dressing your own.

"I'll take you home" he offered, helping you up from the ground, before putting his muscular arm over your shoulders, helping to steady your wobbly legs.

You two walked in silence for a while until he turned to you, taking your hand in his and pulling you toward the fence that surrounded the district. You weren't allowed this close to the boundary but it was clear that Gale couldn't care less. "What are you doing here?" you asked, only to be shushed momentarily by Gale.

"I want to show you something, come on" his voice was surprisingly upbeat considering the events of the morning but you were intrigued, following in his movements through the break in the wire fence into the woods.

The clearing you came upon was a grassy green hill that overlooked the rest of the district, it was an amazing view. It was hard for you to imagine that you'd never seen something like this before when it was so close to where you walked every day. "I love it up here" Gale breathed, plopping down in the grass and helping you do the same.

"so, what are you planning on doing now that Katniss is gone? you asked, wondering the same thing yourself. You expected some kind of revelation but all Gale could do was shrug "probably more work in the mines"

You had to admit that the words shocked you, a handsome man like Gale surely had a family to take care of. "Surely you at least have a girl, somebody who counts on you" you said the last part quietly, not wanting him to think you were trying to insult him. All he could do was scoff a quick no, nearly making you gasp.

"Well why not?" you had a tendency to overshare and prompted the same thing from Gale but luckily, he was feeling particularly chatty with you. There was just something about you that amused him and made him want to know more. It was crazy to him that he'd been living down the street from you all this time and had yet to spend an evening with you.

"Just never found the right one" he sighed, leaning back on the ground with his arm over his head. You, in turn, titled your head to the side in thought, looking at him as best you could at the odd angle.

That should have been enough for you, but it just wasn't. You felt like you were learning a lot about Gale, and you weren't willing to stop now. "would you ever have kids? If you found the right girl I mean?" you approached the topic cautiously, but it just made Gale laugh.

There was mischief shining in his brown eyes as he watched you. "I would, if I didn't live here" his voice was casual, clearly he wasn't bothered by your question. All he seemed to care about was what you thought about his answer, and about him in general.

"I'm gonna take care of you" he decided, leaning over on his side to brush a stray hair behind your ear. You two spent the whole evening there, hidden in your own little world together, making the best of a terrible situation as best you could.

[plus-size-reader]

Caretaker pt. 2

Gale Hawthorne x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1674 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Peeta and Katniss are getting closer on the field, and the reader and Gale are also bonding more and more as the days go on. 

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It had been two days since the last time you'd seen Peeta and today was the day they were going into the arena. You were more worried today than you had been since they entered the bus because you didn't want the two of them to get hurt on their first day, god forbid they got killed.

Aside from the hunger games events, you had been making dinner for Gale every night after he finished working in the mines. Ever since he'd declared that he was going to take care of you, you'd been staying in his home and spending all your time in his company. You were enjoying the attention he was giving you, and were more excited today because he was getting home early.

You had just finished cutting some potatoes when you heard the front door gently open. Normally you could hear his boots on the floor as he walked toward you, but he was suspiciously quiet today. "Gale?" you yelled, hoping that it was him because no one else should have been there.

All your stresses were relieved when he entered the room, looking as exhausted as ever and covered head to toe in coal dust and soot. "How was the mine?" you hummed, wetting a cloth in the sink before walking over to him.

It had only been two days, but you were already getting into a routine where you did this every time he entered the house. Gently, you dabbed the fabric on his cheek, cleaning away the black chalk that had built up there on his skin. Gale shrugged, looking a bit more tense than usual "The same as always" he allowed, instantly alarming you.

You knew what he had going on, it was the same thing that was bothering you. "Gale" your voice was quiet as you walked over to where he was sitting, to put your hands on his shoulders, using the touch as a way to get his attention. "They'll be fine" You sighed, giving up and turning to watch the screen.

Eventually you decided to sit down next to him, gripping his forearm nervously to give you something to help tether you to reality. "They'll be alright" you repeated, more for yourself than Gale this time.

After the broadcast ended Gale looked at you, with more pain in his eyes than you had ever seen there before. "Well" your tone was quiet...you had no idea what to say. Before you could say anything however, he moved closer to you on the couch, throwing his arm over your shoulders.

Almost out of habit at this point, you snuggled into his warm embrace, thinking back to what you two had seen on the screen.

Peeta and Katniss had been snuggled together in a cave, so she could nurse him back to health. You couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the attention she was giving him, even though you had never felt that way for Peeta. "You okay?" you asked, assuming Gale was thinking the same thing as you but he didn't answer you.

Instead he removed his arm from around you and got up, leaving the room to shower.

The kiss that Peeta and Katniss had shared was still very much on your mind but you knew you had to get some sleep. At least you could go to bed knowing that they were alive. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but wonder if Gale was still awake, and if he was thinking about you as much as you were him.

~

You woke up before Gale this morning and walked into his bedroom. You could tell that something had changed in him since the broadcast and you had to make sure that he was doing alright. "Gale?" you started, stopping only when you saw his shirtless state in the doorway, he was staring out the window-a distant look on his face.

"Are you okay?" you wondered, crossing the room slowly to check on him. When you reached him, you let your hand glide down his back lightly, causing him to turn to face you quickly. With little to no warning, he headed toward the door "I have to go"

There was nothing you could do to stop him, and Gale was a grown man, so you had to let him go. All you could do was wander around the house; cleaning, straightening, and cooking to try and keep your mind off the events of the night before.

You tried to stay at home, you really did but finally, you broke. Before you knew what was happening, you headed down to street toward the mine. You had to know what was going on with him, because you may have been able to help "Gale" you yelled, entering the mine, earning looks from men as you passed.

"What are you doing down here? it's dangerous" Gale wondered, gesturing to the door hurriedly. At any moment, there could be an accident that could kill you all and he didn't want you to be anywhere near it. "You should go home" he grumbled, pushing you to the point where you couldn't handle it anymore.

You threw your arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him down to your height, smashing your lips against his own quickly enough that he had no idea what was going on. Slowly, he melted into the kiss, and pulled you even closer to his body.

"Thank you for being there for me" you purred, resting your head against his shoulder when you pulled away. Gale was still a little shocked over what had happened but he still smiled "Always" without you noticing, he turned your toward the door. You could have been upset about him wanting you to leave but you understood. You two would talk about this later at home where it was safe.

Before you knew it, the day was long over and you were curled up in bed, Gale by your side. You two had decided that there was no use in sleeping in separate beds. "So-" you whispered, turning in bed to face the man at your side. "-They get back tomorrow" you finished, knowing that he shared the same thought you'd been having since you got there.

"Can you believe what they did?" You tried, referring to the stunt they pulled in the games. It may have been just a tactic to help them survive, but if it wasn't...Again, Gale said nothing. It wasn't that he didn't feel the need to answer you, he just had so much on his mind.

You couldn't help but sigh as you sat up against the headboard, exhaling all your air in a single breath. You couldn't handle the idea that something was bothering him and he wasn't going to share it with you. "Okay, what is it? Why aren't you talking to me?" you questioned, he shook his head, ignoring your curious eyes as best he could. "I just don't wanna lose you"

There was something in his voice that shocked you a little bit, this raw emotion that you'd never felt in your life. "I don't want to lose you either, but you know just as well as me that as soon as Katnip gets back, you'll forget about me and move on" You were trying not to sound bitter but failing miserably in the process.

You had a point, but it only served to frustrate Gale that much more. "She loves him, don't you see that?" he asked, his voice was horse, and sounded thick in his throat, as if he the very idea of it was enough to send him into a tailspin.

"Well, sometimes love isn't enough" it came out as a huff from you as you got out of the bed, throwing the blankets back. You made it halfway across the room toward the door before Gale finally stopped you, his hand closing in around your wrist. "Don't go" he begged, realizing that without you he wouldn't have anything else.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the tone in his voice, it was hard for you to believe that he could be so delusional. "It's going to change around here, Snow is mad at her for what she did and I wouldn't be surprised if this place is swarmed with peacekeepers by tomorrow" you said, making your way out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

Normally, Gale would have known better than to follow you but that part of him had been shipped off to the arena, and he didn't care right now. "I think you're right about the peacekeepers" He started, opening the door with little to no warning. You nodded, still clearly upset about what had happened earlier, though you understood.

But worrying about it tonight wasn't going to change anything, so you sighed, standing up from the chair you'd been pouting in before he arrived. "You should get some sleep" You weren't sure what he was going to say, Gale groaned. "I don't sleep very well" You nodded, the feeling was mutual, neither of you had gotten much rest since they shipped off.

Even so, the second you two crawled into bed, you were both knocked out cold.

Until the morning, when you heard that all too familiar sound of the industrial tires in the gravel. "Gale" You urged, trying your hardest to shake him awake. "What is it?" he groaned, trying to roll away from you slightly to continue sleeping. All you had to do was point out the window "They're here" that was all you needed to do, and he was sold.

"Katniss and Peeta?" he clarified, hoping that maybe they could be early. Unfortunately, their train was still on schedule and wouldn't  be back for quite some time. The truth was much, much more grim and dangerous. "The peacekeepers" the second the words left your lips, he sat up, wrapping your shoulders in the thin wool blanket and rushing out the door.