#the hunger games fanfic request

[mscresta]

Tribute parade. //

Finnick x tribute reader.

Cw! anxiety, public crowds.

This is part 2! Read part one here: !!!!

It had been a day since you arrived in the Capitol, and they were already trying to show you off. Today was the tribute parade—second only to the Games themselves in terms of spectacle. It was the biggest event of the year, the first chance for sponsors to see the tributes up close and for the entire nation to start forming their favorites.

You sat in the dressing room, nerves twisting your stomach into knots. Finnick was leaning casually against the wall, trying to coach you through a few things, but you could barely focus on his words. All you could think about was your outfit.

“Relax,” Finnick said, giving you an amused glance. “You’ll look fine. Besides, no one’s going to be looking at the clothes. They’re going to be looking at you. That’s the point.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you muttered. You’d seen the parade broadcasts in past years—tributes dressed in ridiculous outfits meant to represent their districts, some of them so outlandish they looked more like jokes than competitors. The thought of being humiliated like that made your skin crawl.

Finnick stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet your eye level. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Your stylist isn’t going to make you look stupid. District 4 always delivers. Trust them. And more importantly, trust yourself.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “What if… what if they don’t like me? What if I mess this up?”

Finnick tilted his head, studying you. “You won’t,” he said simply. “But here’s the thing—this parade isn’t about getting them to like you. It’s about making them remember you. Be bold. Be confident. Even if you have to fake it, act like you’re the best thing to come out of District 4 since fishing nets.”

You snorted despite yourself, and Finnick grinned. “See? There’s the attitude we need.”

Before you could respond, the door opened, and your stylist walked in, a wide smile plastered across her face. She was a Capitol native, her hair dyed a shimmering seafoam green to match District 4’s aquatic theme. “Ready to make waves?” she asked, clapping her hands together.

You swallowed hard and nodded, though you didn’t feel ready at all.

The outfit, to your relief, wasn’t as ridiculous as you feared. Your stylist had gone for elegance, dressing you in a flowing, iridescent fabric that shimmered like the surface of the ocean. It hugged your frame in all the right places, giving you an otherworldly, almost ethereal look. Small details, like coral accents and a delicate netting draped over your shoulders, tied the whole ensemble together.

“You look stunning,” the stylist said, stepping back to admire her work. “Trust me, the Capitol is going to eat this up.”

Finnick whistled low as you turned to face him. “See? Told you. No one’s laughing now.”

You couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the mirror again. For the first time, you felt… powerful. The outfit didn’t make you feel like a spectacle—it made you feel like you belonged here, like you could hold your own against the others.

“Now,” Finnick said, pushing off the wall and straightening his jacket, “it’s showtime. Walk tall, keep your head high, and don’t let them see a single ounce of fear. They love confidence. You give them that, and you’re already winning.”

The sound of cheers echoed through the halls as the tributes before you began their procession. The reality of what you were about to do hit you all over again, and your palms started to sweat.

Finnick leaned in close, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’ve got this. Remember, they don’t own you. Not yet.”

You nodded, gripping the edge of your chariot for support as the doors opened, and the bright Capitol lights flooded in The doors slid open, and the roar of the Capitol crowd hit you like a tidal wave. The sound was deafening, a chaotic mix of cheers, gasps, and applause. The light was blinding, reflecting off the sleek metal of the chariots lined up in front of you. You clenched your hands tighter around the edge of the chariot as it began to roll forward, the movement smooth but somehow unsteady beneath your feet.

Finnick had been right. Your outfit shimmered under the bright lights, catching the eyes of the spectators. Heads turned, and you could hear the excited murmurs ripple through the crowd. You forced yourself to stand tall, lifting your chin as the chariot carried you closer to the heart of the parade route.

Your district partner stood beside you, decked out in an outfit that mirrored yours, though his had a more rugged, commanding look. He nodded at you, a silent gesture of solidarity, but neither of you spoke. Words weren’t necessary—not here, not now. All that mattered was the image you projected.

The Capitol citizens leaned over the railings, waving and throwing flowers as your chariot passed. Their faces were painted with garish colors, their hair styled in ways that seemed impossible. Their expressions were a mix of awe and delight, as though you were some kind of rare, exotic creature. It was unsettling, but Finnick’s advice echoed in your mind: walk tall, keep your head high, and don’t let them see a single ounce of fear.

You glanced up at the massive screens that lined the route, catching sight of yourself for the first time. The cameras zoomed in on your face, capturing every detail—the determined set of your jaw, the glint of your outfit, the way the lights seemed to reflect in your eyes. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself. You didn’t look scared. You looked… strong.

As the chariots approached the grand balcony where the Capitol’s leaders stood, the energy of the crowd seemed to reach its peak. President Snow was there, his cold, calculating smile fixed in place as he watched the tributes with an air of detached authority. His gaze swept over the procession, and for a brief moment, it felt as though his eyes locked onto yours.

A chill ran down your spine, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you raised a hand and waved to the crowd, just as Finnick had instructed. The response was immediate—a surge of cheers and applause so loud it made your chest vibrate. You caught Finnick’s smirk from the sidelines as you passed by, his expression one of approval.

The parade continued for what felt like an eternity, but you held your composure, forcing yourself to stay present. By the time the chariots came to a stop at the Capitol’s central square, your legs felt like jelly, and your hands were trembling from holding on so tightly.

As the anthem of Panem played and the tributes were officially introduced, you let yourself steal one last glance at the crowd. This was the Capitol—the place that would either make or break you. And for the first time, you felt a flicker of something unexpected. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close. You could do this. You had to.

When it was finally over, Finnick was waiting for you backstage, his arms crossed and a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Not bad,” he said as you stepped off the chariot, your legs still unsteady. “Told you they’d love you.”

You didn’t reply, too drained to form words, but the look you gave him said enough. You hadn’t just survived the parade—you’d owned it. For now, that was enough..

Likes and repost are very appreciated!

If anyone wants a part 3 let me know!!!

[euphemiaamillais]

cry, kill, die - coriolanus snow

peacekeeper!coryo finds out you’re commander hoff’s daughter

based on this ask

cw: 18+//piv sex//fingering//spitting//mentions of guns

‘and what are you doing here?’ a rich voice rings out.

you snap your head around, coming face to face with one of the many peacekeepers who serve under your father. this one is more handsome than the others—icy blue eyes, and platinum blonde cropped hair. a smile quirks upon the corners of your lips.

‘is that any of your business?’ you inquire, knowing that you can test the patience of the peacekeepers, because who would dare to cross the commander’s daughter?

‘what, are you visiting your sweetheart, bunny?’ he teases, though there’s a rather stern look in his eyes.

you laugh in response, and attempt to continue on your way—you’ve got a meeting with your father, after all. however, you are stopped by a hand coming down to circle around your wrist. his grip is tight, and disgruntled, you turn back to face him.

‘come on, you don’t have to be so shy. there’s lots of girls like you here. little bunnies who like to spread their favours far and wide.’ he raises a brow suggestively. you can hardly believe he has the audacity.

you don’t know whether you should tell him who you are, or if you should just leave it. he’s not loosened his grip on you. you’re not sure how to answer it either.

‘are you accusing me of being a whore, private?’ you feign a shocked look. he laughs, running his hand up your arm. his touch is cold, like ice, and you shiver a little.

‘perhaps…’ a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. ‘maybe it’s the fact that you’re looking at me like that, just begging to be fucked.’

‘oh, really?’ you rebut—he’s so forward, like most of them are, but you’d never think they’d dare to actually touch you. not more than a few stray kisses at least.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl, and come back to my bunk?’ he says, a tone of dominance in his voice. his fingers are striking his rifle, which catches your eye.

‘perhaps…’ you purse your lips. you don’t know what would happen if your father found you getting too friendly with one of his men, and you didn’t exactly want to find out. but this one was so handsome… you liked how daring he was.

‘perhaps? come now, bunny. that’s not a very good answer, is it?’ he steps closer to you, his gun pressing against your bare thighs.

you shake your head, glancing up at him with wide eyes. he’s so tall, dwarfing you—it makes him all the more commanding. he moves to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

‘you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your ear, and you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks.

‘well, only if you can please me, private,’ you murmur, causing a flash of anger in his eyes. nobody dared to challenge his abilities in bed.

he would prove that to you, bend you over like the little whore you are, fuck you stupid until you couldn’t even cry out your own name. he did that often enough to the other bunnies that hopped around the barracks, hoping for a good time. he was very well practised now, not like the silly little schoolboy that he was back in the capitol with his golden curls and academy rouge.

‘if?’ he laughs, snaking one hand around to grab your ass. ‘not if, sweetheart. when.’

god, he was so full of himself.

deciding that he didn’t want to waste anymore time fooling around, he pulls you by the arm and began to lead you along the dirt track to the barracks. you glance around, watching as the uniformed peacekeepers march their way to large trucks or to training. it’s an all-too familiar site, ever since your father was stationed to 12. you’d have to be careful with this one, though. he was too handsome to be transferred to another district if you were caught.

the barracks are empty when you enter, and he doesn’t take his time with you, shoving you against the wall. he shoves one leg between your thighs, pinning you so you can’t run free. you feel your heart leap with excitement.

he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips—which you return eagerly. you slip your tongue inside his mouth, and move your hands to wrap around his neck. you’re desperate; you can’t help but ache for him, core wet and slick with want.

he moves his lips from your own, and trails hot kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping the delicate skin as he does so. you gasp out, clutching at the nape of his neck, urging him to bite harder. you’ll have to wear a scarf to hide these from your father.

‘so sweet, bunny,’ he mutters into your collarbones.

your hands roam to his ass, pulling him flush against you. you can feel his hard-on pressing against your thighs. you want him so bad, to take you and fuck you like the whore you are—cock filling out your tight cunt.

‘please,’ you whine, wanton and needy. ‘need you to fill me up.’

so direct, he thinks, a grin playing upon his lips. you look so pretty, pressed between his leg, hands grasping at his ass. what a fucking whore, begging him for it. he’s hardly even touched you and you’re already whining for him.

‘soon, bunny.’ he peppers a few kisses against your jaw, hands gripping at your hips.

you let out a mewl, fed up that he’s teasing you so much—he’s not even had the decency to stick his hand between your thighs. aggrieved, you grind down against his thigh, your soaked panties leaving a mark on his perfectly ironed uniform. that would be cause for some explaining to the laundress.

‘oh no,’ he puckers his lips. ‘don’t think you can get away with that… being so impatient.’

you scowl as he moves his thigh away, letting your legs fall to the ground. you stumble a little, trying to find your balance, but he’s quick to tug you along to one of the empty bunks. you wonder what your father would do, finding you in here with him—the peacekeeper who’s name you don’t even know—the thought of being caught makes it all the more thrilling.

he shoves you against the side of the bed, and rucks up your skirt to reveal your soaking panties. he laughs, looking at your pathetic face, trembling lips and wide, dumbfound eyes.

‘so fucking desperate,’ he remarks, kneeling and placing his hands against your thighs. ‘just another one of the little bunnies who likes to get fucked senseless.’

you shake your head, feeling his cold hands creep up your thighs. they latch around the waistband of your panties and tug them down.

‘god, look how wet you are,’ he scoffs, tossing the panties aside.

he slides one finger inside your cunt, and you let out a groan, hands clenching against the woollen sheets. a little daring, he slips another finger in, arching it as far as it can go. it feels so good, and he thrusts them in and out of your wet hole at a teasingly slow pace. goddamn him.

‘need you,’ you pant. ‘in me. please…’

you pout, hoping he’ll take pity on you. he slides his fingers out, gripping your thighs hard. more bruises. you’ll have a lot of explaining to do to your father.

‘does bunny want me to fill up her tight little cunt?’ he asks, fingers pinching at your skin.

‘yes please,’ you sigh, clutching at his shirt.

you attempt to pull him up, coax him to you. you wonder when he’ll figure it out… that he’s seen you before, standing beside your father in a pale pink dress, watching as the peacekeepers eye you. commander hoff’s daughter is supposed to be off limits. he’d shoot any of them on site if he caught them so much as ogle your pretty form making its way through the barracks.

he hangs over you now, elbows propping himself up as he grinds his crotch into the bed. your hands roam down to his waistband, and you stick your hand inside, palming his hard cock. he lets out a heavy groan, and you feel the precum coating his cock.

‘gonna fuck you so good,’ he grunts, hands going to unbutton his pants.

his cock is throbbing when you take it in your hand, guiding it to your entrance. he’s not the first you’ve been with—not that your father knows that—but he’s certainly the biggest. you sigh pleasantly as he slides himself in, not taking any time to ease into your cunt.

he begins to thrust, feeling your tight walls stretch around him, taking him all in. you reach one hand down to rub at your clit, which is aching with need. he slaps your hand away, seeing you touching yourself—it’s an insult to his abilities—and uses his thumb to rub soft circles on the sensitive nub.

‘harder,’ you plead, grabbing his ass and pushing him in; feeling the tip of his cock poking against your cervix.

‘what a dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?’ he coos, upping his pace. ‘begging me to fuck you like a little whore.’

you let out a groan as you feel him begin to pound you, each thrust increasing the pace. his fingers still rub deftly at your clit, which throbs with pleasure. you do have to admit; he is so good.

‘mhm…’ you sigh, head lolling back as he fucks you. ‘my father will kill you if he finds out.’

you decide to tell him—it’s too late for him to back out now, what, buried deep inside your cunt. he’s too struck by pleasure to think straight, at first, and so his answer is to merely laugh.

‘yeah? who’s he? don’t think he can tell a peacekeeper what to do,’ he grunts, cock pulsing with pleasure. god, you feel so good.

‘oh…’ a slight giggle escapes your lips, and you run your hand over his lower back. ‘you don’t know?’

he rears his head up, perplexed, brows furrowed. he’s still rutting into you, and you can see the shiny sweat beading on his forehead, his blue eyes glistening with confusion.

‘hm, bunny?’ he inquires.

‘well…’ an impish grin scampers across your lips. you trace circles in his skin. ‘you were wondering why i was here…’

he comes to a halt, causing you to frown. the expression on his face is one of pained loss of pleasure—having to cease his thrusts to clear his mind—and also slight fear, not that he’d never admit it. no, you couldn’t be. but he can see it, the eyes, the curve of your nose. you’re hoff’s daughter. of course. the one with the overly-friendly smile, who liked to wear her skirts too short as she waltzed past the peacekeepers.

‘oh bunny,’ he clucks his tongue in a scolding manner. ‘what would your father do if he knew you were begging for my cock like a little whore?’

your cheeks burn red, and he begins to thrust again. somehow, this has made him want you all the more. to have him see you being ruined by one of his own men—that would remind him that private snow was capitol. not just some pathetic district runt like the rest of the peacekeepers.

he pulls your legs up around his shoulders, adjusting the angle of his cock, and fucks into you like a common whore. you gasp at the feeling of his cock hitting the right spot—and you feel waves of pleasure coursing through your body, cunt throbbing and clenching around his big cock.

‘such a fucking slut, huh?’ he groans, feeling himself close to his peak. ‘taking peacekeeper cock while your daddy sits in his office just out there.’

you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders while he pounds you. you look like a such a whore, tits bouncing, cunt so fucking wet for him. how fucking pathetic. who would’ve thought commander hoff’s daughter took cock so well?

‘mhm!’ you gasp, slickness gushing from your cunt. nobody’s ever made you finish just by using their cock.

‘so good,’ he grunts, thrusts growing haggard as he nears his end.

your body is humming with adrenaline, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through your veins. he moves one hand up to your cheek, coaxing your mouth open. you oblige, and as he gives a fucked-out thrust into your cunt, spits into you mouth.

‘swallow,’ he manages to murmur out as he spills into you.

your cunt is filled with hot, sticky spurts of cum as he finishes, and you obediently swallow his spit. it makes your cunt throb with excess desire, and you have to bite your lip to stop another moan from spilling out.

‘fuck… so good,’ he groans as he slips out of you, his hot load dripping down your thighs.

he tucks himself back into his trousers, and goes to sit down beside you. you’re splayed out, cunt exposed and dripping from his load. you look so pretty, completely fucked dumb, eyes wide with the excess of your want.

‘what’s your father going to say about this?’ he laughs, rubbing his hand against your aching cunt. your body tenses up from the overstimulation.

‘he’d probably have you shot,’ you muster out, propping yourself up on your elbows.

he laughs, a rich sound escaping his mouth. you reach to grab your panties, which are bundled up on the sheets, still wet. he reaches out and stops your hand with his own, taking the panties from you. you pout, and try to reach for them back.

‘oh, i don’t think so,’ he remarks cruelly, tucking them in his back pocket. ‘something to remember you by.’

he presses a kiss against your cheek—you can’t help but blush even though your heart pounds at the thought of having to walk back to your house with no underwear.

‘please…’ you plead, bottom lip trembling. ‘i can’t walk home like this… my skirt…’

he shakes his head and chuckles, looking at you like you’re his. you shove your skirt down, ashamed to be laying like this.

‘i don’t think whores get much of a say in things,’ he cajoles, eyes glistening a little manically.

he delights in the thought of you being humiliated, having to pretend like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by a peacekeeper. he wonders what would happen if the wind decided to blow the wrong way…

‘i’ll tell my father about this!’ you threaten, but he only laughs again and throws his hands up in defence.

‘and let him know that you were so desperate that you let a peacekeeper fuck you?’ he scoffs. ‘i don’t think so, bunny.’

you feel your heart splintering a little—but two could play at that game, you supposed. you weren’t going to let him snap you up in his net.

‘you can come get them back next time,’ he grins.

your brows quirk up. you hadn’t intended on this happening again… but he was so handsome. and his cock was… well, huge. you did have to admit he was good. very good.

‘next time?’ your mouth rounds into a look of surprise.

‘oh yes, next time.’

[ilguna]

Hey! Can I get the number 89 (in honour of 1989 tv) with finnick ?

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, death, gore for sure, blood, weapon usage, mention of prostitution.

wc; 8.6k

prompt; 86. "Do you trust her?" // "No, but I trust her anger."

notes; i already did 89 for Peeta (castaway) and i'm trying not to do any repeats, so we're going with 86 :)

part two, part three.

--

The golden Cornucopia sits abandoned in the middle of this black sand island, whereas normally it’s occupied by the Careers to ensure that no intruders steal from them. There must not be anything worth protecting in here, then, besides the weapons that are displayed.

This allows the group to spread out, picking places to rest in the shade. Peeta lowers Beetee to the ground, propping him up against a box. He backs off, going to stand next to Katniss.

Beetee calls out to Wiress, making her go over to him. She crouches down, hands on her knees, waiting. In her limited state of mind, you’re fairly surprised that she’s still comprehending people, much less requests. He holds up his coil of wire, she takes it. “Clean it, will you?” 

Wiress nods, wordlessly getting to her feet and going to sit on the edge of the island to clean the spool of blood. She dunks it in the water, occasionally using her fingers to rub a particularly hard spot. While she does this, she begins to sing, no longer repeating the words ‘tick tock’.

It must be some sort of nursery rhyme from District Three, because you don’t recognize it. It’s about a mouse running up and down a clock, which is fairly appropriate, given the recent discovery, thanks to her.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna says, rolling her brown eyes. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

Wiress stops suddenly, getting to her feet, posture rigid as she points to the jungle and says, “Two.”

The rest of you watch as a white wave of fog begins to seep onto the beach. From here, it doesn't seem so threatening. You probably wouldn’t think twice about it, if you hadn’t run for your life from it early this morning. While it melted your jumpsuit and poisoned your skin, causing you to strip to your under clothes and for your body to be covered in scabs from where it touched you.

You’d rather fight the orange monkey muttations a hundred times than risk doing that again.

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“LIke clockwork.” Peeta agrees. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

Wiress smiles, and then kneels in the sand to continue singing and dunking the coil in water. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says from beside you. Your eyes slide over to him. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” She says.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna scoffs.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss ends that line of conversation, turning to go inside of the Cornucopia.

Johanna goes in after her to poke around in the weapons, since she’s been empty handed the entire time. Funny how Beetee was able to make it to the Cornucopia before she did, even if it ended up getting him hurt because of it.

You briefly glance at Finnick from where you were watching Johanna, and you have to do a double-take when you realize that he’s staring at you. He looks you over, up and down, which would be flattering, if you didn’t know that he was assessing your demeanor, deciding if you were a threat.

You squint at him, face twisting. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tells you.

“It’s not nothing if you’re looking at me like that.” You snap. “Leave me alone.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything back. You’re getting tired of him thinking that you’re going to betray the alliance. You’re in this as much as he is, you volunteered to be here. If anything, he should be a little grateful that he got a district partner that’s invested and capable.

He doesn’t see it that way, though. He thinks that you’re just as bad as Enobaria and Brutus—that you’re itching to get back into an arena to kill for some spotlight. And you know this, because he told you himself on the train. Once you were out of sight of the cameras, he tried to lay you out in front of Mags and the escort, and you shut him down.

You know he disagrees with the way you choose to handle situations, but to think that you would get in the way of a rebellion was a slap to the face. You made sure he knew that later on, when you were out of earshot of the Peacekeepers. If he wanted to think of you so lowly, fine. The line is drawn when he begins to implant those ideas in other people’s heads, too. Especially since you’ve done nothing to deserve it.

It didn’t matter to him. In fact, he tried to block you from being invited into the alliance by telling Haymitch that you could fuck the whole plan if your mood changes. He said all it would take is one disagreement, one thing not going the way you wanted, one wrong look, and you’d make sure that everyone else would be brought down by it.

Thankfully, Haymitch knows better than to just take Finnick’s word for it. He might be a drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention for the past ten years. He knows that you and Finnick have a history of not getting along. If anything, you’ll sabotage Finnick more than you will the alliance as a whole.

Which is why he told you that you have a place in it, if you want. And while everyone else places stepping stones to make sure that the plan to get rescued is in place. You were told that you have two jobs; the first one being protecting Katniss and Peeta, a task that you were already prepared to risk your life for. As for the second one—if anything were to go wrong, if someone unexpected were to get killed, you’ll replace their shoes, and get Katniss and Peeta to the end of the day at all costs.

This is why you’ve been on edge. If Finnick would see past his hatred for you, and thought about it, he’d realize that you’re trying to make sure that Katniss and Peeta are in good positions. You are not the threat here.

Johanna lets out a grunt, you turn your head in time to watch as she throws an axe through the air, straight at the Cornucopia. It hits the sun-softened gold with a gentle thud, and it sticks. She crosses the area, pulling it out by the handle, making a face at the blade.

Katniss is digging through the weapons, probably looking for more arrows to add to her collection, because two sheaths aren’t enough. When she finds one, she swings it over her back and comes out to stand over Peeta, who’s drawing a map of the arena onto a large leaf that he brought from the jungle. He slices the circle, creating twelve equal wedges.

“Look how the Cornucopia is positioned.” He says, looking up at her.

Her eyebrows draw in, and she turns around to take a look at the building she just came out of. “The tail points to twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, numbering the wedges one through twelve. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He proceeds to write lightning in the wedge, and then goes clockwise, adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the next sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” She says, he writes it down. 

Finnick comes over with Johanna, the two of them have upped the weapon count on their bodies. And he thinks you’re the dangerous one, as if you don’t have a sword and a couple knives on you. Does he really need two tridents and half a dozen knives? It makes him look…

Hot, a voice whispers from the depth of your mind, It makes him look hot.

He’s standing in a patch of sun, where the Cornucopia doesn’t quite reach. The sunbeams baking his already tanned skin. His eyes are a brighter shade of sea green, with the light being in his eyes. He looks like he belongs at the bottom of the ocean, commanding the creatures that dwell in it.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he flickers over to yours. You stare for a second longer, before blinking and looking away, back at the map that’s being drawn. 

It’s a shame that Finnick decided years back that he would rather keep you at a distance instead of making a friend out of you. The two of you are so similar that it hurts at times, but all he can see are the differences, which hurts more.

The both of you won at young ages, with him setting the record, while you won at fifteen. He had an advantage in his Games, though, because the sponsors were drawn in by his good looks for being someone so young. This meant that he had everything he could have ever asked for gifted to him in the arena.

On the other hand, you didn’t make much of an impression during your reaping or the Tribute Parade, forcing you to change the strategy that you’d been given by Finnick and Mags. They wanted you to keep your head down, but if you wanted even a sliver of a chance, you needed to make your name big.

So, that’s exactly what you did. And that’s where the resentment he has for you, started. You showed off absolutely all your skills in the Training Center, making sure the Gamemakers knew you had potential, getting you a score of nine. During your interviews, you told Caesar that there wasn’t a single hurdle you wouldn’t jump to get home.

That statement was put to the test in the arena, when you killed several tributes, including your own district partner, because you knew it put you one step closer to getting out. You didn’t care what bridges you had to burn, how many sponsors you had to lose, or if you lost the support of your mentors. Nothing could stop you, and it didn’t.

Finnick hates that you had no remorse when you got out of the arena. Or now, because you told him that this is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, because between life and death, you choose life. He can’t wrap his head around the fact you’re so cold. How could the two of you be from the same district?

The similarities came back into play when you turned sixteen, when the Capitol realized that they do care about you. Which changed your title from victor to Capitol darling. You were told to join Finnick and be a prostitute, or President Snow would kill your family. 

This is where you screwed up, believing him to be bluffing. You didn’t think he would actually do it, but he’s a man of his word. When you were done listening to the screams and pleas of your parents to spare your siblings, Snow told you that if you didn’t agree, Finnick’s family would be next.

You had no choice, you had to agree. And when Finnick found out that you landed right where he was, there wasn’t a single shred of empathy he had toward you. Not even after you returned to District Four, and he learned that your family had been murdered in your home. The one you’d be forced to stay in for an additional two weeks while they got your victor house ready.

If you weren’t indifferent to his existence before, you sure as hell were then.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks Johanna and Beetee, referring to the wedges. 

“Only blood.” Johanna says, Beetee nods.

“I guess they could hold anything.” Katniss looks down at Peeta.

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Wiress, since she’s gone quiet. Your eyes find Gloss, water dripping from his bare skin, knife sliding across the skin on her throat. It’s too late to save her, you know this when the blood begins to come down her neck like a waterfall.

The knife on your belt is in your hand and flying through the air in the matter of seconds. It’s headed right for Gloss, and when the blade lodges in the center of his forehead, it throws him back. This kills him instantly.

A movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head, hand reaching for the knife that’s lined up next, but Johanna’s on it. She buries her axe in the center of Cashmere’s chest, eliminating her.

Three cannons blast, back to back.

Finnick swings his trident upward, deflecting a spear that had been aiming for Peeta, thrown by Brutus. Finnick goes to twist his body to take the knife that Enobaria throws at Beetee, but he misses by an inch. It’s too late for you to save Beetee, as the knife shatters the lens on the right side, and the blade buries itself in his eye socket.

Fuck.

Another cannon blasts.

You shove Finnick out of the way to chase after Enobaria and Brutus, who are making their escape around the backside of the Cornucopia. They’ve successfully killed two of your most important allies, and they don’t even realize it.

The two Careers are running down one of the sand strips to the beach. You manage to throw one more knife at Brutus before he’s out of range. It slams into his right calf, taking him down. He lands on his hands and knees, which is exactly what you were hoping for.

Right as you’re about to step onto the strip, the ground beneath you jerks, throwing you down. The center island of the Cornucopia begins to spin, fast. You press your sword between your body and the ground, digging your fingers into the grooves to hold on. 

It’s only thirty seconds later when it slams to a stop without warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking measured breaths to calm the growing annoyance in your chest. The Gamemakers knew you would kill Brutus, and later Enobaria, if you caught up with her. That’s why they had to intervene, otherwise the fun of the Games would be gone.

You slam your fist against the rock, pushing yourself to your knees. You lean back on your heels slightly, face to the sun while you collect yourself. With Wiress and Beetee being gone, this is a very large hiccup that you’re going to have to smooth out. You jinxed yourself, didn’t you?

A sigh leaves you as you get to your feet, swinging the sword into your hand. As you round the corner, you can see that everyone else is upright. Finnick looks over at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for good news, because you were the closest to the Two tributes.

“Brutus is injured. I would’ve had him if the fuckin’ Gamemakers had minded their own business.” You stab the tip of the sword into a patch of sand.

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks, looking around the group.

“He’s dead.” You tell her.

She meets your eyes, “What happened?”

“I—” Finnick starts.

“I didn’t block the knife in time.” You talk over him. “Enobaria’s got a strong arm, it went right through his glasses.”

You can see Finnick staring at you from the corner of your eye. You lick your lips, tasting the salt of the water, before pressing them together. When you look at him, the two of you stare for a long second.

You, Johanna and Finnick know what this means. If just one of the Three tributes had been killed, you could’ve used the other. With both of them being gone, it means that someone needs to pick up their job, and you were the one that was elected to do just that.

“What now?” Finnick asks you.

You tilt your head, eyes going out to the water, finding two of the four bodies. It’s got to be Wiress and Gloss, because they’d been right next to each other when they died. You lean your sword up against the Cornucopia before wandering forward, to the edge of the island.

Wiress is floating on her back, on her stomach sits the spool of wire, golden and shining in the sunlight. You begin to head down the sand strip closest to her body. “I want the wire.”

“What for?” Johanna asks, “That was his weapon, not yours.”

You look over your shoulder. “It has to be now, doesn’t it?”

Johanna makes a face, but it’s not one of doubt. She knows that you’re right, that’s why she won’t bother to argue. Not that she would, anyway. You and Johanna get along, basically two peas in the same pod. She just likes Finnick more, because he puts up with her bullshit.

You jog as close as you can get to Wiress’s body, before diving in the warm water. It’s a nice break from the sun, even if it is for a minute. It doesn’t take long to get to her body, prying the coil from her fingers. You’re about to swim away, when you hesitate, closing her eyes.

Finnick is waiting for you on the strip when you get back to it. You place the wire on the rock, and he reaches down to help you up. Your face twists, but you take his hand, letting him help. The moment you’re on both feet, he pulls you close, a rough hand on your shoulder as he pulls you close to speak in your ear.

“If you can’t do this, you need to tell me. I’ll figure something else out.” Finnick harshly whispers.

You jerk back, squinting at him. “Worry about yourself.” 

As you stoop to grab the wire, Finnick shakes his head. “I mean it, (Y/n).”

“And so do I.” You tell him, lowering your voice. “There’s a reason why Haymitch trusted me with this, and not you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “We’re back to this, huh?”

You scoff loudly. “You’re the one that’s upset by it, Finnick. So, here’s a fucking suggestion: deal with it.” You shake your head. “You’re so worried that I’m going to betray the alliance, that’s you’re forgetting that this is what I do.” You motion to the jungle with your free hand. “Enobaria and Brutus can run all they want, but we both know they’re going to have to come out eventually if they plan on finishing us off. And when they do, they’re going to get it.

“Not from you, not from Johanna, from me.” You seethe, moving around Finnick to head back up to the Cornucopia. You throw your hands up, one of them still holding the wire. “Face it, Finnick, I’ve got this handled.”

You turn around, finding that your three other allies have their eyes on you. You ignore them, watching where you place your feet. On the island, you retrieve your sword, dropping the wire onto a box. Finnick is a few feet behind you, wearing a hard expression.

You hate it when you have to talk to him like that, but you can’t do it any other way if you want him to listen to you. It’s like he doesn’t care unless you’re being hostile, except that tone of voice has him on edge, afraid that you’re going to flip a switch.

There is no happy medium. It’s like he’s dead-set on thinking that you’re an unlikable person. You wouldn’t have minded having an actual conversation between you, Finnick and Johanna to figure out a plan together. It’s his fault that he decided to take the situation into his own hands by assuming that you wouldn’t have the ability to fill Beetee’s shoes.

It makes you mad, so now you’re going to take care of it by yourself. As much as he wants you to ask for help, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you don’t need him. Or the others, for that matter.

“Let’s get off this stinking island.” Johanna says once Finnick has joined the group.

You dig through the weapons in the Cornucopia, looking for a pair of knives that aren’t too short. The only ones that are available are displayed on the wall in the very back. They’re slightly curved, not too heavy. They’ll work just fine.

You watch as Peeta, Finnick and Johanna start in three different directions.

You stand next to Katniss, watching this. When they realize that no one is following them, they stop.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him. “Any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

You tuck the knives in your belt, as you circle the Cornucopia with them to try and find the path that’ll lead to the twelve beach. Only, the jungle is perfectly replicated in every section, down to the last tree. Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s path, but it’s been washed away.

Katniss stops. “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“For now.” You murmur. “We still have the wave at ten to tell us, we’ll be back on track after that.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s growing impatient, wanting to move. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them decide which strip to take to the beach. Katniss and Peeta begin to lead the way. You grab the wire, motioning for Johanna and Finnick to go next, but they don’t budge. You roll your eyes and duck your head, putting a good distance between you and Peeta before you walk.

“What’s the plan?” Johanna’s voice sounds far, and she’s trying to be quiet, but there’s not enough going on for it to conceal her.

“She says she’ll handle it.” Finnick murmurs, you can’t tell if he’s mad or not.

“That’s it?” She asks, “It looked like she was yelling at you.”

“She did.” He says. “She told me to worry about myself, and she’ll handle Enobaria and Brutus.”

Johanna doesn’t speak right away. “Do you trust her?”

“No, but I trust her anger.” He tells her. “She’s right, this is what she does best.”

“So, you want to follow behind her?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Finnick shoots back.

“No.” Johanna sighs.

When you get to the jungle, they look inside of it, trying to figure out if there’s anything waiting inside or not. When you can’t see any immediate threats, they relax.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta says. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects. “I’ll at least watch your back.”

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up, yanking off a large leaf to hand to him. “(Y/n) can stay with us, while she figures out what to do with the wire.”

You drop it in the sand, along with your sword, as you sit down. Peeta crouches beside you, beginning to make his map, again. As you watch him draw the slices, your mind begins to wander. 

Katniss and Peeta are the Careers’ focus. They want to target the ones with the highest scores first, and then work their way down. If they take out a few of you in the process, then that’s great, but they’re afraid of what the Twelve tributes could’ve possibly done in order to get a perfect score.

It was a little odd for Gloss to go for Wiress, if this is the case. And Cashmere wasn’t able to kill anybody before she died. You guess she might have been going for Katniss, but Johanna was in between them, she wasn’t going to make it that far. That’s why Brutus tried to get Peeta with the spear, and maybe the knife was originally aimed for Peeta, not Beetee?

You just can’t wrap your head around their strategy of getting rid of the Three tributes. Were Enobaria and Brutus that worried about you guys coming up with a plan to use the explosives on the tribute platforms? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened in the Games, it’s just a stupid idea to do it in the water, when you have nothing to steady yourself on.

Either way, you need to figure out a way to draw them in. If there’s anything you know for sure, it’s that they’ll wait until dark to attack again, because they’ll have cover. It’s only the two of them now, which means they won’t attack the five of you all together, they’ll get overpowered in seconds. They’ll wait until you split up.

You play with the wire, twisting it between your fingers while you think.

If they send another twenty-four rolls from District Three tonight, you’ll have no choice but to go into the jungle for the lightning section, because that’s where they’ll be rescuing you out of the arena. You would just say that you should go up to the lightning tree and wait, except you won’t know what time it is until ten, like you said.

When the wave does it, you’ll have two hours to get to the tree. After that, Katniss and Peeta will have to get split up long enough to get the tracker out of their arms. That’ll be the perfect time to kill Enobaria and Brutus, too.

You just need a reason for them to split up. Johanna’s already agreed to getting it out of Katniss’s arm, which left Peeta for Finnick. You need some sort of placebo plan in the meantime, something for them to focus on to keep their minds off of the fact that the situation is going to be very, very suspicious.

“That’s it.” Peeta says, sitting back. “I don’t—”

A scream cuts through the still air, silencing him. You whip around to look back at the jungle, unsure of whether or not it belongs to Katniss. As you get to your feet, sword in your hand, you can hear another voice, shouting back. That one sounds like Katniss.

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks.

You get to your feet before he does, pulling the sword into your hand as you break through the jungle, swinging at any leaves in your way. “I think we chose the wrong section.”

“It’s supposed to be the monkey mutts right now, how can it be anything else?” Peeta asks.

Your face twists as you look over your shoulder, finding that Johanna’s eyes have rolled back as far as she can get them. “Because it’s the next hour?” She snarks.

Peeta doesn’t respond. For a moment, you’re genuinely concerned that the forcefield on the first day might have fried his brain a lot more than you thought. When you begin to think of all the decisions he’s made over these past couple of days, you relax. It’s not really out of his nature to say something stupid once in a while.

You’re about twenty yards into the jungle when you stop suddenly, sword at your side, eyes scanning the trees above. When Johanna and Peeta finally pause, you realize just how quiet it is out here.

Johanna takes a step or two forward, coming to stand next to you, looking up at the tree branches. She covers her eyes with one hand, squinting. “There’s no birds.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” You tell her, your normal voice feels too loud. “There’s not even insects.”

“What are you thinking?” She asks, looking at you.

“I feel like it’s too early to be the beast, because the sun was down further yesterday.” 

She nods. “A new hour.”

“That doesn’t explain why it’s so quiet.” Peeta says.

“Could be something in the trees.” You tell him, turning your body to face him. “That’s why I don’t want to go further in.”

“But Katniss and Finnick are in there.” Peeta shakes his head. “We have to.”

“Don’t you think they would’ve called for help by now?” You ask, “We heard Katniss say something, but then she stopped.”

“And they can’t be dead because there’s no cannon.” Johanna says after. “What if they’re hurt?”

You look further into the jungle. “It’s a bad idea.”

“We have to try.” Peeta says, starting toward the two of you.

You move in time to let him pass without running into your shoulder. He makes it an additional five yards before he walks smack into a wall, head bouncing off. A little smile fights its way onto your face, and then it vanishes when you realize that this is exactly what happened when he hit the forcefield.

He reaches out, going to touch it. You stride forward, grabbing the back of the neck of his undershirt, yanking him back. “Are you stupid?”

“Wait.” He swats your hand free. “Watch.”

You grab his wrist when he holds his hand out again, causing him to look at you with wide eyes. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Then do it yourself.” Peeta motions, you let go. “It would’ve blown me back if it was a forcefield. Besides, it’s too far down.”

You look at space in front of you, seemingly fine. The wall that he’d run into isn’t even visible. You take in a breath, holding it, before sticking your hand out in the direction of it.

The palm of your hand vibrates against it, you apply pressure, wondering if it’ll budge if you lean into it, but it doesn’t move. You look down at your sword, pressing your lips together. If this is a forcefield, this will most definitely kill you. Still, you swing the sword into the invisible wall, and you’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t explode into sparks upon contact.

“Well…” You trail off, beginning to walk around the wall, keeping one hand on it. No matter where you touch, or how far along you walk, the wall doesn’t stop. You make it into the next section of the jungle, and around the corner, and still feel it there. When you make it back to Johanna and Peeta, you shake your head. “Sealed.”

“They’re inside?” Peeta asks. “Do you think they can hear us?”

“I’m going to say no.” Johanna grunts, swinging her axe into the wall repeatedly. “If we can’t hear the birds,” Her voice is strained, “Then we can’t hear them.” She stops, tossing the axe aside, it lands next to a bush. She sighs, “I guess we’re going to wait out here.”

Peeta doesn’t like this idea, you can tell by the way his face screws up, but he knows you don’t have any other choice. 

“I’m going to grab the wire, then.” You tell her.

“Speaking of it, come up with anything yet?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Almost.” You say, walking away from her.

When you get to the beach and find the wire, you don’t go back into the jungle right away. You stand beneath a patch of shade, staring at the Cornucopia, and the trees beyond it, squinting.

From what you can tell, Enobaria and Brutus aren’t on the beach or in the treeline, which means that they’re in those trees, somewhere. They must be fairly far in, where they’re resting. They likely won’t come out again until they’ve been sponsored and their wounds are healing. And even then, they’ll make sure you’re not on the beach, first.

Or maybe they are able to see you, and you just can’t see them.

If you were in their shoes, you’d be watching your every move right now to figure out what you’re doing. And if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter what you do with this wire, they’ll already know the plan. Really, it would just be an excuse to split Katniss and Peeta.

So, that’s what it’ll be.

The wire could be used for a number of things, you could probably make a trap out of it. There’s enough of it for you to bring it to the tree and back down to the beach, twice. The question is what Beetee would have used it for.

You close your eyes, listening to the waves on the beach, trying to remember how Beetee won his Games. You were talking to Mags about it the other day, she was telling you that it’s been thirty years since he won. Back then, he wasn’t the strongest tribute either, he had to make something to electrocute the last remaining tributes.

He wouldn’t really be able to do that now. He had the sources—the lightning at midnight and the water at the center. In the condition he was in before he got killed, he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip up to the tree, back down to the water, and up again to be out of the way of the electricity. And the chances of the wire being cut by the Careers isn’t that low, even in your situation now.

You’d need someone at the base of the tree, and someone unspooling the wire down to the water…

Your eyes pop open, it takes them a second to adjust to the sudden light. You stare at the water. This is what Beetee was going to do, wasn’t it? The wire acts as a conductor. If you hook it up to the tree at the right time when it strikes, it’ll fry everything in the water.

But what you want is to kill the Careers, in a way. The sand would have to be wet too, or at least damp. Which… Which will be the exact case when the wave hits at ten, and it’ll be cooler out, so the water won’t evaporate as quickly. If you bury the spool in the sand, it should have the entire beach covered and the water.

“Bingo.” You say, grabbing the coil.

You join the others back inside of the jungle, finding Peeta on the floor, forehead pressed to the invisible wall. Johanna’s pacing back and forth, arms crossed over her chest. When you get closer, you’re able to see that Katniss and Finnick are on the other side, both of them with their hands over their ears.

When a twig snaps beneath your weight, Johanna looks over. She lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “What took you so long?”

“Came up with a plan.” You tell her, dropping the wire and your sword next to one of her axes. 

“What plan?” Peeta asks, unmoving.

“On how to kill the remaining Careers.” You wink at Johanna, but it’s not flirtatious.

You know she understands when the crease appears between her eyebrows, giving you a slight nod. “Care to enlighten us?”

“When they’re out, I will. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” You nod at the other two. “What’s going on in there?”

“I think it’s jabberjays.” Johanna says, pointing up at the trees behind the wall. “They’re fifty of them in the trees. Katniss tried killing them, of course it didn’t work.”

Your eyes land on Finnick, finding his muscles rigid. You crouch to get a better look at his face, there’s a streak of red from his nose, down his lips, and off his chin. “What happened to Finnick?”

“He ran face-first into the wall.” Peeta says. “It was a bloody nose.”

You hum, lowering yourself to the ground. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”

—

The wall suddenly breaks, Peeta falling forward. He catches himself on his hands, getting to his feet. He doesn’t even say anything, just scoops Katniss into his arms, and walks straight out of the jungle with her, leaving the arrows behind.

You sit up, looking over at Johanna to see that she’s staring at you. She tilts her head, “Do you want to try?”

You take in a breath, “I’ll let you know if it works.”

She nods, following after Katniss and Peeta, because someone needs to be watching over them. You get up, walking a few feet over to Finnick, before crouching down beside him. 

You lift a hand, hovering it over his back for a minute, and then change your mind, placing your elbows on your thighs to lean on them. He’s got his eyes closed, head down. He probably can’t even hear you. You don’t even know how he’ll react to being touched, much less by you.

You press your lips together, heart hurting at the sight of him. It’d be better if Johanna were here, she can talk to him. All you’ll do is upset him more. You grind your teeth, once again wishing that this wasn’t your relationship. As you go to stand up, the hands over his ears loosen, head beginning to lift.

He looks around in the jungle first, making sure the threat is gone. That’s when he notices you beside him, waiting. His eyes are watery, he swallows.

“Hey,” You murmur, “Are you okay?”

He stares at you, eyebrows drawing in.

You nod, “I’ll go get Johanna.”

Once again, you try to get to your feet, when he speaks, “Why?”

“Why… what?” You ask, pausing.

“Why would you get Johanna?” He asks.

You turn your head in the direction of the beach. Is he really going to make you say it? Does he want to see the pain it’ll cause you? Or does he think it’ll come out venomous?

When you look at him, you sigh, “Because I’m not really a comforting person to you, am I?”

He doesn’t answer your question, “Where are they?”

“They’re on the beach.” You tell him. “I figured out a plan that’ll work. I’ll tell you guys when you’re ready.”

“Do Johanna and Peeta know?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No.”

Neither of you move, staring at each other. And while you could stay here forever, you don’t allow yourself. You push on your knees, standing up. You offer your hand to him, but he moves it away, just like you figured he would.

He doesn’t say anything, walking past you to leave. You stare at the scene of dead birds in front of you, before you turn around, collecting yours and Johanna’s belongings, and going to join them on the beach. 

Katniss seems better, she’s talking to Peeta. Johanna is standing over them, she glances at Finnick when he passes by. She has to twist her body to see you standing in the treeline. You hand her the axe.

“It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” Peeta says.

“You really believe that?” Katniss asks.

“I really do.” 

“Do you believe it, Finnick?” 

“It could be true. I don’t know.” He says, looking up at Johanna, ignoring you entirely. “Could they do that? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

Johanna makes a face, looking at you for help. You play with the piece of wire you’d unraveled, “I’m sure Beetee would know.”

“Peeta’s right.” Johanna then says. “The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on her hands.” She deadpans. “Don’t want that, do they?” She scoffs, throwing her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She shakes her head, wandering around the beach to pick up shells. When she finds a good few, she stops next to Finnick, holding her hand out. “I’m getting water.” Finnick drops the spile into her hand, and she begins toward the jungle.

Katniss grabs her hand. “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” She says, shaking her hand free. You don’t miss the look she gives Finnick, and then you, as she disappears into the jungle. 

She comes back a couple minutes later with a shell of water, handing it over to Katniss first. She makes trips back and forth, letting each of you have some. She comes out one trip with a pile of arrows that she gives back to Katniss.

Finnick shakes his head, walking to the water. He stops a few feet in, and sits. You let the wire drop to the sand, tired of bringing it wherever you go. You don’t move from where you are, eyes fixated on his back.

“Who did they use against Finnick?” Peeta asks, curious.

Katniss is quiet. You’re expecting her to say Annie, because it makes the most sense, but when you look over, she’s eyeing you, and so is Peeta. 

“What?” You ask. “Was it Annie?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Katniss murmurs. “We thought we heard you.”

A loud laugh comes from you, unwarranted. The thought of Finnick caring about you enough for the Gamemakers to use you against him is funny. Really funny, actually. It must’ve been a walk in the park for him, listening to your pleas. A little gratifying, because he could pretend that you were getting what was coming for you.

But Katniss isn’t laughing, she’s serious. 

The humor leaves your smile, “It must’ve been his mother, that he was mistaken for me.”

“No, because we heard his mom, too. That first scream was yours.” She insists, “And he dropped everything to find you.”

“Finnick would never do that.” You tell her, voice cold. 

She doesn’t press it further, but the look in her eye is enough. She’s not lying to you, she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t gain anything from making something like that up.

You won’t believe it though. This is the same Finnick that told Johanna that he didn’t trust you, an hour and a half ago. There’s nothing that could’ve made him change his feelings in that time span.

Unless it didn’t.

Your eyes narrow at the back of Finnick’s head, hand tightening around your sword. 

A cannon blast keeps you from thinking about the subject any further, but the bubbling in your stomach is only getting hotter. Finnick gets up, coming to join you three, as well as Johanna, materializing out of the jungle. You stand together, watching a hovercraft appear over the next section, claw dipping in several times to retrieve all the pieces of one body. 

The beast.

This sparks Peeta to create another map, this time he’s able to fill in more than half of it. It starts with lightning, rain, and fog. It moves on to monkeys and jabberjays. He has to skip a section, and then writes beast. And the next one you have after six to seven is the wave at ten. This means you’re missing five of the other hours. 

The others begin to come back to life. Finnick begins to weave a water basket and a net to fish for dinner. While Katniss takes a swim and applies more ointment. By the time she’s done, Finnick has worked up a pile, so she sits on the edge of the water, cleaning them for him. 

It doesn’t take long for Katniss’s words to creep back into your mind, refusing to leave it be. Finnick cares about you, a thought that should have you excited, but it makes you uncomfortable. He has spent the last eight years making sure that you know that he hates you and couldn’t care less about what happens to you.

Yet here he is, supposedly dropping everything to save you. Possibly even leaving Katniss behind to do it. The Gamemakers must know something that you don’t, if they knew to use your voice. You want to assume that they thought Finnick was worried solely because you’re his district partner. Except, that doesn’t make sense either, because the two of you are notorious in the Capitol for being a pair of mentors that get into fights about how to handle things.

He has a lot of nerve.

The sun falls below the horizon, the moon rising to replace it in the sky. When they finish cleaning the fish, they bring it over, setting it in the middle of the circle for you to enjoy. The four of them begin to settle in the sand, you don’t move from where you stand.

The anthem begins to play, stopping them from digging in. The Capitol seal lights up the sky, and then it’s replaced by the faces. Cashmere, Gloss, Wiress, Beetee. The woman from Five, the morphling from Six, Blight, and the man from Ten. 

Eight tributes dead.

Strangely, this makes you think of your own Hunger Games. Where you managed to kill four people in the span of two hours, one of those being Rio, who was your district partner. By the end of the Games, you had eight kills under your belt. A third of the competition was taken out by you, a little fifteen year-old.

Once again, a factor that used to make Finnick sick. And now it doesn’t.

“They’re really burning through us.” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff.” Peeta says without missing a beat.

The sound of clinking fills the air, you look up to find a parachute coming down, teetering from side to side. It lands perfectly in the middle of the group, unfolding itself to reveal the steaming rolls.

“Do these look like District Three to you?” Finnick looks at Johanna.

“Yeah, look at the imprint.” She says, running her finger over the top of one. “How many are there?”

Finnick counts them, being sure to be thorough. “Twenty-four. How should we divide them?”

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, causing Katniss to laugh.

You pull your sword out of the sand, swinging it up to rest the flat part of the blade on your shoulder. Finnick looks up at you, eyeing your stance. You step away from them, shaking your head.

“Sit down, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you.

“Why, so you can keep an eye on me?” You snap, crossing the treeline. “Come and get me, Finnick.”

You make it a few feet in, before you hear the snapping of branches behind you. You sigh, turning with raised eyebrows to see that Finnick took it as a challenge. You didn’t mean it that way. You didn’t want him to chase you.

“Get out here.” He tells you.

You walk backward, tilting your head at him. “I’m just making sure Enobaria and Brutus aren’t out here.”

“I don’t care.” He’s still walking toward you. “We’ll worry about that when we make camp.”

You stop, letting your sword down from your shoulder. When you look past him, you can see that there’s enough distance between him and the beach. There’s privacy to talk and sort out what you heard.

Your eyes land on him, “Katniss told me something,” You start, watching his eyebrows twitch, “About how you thought I was the one screaming for help.”

Finnick shakes his head, “I thought it was my mom.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” You tell him, “But you said my name, and you dropped everything to go and get me.”

He sets his jaw, “So?”

“So,” The word is bitter, “What changed?”

He laughs, “Nothing, (Y/n). I went—”

“They used loved ones and family.” You cut him off. “You care about me, admit it.”

“I don’t.” He tells you. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You chased after the jabberjays thinking it was me, and you followed me in here because you’re worried that I’ll get caught by the Careers, admit it.”

“I don’t know what you think is happening, but whatever it is, it’s not true.” His voice wavers.

This is all the confirmation you need. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” You press your pointer finger to the middle of his chest. “That you’re not bothered by me anymore, and you haven’t been for a while. You’ve done a damn good job of hiding it up until now, but the jabberjays got you good.”

Finnick grabs your wrist, “That’s not true.”

“What changed, Finnick?” You insist.

“Nothing, because I don’t have feelings for you.” He snaps. “The reason why I came in here is because we want to move camp to the ten sector once the wave happens, I just didn’t want you to get lost out here and think we abandoned you, making you think it’s a free-for-all.”

He lets go of your wrist, face screwed tightly, as he leaves you here. You watch him go back to the beach, while you take several breaths, feeling the pit in your stomach grow.

What have you done?

---

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

[honeysmoonn]

finnick odair who brings you back seashells and pearls after a day at the beach. and finnick odair who eventually steals the trinkets out of your room and weaves them into a delicate necklace for you to wear. and finnick odair who’s heart beats a little faster every time your collarbones are exposed, showing of his gift to you. finnick odair who smiles when he sees your friends asking where your necklace is from, only to see your point his direction with a smile<3

[joshfutturman]

"always"

oneshot (request) - peeta looking after you on a bad mental health day (2.4k words) pairing - peeta mellark (the hunger games) + reader (gender neutral) tags: kissing, fluff, bathing, nudity, depression mention, established relationship, pet names

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

some days you awoke to that swirling darkness rising in your chest, clouding every thought and feeling like an unbearable weight. eyes adjusting to the bedroom, you could already feel it. despite the warmth and safeness of your surroundings - the weight felt heavy nevertheless. tears welled in your eyes, it was going to be one of those days. your fingers gripped at the sheets, pulling them closer to your face in an attempt to hide. a whimper escaped you as well as a small sniffle.

peeta shuffles, hearing that familiar sound. he blinks and lets out a soft, sleepy mumble before turning in the bed to find you curled up, shaking. his shoulders fall and he frowns before inching closer. peeta snuggles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame and nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “one of those mornings, baby?” he whispers, and you barely nod in response.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was so sweet to write, thanks anon for the submission - sorry it took a while, still getting on my feet with writing on here! i hope this is okay for you! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

some days you awoke to that swirling darkness rising in your chest, clouding every thought and feeling like an unbearable weight. eyes adjusting to the bedroom, you could already feel it. despite the warmth and safeness of your surroundings - the weight felt heavy nevertheless. tears welled in your eyes, it was going to be one of those days. your fingers gripped at the sheets, pulling them closer to your face in an attempt to hide. a whimper escaped you as well as a small sniffle.

peeta shuffles, hearing that familiar sound. he blinks and lets out a soft, sleepy mumble before turning in the bed to find you curled up, shaking. his shoulders fall and he frowns before inching closer. peeta snuggles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame and nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “one of those mornings, baby?” he whispers, and you barely nod in response.

pressing a reassuring kiss to your skin, the blonde holds you a little tighter. he knew what it felt like, to feel that indescribable sadness. there were some mornings when you had been the same support for him, cradling him from behind as his shoulders shuddered.

���let’s get you in a nice, hot bath.” his voice was gentle and you tried to focus on it over the rising, overlapping and confusing thoughts fighting for dominance inside your head. peeta knew exactly how to tend to you during times like these, it helped you feel like maybe things would be alright, that maybe the world wasn’t so scary or too much. it’s like he always knew what to say and how to say it - you loved that about him.

he sat up, leaning on his elbow to reach over and wipe your tears before he left a kiss on your cheek. lingering there for a few moments, he offered you a smile before exiting the bed. you already missed his warmth.

making his way to the bathroom, the old floorboards creaked underneath him. entering, he stepped towards the bath and leaned over, turning the faucets on. peeta waited as the bath began to fill, checking the water with care for the perfect temperature. he knew just how you liked it, hot enough to give you that sensation of safety but with a cool touch. one last time, he checked the temperature before turning off the faucets.

upon leaving the bathroom, he wipes his tired eyes and stops in front of you, sitting on the edge of the bed. his hand finds your shoulder over the sheets and gives it a gentle rub. your eyes find him and his smile fills you with love.

“you ready to get up?” he asks, voice quiet. he knew to take it at your pace, willing to wait as long as you needed. “this’ll help, i promise.” and you nod, believing him.

with his help, you stand, shoulders shuddering as you let out a long sigh. his hand finds yours and he squeezes it as he leads you towards the bathroom. you follow, keeping close to his side as you hold onto both his hand and his arm. with your cheek against his skin, you close your eyes and focus on the rhythm of walking.

entering the bathroom, he tilts your chin upwards and gives your nose a chaste kiss. you smile sweetly and weakly back at him. standing together for a few moments, you raise your arms to help him remove your shirt and pulls it over your head slowly and carefully. folding it, he sets it aside and helps you out of the rest of your clothes. in the process, he removes his too - both of your clothes are neatly folded, he liked to be organised like that, it was cute.

peeta gets in first, dipping a foot in before sliding in all the way. he lets out a sigh of relief as he extends a hand to you to help you in. it felt so good to be vulnerable like this with him, he was the only person you felt like you could let your mask slip in front of. your hand takes his and you step in, being careful not to slip. you fit perfectly in front of him, your bodies merging like a puzzle piece. his arms wrap around you loosely and your back rests against his chest, neck leaning back on his shoulder.

the water soothes you, hot and refreshing against your cold skin alongside peeta’s warm presence. he holds you fondly, enjoying the comforting embrace in silence. his cheek rests against your head watching as the water ripples slightly with each rise and fall of your chest. your breathing was in sync, peeta made sure to take deep, sure breaths for you to follow. in, and out.

your eyes close and the two of you sit in peaceful silence. your mind focuses on the sound of peeta's breathing accompanied by the cool sounds of the water mingling between your bodies. with each breath, your body grows closer to his until it's flush against him. his fingers trace along your arm in a delicate pattern, eyelids growing heavy.

calm, peaceful, with no room for disruptive or negative thoughts, only the quiet breathing of your lover in your ear and the way he tenderly touched you.

his eyes rest on you from behind and he can't help but beam. the way your muscles began to relax against him told him you felt safe.

this beautiful moment lasted a while longer before peeta whispered in your ear, "baby, can i wash your hair?" in a sleepy daze, you let out a long contented hum of approval.

carefully, the blonde reached for the shampoo, letting some of the liquid fall into his palm. as he sat up slightly, he ran his hands over your hair, ensuring the shampoo coated your hair before he began to spread his fingers, massaging it in.

tingles ran across your scalp as his fingers danced across your skin, weaving between your hair. it was tender and you couldn't help but feel emotions bubbling inside you. "thank you, peeta." you mutter, opening your eyes for a moment.

 "you're welcome, my love." he says and though you can't see him, you can tell he's smiling.

his fingers continue down to the base of your scalp, rubbing slow circles before trailing the shampoo down to your ends. admiring his work, he lets out a soft chuckle before cupping some water, beginning to wash away the suds.

with each wave of water, you felt the stress wash from you. though your heart still felt heavy, there was hope and you could feel that small spark of joy - joy that you'd wake another day with him by your side. to have someone who cared for you in this way was in itself, live-saving, to say the least.

"i love you." you say, lip quivering, unsure just how you could ever express your thanks after all he has done for you over the years.

"i know," peeta replies, leaning over to look you in the eye with that radiant smile of his, "i love you too."

with a kiss on the cheek and one last wave of water, the shampoo had been rinsed. "now i can do the rest, that alright?" he checked in, ensuring he had your full consent. peeta often did this, checking in occasionally - you never felt trapped or pressured, in fact you always felt the opposite. secure and free, with him, always.

confirming with another nod, peeta takes some soap and begins running it over your shoulders. in a combined fashion he begins to massage your tight muscles, which had loosened slightly in the warm water. the suds wash over you as he works his hands, not too rough; but with just enough pressure to feel the effects. a sigh escapes your lips. this was in stark contrast to how restricted and snared you'd felt that morning in depression's gloomy clutches.

each silky swipe with soap was met with a rinse of warm water, moving to the front of your body. his hands are gentle with you and you look up at him under his chin to smile. slowly, you felt like you were regaining small bits of your murky vision back. the clouds were beginning to clear, if only a little.

the soap dances across your arms and peeta guides the water to ease the bubbling suds away. he holds up your arm slightly, leaning down to pepper kisses along your skin, following the patterns of your freckles like a treasure map. each kiss was slow, deliberate and loving. your heart swells with tenderness and you nuzzle into his touch, curling up a little to lay in his lap on your side, head resting at the crook of his neck.

enveloping you once more into his embrace, you both share the moment in silence. the outside world could wait for a day, this moment was created only for the two of you.

you both continued to enjoy the soothing bath water as he held you until it grew colder. "don't want you to catch a cold, better get some clothes on you." he petted your back in signal, having just traced small unintelligible patterns across your skin.

he helps you stand, holding your hand all the while as the two of you take careful steps out of the bath and onto the cosy fabric mat below your feet. the air nipped at your wet skin and you caught him attempting to hide a shiver. this caused you to giggle and he chuckles too.

his hands find the large towel beside him and he wraps you in it, rubbing your shoulders and down your arms to dry some of the excess water dripping onto the tiled floor. a smirk tugs on his lips as he pulls the towel up, wrapping you both inside it like a cacoon. you shuffle closer and wrap your arms around him, placing your cheek against his chest.

thump-thump, the soft rhythm of his heartbeat plays like a familiar song, like a soothing lullaby. And it reminds you that you're alive. the moment may be hard, but it won't last forever - peeta is living proof of that. despite everything you both went through, you're so very alive.

ruffling your hair with the towel, he dries it to the best of his ability and in a playful manner, roughly dries the rest of your back. a laugh escapes you that wobbles with each shake, shoving him away gently.

the blonde kneels down to take your leg in his hands, drying along it with a commendable closeness. your eyes focus on him, full of adoration. with the next leg, he looks up at you as he dries it delicately. offering you a kind smile, peeta stays there for a few more seconds simply admiring his view. you were so beautiful. he'd tell you that until his dying breath.

"what?" you ask in a quiet voice, still regaining some of your strength.

peeta stands and cups your cheeks in his hands, "i just think you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen in my life." he admits with a nervous swallow.

it was funny, how peeta could compose himself in front of thousands but you saw the real him, the soft, kindhearted boy with so much love in his heart. the one who'd tuck you into bed after a long day, the one who'd wipe your tears when the world became too much to bear and the one who'd lead you out of bed when you felt like you were drowning.

his words spark a smile on your lips and your cheeks flush under his touch, "i think you're pretty beautiful too, mellark." you whisper through the butterflies in your stomach.

peeta's smile brightens and he lets out a small laugh, almost a giddy giggle. staring at you for just a few seconds longer, he tears himself away from your doting gaze to guide you into the bedroom towards the wardrobe. you sit on the bed behind him, wrapped in the towel still as you let out a long exhale in an attempt to further regulate your breathing. you fell into a steady rhythm of slow breaths to help keep this calm energy that peeta had helped you create within yourself.

humming and hawing, the other looks through your clothes, searching for the perfect outfit for that day. something comfortable, he thought. turning when he found the selection he wanted, he held it up for you to view. you give a happy nod with a smile and watch as that endearing look unfolds on his face, like a proud puppy.

helping you into your new clothes for the day, he also got dressed and you both stood in front of the mirror. he pats down your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you from behind. chin resting on your shoulder, your hands find his arms and rest upon them.

he litters kisses on your cheek, over and over with exaggerated 'mwah' noises. you giggle and push his face away gently, but secretly you love it.

accepting his defeat, his chin lands on your shoulder again, content with the glowing smile on your face. "now, let's get you breakfast, hm?"

"i'd like that." you reply, turning your head to kiss him with all the love you can muster. your sunshine on a cloudy day, a hand in the darkness to guide you - peeta mellark. your eyes open to find his looking back at you, staring longingly at one another. you press your forehead to his.

"i'll be here for you every day, bad or good." peeta promised.

and you believed him, because he had already proven it to you. he fought the swirling darkness in your chest alongside you, keeping it at bay. and you would do the same for him in a heartbeat. your eyes close once more, enjoying the closeness with your love - alive, breathing, fighting, living with him by your side.

always.

[thedelicatearcher]

thedelicatearcher's masterlist

my requests are always open!! if you have any thg character request (blurb, headcanons, one shot, etc), thought or just want to talk about them, my asks are open!!

i looove talking about anything, so pleease don't be afraid to interact with me, i would love to be mutuals :)

rules for my requests!!

the hunger games

𓇼everlark masterlist

𓇼finnick odair masterlist

𓇼katniss everdeen masterlist

𓇼peeta mellark masterlist

𓇼johanna mason masterlist

𓇼haymitch abernathy masterlist

𓇼lucy gray masterlist

𓇼general headcanons and blurbs masterlist

more to come!

[ruewrote]

in my hunger games era and wanting to write for cato and peeta PLEASE send in reqs i beg🙏

[necromelli]

70 - sender catches receiver's wrist as they leave [Peeta Mellark]

a/n: this is my first time writing peeta so he's probably ooc but! you don't get better if u don't practice so here I am <333

“I volunteer!"

You swallowed hard, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You wished you could have said that you were surprised that Peeta volunteered for Haymitch, but you weren’t. You knew that if he wasn’t reaped, he’d do it. You two discussed it.  But to hear it? To see his hand push Haymitch away from center stage and say it? It tore your heart in half. 

The lump in your throat was the first indication that you were fixing to cry. Then it was your eyes, all hot and vision blurring as the tears filled your waterline. He barely survived the last games; there was no way he’d survive another. The odds were in no one's favor.

First, you lost him a year ago when he was reaped. You lost him as you watched Peeta pretend to be in love with Katniss. You got him back, sure, but it wasn't your peeta. Not the smiling baker’s boy who’d bake you sweets just to see you smile. But you adapted. You grew together instead of apart. This peeta became your peeta, and you loved him. God, did you love him. More than anything in the entire world.

You wished you’d have volunteered for Katniss - but those weren't the rules. Victors only, and that was the one requirement you didn't meet. Instead, you were left at the end of the first row. Front row seats to watch Peeta and Katniss shake hands. You turned your back before you could see anything else happen, and by the few gasps, you assumed they kissed. 

But, then Peeta's hand was around your wrist, stopping you from fleeing the scene. You tugged weakly despite knowing he had the advantage. Before you could process it, peeta was kissing you. His big hands cupped your face, tilted your head up to meet his. Peeta pulled you close, strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he hugged you. His lips pressed against the top of your head, his words muffled.

“It’s okay.” He promised, pulling back to look at you. He brushed his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping the few tears that had managed to escape. “It’s okay, okay? It’ll work out, baby, trust me.”

Before you could say anything in protest, Peeta pulled you back into his chest. If he was being sent off to his death again, he wanted you to know that you were his entire world. “I love you.”

[likesomeoneinlovee]

-` 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑺 ´-

───୨ৎ───

Since I started this new Tumblr it’s been difficult to think up ideas/even just storylines to start out a fic with, that being said I’ll be taking requests! ( In other words: I need requests, please and thank you. ) Highlighted fandoms are the ones I’m in currently!

—𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 𝑰’𝒎 𝒊𝒏 :

• Red Dead Redemption 2 • X-Men / Marvel • Daredevil • The Last Of Us • Resident Evil + other Capcom games • Supernatural • Rivals • Fallout ( show ) • ( then of course there’s fandoms I was in a while back: The Walking Dead, Attack On Titan, Call of duty, Star Wars— putting these at the bottom because I don’t know how well I can write about them lol )

— 𝑴𝒚 𝒅𝒐’𝒔 & 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕’𝒔

My do’s :

Fluff!, NSFW (obviously), smut, overstimulation, daddy kink, age gap ( though this must be said : reader/the person in the situation must be over eighteen… ), any average kinks and fetishes that aren’t too out there… Though take that with a grain of salt. Restraint: Handcuffs, rope, ect.

My big dont’s :

ANYTHING to do with feet —sorry if that disappoints some,, Minor x adult, abuse/really overboard pain kinks, feeder fetishes, anything overly disgusting, and hey since I put Supernatural on my list of fandoms absolutely no incest whatsoever! ( I’m looking at you Wincest. ),, And finally real people, e: writing something about a real person/celeb just gives me icky vibes Idk why —their character on the other hand,, +Ask!

You can either comment on this post or go to my profile and request anonymously!

xoxo ♡

[fyreflys]

Prompt if you’d like it! Peeta giving his cold to Katniss on accident but since she no longer has a spleen, it turns into a more flu like illness for poor Katniss and Peeta must nurse her back to health (similar to her caring for him in the cave but ya know… #married)

Oooo this is an adorable idea! And I got another prompt that I think I can include that would work perfectly together. MERGE TIME!

Chicken Noodle Soup

(Katniss’s POV) - Love and Some Verses, Iron & Wine

Everlark period/sick-fic, just fluff fluff fluff

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you sick.”

Is what Peeta keeps telling her. Constantly apologizing for transferring his cold. Even though Katniss didn’t even bother trying to keep her distance to avoid getting sick, so really it’s her own fault.

Katniss is pretty sure that no one ever really intentionally tries to get others sick, it’s always an accident. Happens as a result of what being sick means. And she knows Peeta didn’t do it on purpose, he couldn’t possibly have wanted to make her sick as a dog. So the fact that he keeps apologizing, as if there’s any possibility that he did do this on purpose, is beginning to make it feel like maybe he did. That, and it’s getting annoying. Very quickly.

“Peeta,” she groans, “Just- shut up.”

She doesn’t actually mean that. He’s really the only thing keeping her sane right now. She’s been bed ridden for three days now, and if her body didn’t feel like shit, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for a hike in the woods.

“Sorry.” He whispers, dabbing the wet washcloth on her forehead.

Yesterday Peeta dragged her to the doctor, because he’s convinced she’s dying. The doctor just confirmed it’s a bad cold, made worse by the fact that Katniss no longer has a spleen to help her immune system. He gave them some medication that “might” help, and then sent them on their way.

Needless to say, Katniss was not happy. Mostly because Peeta had dragged her out of the house when she felt like shit for no apparent reason.

Peeta was angry too. Kept mumbling something about “malpractice” and the doctor being an “idiot” and then trying to convince her that they need to go to the Capital, to see a “real” doctor.

“Peeta, I’m not sure if you have forgotten, but I’m in exile. Banned, to stay here in twelve for the rest of my life. So no, we cannot go to the Capital.”

She doesn’t mention the fact that she really doesn’t want to be re-reminded of all the terrible things that they’ve seen and had happen to them; most of which happened in the Capital.

“You’re the mockingjay. If something was majorly wrong with you, they’d have to save you.”

“I don’t want to be the mockingjay, anymore.” She’d grumbled as he tucked her back into bed, “and I’ve lived through worse than this.”

He frowned. Much like he is right now, as he looks at her with those big, blue, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“What?” She rasps.

He licks his lips. “I just…I’m so sorry you’re sick.”

She swears his heart is too big for his own good.

“You know what would make me feel better?” She sighs.

He perks up. “What?”

“Cuddle.” She whispers. She’d usually reach out to grab him, but her body feels too much like lead to exert that much energy.

He smiles. “I can do that.”

He peels back the bedsheets, and Katniss shivers at what feels like freezing air. He curls in behind her, gently squeezing her close. She melts against him. The arm around her warm and comforting. Until his hand slips under her shirt and his fingers start tracing patterns on her side, and he begins to pepper kisses to her shoulders. Despite them being small and gentle touches, her nerves feel overly sensitive with how feverish she is, and each soft graze almost feels painful.

“Stop- please,” she whispers, “that- too sensitive.” She mumbles.

“Oh. Sorry.” He places one more peck to her cheek, and then leaves her be.

She falls into sleep like a rock tossed down a ravine, skipping sleep entirely and diving straight into dreams. The world feels like it’s tilting and spinning around her as she dreams. They start out as strange and uncomfortable, but somewhere along the way they get more and more unhinged, twisted visions persisting, until finally-

She startles awake suddenly, eyes snapping open as she gasps for air. The nightmare feels plastered to her eyelids.

“Peeta?” She croaks softly, heart hammering in her chest as a tear slips down her cheek.

But she’s alone. Peeta is nowhere to be seen. She forces herself to reach across the bed behind her in search of him. But he’s not there either.

Momentarily she fears he’s abandoned her, but then she realizes that’s ridiculous. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.

She tries to shake the nightmare from her head. Desperately trying to imagine something else, like- Deer. Deer and squirrels, prancing through the forest. The nightmare was not real not real not real, as Peeta would say.

She takes a deep breath. Her entire body aches painfully. Specifically her lower back and her hips and- oh.

Even sick, and aching all over, she knows this feeling well.

“Damn it.” She huffs.

She supposes it was about time this happened again. She doesn’t bother keeping track. There’s no use with how irregular she is.

“Peeta.” She calls, but her voice is weak.

He doesn’t come. Where is he? She sighs. She’s going to have to do this herself, isn’t she?

She wills herself to gather any remaining energy she has to sit up. It takes a few minutes to convince herself.

I could just wait here, until he comes back-

No.

She sits up suddenly, impulsively, not giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it. Her head spins, pain pounding through her skull. She coughs, clutching her head.

When the throbbing passes she manages to will her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. And then on the count of three she stands. She’s shaky, and the air is freezing agaisnt her feverish skin, and it’s awful.

Just get to the bathroom-

She makes it a few steps towards the door. And then she stumbles. She just barely catches the doorknob. She sends the door slamming closed as she falls.

“Katniss?!” Peeta shouts from down stairs.

She rolls over onto her back, and the world feels like it’s still spinning. He comes rushing into the bedroom, crouching down when he sees her.

“Oh my god are you okay?” Hands are immediately at her head, feeling for any bumps or bleeding, “What happened? Why are you out of bed?”

He sits and sets her head in his lap, brushing hair out of her face.

“Bathroom.” She whispers. “Just. Fell.”

“You should have called for me I would have helped.”

“I did.” She breathes, and even talking is exhausting. With Peeta right above her the world finally stops spinning.

He frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was making pasta.”

She takes in a breath through her mouth, nose too stuffy. “Bathroom.”

“Well- I think we should take a moment. You just- what, fell trying to walk? That’s pretty concerning,” He feels her forehead, “and you’re really burning up, gosh.”

She could have told him she had a fever. It feels like it’s radiating through her bones.

“Toilet,” her tongue clicks softly in her mouth, feeling dry, “Bleeding.”

“Bleeding? What- where? Why didn’t you say you were bleeding! Oh my god-“ he starts to shuffle, pulling at her clothes to find the source.

“Period.” She groans, just about fed up with him.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Right. Okay. Let’s get that taken care of then.”

He shuffles to sit her up against the wall, and then scoops her up bridal style. He carefully sets her down by the toilet, holding on as he pulls down her sweats and underwear in one fell swoop.

And yep- there it is. A massacre in her pants.

Peeta helps her sit, making sure she’s stable enough to sit up on her own. He pulls off her sweats and underwear, turning on the sink to set them in.

“Cold,” she whispers.

“Cold? You’re cold?”

Well- yeah, she kind of is. Despite feeling like she’s burning up from the inside, the floor and the toilet seat and the air is freezing against her skin. But she’s referring to the water.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “But-water. Cold water.”

“You need cold water? I can get you water. You’re probably thirsty you’ve been asleep for like four hours.”

Okay, yes, that too. She could use a glass of water.

“Yes, but- blood. Needs cold water.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay. Cold water. Right.”

She closes her eyes, slumping on the toilet as she pees. Peeta leaves to grab stuff from the bedroom. He returns with a fresh pair of clothes. He holds a cup of water up to her lips, and she sips. It feels like heaven down her throat.

“Thanks.” She breathes.

He just pecks her forehead. “How bout I run you a short bath? Luke warm. Try to get your body temp down. And you could really use a shower.”

She groans.

“I know- I know. But it will make you feel better, I promise.”

She just grumbles. He gets to work running a bath, and then scrubs the blood out of her underwear under the sink. He struggles to get a pad into the clean pair of undies, and Katniss finally wills herself to use the little energy she does have to show him. He kisses her cheek.

“Right. Got it. Now let’s get you in.”

She complains, but doesn’t have the energy to fight against him. He pulls off her sweaty t-shirt, and picks her up and sets her down in the tub. The water feels freezing at first. She yelps, clutching at him.

“I know- I know it feels cold but I promise it will help. You’re burning up Katniss. We need to cool you down.”

She holds onto him, and he presses kisses against her head. After a few minutes it starts to feel okay. He gently pours water through her hair. He scrubs in shampoo and rinses. He gently scrubs her with a warm soapy washcloth after he pulls the drain, just under her arms and between her legs, barely batting an eye at the blood. They’ve both seen enough of it for a lifetime. He turns on the shower head to rinse her off. The water feels like freezing needles against her overly sensitive skin. By the time he gets her out and finishes toweling her off she’s pissed.

She glowers at him from the toilet as he dresses her. He ignores her scathing eyes as he sprays in conditioner and brushes her hair, fumbling to put it in a makeshift braid.

“There! See, all better!” He smiles when he’s done.

She is not amused. Yes, her body feels less like a boiling fire, but she still hurts. And despite him doing all the work, she’s exhausted. But she’s too angry and stubborn to admit it, or even consider closing her eyes for some shut eye.

He chuckles. “You’re such a sourpuss when you’re sick, you know that?”

“That was hell.” She snips.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, okay Haymitch.”

He pulls her off the toilet and pulls up her underwear and pants. He gently scoops her up.

“You want to set up camp downstairs on the couch? That way it’s easier to get my attention if you need something. Also I’m making you soup.”

She gives a grunt, and winces as the pain that radiates up and down her spine and belly.

“I’ll grab you some painkillers.” He adds on.

She would usually turn those down. But at this point she’ll take them.

He gently lays her on the couch. He runs back upstairs to grab linens. He comes back down with arms full of blankets and pillows. He drops them in a heap on the floor. He leaves again. Katniss looses track of all the things he runs off and gets, eyes slipping closed.

He takes her temperature.

He hisses, “One o’ two. Yeah. You’re definitely getting meds.” Which he shoves into her mouth very shortly afterward. He tries not to look worried, but she can tell that he is. She’s worse than she was yesterday. He forces her to take the medication the doctor gave them the day before. She doesn’t have the energy to fight him.

He tucks her in under one blanket, but gives her plenty of pillows. He sets tissues and a glass of water on the side table next to her head. He kisses her forehead.

“Anything else you need?” He says softly.

Probably. But right now she’s exhausted. And talking is too much energy. So she just hums.

“Okay. Soup should be ready in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to wake you up or let you sleep?”

Truthfully, she wants him to curl in beside her on the couch and not leave her side. Because with him pressed against her, she has a semblance of relief.

Instead she just grunts. He pecks her forehead again, chuckling softly.

“Okay.”

And then she’s left alone. And despite being tired, she can’t seem to fall sleep. The pain is just too much. Enough that she’d toss and turn, but she doesn’t have the energy to do so. So instead she lays motionless in agony, waiting for meds to kick in.

It’s possible she does drift off. But it seems like each time her eyes open the grandfather clock by her mothers old bedroom door hasn’t moved an inch.

Finally Peeta reappears, with a steaming bowl in hands.

“Chicken noodle soup, for m’lady.” He bows, just for the dramatics.

He helps her sit up, and carefully spoons it to her lips. With how much pain shes in, the thought of food makes her nauseous. But Peeta coaxes her to eat. And she does. One small spoonful at a time. With how stuffed her nose is she can barely taste it, but what she does taste is good.

And it reminds her of the cave, in their first games. As she spoon fed him. Monitoring his leg. Trying everything she could think of to keep him alive.

Thankfully, now is nothing like that. This is peaceful, and warm, and safe.

With food in her belly she realizes how hungry she is. And she just about scarfs down the rest of the bowl, along with the hunk of bread he dips in the broth. And she feels like she has a little more energy.

“You want more?” He asks softly.

She shakes her head. She feels too full. Any more and she might puke.

“Your appetite is back. That’s a good thing.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She grumbles.

“Like- actually?” He freezes, shifting as if ready to grab a bin.

“No- just- a lot of food. Nauseous from the pain.”

He frowns. “The pain meds should have kicked in already. You look better. Less pale.” He feels her forehead. “You don’t feel as hot.”

She winces. “Cramps.”

His face relaxes. “Oh.”

She closes her eyes. With a full belly she’s ready to pass out.

“What if…I tried to rub them out?” He says softly.

Her eyes flicker open lazily. “Please. And- my back- please.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He leans in press a kiss to her forehead.

He gently pushes her to lay down. He tugs up her shirt and pulls the waistband of her pajama pants lower.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks softly.

She slowly moves to touch, fingers almost feeling numb against her own skin as she traces just inside of her pelvic crests, and down below her belly button. His warm hands are still almost too much against her feverish skin when he reaches out. But she needs this.

He’s far too gentle.

“Harder,” she whispers, “like bread.”

He’s good at kneading bread.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you-“

“There’s no way you could make me feel worse than I already do. Please.”

And finally his palms and thumbs press in. She urges more, and more, and finally gets impatient and shifts his hands to press right there and- oh. It feels so good she actually moans.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” She gasps.

He grins wickedly. But doesn’t comment on any more of her breathless gasps as he digs in and finally gives her relief.

“When- you’re done,” she breathes, “gonna need- bathroom.”

He pauses, “Do you have to pee? I’m literally pressing like right on your bladder-“

“No- new pad.” Because he’s quite literally kneading the blood right out of her. Which would usually be disgusting, but right now the relief feels too good for her to care.

“Oh. Okay.” And he keeps going.

She nearly falls asleep with his hands on her stomach. She still hurts, and the pain still radiates through her bones, but the stretch of her cramping muscles is almost heavenly. She closes her eyes, and Peeta presses kisses to her shoulders, trailing down to her stomach. He rubs softly after he pulls back, hands sliding over her hips.

“You want me to do your back?” He asks softly.

She hums. He helps flip her over. His hands and fingers roam over her skin, pressing and pulling all the way up her spine and between her shoulders. She practically melts into the couch as he soothes her aches. His lips ghost over her skin in subtle kisses, and she never wants it to end.

Eventually he pulls away, tugging her shirt back down.

“Bathroom?” He asks.

She grumbles. “Don’t wanna move.”

He hums. He forces her off the couch anyways, and drags her to the bathroom. She changes things herself, and then he helps her back to the couch.

“I’m gonna eat and then we can snuggle. If you want. I can turn on the TV.”

She just grunts. He turns on the screen above their fireplace mantle, and flips through channels. He lands on a show they’ve binge watched over the years, and then leaves for the kitchen. She zones out the sounds and clatter that he makes. Finally he sits down by her feet with a bowl of soup, and her eyelids feel heavy. She drifts halfway between awake and asleep, until he curls up with her. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Thank you.” She whispers. He’s done more than enough for her. And she knows he’d do everything if he had to. And she is thankful.

“Of course.” He breathes. And pecks her lips.

She smiles, and uses the little energy she does have to snake an arm around him and hold him close. Their foreheads knock together.

“I love you.” He breathes softly.

She hums, “Love you too.”

[katnissmellarkkk]

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

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

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

-

Burned. Check mark.

Whipped. Check mark.

Starved. Check mark.

Shocked. Check mark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Haymitch knows it too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cut the crap, Sweetheart.”

“Go away, Haymitch.”

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

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

“Coin is getting hungry for some new ones.”

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

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

“Shut up,” I call as I exit the room.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” I feign oblivion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ve already done that too many times.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

[mscresta]

Request are open again! <3

[euphemiaamillais]

omg!! i love the idea of sej and coryo being your roommates ✊🏼could you write the reader sending them spicy pics or vids to them while they’re in class?? whatever comes next is up to you <33

mdni | sej and coryo as your roommates (with benefits)

cw: 18+//suggestive videos&photos//fingering//mentions of sex

since you’d dumped your boyfriend and threesomes became a regular occurrence for you all, you found yourself growing increasingly needy throughout the day. while you were on leave from uni, the boys were still attending almost daily, much to your annoyance.

but you found your way of teasing them; and you found when they came home they didn’t even bother putting their things down before one of them was burying their cock inside of you, or kissing their way up your thigh to eat you out.

10:42 am

you: can’t stop thinking about last night :(

sej: yeah?

you: i’m so wet at the thought of you taking me like that again sej

you smirked as you pressed send on a photo of your fingers delving into your pussy, and waited for sejanus to reply. while you were waiting, you began typing a message to coryo. he was harder to get to, often not responding to your texts (but god forbid if he did text you that you took more than 5 seconds to respond).

you: i bet you’re hard right now thinking about how well i took your cock last night

no response, but you were surprised that sejanus had sent you a video, and when you opened the message, he’d left a small caption.

sej: couldn’t help myself

the video made your core burn. sejanus was locked in a bathroom stall, hand gripping his thick cock as he rubbed his length up and down. he was groaning with no shame, and you could see his face contorting with pleasure. he was muttering something about wanting to make you choke on his cock when he got home.

you couldn’t help but bring your fingers to your bare cunt, and you began to rub softly at your achy clit. deciding that you wanted to be courteous and send a video back, you began to film yourself, the sounds of your whimpers echoing against the walls of your room.

you pressed send, but saw that you’d accidentally added coryo to the conversation. he still hadn’t responded to your original text, but there was a time stamp that read ‘seen 10:53’ which made your lips curl up into a frown.

you: need you to fill me up later

coryo: such a fucking slut sending that to me in class. you’re so desperate, aren’t you?

your heart flutters as you see his response, and watch as two typing bubbles pop up on the screen, both boys clearly now vying for which one gets your attention. you can’t believe your eyes when you receive a photo of coryo playing with his cock, hand gripping the base, his long length dripping a little with precum.

sej: you gonna be good for us when we get home?

you: maybe.

you go back to rubbing at your clit, fingers delving in and out of your slickness at the same time as you bring yourself to your conclusion. you need them so bad, and you’re frustrated that they’re not here to help you right now.

coryo: bet you’re fucking yourself right now, aren’t you?

when you don’t respond, too distracted by the image of coryo’s hard cock in his hand, and the video of sej jerking himself off playing in the back of your mind, coryo continues to send taunting texts.

coryo: you know your fingers can’t make you cum as good as we can, princess

sej: gonna fuck you so good when i get home

coryo: oh, i don’t think she deserves it if she’s going to tease us so much.

you feel yourself gush around your fingers, body brimming with desire. warmth pools between your thighs, but you’re left feeling a little empty, wishing one of your boys—or both of them—could’ve helped you out.

when you glance down at the texts, you frown, irked by coryo’s cruelty. he liked to think he could make you cum the hardest out of him, sej, and your own fingers, and when he found you not using his cock or tongue to get off, he always sought to punish you for it.

you: please :(

coryo: oh look, she’s finally replying. too busy wishing it was my cock inside of you?

sej: don’t be so cruel coryo, you know she can’t help that we’re not home

coryo: and yet she can’t be a good girl and wait until we come home to fuck her

coryo: too obsessed with our cocks, huh?

you: please come home soon. need you guys to fill me up

sej: gonna put my cock in your pretty little mouth when i get there ;)

coryo: at least let me bend her over and teach her a lesson, sej. sluts don’t get to cum until i’m satisfied that they’ve learned not to touch themselves without us there

you sigh at coryo’s domineering nature; but your thighs tingle at the thought of him shoving your face into the mattress as he pounds into you.

you: i can’t wait much longer :(

sej: hold on baby, i’ll be home soon

coryo: remember sej, she doesn’t get to cum until i say so

you: you guys are soooo mean ;(

you put your phone down and let out a heavy sigh. the boys loved to tease you, it bordered on cruelty at times, but you still took their cocks willingly each time, and always came back begging for more. who knew that having two hot roommates would come with so many benefits.

that afternoon, they made true on their promises and fucked your cunt full of their cum until you were practically begging to get off yourself. finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, coryo made you cum with his tongue, giving you sloppy head when he was satisfied that you’d learned your lesson.

[ilguna]

☼ NFWMB pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; nothing can tear the two of you down. they can try, but you're always one step ahead.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehh gore, blood mention.

wc; 5.5k

notes; Piano Sessions: songfic, NFWMB by Hozier. not really noticeable, though.

part two.

—

“Here she comes.” You murmur to Finnick, he tilts his head back to get a look.

Katniss is coming down from the tree she scaled a few minutes before. She wanted to assess the situation around the Cornucopia, see how many victors have died so far. By the grim look on her face alone, it tells you all about what won’t be said aloud.

Well, not by you, anyway. Finnick doesn’t care about being sensitive. “What’s going on down there, Katniss?” He asks once she’s made contact with the ground. He’s holding his trident out, casually defensive, as if he’s silently telling her that he’ll fight if he has to. “Have they all joined hands? Taken a vow of nonviolence? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol?”

His voice is teasing, because he knows exactly the thought process that she must’ve gone through while she was up there, alone. She likely went up the tree, expecting to find some blood in the water, but not much. After all, twenty-four of you had thrown everything you had at the Capitol to convince them not to send you into the arena, and held hands to show unity among the districts, even if it was a second… She must’ve had herself convinced that there wouldn’t be carnage.

With no pressure to appear complaint with an alliance she had no say in, she could work out her real feelings. Weigh the pros and cons of staying together. It’s led her to think that if you would kill the victors you’ve known and worked with for years, what would keep you from killing her and Peeta, too? How could she reasonably agree to stay?

She can’t. 

“No.” Katniss says, responding to Finnick’s pointless question.

“No,” He repeats. “Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance.” He pauses, eyeing Peeta. “Except maybe Peeta.”

He’s standing off to the side, looking between Katniss and Finnick, trying to decide whether or not they’re getting hostile—if he should intervene. This is exactly what Finnick means, Peeta’s too good to be in here. It’s his kindness that almost got him out the first time.

While the rest of you would selfishly kill to save your own lives if it meant survival, he would risk his life to save everyone. He’s got compassion, a quality that the rest of you lack the moment you step into the Games. The only reason why he got crowned was because Katniss refused to let him die, the rest of you fought and didn’t let anything get in your way, mercilessly.

The silence between the two of them is growing heavy with every passing second. It’s as if they’re playing chess, without making any of the physical moves. They’re going back and forth on deciding who will be the one that could come out a fight alive. Who’s the stronger tribute, what move they should make, if they should be the one to make it first.

You know better than to think that Finnick would make the first move. He knows you can’t afford to lose Katniss’ trust entirely. She’s the key to getting out of this arena alive. She’s the one that holds the rebellion in her hands, whether or not she realizes that. Finnick will only move if she does, and it’ll be in self-defense.

You don’t give her the chance, stepping between them, spinning the spear in your hand until you stab it headfirst into the ground. This is to show her that you’re not looking for a fight. She can hold the power in this situation if she wants to, but you won’t let her attack Finnick. She’ll have to get through you, first.

Katniss’ eyes narrow, unhappy that you’re blocking her real target. She won’t be able to kill you, and you know this. Katniss actually likes you, she even suggested having you as her ally to Haymitch, but changed her mind when she found out that you and Finnick come as a package deal.

You give her a little smile, tilting your head. “Did you see how many are dead?”

“Hard to say.” She tells you, still tense. Her fingers flex around the bow, suddenly deciding to lean on her hip, as if she’s trying to see Finnick around you.

Your chin drops, smile fleeting, eyes boring into hers.

The expression is enough for her to take a step back, catching the message. “At least six, I think. And they’re still fighting.”

With upturned lips, you finally move out of the way, allowing her to see Finnick again.

“Let’s keep moving. We need water.” Peeta says. 

His eyes are bouncing between you and Finnick, as if he doesn’t know which one of you to talk to. You pull your spear out of the dirt, holding it in one hand as you cross one arm over your chest and one under.

“Better find some soon,” Finnick says. “We need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight.”

Katniss presses her lips together, nodding slowly. 

“We’ll have Peeta lead the way, then.” You motion.

Peeta doesn’t argue, fixing the machete in his hand before beginning to cut away at the vegetation the same way he had been before taking the break. Finnick tries to push you up next, but you place your hand on his back, forcing him forward. The previous formation had worked before he had a standoff with Katniss. You need to be at the end, now. For everyone’s sake.

The slope is a nightmare to climb, but at least you’re not running. It’s easier to move at a slower pace, knowing that the Careers are preoccupied with the Cornucopia. You won’t be worrying about them until tonight, when the biggest fight is over, and they begin to search for smaller ones.

It must be a mile before it looks like the end of the tree line, as you reach the crest of the hill. Katniss speaks behind you through heavy breaths. “Maybe we’ll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something.”

You hope she’s right, because you’re not going to last very long in this heat if she isn’t. It’ll be a waste of time and energy if you go down into this valley and it’s just more trees. By then, you’ll probably be too delirious to keep searching. It’ll be on the mentors and sponsors to keep you alive.

“Peeta, don’t—!” Katniss suddenly cries out, taking a step around you. 

A sharp zapping sound fills the air, a blast of air, and then Peeta’s being flung back, straight into you and Finnick. You hit the ground, arms over your head to keep from cracking it on a rock. There’s a dull ache in your ribcage afterwards, but it’s so menial that you forget about it when you hear Katniss calling for Peeta.

You sit up, finding Finnick already looking at you. He touches the side of your face, rubbing away a clump of dirt. “Are you—?”

“Peeta!” Katniss screams. She’s on her knees above him, shaking his body so hard that he’s rocking. She slaps his cheeks, trying to wake him. “Peeta!”

Finnick’s hand falls from your face, mouth open as he crawls a few feet over to Katniss, you move to follow. He pushes her out of the way, needing to be where she’s sitting, “Let me.”

He touches the points at Peeta’s neck, and you catch on to his plan immediately. He runs his fingers over the bones in his ribs and his spine, being thorough. When he stops, he pinches Peeta’s nose shut.

“No!” Katniss yells, hurling herself at Finnick. 

You jump, arms securing around her upper body, tackling her to the ground. She’s stronger than she looks, though, because she manages to get out of your grip, and flips her body on top of yours. With both of your hands pinned next to your head due to her knees, she pulls an arrow, pressing it against the bow, and draws back the string, aiming for Finnick.

“Wait!” You squirm beneath her. “Don’t!”

She holds the position, watching your boyfriend. You arch your back, turning your head to the side to try and see where Finnick’s at in the process. You can hardly see him out of the corner of your left eye, due to him being directly behind you.

He’s breathing air into Peeta’s lungs, making his chest rise and fall. Finnick then reaches to unzip the top of the jumpsuit to get access to his skin. And like all the times he’s done it before, he begins to pump the area over Peeta’s heart with the heels of his hands.

When you look back at Katniss, you can see that the intense crease between her eyebrows has relaxed. She watches, captured by Finnick’s actions. When she glances down, she realizes that she’s still on top of you, so she moves off, the arrow sinking to the ground.

You get to your feet, wanting to be out of the dirt and grass. Finnick is so well rehearsed that while you would feel the need to ask anyone else if they’d like to trade off, you don’t bother with him. He goes on like this for several minutes, determination not once wavering.

When Peeta lets out a small cough, Finnick backs off. Katniss flings herself at him, brushing his hair off of his forehead. “Peeta?”

His eyes flutter open, landing on Katniss. “Careful.” His voice is weak. “There’s a force field up ahead.”

The laugh that comes from Katniss is choked, because of the tears coming down her face is a giant wave. Finnick gets to his feet, coming to you to brush his fingers through your hair, combing out dirt and leaves.

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” He murmurs quietly. “I couldn’t tell.”

“I’m fine.” You assure him. “You’re a quick thinker.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Anything to save the alliance, right?”

He wanders away to recollect the weapons, your eyes linger on Katniss and Peeta.

“Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof. I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.” He tells her.

“You were dead! Your heart stopped!” She bursts, and then slaps her hand over her mouth.

“Well, it seems to be working now. It’s all right, Katniss.” He touches her arm. She nods her head, but doesn’t move her hand. “Katniss?” 

“It’s okay. It’s just her hormones.” Finnick says, dropping the trident, spear and machete into a lazy pile together. He’s looking down at them. “From the baby.”

“No. It’s not—” She’s cut off by her own sobs, glaring through the tears at Finnick. 

You stare, unsure of what’s happening. When you look at Finnick, you find him just as puzzled, fae twisted. He looks between the teenagers on the ground, before giving a glance your way. You raise your eyebrows, he shakes his head slightly.

“How are you?” He asks Peeta. “Do you think you can move on?”

“No, he has to rest.” Katniss insists, pressing the back of her arm to her nose to keep it from running. She wipes the tears from her face, trying to seem presentable again. She then reaches toward Peeta’s neck, picking up the gold disk attached to the necklace. “Is this your token?”

“Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match.” He says.

“No, of course I don’t mind.” She smiles. 

“So you want to make camp here, then?” You ask, trying to get them back on track. 

“I don’t think that’s an option.” Peeta says. “Staying here. With no water. No protection. I feel all right, really. If we could just go slowly.”

“Slowly would be better than not at all.” Finnick says, reaching to help Peeta to his feet. 

You collect the trident and the spear, while Katniss grabs the machete for Peeta. She hands it to Peeta, checking over her own weapons. Once everyone has gathered themselves, she starts forward. “I’ll take the lead.”

—

“Run!” Katniss’s shrill voice cuts through the quiet night air. “Run!”

A hand secures around your forearm, pulling you upright. You squint through tired eyes to find the enemy, reaching to grab your spear. Finnick’s on his feet, trident in one hand, your arm in the other. 

The only thing you’re met with is the wall of white fog, descending upon you. You try to get to your feet, realizing that you have to run. Finnick doesn’t have the patience, leaning over you to simply scoop you into his arms. You bounce, wrapping an arm around the back of his shoulders.

“Finnick.” You say, but he doesn’t look at you, attention alternating between the path ahead and the fog that’s closing in on you from the sides. 

He holds up the trident wordlessly, you take it from his hand. This allows him to get a better hold on your body. You watch his face for a few minutes, and then you turn your attention to the two behind you. 

Katniss and Peeta are struggling to keep up with the pace that Finnick is setting—which is impressive, considering you’re an extra weight in his arms. Peeta is moving slower than he was this afternoon, meaning that the force field did more damage than any of you realize.

Katniss is holding his hand, moving in front of him, picking out where they run through. They’re managing to stay in front of the fog, but not by much. The fog is lapping at their heels, and even through the darkness, you can see their reactions to it.

“They’re struggling.” You tell him.

He turns enough to get a brief look at them. “You can do it, follow my path!”

It’s not enough. Finnick only takes a couple more steps when you watch as Peeta gets his prosthetic leg caught in a patch of weeds. He can’t catch himself, and it’s too late for Katniss, too. He sprawls across the grass, with Katniss struggling to help him.

“Finn,” You squirm in his arms, “We have to get them. They’re going to die.”

He stops running now, panting. He lets your legs down first, making sure that you’re on a solid part of the ground before he leaves you, trekking back up to the tributes from Twelve. You watch as Katniss jerks Peeta forward, causing him to stumble. Finnick gets there, pulling Peeta’s arm over his shoulders. Katniss wedges her shoulder under the other, and they begin to work together.

“Do you want me to help?” You call.

“No, (Y/n)!” Finnick shouts. “Find us a path.”

You give a hard nod, turning and going down the slope, trying to pick out an area that the three of them will be able to take together. However, they’re only able to make it so far before Finnick stops. You watch as him and Katniss talk for a moment, before he points at you.

She stares at him for a long moment, like she’s confused. As soon as you take a step to go back and find out what the issue is, Finnick pulls Peeta onto him. Katniss is running at you, leaving him behind. When she gets close, she grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you with her.

You resist, watching Finnick.

“Go, (Y/n)!” He barks at you.

It doesn’t feel right, letting him take up the rear, but Katniss is pulling so aggressively that once you stumble forward one step, it’s easy to keep dragging you. And it isn’t until Finnick passes you, taking the lead, do you let her pull you along.

Together, the three of you run between bushes and ferns, dodging trees, narrowly avoiding roots and weeds, calling out warnings. Finnick is taking you down a diagonal path, keeping you away from where the fog is walling you in, while also steering you to the Cornucopia, where the water is.

Still, the fog somehow gains distance, moving faster, tendrils reaching for you desperately. It finally touches you, a searing pain blistering across your skin. The jumpsuit melts away from the acid, doing nothing to protect you from the element. 

Katniss begins to struggle, her arms twitching at her sides, having a mind of their own. Her leg has become one useless block, refusing to move with her anymore. She’s not the only one, you can see that Finnick and Peeta can’t help their movements, either. It’s a reaction to the fog, it’s attacking your nerves.

You follow Finnick until he collapses on the ground, Peeta on top of him. Katniss isn’t too far behind, she doesn’t stop, despite seeing them. She trips over their bodies, hand letting you go as she falls onto the heap. You topple forward, but catch yourself on her lower back.

“Get up.” You tell her, head swiveling to look at the fog, still approaching you. “Get up, now!” 

You pull Katniss off of Peeta, trying to prop her on her feet, but she sways, not being able to hold her bodyweight. She lands nearby, bow falling from her hand. Peeta manages to roll off Finnick, giving you a clear view of your boyfriend, and his half-conscious state.

You ditch the weapons, grabbing onto his wrists, trying to drag him away from the fog. If there’s anyone that’ll survive this, it’s going to be you two. You’ll deal with the repercussions afterward, you won’t let him die.

You get him a few feet, before you can hear Katniss croaking. Her voice acts as a reminder that you’re supposed to save her, she’s the important one in this situation.

“It’s stopped.” She says, which is what she must’ve been trying to tell you.

You look up from her body to where the fog was advancing. She’s right, it appears to be thicker, forced to condense, but the tendrils are gone. It’s like it’s pressed up against a glass wall, keeping it from moving forward.

You let out a breath of relief, lowering Finnick momentarily as you catch your breath. He’s staring up at you, green eyes capturing yours, moonlight glinting off his bronze hair. His lips move, but there’s no sound behind it.

“Mon-hees.” Peeta murmurs.

You look over to see that he’s gesturing up, at a pair of orange monkeys, sitting together on a branch above them. You drop one of Finnick’s wrists, your hand reaching for the knife on your purple belt. Peeta then rolls over to his knees, beginning to climb down the slope, Katniss behind him. The monkeys don’t jump at them, letting them leave.

You ease, grabbing Finnick’s wrist again, as you go back to dragging him out of the jungle. It’s fairly obvious that he’s in worse condition than the other two, because of his drooping face and uncooperative limbs. He took on most of the fog for Peeta, but that doesn’t mean that Peeta’s completely clean.

You get to the beach, pulling Finnick to the shore, before lowering him to the ground. Katniss crawls all the way to the water, letting it hit her face before she jerks back, letting out a noise. She doesn’t let this deter her, placing her hand on the wet sand, water washing over it. She winces, but you watch as the blue water turns a milky white.

It’s coming out of her skin.

“Okay, Finnick.” You murmur, walking around him to grab his feet. He groans as a response. You turn his body around, carefully pulling him into the water. “Work with me, baby.”

You pull his shoes off first, tossing them toward the treeline. When you begin to work the jumpsuit off his body, he tries his best to move the right way. You have to be careful, with the amount of white patches on his tanned skin. The last thing you want is to get any poison on your skin.

Once you’ve got the wetsuit off, it’s easy to work from there. You start with his feet, carefully scooping handfuls of water on, watching as the poison leaves his skin in wisps, disappearing into the air. You pull him in the water, inch by inch, working all the way up to his abdomen, before Katniss and Peeta are well enough to help you.

“Here, you take his head.” Peeta tells you. “We’ll get his body.”

“Be gentle.” You tell him. “His skin is sensitive from the…” You trail off, wanting to say Capitol. From the years of ongoing abuse he’s enduring from them. You sigh. “The um—the Games.”

Peeta nods, because there’s no need to question you. Katniss observes the way you treat Finnick, mimicking that. Together, you manage to get all the way up to his neck, not wanting to dunk his face underneath the water.

“Finnick, you’ve got to do this part on your own.” You tell him.

“That’s the worst part, but you’ll feel much better after, if you can bear it.” Peeta says.

Finnick nods, scooting to sit up. He takes your hand, squeezing tightly, as he purges his eyes, nose and mouth in the saltwater. When Katniss sees that you’ve got this under control, she gets to her feet.

“I’m going to try to tap a tree.” Her fingers pat the spile on her belt.

“Let me make the hole first.” Peeta says. “You stay with them. You’re the healer.”

Katniss shakes her head at him, not saying anything. He heads for the trees, knife in hand, looking for a good one. He finds it about ten yards from the beach. Katniss keeps a close eye on him, considering he’s hardly visible there.

Finnick eventually lets go of you, wanting to go deeper in the water. You let him, because there’s still a spot on your shoulder that you need to rinse from the poison. You dive into the water, feeling the hot pain blossom out from the spot the fog initially touched you.

When you surface, you scrub at the skin, watching the water turn white. With no other place on your body poisoned, you go to join Katniss back on the beach. She seems to have collected her mockingjay pin, now pinned to her undershirt. You stand near her, watching as she combs her hair from the braid. It’s fairly damaged from the poison, as it noticeably thins. If she cares, she hides it well, because she braids what’s left and throws it over her shoulder.

She then starts toward the water, trying to soak it in to get rid of the stiffness in her arms and legs. You opt for joining Peeta in the jungle, but only to grab the trident and spear, before leaving him in there. 

Katniss alternates between floating on her stomach and back, getting as much exposure as possible. While Finnick makes laps around the wedge, dives, surfaces, sprays water out of his mouth at you. He even sinks to the seafloor, and right when Katniss opens her mouth, his head pops out of the water.

“Don’t do that.” She snaps.

You laugh a little.

“What? Come up or stay under?” He asks.

“Either. Neither. Whatever. Just soak in the water and behave.” She says, wading out of the water. “Or if you feel this good, let’s go help Peeta.”

Finnick pushes his hair out of his eyes, shaking his head behind her back. You hand him his trident, and he takes the opportunity to steal a kiss from you during the exchange. 

He pulls away, humming. “Salty.”

“Gross.” You tell him. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’m a new person.” 

“That’s good.”

Katniss takes a few steps into the jungle, when she suddenly stops in the middle, forcing you to stop, too. She looks up slowly, you follow her gaze. In the branches hanging above Peeta, are a couple dozen of monkeys, weighing down the limbs. These are the same orange color as the pair that you’d seen thirty minutes ago.

The ones that you thought were going to attack them.

Katniss casually reaches for two arrows, arming her bow with them. You fix the spear in your hand, sharing a look with Finnick. “Peeta,” Katniss’s voice is even, trying to stay calm. “I need your help with something.”

“Okay, just a minute. I think I’ve just about got it.” He says, still drilling into the tree. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile?”

“I do. But we’ve found something you’d better take a look at. Only move toward us quietly, so you don’t startle it.”

It’s smart of her to keep the monkeys from him, considering they’re not reacting to your presence. They’ve all got their eyes on Peeta, he’ll be the trigger if he moves too fast.

Peeta turns to you, a little crease between his eyebrows. “Okay.” He says.

He begins to move in your direction, not being quiet at all. This makes you tense, but the monkeys still aren’t moving, holding where they are in the trees. He’s five yards from where you’re standing on the beach, when he gets a clue. His eyes cast up, and he must make eye contact, because the monkeys explode.

They move faster than you’re able to comprehend, as the shrieking begins. They come down the trees by the vines, swinging at him. They leap from tree to tree to get a better advantage on him. Fangs bared, hackles raised, claws shooting out. 

“Mutts!” Katniss spits.

The three of you jerk to join Peeta in the jungle to protect him from the sheer amount of them. Katniss begins to fire arrows rapidly, taking down monkeys left and right, targeting vital points. You and Finnick work back and forth, trying to keep up with her pace, but she’s got a long-ranged weapon. 

Finnick will spear several of them like fish before flinging them off to the side. You take jabs when the occasional one gets too close, Peeta slashing with his knife. One of the monkeys latch onto Katniss’s back, when you stab through the back of its head.

The air is hard to breathe, between the scent of blood, the warm must of the monkeys, and the trampled plants. You all move to have your backs to one another, a few yards between each of you to make this fight easier. 

A monkey comes soaring out of the trees, straight at you, right as you aim to kill a different one. You can feel your whole body clam up, preparing for the impact.

“Don’t move!” Finnick shouts behind you. You can feel the wind of the trident whizzing between you and Peeta, slamming directly into the chest of the monkey, and the two behind it.

“Worry about yourself!” You tell Finnick.

“Right!” He laughs, you pull the knife out of your belt to hand to him. He grabs it, slicing for a few seconds, before he shouts. “Switch!”

You twist around to take the opposite side, Finnick moves quickly, taking where you’d been standing moments before. There’s more monkeys on this side, forcing you to catch up. When you steal a glance over your shoulder, you see that Finnick has retrieved his trident, getting back on track.

Katniss shoots an arrow, reaching back to grab another. She then switches to her knife, swinging. “Peeta! Your arrows!”

Peeta drops what he’s doing to slide it off, Katniss turning to grab it. This forces you to cover not one, not two, but three areas. Finnick grunts behind you, trying to do the same, but the two of you aren’t enough. A monkey lunges out of a tree, aiming for Peeta. Katniss throws her knife, missing.

Before you can help, Katniss begins to run at Peeta. You reach out to grab the back of her undershirt, she slips from your fingers. She won’t make it in time.

The tip of your spear pierces through the chest of another mutt, when a high-pitched scream fills the air. You look, prepared to see Katniss on the ground, but instead find the female tribute from District Six running at the mutt aimed for Peeta. She throws her skinny arms around it, as it sinks its teeth into her body.

Peeta drops the sheath, which Katniss stoops to grab. He repeatedly stabs his knife into the monkeys back until it releases its jaw, kicking it away, bracing for more. The four of you are panting loudly, for a second, that’s all you’re able to hear. “Come on, then! Come on!” Peeta shouts angrily.

The monkeys aren’t moving forward, though. In fact, they withdraw, fading into the jungle, called back by the Gamemakers.

“Get her.” Katniss tells Peeta, looking at the morphling. “We’ll cover you.”

Peeta carefully pulls the morphling into his arms, carrying her a few yards to the beach. You follow behind him, spear tight in your hand. Finnick and Katniss come out once your feet hit the sand, ensuring that the monkeys don’t come out behind you.

Peeta brings her to the water, laying her in the wet sand. Katniss cuts away at the wetsuit covering her chest, revealing the four puncture wounds, blood slowly pooling in them, trickling down her skin. It doesn’t look that terrible from the outside, which means the real damage has been done inside.

She’s gasping for air, struggling to breathe. Katniss kneels next to her, taking one of the twitching hands. 

“I’ll watch the trees.” Finnick says, walking away. 

When Katniss looks up at you for help, you turn to leave with Finnick, not necessarily wanting to watch the scene, either. He looks over, making sure that you’re going with him. 

“What the hell is going on?” You whisper once you step into the trees.

“No idea.” He shakes his head. “The fog and the monkeys back to back?”

“In the middle of the night, too.” Your face twists. “A weird choice for the Capitol, wouldn’t they want the attacks to be during the day? What time is it, even?”

“It has to be really early.” 

You lean up against a tree with the spear, watching the branches while Finnick picks bloody arrows out of the grass. There are a few mutt bodies around, but when Finnick gets close, the vines shift, pulling them away to keep you from inspecting.

When the cannon goes off, you move with Finnick to get back on the beach. A hovercraft has appeared over the water, claw dropping to collect the morphling out of the water. It secures around her, the claw returning to the craft, before disappearing.

He drops the arrows next to Katniss in the sand. “Thought you might want these.”

“Thanks.” She says, gathering them into her arms. She takes them to the water to clean, and when she’s done, she goes to the jungle, pulling moss off the rocks to dry them. “Where did they go?”

“We don’t know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone.” Finnick says, sitting in the sand near you. 

He reaches up to scratch his face, where the fog has touched him. It’s seemed that the little wounds have scabbed over already. Finnick’s picking at them, the same way that Peeta is. 

Katniss notices this. “Don’t scratch. You’ll only bring infection.”

Peeta sighs, hand dropping. “Think it’s safe to try for the water again?”

Katniss nods, you stay where you are in the sand, letting the other three go in there to get water. Finnick comes out with a shell of warm water, watching you drink it, before going back to grab more. When they’ve satisfied their thirst, they come back out.

“Why don’t you three get some rest? I’ll watch for a while.” Katniss says.

“Are you sure?” Finnick asks, she nods.

Finnick lays down in the sand, staring up at you expectantly. You give him a smile, moving his hair. “I’m not tired, baby.”

He doesn’t argue, simply turning over in the sand, putting his back to you. Peeta does something similar, but opts for laying on his back instead, settling in. You and Katniss sit in silence for a while, watching the waves come to shore, before retreating. Like a game of cat and mouse.

It isn’t until the boys have fallen asleep, when Katniss speaks. “Can I ask you a question?” You look over at her with raised eyebrows. “How are you and Finnick so in sync?”

You breathe a laugh. “Years of practice—trial and error.”

“But you’ve never been in the Games together.” She says, it’s not a question. “How do you two know when to help?”

“Intuition.” You shrug. “Willpower.”

She shakes her head, looking away.

“It’s not something you figure out overnight.” You murmur. “I’ve been dating Finnick for years, Katniss. I know what he’s going to say before he even thinks it. It's just what happens. Besides, you’ve got some of that between you two, too.”

“It’s not the same.” She says.

“Finnick would tear the world apart if it meant keeping me safe, forever. You’re telling me that you wouldn’t do the same?” You ask, she’s quiet. “That’s what you’re doing now, isn’t it?”

She meets your eyes. “Yeah.”

“We’re not as different as you think.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!

[unpublishediary]

✵ masterlist + request info ✵

fluff, angst, miscellaneous, etc…

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘ *

PETER PARKER— and other Spider-Man characters

Focus on My Heart (hurt/comfort, sensory overload): Reader gets bit by a radioactive spider a bit later and goes through sensory overload during school, Peter comforts them through it.

What Was I Made For?: Based on the lyrics from, What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish. Reader going through a seasonal depressive episode and Peter helping her through it.

Need to Sleep: Reader is stressed and not getting enough sleep. Peter is concerned and determined to help them through it, encouraging and eventually forcing them to sleep.

Cracked Phones: Peter helps you through the loss of a loved one like you helped him get through Ben.

CONRAD FISHER ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The 4th Confession : Conrad confesses his feelings for you after a week of fighting and makes sure you know his feelings are real.

PERCY JACKSON—and other pjo/hoo characters

You’re here, you survived, this is real: After your single trip to Tartarus, you’ve come back a different person, but not for the better. Everyone notices, but especially Percy as he becomes desperate for you to open up, hurt that you’re struggling in silence and knowing that keeping it inside is too close to tearing you apart.

Why didn’t you tell me? Part One after a fight on the Argo II, reader tries to hide their injury but Percy is determined to find out what’s wrong.

UPCOMING/GUARANTEED REQUESTS:

PEETA MELLARK— and other hg characters

ARISU, RYOHEI— and other aib characters

SPENCER REID— and other cm characters

STEVE HARRINGTON— and other st characters

feel free to request other characters

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Request rules for fanfictions

What I don't write

✮ Please do not request anything inappropriate like 18+ topics

✮ I don't write smut it's not something I'm comfortable with

✮ I don't write heavy topics, it's something that is difficult for me to do and something that I don't enjoy

What I do write

✮ Fluff

✮ Light angst

✮ Happy endings

✮ And generally things that'll hopefully make you smile

Things to note

✮ Please be specific about the plot!

✮ Bare with me If it takes time to write what you request

✮ I have every right to say no to a request if I feel I don't feel comfortable or feel like I wouldn't know how to write it

✮ I mainly write female and gender neutral reader

✮ I don't write for trans or male reader because I think I'd be terrible at it if I'm being honest

✮ The same rules apply for anything I write whether it's headcanons or imagines.

Fanfiction requests are: open

Fandoms I write for and who I write for

Twilight: Jasper Hale and Edward Cullen.

Marvel: Pietro Maximoff, Steve Rogers and Peter Parker.

The Vampire Diaries: Stefan Salvatore, Elijah Mikaelson, and Kol Mikaelson.

Supernatral: Gabriel, Castiel, Dean Winchester, and Sam Winchester.

The Flash: Barry Allen

Harry Potter: Cedric Diggery, Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom.

Percy Jackson: Luke Castellan and Leo Valdez.

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid

Star Wars: Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Hunger Games: Peeta Mellark and Finnick Odair.