#the hunger games AU

[mimasroom2]

Accelerating fury

A Hunger Games Ellie au

Pt 2

Pt 3

In this specific au the hunger games didn’t end with Katniss,, just bc I wanted this to take place after ^•^. I mainly focus on the reader/you until the parade with all the costumes and chariots, but I PROMISEEEEE Ellie comes into play😭🙏 plz I just love to yap. This isn’t the plot of the original Hunger Games! It’s very similar but I did tweak it to be different so! Know that if you read!

Reader is from district 8 (textiles)

Ellie is a badass from district 2 (masonry)

((Btw the photo of the dress I included is the dress that reader wears,, I am OBSESSED w Lolita fashion !!))

C/w: uhhh it’s the hunger games sooo… death? No smut in this one (everyone throws tomatoes at me). SLOWWWWWW BURNNNNNN. If you don’t like yapping and plot don’t read😭 No use of Y/N. Cursing bc ms collins couldn’t😘 Strictly lesbian reader.

W/c: 5k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

It started like all the stories you had ever heard. The same girl from every year, Maria Miller, gave her speech about the Hunger Games. How everyone was oh so excited for this year. Apparently President Snow and the gamemakers had something special planned, as if they don’t say that same thing each time.

You scoffed, and crossed your arms as the same video began. After all this time you basically had the thing memorized. ‘War. Terrible war.’ you repeated to yourself. The few friends you had snickered to the side of you, and you playfully bumped them to get them to shut up. There were so many capitol officials here today. The peacekeepers were easily more than tripled. They wanted absolutely no distractions from Maria - they saw today as regal as the balls you hear about that go on in the capitol. You looked down at your clothes and smoothed them out. Thankfully since your district was textiles, you actually had something decent to wear, unlike the kids you see from district 12.

And you were well off enough to only have your name entered the minimum number of times, not more times for food like some of your friends with large families had to do. You only had this year, and then next year, and you were done. They cut you off after you turn 19, and then you never have to worry about the Hunger Games again. Well, unless you happened to get pregnant and have kids. But there’s no chance that was happening. You’d rather play dead at a necrophilia convention than have sex with a man.

“Well, as usual, ladies go first.” Maria snaps you out of your endless stream of thoughts and you look up to see her hand already rustling in the bowl of names. You reach over and hold the hands of your friends at you side. Your friends have a tradition of holding hands during the reaping. You’ve been doing it every year, and none of you have been picked. Knock on wood.

Maria digs around in the fishbowl full of names, you look over nervously at your friend Riley. She’s one of the people who had to enter more for extra food. You gulp and look ahead as Maria begins her painfully slow process of opening up the paper and reading the name.

It started how every living victor describes it. They say the more you hope it doesn’t happen, the more likely it will. The more you repeat ‘please don’t say my name’ in your head, the more likely your name will be called.

Maria opened her mouth and your blood went cold. You felt that horrid feeling one only feels when something disastrous happens. You had only felt it once before, when you late girlfriend was taken away by peacekeepers, about two years ago. At least you weren’t the one being dragged away to be hung. At least then you knew you were going to survive.

Everything around you went fuzzy as dissociation swept in. You couldn’t hear your friends gasping, or Maria calling out your name a second time. You barley felt the ones you loved letting go of your hands, until you realized you were carrying yourself down the rows and rows of people right to the stage.

Your thoughts about mundane things drew in as you stood there waiting for the male tribute’s name to be called. You thought about your cat, and your friends. The plans you had made for the rest of the week. The new job you were going to start soon, after you had the courage to quit your old one.

Before you know it, Maria is already back at the mic and talking to the crowd, “Everyone, please give a big hand to the tributes chosen to represent district 8 in this year’s Hunger Games!”

You didn’t even see the male tribute come up. You slowly look to your right and see a guy named Jesse. You’ve met him before, went to school with him and took a job together. You knew him, but you didn’t really know him. That would probably make it easier for you, if he was one of your friends then you’d be obligated to protect him. At least when he dies you can keep going. Fuck, now is not the time to think about that. You mentally scold yourself for being so grim.

~

Right now you were following an Avox down winding staircases and hallways to meet your stylist. You’ve heard rumors saying she’s supposed to be one of the best, always coming up with unique and astonishing outfits every year. I mean, that makes sense, she was styling outfits for the textiles district after all. The Avox leaves you in a little room to wait.

Suddenly the door opens and a girl steps inside. She looks only a few years older than you. “Hi. I’m Dina. I’ll be your and Jesse’s stylist.” She actually holds out her hand, and you shake it. She grabs a stool and sits down in front of you. “Now, I’m guessing they already told you about sponsors, right?”

You nod. Your mentor, Tommy, already told you all about them on the train to the capitol. You’re trying to use your organization skills from your job to your advantage. You’ve been thinking about what angle to take: wether you should paint yourself as a smart stow away or a sexy young lady. No matter what you thought of, it had already been done before. Even if you had never seen it televised yourself, your mom and dad had told you stories passed down of a beautiful singer from one of the first games who poisoned everyone, the man who used the force field to his advantage who then made the gamemakers mad, and the girl from a few years ago with the bow and arrow who did everything to save the one she loved.

“Great.” She claps her hands together. “Tell me a bit about yourself. I like to take direct inspiration from my tributes in order to give you guys the best shot.”

You can’t say anything. You just stare at her. The way you pictured it, only frilly old people worked in the capitol. This girl seemed so.. normal. No fancy jewelry, no over the top hairdo, no long spider lashes. She’s not even wearing work clothes.

“How did you end up here?” You ask. You’ve been wondering, but you never meant to actually say it out loud. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that, you don’t have to answer.” You look away from her.

“Wow. No one’s uh.. ever asked me that before.” She laughs shyly and when you look up, she’s nervously fidgeting with the bracelet she has on. She clears her throat, “My older sister took care of me when my parents died. This used to be her job. We had family debt, so when she died, I took it on.” She sighs, “That’s about it.”

“I’m sorry about that.” You try comforting her. There’s really no use. There’s no cameras here. It’s just you and her. You really don’t have to please anyone, but you’ve decided in this moment not to be overtly cruel just to win. If you were going to do it, you were going to do it right.

She smiles softly, “Thank you.“

“Uhm, do you seriously not have a plan yet? Like, for what I’m gonna wear?” You try getting back on track, there’s really no time to waste. If you do this wrong, you only have a few days guaranteed left to live.

She smiles, “Nope. I do my best work in the middle of the night. There’s a reason why everyone oohs and ahhs at my designs.” She winks.

“And there’s a reason you haven’t been fired yet.” You try testing the waters.

“Damn, you sly dog. Gonna have to let Tommy know we got ourselves a wild one.” She laughs and rubs your head, like how dads do.

Huh. If all capitol citizens are like this, this is gonna be easy.

~

The next day, you and Jesse briskly follow the same Avox to get dressed in whatever Dina cooked up for you.

“She uh, she ask you to talk about yourself too?” Jesse prompts, keeping his hands in his pockets.

You nod, “Yup. Quite the character huh? Not really what I was expecting when I picture a capitol official.”

You glance over, look him up and down, and snort. He couldn’t have been bothered to change out of his pj’s. “Hey don’t look at me like that.” He throws his hands up. “We’re going straight to get into costumes. Needa save my energy for the arena.”

The mention of the arena makes your heart drop. You were so entranced by the yummy food and cool technology you forgot why you were in the capitol in the first place. Jesse goes silent after that, keeping his head low as he continues to follow the Avox. You don’t know why, but you just now realize he must be scared too. You also realize you never actually told Dina about yourself, so you assume she must have taken inspiration from some of the conversations you guys had.

You guys finally arrive and meet Dina in front of a dressing room with huge mirrors. “You’re up first, Jesse.” She smiles and pats him on the shoulder. They disappear into the changing room, leaving you to sit with your own thoughts on a little chaise. You hear Jesse laugh, and think about how nice it would be to get to know him under different circumstances.

“Heya, stranger.” A voice says from behind you, and you instinctively jump. You turn around and see Tommy, your mentor. “Woah there, games haven’t started yet.” He chuckles and you laugh a little. He reminds you of your dad. He won his games awhile back. He’s getting old, and his wife, Maria, is the one who called your name at the reaping. You didn’t realize the two were married until you were bad mouthing Maria, about how she just had to pick your name, when he showed you his ring. You apologized profusely, and he was very kind. He even said that’s not the first time that’s happened since he’s become a mentor. You sure lucked out. The people on your team almost seemed like family, even though you only met them a few days ago.

“What’re you doing here, Tommy? And where’s Maria?”

“Maria’s talkin’ to the gamemakers. She basically runs us here in the district 8 level. Even me.” He crosses his arms and chuckles. He really is like a dad. “Yeah, but I’m here cause I honestly don’t have nothin’ else to do. Only reason I’m still alive is cause I won my games, so now I gotta tell you how to win yours.”

“What about Jesse?” You tilt your head and ask.

He keeps eye contact with you, “I meant Jesse, too.”

“Oh.”

He pauses for a second. “Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Good girl, keepin’ your head in the game.” He pats you on the back, a little too hard.

Before you can cringe at the exchange that just happened, Jesse walks out in an all white aristocratic outfit. The shirt has so many ruffles you can’t even count. Must be a pain to iron. The pants are high waisted but are tailored to fit him perfectly. There’s a white bow tie with pearls on it, too. Everything is so simple, yet so fancy. You can tell Dina used some really expensive materials. Probably the most expensive she could find. Jesse even has a little white cane to go with the look.

He does a little spin for everyone watching. “Cool, right? Almost breaks gender norms a little.” He smiles and blushes softly at Dina, who looks proud.

“It’s called Ouji fashion. Used to be real popular couple hundred years ago.”

She faces towards you. “Alright. Now it’s your turn.” She grabs your hand and leads you into the dressing room, “Yours is called Lolita.” She explains.

“Is this all for a certain occasion or anything? Like they’d go to a fancy dinner and wear this?”

“Nope. For fun.” She grins widely and holds open the curtain for you.

Your jaw drops. “Wowww.” is all you can say.

The most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen in your entire life rests on a mannequin in the middle of the room. You swear to god, you might actually cry. Working in textiles, you could only dream to even ship out a dress as pretty as this.

It’s all white, like Jesse’s, but what it lacks in color, it makes up in texture. There’s so many details to it. Your head spins trying to figure out how the hell Dina did all of this in one day. It’s got this beautiful big skirt that looks like it can swallow you whole. Long sleeves that flare at the end. And lace everywhere. There’s absolutely every accessory you could ever wish to own: earrings, necklace, little lace gloves, stockings and heels. Not to mention the headdress with pearls all over it to match Jesse’s tie.

You carefully reach out to touch the fabric, almost like you expected it to melt, like snow. “I’m wearing… that?”

Dina pretends to look around the room. “Who else could it be for?”

She talks as she helps get you undressed and into this thing. “I think it really says something about you guys. Like, ‘Hey. We’re from textiles alright, and we don’t play around. We’re here to knock you off your feet!’ Well, both figuratively and literally.” You try smiling a little, but every time someone mentions other tributes, you feel sick.

Once you’re finally in the outfit you walk out to show Tommy and Jesse. Dina opens the curtain back up, and everyone gasps as you slowly walk out. Maria’s there too, and she immediately runs up to hug you.

“Alright, guys.” Dina claps her hands together. “It’s go time.”

~

You and Jesse stand together, slowly looking at all the tributes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “There’s so many of them.”

You nod. “They seemed so small on TV…” you trail off as you look around at each costume. They just keep getting better and better, but you think Dina was right in getting to know you and Jesse. You think your costumes fit you the best.

Everyone’s in a blob, so you can’t tell who’s from where. Dina shows up behind you and leads you two to the 8th carriage. Before you get on, she points around and tells you who’s from which district.

“Sorry, Dina. I’ve never been around horses before.” Jesse says as he tries to get up into the carriage.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dina smiles, and goes to take her place backstage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the 81st annual Hunger Games! I’m your host, Caesar Flickerman, and today we are awaiting the tributes for the famous carriage parade…”

As he drones on, you can’t help but keep looking at the female tribute Dina said was from district 2. You scoff to yourself, she must be a career. The capitol should, in theory, make them illegal. But they love the drama they stir up. You take a deep breath, flattening out the dress near your hips and fluffing up the skirt, all while keeping your eyes locked on the girl a few carriages in front of you. This has to be perfect.

Jesse sees you staring her down. He nudges you a little, “Her name’s Ellie.” He starts, even though you didn’t ask. “Saw it on tv on the train here while you were sleeping. Supposedly she got blackmailed into volunteering. Her dad fucked with the wrong crowd and this girl threatened to kill him if she didn’t volunteer. At least, that’s what I heard anyway.”

You simply hum in response, closing your eyes and continuing to make your dress look as neat as possible.

Not satisfied with your response, Jesse states, “She’s pretty, right? Not my type though.”

You look up at her again. “Yeah, no. Not my type either.” You lie through your teeth. Damn, if you had seen this girl anywhere but here, you’d wanna be buried in her thighs. What, who said that! You clear your throat and try to focus. It’s gonna be easy. Just wave and flash that pretty smile and the sponsors will love you.

You see the first carriages start to go, and you hear Caesar announce, “And they’re off! Wow! Look at them go!”

You take one more deep breath before your carriage starts to be pulled out of the shadows and into the stadium.

“Would you look at that! District 1, never failing to impress.” Caesar goes on, he sure can make anything sound like the best thing ever. “And here comes district 2. I hear we have a bit of an outlier this year.”

All of a sudden, the girl, who appeared to just be wearing a normal suit, spreads her arms out and metallic wings emerge. She doesn’t even smile. She just smirks, and the crowd goes wild.

You look up on one of the big screens and finally get a clear view of this Ellie girl. She’s wearing just a plain black suit, and behind her are those giant metallic wings. You squint your eyes. The camera zooms in and you see the wings aren’t just made of hunks of metal, they’re made of guns. Your jaw drops, but then you remember you’re on live television, so you immediately straighten up.

“That’s crazy.” You mutter to yourself, but Jesse must have heard it because he nods in agreement.

“I love it, I absolutely love it!!” Caesar goes on, and the crowd never stops cheering for her, even as more carriages come through.

You take your eyes off the screen and look at her in front of you. She’s absolute eye candy and she doesn’t even look like she’s trying. Your stomach and chest twist out of jealousy. If these people don’t cheer for you and Jesse just as loud… there’s going to be a problem.

Finally, it’s your turn. There’s big lights shining on you as you emerge into the light of the stadium. You wave your hand like how you and Dina practiced in the mirror. You want to give almost a regal look, so you give a small, elegant wave. At the same time, Jesse raises his cane to the crowd, almost like he’s saying ‘Hello. How do you do? I’m very fancy, yes. I’d love it if you sponsored me.’

“How charming! Oh my, I love it! That is amazing!” You smile when you hear Caesar praising the two of you.

You reach the middle of the stadium, and bust out the move you know is sure to get a good reaction: you smile wide, but keep it classy, and start blowing graceful kisses into the crowd. When you’ve done that enough times, you pick up your skirt in one hand, put your other hand up to your heart, and bow graciously.

The crowd absolutely eats it up.

You come back up from the bow and look in front of you. You can’t even hear what Caesars saying, because you lock eyes with Ellie, who’s turned around to stare at you. You can’t exactly tell what her expression is, because she’s so far away, but you swear you can hear exactly what she’s thinking:

‘I’m going to kill you.’

~

That night, you lay awake in the plush bed of the room you’re staying in. Maria keeps saying ‘your room’ ‘your bed’, and it honestly annoys you a little bit. They’re not yours. You’d rather be back in district 8, in your own actual bed. You roll over, trying to get comfortable, as you need to sleep and conserve all your energy for the games. Oh shit. The games. You groan, reaching over to grab a pillow and hugging it to your chest. Why are the games still a thing? They should’ve ended years ago. You remember there was almost an uprising all over Panem. That girl Katniss maybe? Your brain is too foggy, you can’t even think straight.

You hug the pillow tighter. And what was with that girl Ellie? You made a mental note to watch her during training tomorrow, to see what she does.

You sigh, and reach up to rub your head. Now with thoughts of Ellie, there was no way you could sleep.

~

“How’d you sleep?” Jesse asks the next morning. After breakfast the two of you walk with Maria to the training center. She keeps telling you that if you’re on time, you’re late, so you guys always end up at every place at least 15 minutes early.

You shrug your shoulders, “Fine I guess.” You don’t want to tell him that you couldn’t really sleep, or all the nightmares you had, or what you had to do to stop thinking about Ellie.

“It’s weird. It’s way too quiet.”

You look up at him. “Where?”

He gestures around the ginormous building, “Here. In my room.”

You laugh a little, “Oh, so it’s your room now?”

“Cmon. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, look. We’re here.” You nudge Jesse a little, trying to lighten the mood. He just shoots you a disappointed look.

You, Jesse, and Maria sit side by side on a little bench outside the training center. There’s already a couple people there, but not too many. Now that you’re closer to the other tributes, you can really evaluate them in your head. You look at them one by one, saying things to yourself like ‘Oh I could definitely take him in a fight.’ And ‘I’d feel bad but that 12 year old would get absolutely hounded.’

As each new pair of tributes arrive, you do the same thing. Eventually, everyone is there but two.

The head trainer comes out and taps her foot. You look around. Of fucking course it’s her. The one person you actually wanted to see. You hear a laugh in the distance and look up to see Ellie, her mentor, and the district 2 male tribute casually walking to join the rest of you. Huh. You’d think she’d wanna be here early to scope out her prey or something.

You slowly look her up and down, you hope she locks eyes with you so that she knows you’re staring. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “I could take her.”

Jesse seems to have a talent for hearing you when you don’t mean to, because he asks, “In a fight or…?”

You gasp and punch him. You both laugh, and you feel grateful he’s not the vengeful type.

The head trainer explains all the rules for today, and even though you hate being here, it’s actually pretty cool to see how it all works.

You and Jesse decide to split up. You’ll focus on survival, and he’ll focus on combat. Then, when your time is halfway done, you’ll come together and tell each other what worked and what didn’t, and you’ll switch.

It’s a pretty nice plan, considering some of the tributes from the same district are already starting to get sour with each other and split up. You hope that doesn’t happen to you and Jesse, you’re actually starting to really like his companionship and company. You sigh and start to look around at what to do first. There’s the plant matching game, the fishing area, or maybe you should focus on shelter instead of food?

You start to head over to the makeshift tent area, when something off to the side catches your eye.

You see Ellie all by herself, squatting in the area where people learn to make fires, with a little switchblade. You cock your head to the side, and look around. No one’s paying any attention to her.

All the other careers from 1, 2, and 4 have already teamed up, like they always do early on. They’ve come up with a game where if you fall on the monkey bars, or can’t shoot a perfect arrow, you have to stay behind an extra 3 seconds by the cornucopia.

It’s absolutely fucking stupid, and they even go and win almost every year. You glance back over at Ellie. Her hair is in a messy half up half down style, and somehow she makes the weird training suit you guys are forced to wear work.

Your breath starts to quicken, but you say fuck it and go to talk to her anyway.

You shuffle your feet a little so that she knows someone’s coming. Now is really not the time to scare her. “Too bad we had to end up here, huh.”

She seems a bit shocked someone’s actually talking to her, with how quickly she looks up at you. “What?”

“Too bad we had to end up here.” You repeat yourself.

Ellie stares at you. “Least it’s not the quarter quell.” She says flatly.

You swallow, surprised that her voice is higher than you expected. You realize you’ve never actually heard her speak before, and you pictured her voice to match her face: rough and a little mean.

But it’s sweet.

You just laugh awkwardly and agree. You don’t want to seem like you’re towering over her, so you sit down on the ground next to her. She only continues playing with her switchblade. You try to sneak another glance at her, and you notice she has so many beautiful freckles up close.

“You do know how to make a fire, right?” You decide to break the silence and ask.

She sighs, “Of course I do.”

You gesture to the pile of sticks and wood in front of her. “Let’s see it then.”

Ellie just stares at them. You guess she’s probably trying to figure out what to do first. “Right. Of course. Fine.” She says, shaking her head. She grabs two sticks and tries to rub them together.

You gently place your hand on hers to stop her. “You need to make a nest first.”

She blinks at you. “Like for birds?”

You laugh a little, “No, silly. Here…” you grab the sticks out of her hands and place them down to build a nest for the fire. Ellie watches closely to what you’re doing. You hold out your hand for the knife Ellie’s holding, and she reluctantly gives it to you. You carve the end of one stick into a point, and then twist it into a log until the fire starts. “There.” You say, and look at Ellie.

She slowly looks at you. “Just never had to make one before.” She mutters.

You don’t mean to stare to be rude, but her green eyes are almost sucking you in. She seemed so cool and able during her first appearance in the parade. But now that it’s just all the tributes together by yourselves, she’s acting almost… apprehensive. I mean, it doesn’t really matter. The goal is to appease the sponsors and mentors, so they can send you gifts in the arena. There’s really no point in making friends if you’re going to kill them.

“I’m sorry about what happened by the way.” You suddenly spit out. You mentally slap yourself for being so awkward and having no rizz.

Ellie sure seems to have a habit of just staring at people until they elaborate.

You inhale sharply, “With your dad.”

She sighs and shakes her head. After a few moments of pause she replies, “Yknow just cause I’m from 2 doesn’t mean I’m a career.”

You nod, you didn’t want to say you could tell in case she got mad and tried to kill you early.. “Yeah… but, it’s not like you had to be here.”

She hugs her knees closer to her. “I mean. I kinda did, actually.”

You cock your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“To make a really long story short,,, I was forced to volunteer or else my uh, dad Joel, would have died. This girl named Abby has had it out for me. She put her name in like, hah, fucking 200 times for so she’d get called. Told me if I didn’t volunteer to take her place she’d uh… yeah she’d kill Joel.”

You can’t really hide the way your mouth drops. “Shit, man. Wow. That’s- yeah, I’m sorry.” You were never really good at consoling people.

She mutters out a quick ‘thanks.’ You think it’s so quiet it could classify as a whisper.

Ellie goes on, “I mean.. everybody now thinks I’m this total badass cause of the parade. That wasn’t even me. That was my stylist,, hell, he told me what to do and when to do it to get the best reaction.”

“You did look really cool during the parade, to be fair.” And you’re not even lying. You were sure all of Panem was losing their shit as soon as Ellie raised her arms.

She looks at you and softly laughs. “Hah. Yeah, I’m just tired of relying on other people and taking away their credit, yknow?”

You nod. You never really imagined she could be so… thoughtful.

Even though you’re in a death game, you mentally slap yourself for not having proper manners like how you were taught, “Oh wait. I never introduced myself. I’m-“

Ellie quickly puts a finger up to your lips to tell you to shut up.

“I know who you are. I saw your reaping too. And who couldn’t forget that dress you wore.” She whistles, looking you up and down.

Now it’s your turn to stare at her. The conversation is going better than expected, and you hate to say it, but you couldn’t get rid of that butterfly feeling in your stomach. You hoped that if you didn’t win, it was Ellie. And if she did happen to die, it was quick.

You can’t help but look at her lips, although you look up at her again when you ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She looks into your eyes and mutters, “Because you’re the first person who’s actually made an effort to talk to me.”

Part 2 :3

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[jinmindeulle]

tributes | lee jihoon

“You’re sleepy,” Jihoon whispered, his voice muffled against your hair “We need to rest”

“I don’t want to” you mumbled, and you kept on fighting with your burning, dry eyes to stay awake — to stay conscious of how Jihoon’s warmth embraced you, how his fingers danced on the skin of your back, how he pressed sweet kisses to your forehead from time to time. 

“We’ll make it” 

You nodded, but the way in which your eyes watered told you you really didn’t feel the same as he did. You weren’t sure about making it, much less of making it together. Not many had done it before in your District.

“People in the Capitol love us already. We have them on our side.”

“Why does that matter? I can barely manage with a crossbow, Jihoon. How am I gonna protect us from this shitshow?”

“You just have to survive,” he released you from his grip, bringing his already calloused hands to your cheeks, pressing your forehead against his “I’ll take care of us. The only thing that’ll kill me is losing you”

When both of your names were called that dry morning, you prayed whatever was above that someone offered himself as tribute in your boyfriend’s place. Of course, that would never happen. Who in his right mind would do that? 

It had to be a joke, a very sick joke — but it felt so very real when Jihoon stood next to you, facing the crowd of young boys and girls whose fate had been by their side, and both of your overwhelmed families who yelled your names as if that would bring you back to them.  

“Johanna trusts us. That’s a lot coming from her.” Jihoon tried to reassure you, placing hope in your mentor, who was the bravest woman you had ever met. 

“Promise me,” you began, but you saw how Jihoon shook his head before even continuing.

“I won’t promise anything that involves me saving myself and not you. Or leaving you behind.”

“But-”

“Would you do that to me?”

When you shook your head, hot tears went down your cheeks, and Jihoon made sure to wash them away with his fingers. “We win together. We lose together.” 

“I love you.” You cried, and you let out days and days of accumulated grief, of self-doubt, of guilt. 

“I love you,” Jihoon embraced you again, whispering those three words until your breath felt calmer, easier. “I can’t promise many things now. But if we get out of this, our life will be full of joy and love. I’ll marry you and give you a proper home. We’ll make love every night and eat warm food every day. Just hang on to that, honey.”

   So when you finally closed your eyes, you could only dream of the only possible scenario that would make Jihoon’s words a reality— winning the 73th Hunger Games together.

[maidragoste]

Chapter Three: He ruined it

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two

A/N: I'm happy to bring you a new chapter of this series, sorry for the delay in publishing and I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments or reblogs. Thank you for reading 🥰🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I’m always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 🤭💕

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes

The elevator ride takes less than a minute since the training rooms are below the floor of your floor, but Jacaerys could still feel the tension in the air. He doesn't know if it's because you're nervous like him about seeing who they'll have to face in a few days or if, like him, you're upset because Larys told you two to spend all your time in public close to each other. Jace doesn't understand the reason behind his uncle's instructions, first, he made you two hold hands at the parade and now it seemed as if he wanted you to become friends while training. Jace doesn't like this, he doesn't want to get attached to you. That would only make things more difficult in the arena, but when he complained his uncle reminded him that he had already promised that he would do whatever he told him. He had to do it if he wanted to return home to Lucerys and Joffrey.

When they both get out of the elevator they find a giant gym full of weapons and obstacle courses. It's not even ten o'clock, yet you two are the last to arrive. The rest of the tributes are gathered in a tense circle, each one has a piece of cloth attached to their shirt with the number of their respective district. While they give his number, Jacaerys in a quick assessment realizes that you two are the only ones who are dressed alike. Was it another way to appear like a united front to others?

Once you and Jacaerys join the circle the head trainer steps forward and introduces herself as Atala and then begins to explain the training schedule, how each position has an expert in the skill in question, that some positions teach tactics survival and other fighting techniques. She also warns that it is prohibited to perform combat exercises with another tribute and that if someone wants to practice with a partner, there are assistants.

“We don't have to be together all the time if you don't want to,” you whispered to him, once Atala finished reading the list of skills and gave them the freedom to start training.

“But Larys said”

“Larys isn't here,” you interrupted, making him frown. “He's not going to know if we don't follow what he tells us one hundred percent.”

“If you don't want to train with me just say it” he snapped, feeling annoyed although it made no sense because he should be happy that you don't want to train with him either after all Jacaerys wanted to avoid spending as much time with you as possible.

“I'm not the one who complained at breakfast,” you reminded him, making him blush and feel ashamed of himself for his attitude. If he weren't so impulsive he would have at least waited for you to go to your room before complaining to his uncle.

“I'm sorry about that,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay,” you shrugged, downplaying it, but even so, your district partner still felt like a fool because of his attitude. “Where do you want to start?”

“Let's tie some knots,” Jacaerys responded, thinking that his uncle had said not to attract attention so he was forbidden to take a bow at least until the private session with the gamemakers. Besides, Jace had no desire to be around the professional tributes, who had gone straight to the weapons that looked more deadly and handled them without difficulty, nor the trembling tributes who received their first class of knives or axes.

The stall is empty so the coach seems excited when the two approach. When he realizes that Jacaerys knows something about traps, he teaches them how to make a simple trap that would leave another tribute hanging from a tree by their leg. They practice for an hour until they both master the technique well and then move on to the camouflage station. Jacaerys notices that you seem more excited in this position as you mix mud, clay, and berry juice on your skin. It also seems easy for you to braid costumes out of vines and leaves. The coach for this position is excited about your work.

"I make the cakes" you blurt out of nowhere.

"The cakes?" He had been concentrating on watching Royce Baratheon swing a mace directly into the chest of a mannequin.

"Those from the bakery. I make the decorations"

Jacaerys remembers those cakes, which are on display in the shop window, with flowers and other pretty designs on the icing. Before he went to live with Uncle Larys he was never able to eat one of those but since they lived with him there was always cake for special occasions like birthdays and New Year's. Every time they went to buy the cake Joffrey and Lucerys always argued about which one looked the best before choosing which one to take. If he came home he didn't think he would be able to accompany them back to the bakery. He couldn't see your father and brothers in the face again. Nor could he see the disappointment in his brothers' eyes when they saw that the cakes were no longer as pretty as before.

"They're cute, but you won't be able to glaze someone to death," he hadn't meant to sound so scathing but thinking about your death, your family, and his siblings put him in a bad mood.

"You never know what might be in the arena what if…?"

"Let's continue with another position" he interrupts you, he wasn't in the mood for some joke.

"Okay, go ahead with whatever you want, I'll stay here a little longer. I'll catch up with you later" you responded.

The smile on your face had disappeared and Jacaerys felt a tightness in his stomach but he decided to ignore it, he just nodded and went to the fire-making station. He is so focused on the coach's instructions and getting the technique right that he doesn't even realize that he has spent so much time there until they announce that it is time for lunch. Jacaerys looks at you with the idea of telling you to have lunch together. He frowns when he sees that you are no longer alone but are talking to Jason Mallister, the thirteen-year-old boy from District 4. What were you doing? Larys said not to attract attention and you found yourself talking to one of the professional tributes, of course, that would attract attention.

Annoyed, Jacaerys went to the carts that had been brought with food and began to serve himself and then sat alone at one of the tables. Professional tributes gathered around a table. They were loud, unlike the rest they seemed carefree, as if they were not afraid.

A few minutes later you sit next to him. Jacaerys can't hold his curiosity for long so he asks you.

“Why were you talking to him?”

“Stop frowning, we're supposed to be friends,” you scold him in a whisper and he struggles to put on a friendlier face. “He reminds me of Joffrey,” you admit.

“My brother is nothing like him,” the brunette denies instantly. He wouldn't tell you but when you two saw the District 4 reaping he also thought about his brother when Jason appeared on screen. But he couldn't allow himself to see his brother in one of his opponents, that would only hurt him in the arena, so he instantly forced himself to push that thought away from him. The only thing in common between the two of them was that they are both thirteen years old, he just repeated to himself.

"I just showed Jason how I made my camouflage and I remembered when I tried to teach Joffrey how to frost a cookie." Jace must have made some funny face in his surprise because you were smiling again. "He made a mess, I don't know how he ended up with frosting on his hair and face, the only reason my mother didn't get mad is because Joffrey bought the cookies he ruined. If you ask me, he didn't ruin them, he just took artistic liberties" You said the last thing as if you were telling him a big secret, leaning towards him and putting your hand a few centimeters from your face, hiding it from the other tributes, as if you didn't want to they will try to read your lips. At your antics and the image of his younger brother covered in icing, Jacaerys can't help but laugh.

"I didn't know Joffrey spent so much time at the bakery."

"And with you", he added in his head. He couldn't help but wonder why his brother never told him. Although he shouldn't be surprised because at home there is always some bread or cookie from the bakery, but he always thought that the one who was going to buy it was Uncle Larys. He might have missed some things by spending so much time in the forest and the Hob with Baela.

"Your brother is addicted to sugar so he usually comes often after school to buy something. He says he deserves a treat after spending hours locked up in hell."

Jacaerys notices the affection with which you speak of his brother and he can't help but feel warm. He has the feeling that you have even more stories to tell about his brothers and he wants to hear them all.

"Yeah, that sounds like Joffrey," he agrees with a smile.

During the rest of the days of training, Jacaerys feels a whole mix of emotions fighting within him. You two continue training together in some positions such as setting up shelters, recognizing edible plants, and throwing knives and spears, but at some point, you always end up separated by your decision because you want to train with a partner so you look for one of the assistants. In those moments Jace can't help but distrust you because for a while he sees you fighting with the assistant but then the next time he sees you you are in the same section as the professionals, he never sees you talking to one of them but he still can't avoid feeling restless. On the other hand, he can't continue denying that something is forming between the two of you; it's impossible not to form a kind of friendship after sharing so many anecdotes during lunch. At first, you were the one who did most of the talking, telling him more about Joffrey's visits to the bakery, but then Jace wants to know about you and starts asking you more about you and your brothers. And before he least realizes it, he is also sharing his own stories. He tells you how Uncle Larys once made them believe his house was haunted only to make them stop wandering around at night because they wouldn't let him sleep. You laugh when he tells you how he once challenged a bear to fight in the woods to keep a beehive and how his father had never scolded him so much.

On the second day of training before you go to train with an assistant you whisper to Jacaerys that he has a shadow. When he turns to see Rue, the little girl from District 11 spying on them, you encourage him to talk to her but Jace refuses because he has no idea what to say to her and also because he is afraid of meeting her and she will remind him of his brothers or Baela's little sisters.

When the private sessions arrive with the gamemakers it is evident that both you and Jacaerys are nervous because neither of you tries to have a conversation while waiting your turn or even when the two of you are alone after Rue enters.

"Good luck," Jacaerys wishes you as he stands up when he is called. He couldn't tell you later because once a tribute finishes the session he has to go to his apartment "Try throwing the weights, impress them."

"Thank you" It is evident that you were not expecting his words because you keep looking at him impressed "Lucky for you too. Remember to shoot well" you smile at him.

He nods and starts walking towards the door.

He ruined it. What the hell was he thinking? No, he didn't think about it. He just let his anger get the best of him, he was outraged that the guards had stopped paying attention to him after he missed his first shot, he was furious that he could die within a few days and they wouldn't deign to watch his entire performance, so he took the arrow and shot at the gamemakers' table. Of course, he didn't shoot any of them, his arrow hit right where he wanted it, in the apple that the pig had in its mouth. When all eyes were on him he sarcastically thanked them for their time while bowing. He didn't wait to be fired, he stormed out of the training room still feeling his blood boil. Only when he was alone in the elevator did he feel the weight of what he did, he felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest and his throat was burning. He ruined it. He hadn't tried to kill any of the gamemakers but maybe someone would think that. He was sure he must be the first tribute to do something like that. He lost any chance he had of winning the games. But what scares him the most is that because of his attitude, they will now punish his brothers. He would never forgive himself if something happened to them because of him.

When the elevator doors opened, tears had already begun to roll down Jacaerys's cheeks. He ignored the questions from Effie, who was waiting for him in the hallway, and locked himself straight into his room. It didn't take long for knocks to sound on his door and the woman's voice asking him to come out but he didn't move from the bed. When silence came he thought that he had finally given up and they would leave him alone. But minutes later he heard the cold voice of his uncle:

"Jacaerys, open the door. Stop acting like a child."

Jacaerys was about to ignore him but then he realized that the only one who could help him protect his brothers was his uncle. So he took courage and got out of his pile of blankets. He unlatched the door and nervously opened the door. For a moment he thought he saw something different in his uncle's eyes. He couldn't figure out exactly what but that only made him more nervous. Without saying anything he went to sit on the edge of the bed while he watched Larys enter and close the door again. Surprising him, did his uncle think that he would try to escape in the middle of the conversation?

Larys took the chair that was at the desk placed it in front of the bed and then sat down.

"I ruined it," said Jacaerys, his voice breaking when he saw that his uncle did not seem willing to start the conversation. "They are going to punish Luke and Joff because of me." The teenager's desperation was clear by how he tugged at his curls as he spoke."You have to do something, uncle, please. It's my fault, let them punish me."

"What did you do?" the victor demanded to know.

Then Jace told him everything, how the gamemakers were drunk and how after he missed his first shot they stopped paying attention to him, missing the circuit he made and how he hit the center in the rest of his shots, that he didn't think about his actions, that he got carried away with anger and shot at the apple that was in the mouth of the pig that the gamemakers were about to eat, gaining their attention again and how he left the training room without waiting to be fired but not before thanking them sarcastically for their attention. As Jacaerys continued speaking Larys's hand turned white from the strength with which he gripped his staff.

"I told you that you won't attract attention" his uncle's biting tone only made Jacaerys' discomfort increase and he couldn't help but take one of the blankets again and wrap himself in it. It's not like he expected Larys to comfort him but he also shouldn't have been surprised that the first thing he did was scold him. "But you can rest assured, they're not going to punish your brothers." There was that strange look in his eyes again.

"Are you sure?" The uncertainty in his voice was clear, he wanted to trust his uncle but at the same time, he couldn't help but think that Larys would tell him any lie as long as he kept concentrating on the games.

"If they are going to punish Lucerys and Joffrey, they would have to tell what you did in the entertainment center so that it has some effect on the districts, but they won't because it's secret," Larys explained with a little more patience. "The only one you hurt with your actions it's you"

Upon hearing that nothing would happen to his brothers, Jacaerys felt that part of his discomfort disappeared. He still had to worry because surely the gamemakers would now make his life miserable in the arena but at least he knew that his brothers would be safe.

"I know, the gamemakers will make my life miserable in the arena" he stated "And today they will give me the worst score so I won't have any sponsors" he sighed thinking that now it would be even more difficult for him to survive in the arena without sponsors, the food wouldn't be a big problem because he knew how to hunt but if he got hurt then he would need medicine.

"Don't worry about the sponsors, I'll take care of that," Larys promises and this time Jacaerys doesn't doubt his uncle because he looks too confident. "Well, it's done, it's not something we can change. Stop getting depressed and let's go have dinner before they give the scores."

During dinner, Jace barely joins the conversation and feels your worried gaze the entire time. It seems that Effy told you about the state he arrived in after his private session.

In the middle of dinner, Effy can't stand his curiosity anymore so he asks them both how it went. Jacaerys wasn't going to say anything until he heard you speak.

"I don't think I impressed them, some paid attention to me but others were more focused on whatever was on the table," you said resignedly.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry" he apologized, feeling guilty because apparently he had also harmed your private session.

"How is it your fault?" Cinna asked curiously.

"I shot them an arrow," Jace replied.

At first, he ignored Effy's indignation and the rest of the team's questions, focusing more on your reaction. You still looked at him with concern. He was relieved to not see you angry. The truth is, he couldn't blame you if you got angry with him after all his act had attracted the attention of the gamemakers when it was essential for you to have a better score.

"I actually shot an arrow at the pig's apple they were about to eat. They were drunk and I got angry because they weren't paying attention to me."

"And what did they tell you?" You asked anxiously and looked at the doors as if you were expecting that at any moment the peace officers would come in to look for him.

"I don't know. I left"

"Did you leave without permission?" Effie asked to see if she understood correctly.

"I gave it to myself" Jace replied and a laugh escaped your mouth, you quickly stifled it with your hand before Effie's gaze. Jacaerys was pleased to see the worry disappear from your face.

"Larys, aren't you going to say anything about it?" Effie questioned evidently expecting the victor to side with her and scold them.

"It's done, Effie. There's nothing we can do," he responded boredly as he buttered a piece of bread.

"What was their face?" you asked, looking at him curiously.

"They seemed terrified. A man stumbled backward and fell into a punch bowl." At the time Jacaerys had been so angry that he couldn't enjoy the watchman making a fool of himself but now he remembered it with fun.

Everyone laughed, except for Effie but she seemed to hold back a smile so Jace didn't take it the wrong way.

“Oh, I would have loved to see that,” you said with a smile. If Jacaerys hadn't been so focused on you then he would have noticed that his uncle seemed to be studying the two of you.

Once everyone finishes dinner they go to sit in the living room to watch the scores announced on television. How every year a photo of the tribute appears while Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith announce the score. What is striking with the group of professionals is that this year not everyone has a score between eight and ten like previous years, but the boy from District 4 gets a seven. The same score that Rue gets, Jace can't help but wonder how she managed to get that score. But any thoughts of the little girl from District 11 disappear and are replaced by euphoria when he hears Caesar announce his score. An eleven.

Applause and congratulations filled the room. Jacaerys smiles until he realizes that his uncle is quiet and doesn't look as excited as the rest about his eleven. He starts to feel the anxiety in his body and he wants to ask his uncle what the problem is but he doesn't want to have this conversation in front of everyone.

“Good” is the only thing Larys says after they also announce your eight. And Jace feels stupid for worrying so much, surely his uncle didn't say anything before because he was still hanging on to your score after all he wasn't the only tribute Larys had in charge. “You should go to sleep, you have a long day tomorrow” he ordered them while motioning to the avox to bring him more wine.

You and Jacaerys say goodbye to the entire team and head toward the hallway where your rooms are.

“Tell me, what does it feel like to break the bad streak of twelve and go down in history?” you said while leaning on your door.

“You're exaggerating,” Jace said, trying to sound exasperated by rolling his eyes, but there was no annoyance in his tone.

“I'm not,” you shook your head, smiling. You just beat the score of the professionals, I think it's impressive” you said while crossing your arms. “Surely the entire Capitol is talking about you and you are going to monopolize all my sponsors.”

Your last words brought Jace back to his senses. You two were in a competition and his live were at stake. He couldn't keep joking with you. He should be focused on making a good impression on Caesar and the people at the Capitol tomorrow.

“We should go to sleep,” he said abruptly, resting his hand on the handle of his door, trying not to feel guilty as he saw how the spark in your eyes seemed to go out at his tone. “Have a good night,” he didn’t even wait for you to respond before walking into his room and closing the door. His father would be disappointed in his treatment of you.

a/n: I'm grieving because I had to delete the scene I had with Larys and Sea Dragon bc if I left it, then there were going to be things in Cathing Fire that didn't make sense 😫

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, as I always say the comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🥰

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[thelittlestladylikesthis]

The Pink Rose, part 1

*GIF creator unknown

Part One- July 4th, 74 ADD Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader

Word Count: 2,462

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, nightmares, witnessed death, implication of death, alcoholism, unprotected sex, sex after drinking, age gap, heterosexual relationship

**** Almost all characters and parts of the storyline are not my original creation and are credited to Suzanne Collins. And please be nice… I’ve never written fanfic or spicy things before- we’re starting vanilla. I will mark where the 18+ part starts and ends.

The cold night air smelled like fire and salt. The arena for the 61st Hunger Games was set up like a quarry next to the sea. [Y/n] was the 15-year-old tribute from District 12. Taking advantage of the low light and tall grass, the only other tributes were in her line of sight and fighting to the death. Spruce Silentsong - District 7 - and Millie Forge - District 2, were engaged in battle and had no idea [Y/n] was watching. Spruce was armed with two hand axes, which served her well-being from the lumber district. Millie had a sword in one hand and a mace in the other. The sword had once been in [Y/n]’s possession, but when Millie and the other careers descended on the District 9, 11, and 12 alliance, [Y/n] was the only one who made it out; without her weapon.

The gurgle of someone choking on blood sounded, followed by the thud of a falling body. [Y/n] thought Spruce must have hesitated. She’d scored high in the assessment, but Millie thirsted for blood. The gong sounded, marking the death of another tribute. 22 down, 1 to go. [Y/n] was still about 12 yards from Millie, but she knew she needed to act while Millie caught her second wind. She looked down to double-check how many throwing knives she had. [Y/n] looked away for half a second and her face rose to lock eyes with a piercing blue set, inches from her face. [Y/n] screamed.

She thrashed for a moment before realizing she was in her bed. She’d left the arena 13 years ago, but the nightmares stuck around. [Y/n] breathed heavily as she sat up and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. Feeling the sheets next to her, she noticed they were cold and suddenly became aware of the early morning light streaming through the cracks in the curtains, highlighting the dust in the air.

Making her way downstairs, the familiar smell of hard liquor hit her nose. It’s too early for this- she thought as she scanned the room for her neighbor. Haymitch Abernathy was the only other living District 12 Victor. He’d won 11 years before her, and the last Victor from 12 was decades before him- it was just them to understand each other in their whole district. It was just them in Victor’s Village. Haymitch and [Y/n] had both lost their families due to their young defiance of President Snow and the Capitol. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to stay at the other’s house in the month leading up to the Reaping. The closer the games got, the more frequent their demons seemed to visit. It was easier to help if they were under the same roof. In the last 2 years, they had taken to sleeping next to each other for comfort. Despite Haymitch’s frequent drunken stupor, they had developed a friendship built on sarcasm, life experience, and a unique outlook on the world that only a Hunger Games Victor could have. About 6 years of friendship later, the relationship turned platonic. This would seem odd to someone outside the relationship, but it was no bother to them. In his moments of being nearly sober, Haymitch was quite charming and a kind man with a sense of humor.

In the last two years, [Y/n] noticed that of all the people she interacted with in District 12, Haymitch was the one who could make her feel happy. He irritated the hell out of her sometimes, but she couldn’t deny that she had fallen for him. She didn’t expect him to return the feelings; people might not like the age gap and think her former mentor had taken advantage of her. Haymitch might be a good friend, but he may also be disgusted at the thought of any romance with someone he’d known since she was a teenager.

She stopped in the living room and found Haymitch asleep in the armchair with a bottle in one hand and what looked to be his shirt in the other. [Y/n] knew better than to get too close when waking up someone who’d been drinking. She stood a few feet away and threw a small couch cushion at him. Haymitch jumped and yelled at the sudden contact. “Dammit [Y/n]- what the hell are you doing?” he shouted after realizing where he was.

“Demons paid me a visit- do you have enough to share?” she nodded to the bottle that was still in Haymitch’s hand.

“Oh,” he faltered, “Help yourself, sweetheart,” She took a long swig before Haymitch reacted, “That bad, huh?”

“Don’t act like we don’t have the same dreams,” she pointed before taking another gulp.

The liquid had a comforting warmth as it ran down her throat but it still burned and created the feeling of stinging in her nostrils. The bittersweet feeling of downing alcohol was enough to take her mind off the Hunger Games. The more she drank, the more she understood why Haymitch kept himself in this state.

After almost an hour, [Y/n] could feel the heat in her cheeks and the chaotic feelings from earlier were almost gone. The dullness of her senses and her subdued anxiety were a treat. She looked over and noticed Haymitch was starting to nod off.

“Hey! Don’t leave me alone,” She said loud enough to bring Haymitch back.

Haymitch sighed, “What do you need sweetheart? You know I’m not the best company after drinking,”

Neither am I, she thought, “Hold me?” she suggested.

Haymitch stared at her before nodding his head and waving her over. [Y/n] climbed into his lap- he was larger than she was; this allowed him to envelope her in his arms with ease. She nuzzled her face into his chest. She could feel the old scars across his abdomen and tried not to think about when he got them. She was almost 5 during his games, but she remembered the vivid sight. Haymitch could feel [Y/n]’s slow, quiet tears run down his chest and he gave her a slight squeeze. Within half an hour, the inebriated duo was asleep.

Haymitch woke up, still mildly intoxicated, but much closer to sobriety than he was normally comfortable with. It was the day of the Reaping for the 74th Hunger Games. He heard the small woman in his lap begin to stir. She looked up at him with her deep [y/e/c] eyes and smiled. This girl- no- this woman was the closest thing he had to a family. He was the town drunk. He had business associates and people who tolerated him. Haymitch was a grown man, he never looked twice at the tributes or considered them family, much less friends. He’d hugged [Y/n] before, but this was different. For the first time in 24 years, Haymitch thought, What if she loved me?

He shook the thought from his head and felt disgusted with himself- she was so much younger than him and he didn’t want to ruin what they had spent the last 13 years building. When they met, he was already 27 and she was 15. The thought that they could be happy together would have been inappropriate then and it should be now. Right? Haymitch thought to himself that just because she was 28 and old enough to make her own decisions, that did not make a shift to intimacy okay. [Y/n] continued to smile at him; it had been a long time since anyone was happy to see him. He knew he irritated [Y/n], but she was never genuinely angry with him and still acknowledged him with kindness. They had developed some kind of relationship that was more than friends, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Did you sleep alright this time, sweetheart?” he asked.

[Y/n] gave a soft chuckle, “I did- and it seems you did too,”

“What’s so funny?”

[Y/n] gave a little wiggle of her hips to emphasize that Haymitch had an erection and it was pressed right against her rear.

He gave a startled little jump and had a look of horror on his face, “I’m sorry-”

[Y/n] stopped him from getting up, “It’s okay, I don’t mind” She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side “Are you still drunk?”

[Y/n] laughed and quickly swung one leg over him so she was straddling him and he was situated right in front of her. He was so erect that he pressed against her stomach.

“No,” she leaned in and tickled his ear with a whisper, “But I’m quite wet,”

He gulped and tried to control his breathing. She was trying to… seduce him? But he’d been her mentor. But she was suggesting it. But he’d known her since she was 15. But she started this exchange. Conflicting thoughts raced through his mind. [y/n] saw the look on his face that was a mixture of shock and confusion- not someone who was willing to continue.

She turned her face away from him, “I’m sorry- I get it if I overstepped the boundary… I didn’t even ask,” she moved to get off him, but Haymitch grabbed her waist and told her to wait.

“[Y/n]- sweetheart- you’re beautiful and I’m not calming down,” he nodded down towards his erection, “But I’m not a good person. You deserve someone better- someone who won’t make you look bad in public. Not some drunk who takes advantage of a younger woman,”

[Y/n] didn’t know he felt this way. She grabbed his chin and demanded he look into her eyes.

“Haymitch Abernathy- I don’t deserve anything less than the man who is my greatest source of comfort, my biggest ally, my closest friend, and the person who currently has his cock in my lap,”

Haymitch was startled at her direct statement- he didn’t know she felt that way. He cupped her face with one hand and slightly tightened his grip on her waist. [Y/n] was more developed than most women in District 12. Haymitch couldn’t deny that he’d noticed her defined hourglass figure before, but who hadn’t?

“Kiss me” [Y/n] demanded quietly.

Haymitch nodded slowly, hesitated, and pressed his lips to hers. They started slow, and then [Y/n] traced his lips with her tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gradually became less gentle in how she kissed him. She felt herself getting more excited and began to move her hips back and forth. Haymitch let out a deep sigh at the feeling of her against him. He ran his rough hands up her torso and his thumbs over her hard nipples. Her soft breasts filled his hands perfectly and felt so good as he cupped them. [Y/n] pulled her face away and swiftly removed her nightshirt. She hadn’t worn pants to bed so she now sat on top of him in her panties. She pulled his face back to hers in the neediest way she could muster.

“Haymitch, I need you,”

“You have me,”

“I need you inside me,” she clarified.

Haymitch’s eyes widened as he paused, but he wasted no time lifting her off his lap to rip off his pants. [Y/n] used this moment to remove her underwear as she noticed he didn’t have any either. They stood there naked for less than a second before Haymitch guided her a few feet over to the sofa. She lay down and Haymitch crawled on top of her. He reached between her legs and ran his thumb in soft slow circles as he made eye contact and used his other hand to line up his aching length with her entrance.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked hesitantly

[Y/n] nodded.

“You have to say it,” he said seriously.

“Yes Haymitch, I want you- are you comfortable with this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he didn’t even hesitate; he hoped he wasn’t coming off as desperate- but that look she gave him was enough encouragement. Haymitch’s eyes turned dark as he slowly slipped into her. [Y/n] gasped as he pushed the rest of his length inside her soaking wet entrance. Haymitch was a little longer than average, but his girth filled her up as he thrust into her. He slowly picked up his pace- [Y/n] leaned her head back and moaned. Her plump lips made the perfect “O” shape before she said his name.

To see the way she reacted to his touch and hear how she moaned his name, Haymitch didn’t want this to stop- but he could feel the blood flowing and the heightened emotions. He didn’t want to be the first one to finish. He started to slow down and [Y/n] gave him a look of confusion. He cupped her cheek, removed himself from her body, and slid down making his face even with hips. [Y/n] looked down at Haymitch and smiled mischievously, biting her lip. Haymitch hooked his arms under her thighs so her knees were over his shoulders. He smiled up at her and then plunged his tongue into her folds. [Y/n] felt the jolt of electricity from the contact with her clit. Her hips bucked closer to his face and her head fell back.

“Oh my days, Haymitch,” she whined.

“How do you want it sweetheart?” he said with his mouth still against her.

[Y/n] smirked, turned around, and said, “Just fuck me, Haymitch,”

He quickly stood up and bent her over. She was so wet that it was much easier to dive his whole length inside her. Making her moan his name more, Haymitch gave it his all with quick hard thrusts. In the back of his mind, he prayed that this felt as good for her as it did for him.

Feeling her whole body tense up, [Y/n] groaned through gritted teeth, “Fuck, I’m cumming!”

Haymitch was almost there too, “Yes, beautiful, cum on this cock,”

Suddenly the door flew open, “Haymitch you better not - AHH!!” Effie Trinket covered her eyes and ran out of the room with an impressive speed for someone wearing heels that high.

Haymitch and [Y/n] froze how they were. Still inside her, Haymitch said, “Well that’s an experience I never thought I’d have,”

[Y/n] looked over her shoulder and asked, “What? Fucking me or getting caught doing it?”

Haymitch sighed, “Cumming at the moment I got caught by her,”

They both laughed as Haymitch stood up and walked over to the kitchen to get a towel. They needed to clean up and clear the air with Effie.

Masterlist

[centaur-dreaming]

Aftg Hunger Games au with Jean as Katniss because in the end Elodie dies anyway

[venusbyline]

Hear me out... Tom Glynn-Carney would be perfect as mid 20s young!Haymitch Abernathy (The Hunger Games)

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: You are studying the one and only US President John F. Kennedy for your dual-title doctorate at Harvard University in 1963. Upon growing closer to the president, you happen to meet one of his Harvard friends, Coriolanus Snow, who is campaigning for the 1964 Election. You're both brought closer as time passes, and your life changes forever. As the 1964 Election continues and political tensions escalate, you come together. With the help of you, the Kennedys, and his charming wit and cleverness, Coriolanus Snow ends up with all he's ever wanted. However, the ever-growing Women's Revolution puts everything and everyone at risk. What Coriolanus doesn't know is that politics is all a game-

But there are worse games to play.

⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ word count: 269 (not including quote.) ⊹ author’s note: eeeee here's the prologue! I'm so excited to share this idea with you all. it was just a random fic idea I had and I didn't think it would snowball in my imagination the way it did, yet here we are lol. please be sure to check out the soundtrack and if you want to be tagged with every chapter, please fill out the form. I have both the soundtrack and taglist form below for you to click. much love!! ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. © ғʟᴏʀᴀʟᴄʏᴀɴɪᴅᴇ

❝And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric, and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him, and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him.❞ — Lana Del Rey, Spoken Monologue, National Anthem

“Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.”

You stare at Coriolanus for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. At this moment, he’s electric and powerful. You couldn’t be more proud of him for it. The two of you are in a brightly colored motorcade, slowly cruising through downtown Boston in celebration. Your husband effortlessly smiles in glory, his eyes twinkling in unbridled emotion- a rare sight to see from him. Coriolanus has his moments, but not like this. His blue eyes are usually cold, distant, and emotionless unless looking directly at you. Despite the lack of obvious light, you can still see it. It’s one thing Coriolanus admires about you; that you can see past his demeanor. The last time you remember him looking so full of pride, though, was the day you married one another.

It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that he succeeded at this- and you succeeded at this, too. Perhaps even harder to grasp that millions of people around the world now know your name and care about what you have to say. As Coriolanus said himself, the people love you. Sure, having the people on your side just as they are his matters to you. But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters for certain is if he truly loves you like he loves power. Sometimes you aren’t so sure. Sometimes, he looks at you, and you can’t see a thing.

౨ৎ taglist:

@nilletellsstories @noyatv @moonlightstuffs @slytherinholland @dominqueeekk @allcheesemelts @coconut-dreamz @rosewine-5 @hsfallingsky @imasimptoowth @tatumrileyslover @murdocksdaughter @fauxraven @throughgoeshxmilton @thesullengrrrl @fanfictionismyromanempire @americanprometheuss @prettycove

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader The Hunger Games AU

Warnings: angst kinda, torture

WC: 4.6k

Author’s note: to the anon who requested it hope you like it and again sorry for the wait. Sorry for any mistakes:)

The quietness of distract 4 was peaceful. You had been in your house. The house you had gotten after winning the 73rd annual game. You had won the game due to luck. It had always been luck when it came down to you in those games. The person you had become in that arena was someone you feared. Someone you hated.

But you had lived. By some miracle. You survived. You won.

"Have you seen the victory tour the winners of last years are doing." Your best friends voice echoed through your art room.

"Not really. But from what I have seen. Their love seems kinda forced." You set down your paint brushes turning around to see your best friend, Anika standing there. She had been your rock in the games. She was the one of the only reasons, you had to fight. She was the only family you had. Apart of your mentor. Who was a lovely elderly woman. Anika was more of sister to you. As soon as you came back home. You had her move in with you.

"Well even if it is. It's what saved their asses. But that's not what I came for. Here." Anika had a smirk on her face as she handed you a letter.

You couldn't fight the smile that formed on your lips as you took the letter. The envelope had one letter.

T

You already knew who it was from. It had been a week since you last heard from her. With Anika making herself busy. You opened the envelope taking out the letter.

You said in your last letter that what we have is something one wishes for. You are such a sap for that and I love it. I miss you like crazy. It's unfortunate we can't see each other as much as we want. But I always look forward to every single moment we do. S says something is changing. And she's not sure if it's good. But I want you to be careful. I need you safe. I love you.

The letters were always written in a way no one could find suspicious if they were to be found. You had met Tara Carpenter during your own victory tour. You were in distract 3 it had been after you addressed the Daniel of the fallen tributes. It was then when you saw her. She was from distract three and a previous victor. She had caught your eye, it had felt like love at first sight. Something you never believed in until you met her. Ever since then you both had been sending each other letters. On rare occasions seeing each other secretly.

"How is she?"

"She's good. I think the rebellion is a lot more serious than we thought." Folding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. Getting up to lock it in your safe where you kept all her letters.

"Well from what's been shown, especially in district 11. I wouldn't be surprised. Ever since that poor little girl was killed it was like something shifted."

"Yea she's one of many unfortunate kids that had been killed in these stupid games. The way Katniss was in the games has moved the people of the district's. The care and protectiveness she showed for Rue. It was something never been seen in the games." You had remembered seeing the little girl get killed. It had been a heart wrenching moment. She had been too pure for those stupid games.

Anika remembered everything when she watched your games. The 73rd annual games had been different from all the others. Having been set in a snowy environment. Some of the tributes dying from the cold brutal weather. She remembered seeing you scared, you had almost been killed by someone from district 7. She remembers crying wanting to look away from the sight but she couldn't look away. The man from district 7 and you were that last two. She had watched how you fought with everything you had. How you struggled to get him off you. How the knife dug into your shoulder. The scream that ripped from your lips. It was a sound she had never heard before. A sound she would never forget. You were her sister. It was something she would never forget.

A part of her, the selfish part, was glad you no longer had to put your name in the games.

*

You were sat in your living room with Anika. Watching as the yearly announcement began. Watching as Snow looked at his note cards before looking at camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the hunger games. And it was written in the charter of the games, that every 25 years, there would be a quarter quell to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died. In the uprising against the capitol. Each quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol. On this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and Female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

You felt like the air had been punched out from your lungs. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. It couldn't be. It wasn't fair. You fought so hard the first time, with the promise that if you won, you would never have to step foot in an arena again.

"No. No! You were supposed to be done. It's not fair!"

All you could do was try to comfort your best friend. Knowing that the reaping was what followed.

*

Standing between Mags and Annie. Previous winners from past games. On the other side of Effie Trinket. Stood Finnick Odir and Dwight Riley. Mags Flanagan was the eldest Victor from district 4. She had been your mentor during your games. A part of you did not want her to go back to those games. You knew deep down that she wouldn't survive. And you knew Annie couldn't. She wouldn't.

A part of you hoped, prayed that Tara's name wasn't called. But you knew better. Not only was Tara's name in a similar bowl. But so was her sisters. Sam's name had been drawn when Tara was too young to volunteer in her sisters place. District 3 was the only district to have two victors be female siblings. If Sam's name was called and Tara would volunteer, there was nothing Sam could do.

"Welcome, welcome as we celebrate, the 75th anniversary and third quarter quill of the hunger games. As always ladies first."

"Mags Flanagan."

You heard Annie's breath hitch. Before she could even do anything, you weren't sure what was going through her mind. You were quicker. Stepping up and looking straight at Effie.

"I volunteer as tribute."

Ignoring the pleading looks from Anika and now Mags.

*

"Thank you for volunteering for Mags."

You were brought out of your thoughts. Finnick had sat next to you. You knew Finnick cared deeply about Mags. You also knew that the older victor cared about Mags. Mags was a treasure to distract 4. No one wanted her back in games. You sure as hell didn't. You didn't know who else was going to be at the games until you reached the capitol. Part of you hoped. Prayed you didn't see Tara. But then if you didn't see Tara. You'd see her sister. Sam.

"You would have done the same if you could. Have they aired who's going to be in the games?"

"No, you both won't find out until we get to the capital. Now we have to talk it's about what's gonna happen in that arena." Dewey, a victor from district 4 said as he walked into the room. His face showing nothing but determination.

*

You weren't sure how this was going to happen. You didn't know if this plan was even going to work. But it had to. These games couldn't continue. Seeing how far Snow was going to get rid of Katniss Everdeen it was a show of how much power this man really had. You were in the dressing room with Finnick, the stylist was doing his job with Finnick. You had already been finished. It wouldn't be long before you would have to make your way to the carriages, this tribute parade felt completely different from the first time you were in the games.

While Finnick was getting ready you stepped out of the room. The halls were as could be expected. Busy. Even though the halls were busy the people didn't even give you glimpse which you were thankful for. You need to find the people of district 3. You needed to find either Tara or Sam.

Making your way down the hall, seeing some of the other tributes. Most of them you knew on a more friendly way. Like the female victor from distract 7, Amber Freeman. She was a feisty, but yet brutal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts, quite literally, when someone gripped your wrist and pulled you into a dimly lit room.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" A whisper filled with anger and concern. But it was a voice you missed. A voice a part of you wished you didn't hear. Cause now she was in danger. Even with that plan that had been set. You couldn't help but to pull her in. Taking the short woman into your arms. Missing the warmth she had always gave you. You felt the moment she basically melted in your arms. Her arms wrapping around your bare waist

"I'm still angry you're here. You were supposed to be sa-I'd rather be here with you." You cupped Tara's cheeks. Looking into the dark brown eyes that quickly became your favorite. If Tara was here it meant that she had volunteered for Sam.

"Gosh you're such a sap. But I love you for it." Tara had fallen for you the first time she had met you. From the beginning she had shared a bond with you. Something she had never felt, as happy as she was to be in your arms again. The worry that you will also be in the games had grown. She had to have you by her side. She didn't care about no one else in that arena. Just you. And if she had to kill everyone else so be it. You. You had to live.

*

The air was tense. You could feel it. The training room was filled with all the tributes. You had separated from Finnick. Remembering the plan. To make allies. All you knew was, for a fact to have Tara by your side. You had to keep her safe. You knew she was capable of taking care of herself, she had been the victor to win the games the quickest. Killing the last tribute by stabbing the tribute from district 9 in his mouth with a knife.

Tara was a force to be reckoned with.

"That's a good fishing hook."

You looked away from your work, seeing the girl on fire. Seeing her in person was a whole lot different from seeing her on the projector. She looked like any other teenager. In times like these you kinda of forgot how young Katniss and Peeta really were. At the end you were basically the same age.

"Thank you Katniss."

"It was a noble thing to do for Mags."

"She's like a mother to me. I wasn't going to let her go through this again." You finished the hook and offered a small smile towards the brunette. "You wanna learn? It looks hard but it's pretty easy." Sparing a look at Tara who was busy talking to Peeta. Remembering that these victors from district 12 had no idea of the plan that had been set in play.

"Yea." She said with a small smile. Accepting the help from the other victor.

*

Even with everyone trying their best to stop the games. There was no sopping the inevitable. Which was why you found yourself at the edge of the arena with Katniss, Peeta, Finnick. Tara had been separated with her partner from the start. Which had killed you. Every time that cannon went it brought fear, dread. You were supposed to be with Tara. Make sure to watch her back like you're supposed to. But she had promised, swore that she'd be okay.

"I promise, I'll be okay." Tara had looked up at you as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Playing with your hair at the back of your neck. Her eyes filled with nothing but love. Her smile gracing her face as she looked at you. Her dimples on display for you to lightly kiss. You absolutely loved her dimples. From the moments you shared together, there was never a moment you didn't take the opportunity to kiss her dimples.

From the sight of the blush on her cheeks, you knew she liked the light kisses as well. "I worry. I'm scared if I'm honest." Your own arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. "I can't lose you Tara."

Her hands moved to your cheeks. Gently caressing your cheeks.

"And you won't. We will see each other again." She had sounded so confident, so sure that nothing could separate each other.

And Tara had been sure. When she reunited with you on the beach, she had never felt so happy and relieved. The sound of the canons going off had truly been frightening to hear, not knowing if you were okay. You had clearly not cared that she was covered in blood when you hugged her. Ignoring the confused looks from everyone else. She had hugged you just as tight.

Letting you help her wash off all the blood she had on herself. "Hey, you okay?" Drawing your attention away from her hair as she tilted her head back slightly to look up at you. Watching as you looked away towards the others and then back to her.

"Yea, just-Tara, Y/n come on we have a plan."

Tara should have pushed for you to answer, with chaos that followed she had been so certain that everything would go according to plan. Maybe with some bumps, but adamant that you would okay. The explosion had been loud, hot, she had felt her body flying through the air from the force of it all. Losing you in the middle of all the chaos, her back hitting something solid before her would went dark.

**

The sound of voices yelling had been what startled her awake. The immense pain coming from her leg had her crying out.

"Tara, hey it's okay, you're okay."

Her eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Trying to regularize her erratic breathing. Opening her eyes, she noticed, that she was now on a hovercraft. Looking towards where she heard the sound of a familiar voice.

"Sam?"

Offering a small smile, the older Carpenter was stood right next to where her sister was laid. Preparing herself what she had to do. "Hey sis, you did good out there."

The smile Tara had was short lived when she realized you were missing. You would have been right next to her, should have been tight next to her the moment she woke up. But your presence was absent. Unless you were hurt.

"Where's Y/n? Is she hurt?" Seeing the way Sam was avoiding her eyes she knew it couldn't be anything good. You were probably really hurt. Really hurt if you weren't in the room with her. Tara's mind was running all types of scenarios. All of them causing her heart to race in a type of panic.

"Tara, Y/n's tracker was still in her arm when the explosion happened. Amber was able to take Katniss's out but Y/n was fighting with the victors from district 2 Jill Roberts and Charlie Walker." Sam wasn't sure how to tell her sister. That the girl her little sister was madly in love with was-

"Sam! Where's Y/n?" The question was repeated but this time with more aggression that was deeply laced with fear, a clear sign of Tara wanting to know where you be located. She sat up the pain of her broken leg that shooting up her spine

"Tara." The hands on her shoulders were firm. "Y/n didn't make it out of the arena, she was taken to the capitol along with Peeta."

*

"Tell us where they took Katniss Everdeen and the rest of the victors."

Your head hang loosely, your wrist were red and sore from bulling on your restraints. The torture you were enduring was too intense for your body. But you would not crack. You'd never say anything. You heard them doing the same thing to Peeta.

"I don't know." You mumbled. Your hair was roughly pulled back, a groan escaping your lips.

"Lies!"

"I don't know." You said through gritted teeth. The hold this guard had on your hair was getting more painful as the seconds passed by.

"You won't talk, we will make you talk."

**

Tara had been restless the moment they had landed at District 13. She was angry, worried, she couldn't imagine what the capitol was doing to you. The torture you were for sure being inflicted upon. Just the thought of you being in pain was causing her eyes to fill with tears.

"I have to get her back." Tara sat up on her bed and got out. Getting her crutches to find the people in charge. She didn't care that her leg was broken and that it would take up to three to six months.

Leaving the room only to see Katniss Everdeen talking to Finnick. Seeing Finnick, Tara wanted nothing more than to punch him. He was the one that was supposed to cut out your tracker. With that in mind her blood shot red eyes narrowed as she made her way to the taller boy.

"We will get them back. I promise you that." Katniss had seen the fire in the shorter girls eyes. Knowing that Tara was about to take her anger out on Finncik. Just like she had done. She could relate to the anger, to worry that Tara was feeling. She had seen the embrace Tara had shared with you back on that beach. The way they looked at each other. It was a way no friends did. Let alone victors that were in game that was kill or be killed.

Tara looked away from the blonde man. Looking at the tall girl, "How? They're in the capital Katniss. Who knows what that asshole is putting them through."

Placing a hand on the short girls shoulder. "We will get them back."

*

You have never felt so hungry. So sore, you were sure you had a few broken bones. The guards had just finished one of their daily beatings. Your body covered in bruises, cuts and welts. Your back burned like crazy, preventing you from laying on your back. You had no tears left to cry, but yet you still felt so scared.

They asked you about Katniss, the rebellion, Peeta, the games, the plan. Tara. They kept on asking about Tara. That's what scared you. You didn't know where Tara was at. Or if she was even alive. You weren't even sure what day it was. Or how longs it's been since you saw Tara.

You barely registered that Peeta's screams had stopped. He had been suffering his own type of torture.

You knew they had forced Peeta to speak to Ceasar.

"Peeta?"

His sobbing stopped, the sounds of his whizzing breath was all that was heard. "...I warned Katnisss."

You didn't even know what was happening out there. But you knew from the way the guards were acting it was bad. The sound of footsteps had you mentally preparing you for what's to come. Waiting for what horrors of the day awaited you

Seeing the men in masks barging into the room. Seeing the cart filled with the tools they were going to use. The fear growing in your stomach at the sight of the different syringes. You tried to fight. You always did, never making it easy for them. It always lead to you being brutally beaten. You once had succeeded in hitting one guard in his private area. Being able to take his weapon, beating him and the other guard in with the baton. You had tried to retrieve the keycard, but you hadn't gotten far. Only making it to the front of Peeta's cell, ignoring Peeta's pleas to leave him before more guards arrived.

The punishment you received the days that followed had been horrible. The pain that you were put in those days had almost killed you.

All you wanted now was to see Tara again. All you wanted was Tara.

*

Sam, Amber, Chad, Ethan and Gale had all been in the hovercraft. Sam had promised her sister that she'd bring you back to her. Although a part of her was afraid on what they were going to find. The small window that was open while the Capitols defenses were down. They were using said window to recuse you and Peeta.

Amber had demanded to go as well. She had felt guilty, it had been her job to take out your tracker. If Finnick was unable to do so. Tara had wanted to go as well. But she was not allowed. Not when her leg that was still broken.

The silence had been chilling. No one single guard was in sight as they stormed the halls. Clearing, searching every room they passed. The dread that filled her heart every single second that passed. She had to locate you.

"Holy shit, Sam I found her." Amber's voice brought her out of her head. She hurried towards Amber, only to see her next to someone that didn't even look like you. What scared her was that it looked like you weren't breathing.

"Sam is she breathing?"

She had forgotten that Tara was able to see from the live feed that her helmet was recording. Before she could answer the lights in the once dark was now bright. The night vision goggles that she had on became almost blinding. The static coming from her ear was enough for her to know that the connection back home was lost.

*

Tara paced, the best she could with a broken leg. It has been two hours since they lost connection with the Sam and the others. She didn't have a chance to see you. Amber's camera had cut off before she could see you.

"Tara, they've arrived. They rushed Peeta, Annie and Y/n to the hospital wing." Sidney said from her position at the desk that overlooked everything.

Tara didn't wait, moving as quickly as she possibly could. Passing Katniss who was also quick to find Peeta. She didn't care about anyone, just you. Before she reach the doors that hopefully lead to you she was stopped.

"No, Sam. Move. Get out of my way." She tried to get around her but the firm hands on her shoulders had stopped her.

"She's in surgery right now Tara. You can't go in." Seeing the way her sisters eyes were filled with tears. The clear desperation of wanting to get to you. "I know you want to see her but we have to let the doctors work."

The next five hours dragged on. With no updates on you was making Tara feel like she was going crazy. Until the doctor finally came out. She was out of her seat in no time.

"She's stable, she suffered a lot from the hands of the capitol. She has three fractured ribs, a broken wrist, she severely malnourished, her back is filled with lacerations, some barely healed and others, if not most fresh. She's in room four, go on ahead."

**

The pain felt like it was all over your body. Your back felt like it was burning. The emptiness in your stomach felt so painful. Your arm, your ribs, the pain was everywhere. It was almost too much. The burning sensation of your irises at the bright lights that shinned down on you.

You couldn't remember what happened. The last thing that you did remember was the guards storming into your cell. That had been the last thing you remembered.

A warm hand taking yours was what brought you out of your head. The pain momentarily easing as you opened your eyes once again. The room was now dimly lit. Your eyes looking down at your hand, the one that was being held. But you had been through this so many times. The relief that always flooded your body at the sight of your beautiful brunette. Only to have it ripped from you. They only used tracker jackers venom on you a few times. But it had been enough for you to break.

"Hey baby." Her voice was just like before. Expect this time, she had some faded bruises. Not like other times when her face was clear of any harm.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Refusing to give into the venom. Yet there was nothing you could do when it came to tracker jacker venom. The hallucinations always seemed so real. Like how Tara always appeared in your hallucinations, but to blame you for leaving her behind. Always appearing to be de-, she would blame you. But this time it was different. This hallucinations was even holding your hand.

"Y/n?"

"You're not real."

Her heart broke, as tears filled her eyes at the sound of your voice. The strain of your voice, the denial that filled it. The way your voice cracked. Your eyes refused to open. The doctor had told her that you had traces of tracker jacker venom in your blood. "Y/n I'm real. I'm here. Open your eyes for me."

You squeezed your eyes tighter, until you felt the familiar warm sensation of her palms. You fought against your fears and opened your eyes. In your hallucinations Tara never touched you. But here she was. "T-Tara?"

The soft sob that escaped her lips, "Yea it's me baby. It's really me."

Seeing the familiar brown eyes, the safety that they brought had you bursting into tears. All the pain, the torture (physical and mental) it all came at you at once. Overwhelming you in a way you never imagined you'd feel.

Tara climbed on to the bed, the best she could without hurting you. Or her leg. Taking you into her arms, you didn't complain about any pain but she was still careful. You leaned closer into her arms. Her arms wrapping around you

"You're safe now. You're safe."

*

You were still struggling. Your bones felt weak, you felt drained with no energy. The doctors said that it was normal, seeing that it had only been two weeks since you were rescued. The fall of the capitol had happened a few days ago. Snow was dead, Finnick was dead as well. That had been hard to hear.

"Tara?"

Tara hadn't left your side at all. Helping you whenever she could. "Yea? Do you need anything? Water? Are you hun-I love you." The worry settled as it was replaced with the pure love she has for you. The love in your eyes was something she never got over.

"I love you to."

The games were permanently over. Life without the games was going to be different but she knew it was going a good type of different. A safer life with you was all she ever wanted.

And now she had it.

:)

[lizzietoons]

-Clementine and Louis as Peeta and Katniss-Older TWDG Art I wanted to put on tumblr!

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. (prologue)

presenting: Umbrella’s Hunger Games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: the Hunger Games, an annual show of brutal control the Capitol has over each of the twelve Districts. the Games’ number one sponsor: Umbrella Corporation, the creator of the Games’ most horrific torture strategies and nightmare inducing deaths. these games have always been cautionary, always a far away but constant threat — until you find yourself Reaped and thrown into an area full of your worst fears with 23 other Tributes, all out for blood.

content warnings (future): harsh language; heavy violence; gore; torture; heavy themes of murder; infanticide; social injustice; class discrimination; brief mention of suicidal thoughts; angst; character death; eventual smut; enemies to lovers

notes: this is inspired by the Hunger Games (no 1) and takes place in the universe; if topics such as violence murder infanticide etc trigger you, skip this series; the reader is said to be a Career Tribute

Chloe talks: posting a my prologue for my new Leon Hunger Games series before the next strike tomorrow! please enjoy, I’m convinced this will be my magnum opus :)

word count: 768 (it’s a prologue, so it’s short)

now playing: can’t catch me now ; olivia rodrigo

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

Images of dark alleys, of scorching hot deserts, of raging icy tundras, of sickly beautiful yet dangerous forests haunted each child’s dreams. Not for any reason in particular other than the fact that the images were fed to them since birth. Spoon fed into their heads — the showings of each years annual Hunger Games.

Decades upon decades ago, the ocean swallowed nearly half the continent in a devastating and unprecedented tsunami. States and even smaller countries were lost to the depths of the sea, leaving the remaining forty percent of the country overflowed with a surplus of population.

Women, men, and children with nowhere to go, now crowded the north part of what once was the United States. Now twenty of the fifty states remained, thousands upon thousands of casualties, leaving too many for the forty percent of the country to support.

The government handled it with the worst of ideas, their support was lost, their lack of understanding and empathy led to an inevitable uprising. People stormed the gates of the White House, threatened to kill — and did kill — senators, and representatives, and judges, and even their families.

This uprising nearly destroyed the country as a whole. Thousands were slaughtered, bloodlines were destroyed, families killed by the rebels. Until a group of unknown power that had been hiding behind the scenes for decades stepped forward, taking control of the people. This led to a bloodbath of violence, political control, and the people finally were forced to accept their defeat.

From then, the country was divided into thirteen Districts, each with its own purpose of serving the new country’s Capitol. This new country — Panem — was run with a ruthless government, a controlling President with no mercy and a clever mind. He was cruel, and heartless, and as dangerous as he was calm.

No one dared to object him, no one dared to take his power for fear of the consequences. So, for decades, President Ozwell E. Spencer ran the country. His company — one he started long before he was elected as President — Umbrella was the sole sponsor and creator of the annual Hunger Games.

Where each spring, twenty four children between the ages of twelve and nineteen were picked at random by pairs to represent their District in a fight to the death.

One boy, one girl from each District, chosen by random to be plucked, and bathed, and painted, and paraded, and eventually murdered for the sake of entertainment. Once, these Games were a reminder of what revolution could do, how it could crumble a nation. But that notion was long gone, all that now remained was the entertainment value of their deaths. Deaths none of them deserved. Deaths you never imagined you’d actually witness, much less cause yourself.

The intricacies of these Games were lost upon you, all you knew was to survive. Despite being a so called ‘Career’ and had as close to luxury as you could for someone from one of the Districts, you hardly had the stomach to commit things such as murder. Much less upon other children, people your age.

District One, luxury items, riches, and favor of the Capitol itself. Careers, the title of the Tributes that were put into the Games each year. These Tributes were raised with advantage, raised with early training available to them. Available to you.

For the majority of your life, since you were able to understand what the Games meant, you’d been trained by Victors, the Redfield siblings. Chris and his sister, Claire, were once Tributes themselves, in consecutive years.

Chris Redfield won at nineteen with pure brutality, physical strength and power, partaking in the bloodbath and taking out a good majority of the other Tributes in the beginning. Chris’s Games lasted a mere week.

While Claire Redfield managed to outsmart each and every other Tribute in her arena, successfully becoming the Victor by simply waiting for them all to die by natural causes, or killing themselves with their own stupidity. Her Games lasted three, the ending of said Games pushed quickly to be brought to a conclusion. Leading the girl to become Victor at a mere thirteen.

So, despite the fact that you weren’t technically supposed to be trained by Mentors unless Reaped, the Redfield siblings trained you behind the curtain. They prepared you for the possibility of you being Reaped, of being subjected to the horrors they’d seen. To the murder they had to commit to stay alive. They wanted you to win, to have a chance of survival.

But, maybe they should have just let you die. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken you under their wing when they found you shivering in the rain after a school bully had taken your pack and shoes and jacket.

Maybe they should have just let you be killed. Then you wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him.

[thunderg]

The Cost of Victory | Jung Hoseok x Reader

a/n: Hi! This is an au that my bestie and I have been developing @livingformintyoongi , so if you enjoy it, please like it, reblog it and comment, this helps me to keep going <3

Genre: Angst, Romance with touches of Fluff and Survival, The Hunger Games AU.

Warnings: Violence, strong language, mention of death.

Oc: Chaeyoung, she's Hobi's friend, and maybe something more to Yoongi (If you want the lore of that, read "To Love and Protect")

Wc: 1780

Y/N knew that what they were doing was more than just a game; it was a way for the Capitol to show who was in charge and who should bow their heads. She hated it, really hated it, and she was tired of living under their rules. 

After many years, she finally had someone to fight for. She had lost all ties since her games—her brother, her mother—killed by those horrible people. When she won, she hadn't even imagined her fate, ending up as a simple puppet to entertain those people. It disgusted her. 

She was forced to grow fond of the tributes only to see them die. They were just kids—damn, she had been their age when she won her games. The vision hurt like a thousand hells, especially when she remembered that she wasn’t much older than they were. 

The only company she had had over the years was Yoongi, a boy who had won a year before her. She had managed to win thanks to him and his strategy, and she had been lucky to know a side of him different from what he had become. 

He had done everything he could for her to win, but now, almost nothing remained of that Yoongi. The loss of the following tributes had killed him slowly and, in turn, brought him closer to alcohol. 

The young man was an alcoholic, well-known by everyone in District 12. More than once, they had seen him stumble or wander the streets. Everyone thought the reason for his state was the extravagant amount of money he had won, that being rich had clouded his judgment. 

But she knew the truth. Death wasn’t easy to face, it never was, especially if you were the one who caused it. They had both killed more than what was considered normal, it was for survival, but nightmares didn’t distinguish reasons. 

Two broken people having to give hope to other tributes—what a joke from the Capitol. She did what she could while Yoongi got lost in drinking, until that day came. She dressed for the worst day of the year. Even though she couldn’t be reaped again (another lie from the Capitol), she trembled as if she could. 

She sat on that stage, pretending not to be as broken as she was. From the corner of her eye, she could see Yoongi nodding off; alcohol always made him drowsy, but she preferred that to the embarrassment of last year, when he had fallen on live TV. Hyori, the District 12 presenter, had complained about it endlessly. 

The aforementioned woman took the papers from the jar. She lowered her head, not wanting to see the faces of those who would die this year. She had tried more than once not to remember their faces or names, but of course, the brain was the most intriguing organ in the body; it never listened to what its occupant wanted. 

Soon, Hyori turned to her. The woman loved following etiquette and rules, which meant she would be offended if Y/N didn’t greet the tributes. She could already hear her: "What a lack of decorum, I thought I had taught you better." 

She stood up as Hyori had taught her, in the most elegant way she could, although it was hard when her mind screamed that this was nonsense, and that as the hunter she was, she would only make more noise—difficult habits to break if you asked her. 

She walked toward them, the first thing that caught her attention was the girl’s hair—it was a fiery orange color, like fire, reminding her of the bonfires she had made during her games. It certainly stood out, and her eyes, green like the emeralds her father had once brought (stolen) from the mine when she was just a child. 

She shook her hand, then moved on to the male tribute. She almost cursed herself when she did; he was so beautiful it took her breath away. He stood almost a head taller than her, his eyes so warm she could have melted in front of him. His heart-shaped lips, so soft, made the idea of kissing him seem impossible to resist. 

His delicate hands, so soft, it was clear he had never had to work near the mine. Who knew, maybe he worked as a baker. She had heard somewhere that there was a bakery near the Veta. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. The more she looked at him, the more tempted she was to write an ode to his profile. 

She shook her head; she needed to get away from him. It was dangerous. If she got attached, she would die inside—that was obvious. Falling in love brought trouble for people like her. When she tried to shake his hand the same way she had with the girl, he stopped her, gently taking her hand, bowing, and placing a soft kiss on it. From that moment on, she knew it: she was screwed. How could she let someone like Jung Hoseok die? 

After that, everything was a blur. She couldn’t remember the things that had happened in their games. Damn, she didn’t even remember why Yoongi had decided to stay sober in the first place. It was like the presence of the Jungs—because yes, the girl’s name was Jung Chaeyoung—had stirred something in them, as if their hope had been renewed. 

But when dealing with people like Seungri Snow, you could never win or gain an advantage. The man had always hated it when the participants showed more intelligence than the government. When the young Jungs won, they upped the stakes and challenged the very foundations of the game. 

Two winners, to make matters worse, two intelligent winners. It was a death sentence for anyone who had been involved with them. It was no surprise to anyone when, during the 75th anniversary of the games, the consequences of their actions were announced. 

The games would be held with the former victors, but to make matters worse, they decided to double the number of tributes this year. It was clear that Seungri knew how involved Yoongi and she were in making those two win, but now, with his little trick, everyone would have to pay. 

She leaned her head on Hoseok's shoulder. The arena was nothing like what they were used to; the jungle was not something common in her district. In fact, when she saw water hitting her platform, she had wanted to cry. 

It was obvious who they wanted as the winner: that little boy from District 4, who had won at the tender age of 12. Despite his sweet appearance, the boy had annihilated everyone thanks to his swimming skills, and he had also obtained what was considered the biggest sponsorship in the games, the trident he now held in his hand. 

Her boyfriend—because yes, over the months, he had become her boyfriend—gently caressed her arm. She had learned over time that the boy liked to treat her with extreme delicacy, as if he could truly see all the broken parts of her, and couldn’t conceive being the cause of more cracks. 

"When we get home, I want us to have that dance you promised me," he whispered in her ear. 

She laughed softly, knowing he said it to calm her down. She knew him well enough to know that the idea of competing in these games terrified him, and the possibility of going home distracted him a little, even if it was impossible. 

"We’ll have it, don’t worry, pretty boy. When you least expect it, we’ll be home." She kissed his cheek, believing every word. 

He placed his hand on her cheek, looking at her intensely, almost as if he knew all the secrets she kept. "Promise me you won’t do anything stupid to save me." 

She made a face, unable to avoid it. She wouldn’t promise something like that. He was now her whole life. Losing him would be like dying with him. So, in reality, her life had no value without Hoseok by her side. 

"Do it," he insisted, while resting his forehead against hers. "You have to do it. I don’t think I could live without you." He complained like the child he truly was because, at 19, one couldn’t really be an adult. The desperation in his eyes hurt her. 

But she couldn’t promise something like that, so she did the only thing she could think of—she kissed him. She kissed him as if it were the last kiss of her life, as if that was the only thing she needed to breathe, as if there were no cameras or tributes around, as if it were just the two of them on that beach. 

He clung to her waist, unable to refuse the show of affection. He had never been able to say no to her. There had always been a competition between them about who was more devoted to the other, who would set the limits. But they were always willing to do more for each other. She had no idea how far Hoseok was willing to go to live, just for and with her. Nor how prepared she was to kill anyone who dared to even approach him. 

With that promise (to live and kill for each other) in mind, they had come to what could very well be the end of the games. Only those with whom they had formed an alliance remained. Satisfying the Capitol had been difficult, but now, with a possible rebellion on the way, it would all have been worth it. 

Yoongi took his katana. Despite all the time that had passed since he had used it, it was as if time had never passed. He approached the girl with determination, getting just a few meters away from her. They would end this, and they would do it as quickly as possible. 

Y/N could hear the screams of Hoseok and Young, desperate to intervene, being held back by the other tributes at the corner of the beach. This had to end, but not before giving them a show worthy of those who had caused this torture. 

She raised her axe, ready to fight with her long-time companion and ally. It was finally her moment. She had waited for this eagerly. She looked at him. Yoongi frowned in concentration. He almost smiled with excitement, winked at her as subtly as he could. After all, this was just a distraction. Who would notice someone as small and elusive as Jimin when there was a battle like this? 

Masterlist

(Banners of @cafekitsune)

[maidragoste]

Chapter One: The Reaping

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader (I labeled it that even though Jace's backstory is different from Katniss's but he and Reader will be the star-crossed lovers of district 12)

Chapter Two Chapter Three

I really hope you like it because I'm so excited to write this au!

Please let me know what you think in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys entered the Victors' Village, not that he was a victor. In fact, his name had never come up in the reaping. But he and his brothers lived there since his uncle Larys took care of them after his father died in the middle of an explosion in the mines while working.

The teenager quickly quickened his pace while adjusting his grip on the only two squirrels he had brought from all the ones he had hunted during the morning with Baela, his best friend. He may not have needed to hunt for food anymore but he was one of the few people in District 12 who knew how to hunt. Some people had depended on bartering with his father to bring a plate of food to his table. His father would not have wanted him to leave those people abandoned, so every day he sneaks into the forest with Baela to look for deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, fish, or any type of edible vegetable or fruit. He always gave the best goods to Baela, after all, she had more mouths to feed with her mother, her twin sister, and her two little brothers. But the rest he exchanged with the merchants or even sometimes he practically ended up giving away his merchandise due to the low price that he was willing to accept from the families that he knew did not have enough to eat to prevent them from ending up asking for more tesserae. Uncle Larys had never told him but Jacaerys knew that he thought he was a fool for doing that.

Jacaerys hated the silence in the village but it was no surprise considering that of the twelve houses there, the only house that was being inhabited was his uncle's. Of the seventy-three Hunger Games that have been held so far, there have only been two victors from District 12 and the only one still alive is Larys Strong.

Jace hurried into the house trying to ignore the heaviness in his stomach.

“I told you Luke would throw up again this year! You owe me!” was the first thing Joffrey, his youngest brother, said when he saw him.

Lucerys, or Luke as his dad had nicknamed him, was the middle brother, and every year he had the worst time during Repairing; which was the moment when the District escort went up to the podium and then took a random piece of paper from each glass urn, one containing the names of all the boys between twelve and eighteen years old and another with the names of the girls. This was how the tributes were chosen for each Hunger Games. Like any coherent person in District 12 Luke feared being chosen as a tribute and unlike Jacaerys he could not hide his fear.

“Take this to the kitchen,” the oldest of the brothers asked, handing the squirrels to Joffrey before running to the bathroom.

When Jacaerys entered he found Luke hunched over, holding the toilet bowl. Ignoring the smell of vomit he hurried to his brother's side and with one hand began to rub soothing circles on Luke's back while the other brushed the hair from his face. He doesn't know how many minutes they stayed like this until the youngest finally stopped vomiting.

"I'm sorry, Jace" Luke apologized with a broken voice and tears on his cheeks, clearly feeling ashamed for being in the same position for another year. "I really tried."

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for," Jacaerys denied as he helped him up from the floor. "It's okay to be afraid. Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid."

"Joffrey is not afraid," the youngest murmured after cleaning his face.

Joffrey must have been the only thirteen-year-old in District 12 who wasn't horrified at the thought of his name coming up in the Reaping. Jacaerys believed it was because Joff thought he would be able to win the games just by being a relative of a victor. Also, of the three, Joff seemed to want Uncle Larys's validation and attention the most. In these three years living with him he had never told them that he loved them but Jace thought that he should at least care a little about them because otherwise he could have let the authorities take them to the community orphanage instead of taking care of them.

"I told you, an idiot," Jace said, managing to get a small laugh out of Lucerys. "Listen, Luke. Everything will be fine. You never asked for a tessera so your name is only on four pieces of paper."

In the first year when you started to be part of the Reaping, they put your name only once in the bowl. But every time you have a birthday they add another paper with your name on it. If you do not ask for any tessera then it is assumed that you will reach the age of eighteen with only seven papers.

Jacaerys always tried to reassure his brother, and also himself, saying that the chances of his name coming up were low compared to all the people who had to ask for tesserae to be able to eat.

"Lucerys, Jacaerys, start getting ready for the Reaping" Larys ordered from below. There was no need for him to shout as the house was silent.

"Take a bath, you stink" Jacaerys mocked, ruffling Lucerys's hair before leaving him in the bathroom.

"Happy Hunger Games! and may the odds be ever in your favor!" greeted Effie Trinket, the District 12 companion, with the same excitement as in previous years.

While Effie gives a speech about what an honor it is for her to be there as a companion, Jacaerys's eyes meet Baela's. She smiles at him and he struggles to return it. Baela is so brave, he doesn't know how she isn't trembling with fear knowing that her name is at least twenty times. Maybe in recent years she was no longer asking for tesserae but before Jacaerys moved in with his uncle she had.

"Ladies first!" said Effie announcing that it was time for the drawing. She approaches the urn with the girls' names and then reaches deep inside and takes out a piece of paper. You can feel the tension in the air and for a moment everyone seems to hold their breath until Effie opens the paper and I read it "Y/n Y/l!"

Shit. Jacaerys knew you. He had seen you more than once at the bakery when he went to buy or exchange his merchandise with your father. Not only that but you two share classes together at school. You weren't friends. But you were still there for his brothers when he was too devastated by the death of his father to care about anyone else. You were the one who stopped some idiots from bothering Luke at school, you were the one who helped Joffrey with his homework to prevent him from repeating a grade, and you, in the only conversation you ever shared, reminded him that he was important to the District, that his brothers needed him, that he could not abandon them, that his father would not have wanted to see him as a ghost in life, that he would have wanted him to help the people of the District.

Jace had to go say goodbye to you, his gratitude may be three years late but he needed to thank you for taking care of his brothers when he had failed them and remind him that he had a purpose.

Jacaerys watches you move towards the stage. Your posture is straight, your chin up and your steps are firm but he can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You still look pretty in your pink dress, it wasn't glamorous at all—no one in the district wears glamorous clothes—but in his eyes, you stood out. It's probably because, unlike other girls in the district, your clothes didn't hang off and your bones didn't show, you didn't look like someone who was malnourished.

Maybe with your beauty and if you had a good interview you could get lucky and captivate a sponsor, he thought. He hoped that this year his uncle would try even harder to bring home a winner.

Once you are on stage Effie asks for volunteers. Of course, no one offers.

“Now it's time to meet our male tribute!” Effie announces, rushing to the boys' urn and pulling out the first piece of paper she sees, “Lucerys Strong!”

This must be a nightmare, Jacaerys thought. They were supposed to be safe, they had never asked for tesserae. He was snapped out of his stupor by hearing Joffrey's desperate cries calling for Luke as his brother began to walk with fear and tears in his eyes to the stage. Jace didn't even think about it, he broke out of his formation and started running after Lucerys.

“I'm a volunteer!” he shouted when the peacekeepers grabbed him, wanting to take him away from Lucerys. “I volunteered as a tribute!” he repeated, standing up straight, once they released him.

"Magnificent!" Effie exclaimed, happy because there was finally some action in the District. "But you are supposed to present the winner of the reaping first and then ask for volunteers…"

"Just let him up," the mayor interrupted her sharply, clearly upset by the situation. He knew Jacaerys because he always bought strawberries from him and Baela.

“No, Jace!” Lucerys said with a trembling voice, still shaking her head. “You can't!”

“Go to Joffrey” the eldest brother ordered firmly, he wanted to hug Luke but he was afraid that if he did he would also start crying and he couldn't do it knowing that the cameras were filming everything. He couldn't appear weak. “Go,” he repeated, pushing him aside and heading to the stage without looking back.

Jacaerys' brown eyes meet yours and the heaviness in his stomach increases. He would have to kill you if he wanted to come home, you, the person who pushed him to move forward after her father's death. He had never thanked you and much less would he do so now knowing that in a few days, he may be the one who ended up killing you. Obviously, luck was not on his side but if you died he really hoped that it would be another of the tributes who would end up taking your life. If it became him and he managed to win the games, Jacaerys was sure that there would not be a day in which he would not think of you.

"Wonderful!" Effie exclaimed once the young man finished climbing the stairs. "What's your name?"

"Jacaerys Strong," he answered.

"I'll bet my shoes he was your brother. You didn't want him to steal your glory, did you?" The companion's smile disappeared before the furious looks of the victor and the tributes. "Good! Let's give a big round of applause to our new tribute!"

But no one applauds. The entire District demonstrates its disagreement with its silence. Not only that, but many people begin to bring the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then point them at Jacaerys. He looks shocked as they give him that gesture. It was not a common thing to be used in the District but every once in a while, someone would do it during funerals. It was a gesture of giving thanks, of admiration, of farewell to a loved one. The same gesture they had made at his father's funeral. Jacaerys feels a lump form in his throat. He can't help but look at you, this was thanks to you, if you hadn't reminded him that the District needed him like they needed his dad then maybe he would have continued in silence staring into nothingness, living mechanically instead of starting to help people like his dad used to do.

The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. Once he finishes he instructs you and Jace to shake hands. Jacaerys notices that your hand is a little smaller than his and he feels warm against hiss. You catch him off guard when you squeeze his hand as if to encourage him. He returns the gesture even though he knows he shouldn't, it wasn't the time to become friends.

Tag: @valeskafics @agqrtz

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The Pink Rose Masterlist

Hunger Games AU fanfic / Haymitch Abernathy x reader fanfic. (*) means it's got some spice.

Part 1 (*)

Part 2

Part 3 (*)

Part 4

Part 5 (*)

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 (*)

UPDATE: Hello hello my lovelies- So I know The Pink Rose has gained a small following recently (which I absolutely appreciate). I am currently taking a small hiatus to read Sunrise on the Reaping. I hope to be back and ready to share Part 9 with you by June 1, 2025.

Thank you all.

[messedupfan]

The Hope of a Free World: The Prologue

Summary: It's the last night of the Victory Tour for Katniss and Peeta and you are expected to attend the social event of the year at President Snow's mansion.

A/n: Hello! Sorry that this has taken so long to get out! I had so many ideas when it came to this request. The other two parts aren't quite ready but I hope that y'all enjoy this start!

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You are threading your coin through your fingers and sigh. Things in the districts were beginning to get restless as rumors of an uprising began to spread. Ever since two teenagers from Twelve defied the Capitol and refused to play by the rules of their game. In the name of love, they claimed. It didn’t matter to those in the districts. You found it to be a bold move by the star-crossed lovers of District 12. But anyone paying attention can see that the girl was acting out of survival instincts and defiance. Not out of pure love for the boy she seemed to hardly know. 

“The train to the Capitol will be here soon,” Finnick says as he knocks your feet off of his coffee table as he adjusts his cufflinks. “You need to get ready and preferably stop crashing on my sofa. You have your own house, remember?” He stops at an extravagant mirror that hangs on the wall to adjust his collar. 

You sigh again, “I made a promise to stop drinking excessively. I can’t do that and be alone over there. Besides if I recall, Annie said I can crash here as often as I please.” 

“Wanda is lucky she only has to deal with you a couple of times a year,” he gripes as he double checks his appearance. “Get dressed, now,” he shook his head because you were still sitting on the couch, moving your coin through your fingers. It was your token in the Hunger Games. This was a coin that your father made you when you were a kid. It was a silver medallion meant to be worn on a chain. But you haven’t worn it in years because you rather fiddle with it whenever you are nervous. On the face of the medallion is a trident rising out of thin silver waves. A blue abalone shell provides a naturally patterned ocean blue background. Your father was very skilled with making jewelry. You were excited to return home from your Games to share your wealth with him and buy him all of the material he could only dream of. But, because of your minor rebellious actions in the Games, he was taken from you. By President Snow. 

Not the man himself, of course, but he gave the order. 

“Okay, okay,” you grumble as you stand up from the couch. “You know, I think Annie lets me stay over because I’m the closest thing to a child the two of you will ever have.” 

Finnick shakes his head with a laugh, “You might be right.” Even though you weren’t much younger than Finnick and Annie, they took you under their wing. They knew exactly what you were going through when you lost your father. Finnick knew better than anyone when you turned eighteen and Snow first arranged for you to meet with a customer. The mistake you had made was keeping in touch with your friends and falling for someone. Snow threatened their lives and their families lives if you refused to show the customer a good time. None of them deserved to die for your mistakes. Or worse, be turned into Avoxes. The tongueless slaves to the Capitol. 

In no time at all, you are on the train to the Capitol. For the past couple of years, you were typically giddy about getting a trip to the Capitol. It meant that you could visit with Wanda. But with talks about an uprising, you wanted to focus on that more than anything. A successful uprising could mean freedom from the segregation of the districts and the oppression of President Snow. Freedom from the Games. Most importantly, it could mean the freedom to love. You never saw yourself falling as hard as you have for someone from the Capitol but Wanda has a certain way about her. Beyond the enchanting green eyes and the vibrant red wig, which she wore to blend in with the Capitol culture. She was a person. She had opinions and interesting ideas. She hated the Games as much as anyone in the districts does. 

“Keep your focus, you’ll be able to see your girl tonight,” Finnick whispered into your ear as the train came to a stop. You roll your shoulders and smooth out your clothing as you stand in front of the exit of the train. Katniss and Peeta had been in District 4 only a few days ago for their Victory Tour and tonight was the final night of their tour. It was going to end with a massive party in President Snow’s mansion and every victor that could be sold was expected to be in attendance. Especially since this year’s victors could not be auctioned off as they have been in the past. 

As you are escorted to a vehicle there are screens everywhere airing footage of Peeta on one knee in front of Katniss. You shook your head. They were smart to get engaged so publicly.  You predict that lot of your clients will be so bummed that they can’t have a night with either of them. It could hurt the government and raise a lot of questions if it ever came out that Katniss or Peeta were ever spotted spending time with someone else. Though, you are certain that there are plenty of people that will still try to spend a night with either of them or even both of them once they have turned eighteen. You just hope that the government is overthrown before that can happen. Thankfully, on this trip, you’re not expected to see anyone until the event. So you don’t have to worry about hearing creepy rich guys complain about how they can’t be the ones to deflower the girl on fire. You know exactly where you’ll be spending your night. 

“I think I know who I’m bidding on,” Wanda whispered in your ear from behind you. Her warm breath tickled your skin and warmed your heart as you closed your eyes to bask in the feeling for a moment. 

“Now, now, Ms. Maximoff,” you say as you step back and turn around to get a look at her. Most women in the Capitol opted for frilly dresses, something to accentuate their womanly curves, or hide the lack of them under layers and layers of thick fabric with outlandish designs. Wanda, however, succeeded in showing off her attributes in a simple yet stylish red and black suit with a black turtle neck. The black on her suit sat on the notch lapels of her coat. It looked as though there was a darkness from inside that was spilling out onto the solid blood red that made up the rest of her suit. She also wore a gold necklace with a gold coin on it. You’ve never seen this one before. You frown as you pick it up to observe it, she hasn’t bought jewelry for herself in years. She was usually gifted jewelry and it was never as simple as this. As you move it in the light, an image of the Mockingjay appears. “That’s quite a piece right there.” You look around and notice all of the memorabilia and cheap merchandise of that bird that decorated the event on both the walls, tables, and even the guests. 

“Like it?” Wanda asks as she leans in. “It’s one of a kind,” she winks. 

You smirk as you adjust the gold coin on her chest. “Very fitting for you, Ms. Maximoff.” You wink. There was a reason this Mockingjay was hidden in plain sight but you weren’t going to ask standing in a heavily monitored event. 

Wanda blushes, “You flatter me too much.” You’re about to ask where you could get something of your own when music announcing President Snow’s appearance cuts the conversation short. Every person that was inside of the mansion filtered out the back doors to give their full attention to the President as he addressed the attendees. You didn’t care too much for the speech when you noticed Finnick slipping away with the 75th Hunger Games head gamemaker, Plutarch Heavnsbee. You narrowed your eyes as you finished the rest of your mocktail. Wishing that you could’ve had alcohol inside. 

That night, you didn’t follow them. You didn’t ask questions. You simply made polite conversation with the guests of honor as well as the other guests while making a mental note of everyone of your fellow victors that you’ve noticed disappear throughout the event. The absence that worried you the most was Wanda’s. You were certain she would have taken you home with her. Luckily, when you went to find out who did win the bidding war for your company, you were relieved to be informed that Ms. Maximoff was waiting for you at her home. 

You didn’t ask Wanda where she disappeared off to when she finally slipped through the shadows and joined you in the bed. You kept your thoughts to yourself in the morning as you committed the details of being with her to your memory. Every freckle and beauty mark that was spread about on her body. Every kiss she placed on yours. Every taste. Every caress. The way her enchanting green eyes made you dream of a brighter future as you gazed into them. You memorized the way her breath changed as she got closer and closer to her climax. Her light giggles when you made a joke and kissed behind her ear. This wasn’t a meeting that you needed to numb yourself from. You wanted to be here between her warm silk sheets, memorizing the way she fit perfectly in your arms as she sat between your legs. Locking all of it away in a place close to your heart for you to use the next time you have to be with someone else. 

“Wanda I,” you sighed where you sat at the edge of her bed as you got ready to leave her. She crawled up to you and wrapped her body around you as she hushed you.

“Don’t say it,” she whispered against your ear as she kissed your neck. “I know.” You nodded and melted in her embrace for a moment before you finished getting ready. Her time was almost up and the Peacekeepers were very punctual. 

It was noon when you kissed her goodbye just as a Peacekeeper knocked lightly on the door to escort you to the vehicle that is going to deliver you to the train you’ll take home. You hated when Peacekeepers picked you up in the Capitol. They were so polite it made you sick. It was unfair. They were meant to keep the peace but often they could be the opposite in the districts. According to your father, that’s how you lost your mother. She was bartering with a Peacekeeper that was trying to lowball her. She refused and that made the officer unhappy. He had every Peacekeeper in Four keep a close eye on her and when she eventually slipped up, they had her executed. Your father never mentioned what she did that cost her life and you never asked. 

But when you return to District 4, you end your streak of not asking questions and you pull Finnick aside to ask him what the hell is going on.

The Tribute The Mentor

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[sakakilovemylife]

hazel levesque and nicodemus di angelo. district one careers

late 2023 version

[hippie-headspace]

figuring out the logistics of the victory tour section of the story is so hard 😭

thank lord i’ve written up to chapter 10